clenched and unclenched her hands. They now lay limp in her lap. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
I knew I had no words that could possibly comfort her, so I reached over and took her hand. I don’t know how long we sat like that, but after a while Joan squeezed my hand and stood up. “Thank you for listening,” she said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I’d better go in now.” She slowly made her way across the lawn back to the house.
I stayed outside, thinking about Joan’s story and envying the closeness she’d shared with her sister. Ironically, my sister, Kit, also had a take-charge attitude regarding my life. But unlike Joan’s situation, the trait did not foster closeness. In fact, it did just the opposite. I was wondering what this said about me when I was suddenly assailed by the acidic aroma of cigarette smoke. Turning in my seat, I poked my head around the large trunk to see who was there. Daniel was crossing the yard to where I sat.
“Bloody hell!” he said, jumping back when he saw me. “You scared the piss out of me! What are you doing sitting out here alone? It’s beastly cold!”
He came over and sat down on the bench, casually throwing his arm on the seat behind me. My heart pounded like an adolescent schoolgirl’s. Oh, God. Next my palms would probably begin to sweat.
“You smoke?” I asked stupidly.
He laughed. “You didn’t know already? Poor Jackie must be slipping. I’m sure I told her just yesterday that I was ducking out for a quick fag.”
I sputtered with laughter. “I think you’re forgetting that has an entirely different meaning on this side of the pond.”
Daniel paused, cocking his head at me. “Oh. Right. Well, that does explain Jackie’s rather startled reaction.” He shifted his gaze out to the roiling water. “This really is a lovely property. I can see why Gerald was so upset to lose out on it.” He was quiet a moment. “So what
“Neither. I just came out to get some air. I have an awful headache.”
“Sorry to hear that. You’re still coming tonight, though, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Here,” he said, moving closer. “I can’t stand to see a pretty girl in distress.” He slid his hand up my back and kneaded the muscles in my neck. It was an odd sensation, relaxing and trying to restrain myself from lewd behavior all at the same time. After a minute, I became aware that the mood had changed slightly. I don’t know if I leaned back into him or if he pulled me, but I suddenly found myself in his arms. “Hello,” he said softly and leaned down toward me.
“Elizabeth?!”
You have got to be kidding, I thought, as Aunt Winnie’s voice floated out across the yard. Daniel sat back, the mood broken. Aunt Winnie’s voice called out again, “Elizabeth? Are you out here?”
I stood up and waved. “Over here.”
“Oh, there you are. Can you help me for a moment?” She disappeared back into the house.
Hoping my face wasn’t awash with disappointment, I said, “Duty calls. Thanks for the neck rub.”
Daniel gave me a slow smile and I felt my insides liquefy in response. “Anytime,” he said. “Maybe we can continue our conversation later? It’s customary to start the New Year with a kiss in the States, too, isn’t it?”
I think I said something clever, like “Hmmmggffh!” before I stumbled toward the house.
Around four, a black van pulled into the driveway. Emblazoned on the side, in large red letters, were the words JOIN US FOR DINNER … AND A MURDER. Clearly the entertainment had arrived. A young man with sandy- colored hair and round glasses alighted first. He introduced himself as Eric, and he seemed to be the leader of the small troupe. There were five of them in all, three men and two women. Eric quickly made the introductions. There was Tom, a muscular man with a shaved head, who appeared to be in his midforties, and Steven, a tall, almost painfully thin young man in his early twenties. The women were as different as night and day. Karen was a matronly looking brunette with a somber, serious face. Susie was almost as blond as she was buxom, and I seriously doubted if either attribute was God-given. After Aunt Winnie and I showed them their rooms, Eric went over the plan for the evening.
“Basically, we’ll circulate among your real guests,” Eric said, in a thick Southern drawl. “But we’ll all be in character, so to speak. Tom and Karen are playing a married couple, as are Steven and Susie. I play an old school friend of Steven’s. The basic premise is that both Karen and Steven suspect that Tom and Susie are having an affair. I play the concerned friend. Without giving too much away, various characters will appear to drink too much, flirt, and fight with one another. Ultimately, this will lead to the apparent death of one of them. At this point, the real guests will be asked to band together in an attempt to solve the crime and identify the so-called murderer. We’ve done this bit several times, and from start to finish it usually takes about two to three hours, so depending on when you want to start, we can be done in plenty of time for everyone to celebrate the New Year.”
“I’d like it to end around eleven thirty,” said Aunt Winnie. “That should give everyone time to enjoy themselves before ringing in the New Year. Our guests will probably start arriving around eight, so, let’s plan to start your show around eight thirty. Dinner will be served in the dining room at nine.”
“Sounds good,” said Eric. “I look forward to it.” Aunt Winnie smiled and excused herself.
“So”—I turned to Eric after Aunt Winnie had left—“do you guys perform these dinner theaters full-time or do you have other jobs?”
Eric laughed. “God, no. We’d all starve to death if this was our only income. No, this is just a part-time gig until we find real jobs or get discovered. Steve and I started the group about a year ago. We’re in film school together. Steve met Karen in one of his acting classes and Tom is a retired cop I met at the gym. He’s always wanted to be an actor.”
“And Susie?”
“Steve met Susie at some party. At the time we were looking for another woman to round out the troupe, and she seemed a perfect fit for some of the glitzier characters.”
“Does she attend film school with you, too?”
“Susie? No, she just wants to be in films. I don’t think she necessarily wants to direct them.”
Peter entered the room. “Hey, Cocoa Puff,” he began. I glared at him. “Sorry.” He smirked. “I mean
Once we were in the reception area, I swung around to face Peter. My head was pounding, although it was hard to tell if it was from my headache or just sheer frustration. “Look,” I said, “is it too much to ask that you stop calling me that name? In case you haven’t noticed, I am no longer some sad little girl who is addicted to a stupid cereal.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “What’s the matter with you?” he said. “Don’t tell me I interrupted another one of your conquests. Poor Daniel will be crushed.”
As I had just met Eric, I took his comment as mockery. My jaw tightened in anger. “Seriously,” I said, through gritted teeth, “don’t you think we’re a bit old for this?”
Peter peered down at me suspiciously. “What’s the matter with your mouth?”
“I get lockjaw in cold weather,” I said sarcastically.
“Really?”
My valiant effort for a devastating comeback resulted in one word: “Yeah!” Pithy, but still lame.
No doubt I’d think of the perfect comeback hours from now, when it would do me no earthly good. What did they call that? It was the French for “staircase wit.” My mind drew yet another blank. Pathetic. I couldn’t even think of the damn word. Maybe Mr. Collins had the right idea after all in writing down his little bons mots in advance.
Aunt Winnie came into the room. “Oh, good, Peter. You found her. Come on, you two. I need help getting the dining room ready.”
Mentally composing acerbic comments for future use, I followed Aunt Winnie and Peter into the dining room. The man was simply impossible. None of this was doing much for my headache, and I forced myself to concentrate on what Aunt Winnie wanted me to do.
The long, narrow dining room ran front to back along the whole right side of the house. Aunt Winnie wanted to split the room into two sections, one for the tables and one for cocktails and dancing, so Peter and I moved the tables to one side. “I’d like there to be six at a table,” she said, “but we’re having seventeen guests total, so we’ll
