Casey looked at the laundry basket. “Where do you think?”
Death peered into the pile of dirty clothes. “About time, too. I was beginning to think I’d have to keep my distance because of the smell.”
Casey started down the stairs. “Why don’t you go bother someone else for a while?”
“Aw. I’m beginning to think you don’t want me around.”
“I would’ve gone with you willingly before. But you obviously have other plans in mind. Now you’re just annoying.”
“Casey?” Lillian’s voice floated up the stairs. “Are you talking to me?”
Casey looked up toward the second floor. Death gave a small, mocking bow, and walked back into Casey’s room.
“No,” Casey called down. “Just talking to…the cat.”
The fat cat stared at her from a bench on the stair’s landing, whiskers twitching, eyes wide.
Lillian came into view. “Oh, that’s Solomon. He likes to get to know our guests. Don’t you Solly?” She ran a hand over the cat’s head, and he nipped at her hand. “What’s the matter with you, boy?”
Casey indicated the laundry basket. “Thought I’d get this started, if that’s okay.”
Lillian left the cat. “Of course. Right through here.”
She led Casey through the living room—a huge flat-screen TV set incongruously on the far wall, amongst Victorian furniture—into a sunny room at the back of the house. Painted yellow and surrounded by large, uncovered windows, the room pulsed with life and light. A door led to the outside and stood open, letting in the cool afternoon air. Casey blinked at the brightness.
“Everything you need is above the washer in this cupboard.” Lillian opened a little door to reveal various bottles and jugs. “Use whatever you like.”
“Thank you.”
Casey waited for Lillian to leave, but the older woman sat on a small chair in the corner. Casey set her basket on top of the dryer and began tossing her clothes into the washer, the silver HomeMaker symbol on the glossy white finish catching her eye.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Lillian said. “With Rosie.”
Casey stopped, a shirt in her hand. “Like I said before. Nothing to be sorry about.” The shirt joined the rest of the clothes in the washer.
“This past week has been very difficult for her. For the whole town, of course, but Rosie’s taken it very hard, and she tends to wear her heart on her sleeve.”
“Were she and Ellen close?”
Lillian didn’t respond, and Casey turned to see her staring out one of the windows, her hands clenched in her lap. Casey went back to sorting.
“We offered to keep the children, you know,” Lillian said. “Ellen’s parents aren’t in the best of health, and we have plenty of room. But everyone thought it better if the kids weren’t…if they were with their own family.” Her voice was brittle.
Casey finished up with the darks, measured out the detergent, and began the cycle. “Eric VanDiepenbos—do you know him?—was pretty close to her.”
Lillian’s head jerked away from the window. “Oh. Oh, yes, poor boy. He’s had a hard time of it all. We had hopes… But with his family being what it is, there wasn’t much chance of anything happening.”
Casey opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but Rosemary bustled by the windows of the room and burst in the door with a handful of flowers. “For our table. Aren’t they lovely?”
Lillian’s face lit up. “They are. Let’s go find a vase.”
And Casey’s chance for questioning was gone. She followed the women into the kitchen, where Lillian was pulling a vase out of the china cupboard.
“I’m going to take the bike downtown, if that’s okay.”
Rosemary looked up from her flowers. “Of course, dear, you go right ahead. It’s in the shed out back. The door handle sticks a little, so you have to jiggle it.”
“Thanks.”
Casey actually had to jiggle the handle quite a bit to get the door open, but she eventually won the struggle. The bike, an old Schwinn three-speed, sat enmeshed in cobwebs and trinkets, and she had to work to rescue it from what looked like the detritus of many years. Perhaps from before these women had even owned the place.
By the time she had the bike in the yard she was smeared with grease and dust, and spidery silk clung to her clothes. She left the bike in the shade and went back inside.
“Oh, my,” Lillian said.
“Yes. Would you have a rag I could use?”
Rosemary laughed. “And a bucket for soapy water. You’ll find everything you need in the garage.”
“Not the same shed?”
“No. We actually use the garage. Just go in the side door.”
Casey followed her directions and went into the garage. She flipped on the light. And stood staring at the shiny Pegasus Orion. One of those supposedly hybrid SUVs, huge on promise, not so big on follow-through. Twice as big as the company’s cars. Black, with brand new tires and not a speck of dirt, the SUV squatted there, like a predator. Casey pressed back against the door. In all of her dreams, she’d never have thought those women inside would have something like this…
Standing in her spot, she tore her eyes from the vehicle and searched for the promised bucket. There it was, on a shelf, just down the wall. She scooted sideways for several feet, until she could reach out and snag the pail. Inside it were a jug of car wash, a sponge, and Turtle Wax. She didn’t think she’d be waxing the bike, so she took out the little container and tossed it back on the shelf.
A few steps back along the wall she could feel the door behind her. Turning the knob, she spun out of the garage, and stood outside, breathing deeply. She let out a nervous sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan. The idea of Rosemary, with her bright red robe and orange hair, at the wheel of the Orion was enough to give her something to think about for a while, something to take her mind off the idea of a Pegasus vehicle so close to hand.
The bike cleaned up pretty well, and Casey was able to get the grease stains muted, if not completely off her pants, and the spider webs removed from her shirt. She rinsed out the bucket with the hose and set the sponge in the sun to dry before walking the bike down the lane and toward town. She hoped the tires would survive the trip, as flat and old as they were.
They did, and she found a free air pump on the side of the filling station, a ten-minute walk from the B & B. The rest of the bike needed a little attention, however, and she spent a few dollars for a can of WD-40 to spray the chain, paying the middle-aged attendant who seemed to be manning the station on his own, and squeezed the brakes several times to loosen them up. She took a couple of minutes to ride slowly around the parking lot, and was soon convinced the bike was ready to roll.
The town was quiet, as it was the evening before. The occasional car passed Casey as she pedaled around the streets, but she saw only two people outside, both walking briskly, with their heads down. No young parents occupied the playground—probably taking the opportunity for their children’s afternoon naps—and Casey met no other bikes.
Casey rode past Home Sweet Home, even stopping to peer inside, but the interior was dark. There were still a couple of hours until Eric and his crew would be getting ready for their subdued dinner crowd.
The church down the street stood just as silent as the day before, and Casey didn’t stop. Instead, she continued down the block of shops, where she found a bike stand. She parked the bike, considering briefly that she didn’t have a lock for it, and scanned the stores. Only a few of them seemed to actually be open for business. The bakery, of course. And the antique shop. And, on the corner, Wayne’s Pharmacy.
She went in.
A bell tinged when she opened the door, but no one came running. The check-out counter stood empty. She assumed someone was actually watching the place, but from the looks of it she was pretty much alone. Slowly she walked up and down the aisles of wrapping paper, Willow Tree angels, and summer toys on clearance. Eventually she found the personal items aisle, where she stocked up on sunscreen, toothpaste, and Band-Aids. The pharmacy section had the vitamins she used, and she grabbed a small bottle.
