Midnight Voices

here while I go to work.”

“I can do it,” Tony offered.

Caroline was already shaking her head. “Not a good idea, either — not until he gets a lot better adjusted to having you as a stepfather. I’ll just start going through my list, and see what I can come up with.” But an hour later, after she’d called everyone in her address book that she’d ever used before, she’d come up empty. “Everyone’s booked,” she said. “Except Mrs. Jarvis, whose son put her in a nursing home three months ago.”

“What about one of the neighbors?”

Caroline stared at him. “The neighbors? You didn’t see Ryan in the lobby the other morning — he’s terrified of them.”

“Well, there must be someone,” Tony went on. “What about Virginia Estherbrook?”

“Virginia Estherbrook?” Caroline echoed. “Tony, she’s a star! She’s not going to want to babysit an eleven-year-old.”

“She was a star,” Tony replied. “Come on — she hasn’t worked in years — most people think she’s dead, for God’s sake. I bet she’d do it. Let me call her.” Before Caroline could object, he’d picked up the phone and dialed a number.

The phone was picked up on the third ring. “Estherbrook residence.” Though the voice was similar to Virginia Estherbrook’s, it had a slight Southern lilt to it.

“Virginia?” Tony asked.

A musical laugh came over the line. “This is her niece. But we do sound alike, don’t we?”

“Her niece,” Tony repeated. When Caroline’s brows rose questioningly, he gave her an uncertain shrug. “What time will Virginia be back?”

“Not until spring, at least,” the voice at the other end said. “She and my mother have gone to Italy. Is there something I can help you with?”

Tony hesitated. “I don’t think so. This is Mr. Fleming—” He glanced at Caroline whose expression had grown even more curious. “One of your aunt’s neighbors,” he went on. “I was just hoping Virgie might be able to help me out with something.”

“Tony Fleming?” the woman at the other end of the line said. “I was going to call you this evening. Or at least I was going to call your wife. Caroline, isn’t it?”

“Yes. We—”

“Aunt Virgie said I’d love her, and I was hoping maybe we could have lunch together or something. I don’t know a soul, and I’ve got nothing to do.” She paused for only a split second. “Oh, Lord, that makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it? What I mean is, I just got into town last night, and I haven’t had a chance to make any plans yet.”

Tony hesitated, then: “Could you hold on a minute?”

“Of course.”

He put his hand over the receiver and repeated what the other woman had just said to Caroline. “I was thinking maybe I should ask her down for a drink or something. And if she doesn’t have anything to do—” He didn’t have to finish the sentence for Caroline to get the idea.

“Tony, we don’t even know her!”

“So let’s size her up — it might be perfect.”

“I still think this is crazy,” Caroline said an hour later when the doorbell rang. “We don’t even know the woman and—”

“And nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Tony cut in. “All we’re doing is being neighborly. Let’s just see what happens, then make up our minds.”

As he pulled the front door open, Caroline felt her jaw start to go slack, but tried to catch herself before she was left simply gaping in surprise.

Too late. The woman standing in the hall was already laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said, extending her hand. “I should have warned your husband that I look just like my aunt — it’s weird, because my mother doesn’t really look like her at all.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Actually, there are times when I suspect I’m really Aunt Virgie’s daughter, but she didn’t want to marry my father. Then I have to start wondering who my father might have been, and when I think of all the men Aunt Virgie—” She stopped short, reddening slightly. “Lord, just listen to me. Why don’t I ever learn to just shut my mouth? I’m Melanie Shackleforth.”

Taking the other woman’s hand and finally finding her voice, Caroline drew Melanie Shackleforth inside. “I’m Caroline Ev—” Now it was she who reddened. “Caroline Fleming,” she finished, still unable to take her eyes off the woman who had just introduced herself. It was as if she were looking at Virginia Estherbrook herself, except that Melanie Shackleforth was slightly taller — perhaps an inch or maybe a little more — and forty years younger. Along with her aunt’s looks, she seemed to have inherited Virginia’s sense of style as well; she was wearing an emerald green pantsuit that showed off her figure without over-accentuating anything, and was the perfect complement for her auburn hair. If she was wearing any makeup it was so expertly applied as to be invisible, and her smile was so utterly genuine that Caroline was certain she was either unaware of how beautiful she was, or simply didn’t care. “This is my husband Tony, who talked to you on the phone.” As she led Melanie toward the kitchen, she found herself apologizing for the apartment. “I know it looks awful, but I’ve been working on so many others that I just haven’t had time to get to ours yet.”

“I love what you’re doing with Aunt Virgie’s,” Melanie said. “And I promise not to get in the way of the workmen. Just tell me what to stay out of, and I’ll make myself invisible. I didn’t really want to come at all, but when Mother and Aunt Virgie suddenly ran off to Italy, she insisted I stay.”

They settled into the kitchen and an hour later, when they finally decided it was late enough to open a bottle of wine, Caroline felt as if she’d known Melanie for years. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she asked as Tony poured them each a glass of a bone-dry Chablis.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” Melanie began, but Caroline brushed her words aside.

“You won’t be intruding, believe me. After everything the neighbors did for us when we got back from our honeymoon, it’s the least we can do.” Then, as she thought of Andrea Costanza — and all the paranoid thoughts that would fill the evening if she couldn’t find some kind of distraction — she added a single, plaintive word. “Please?”

“My Lord, how on earth did it ever get this late?” Melanie asked as the clock in the hall struck nine. The three adults were still sitting around the dining room table, though Laurie and Ryan had excused themselves an hour ago and vanished up the stairs to their rooms. Now Melanie started clearing the plates off the dining-room table, and when Caroline tried to stop her, she waved her away. “Go up and tuck those two perfect children of yours into bed.”

“Hardly perfect,” Caroline replied, though Ryan had mercifully decided to behave himself tonight. The arnica Tony had given him earlier had taken care of the bruise on his forehead, and the swelling was mostly down, and apparently his suspension from school had taken the effect Ralph Winthrop was hoping for, at least temporarily. He’d shaken Melanie Shackleforth’s hand after only a moment’s hesitation, and sat through dinner quietly, barely saying a word but responding politely whenever he was spoken to. Caroline caught him looking at Melanie out of the corner of his eye a few times, but at least he’d stopped short of openly staring at her. Laurie had been quiet, too, though she hadn’t eaten much.

“Well you might not think they’re perfect, but from what I’ve seen of modern children, they’re a lot better than average. You ever need a baby sitter, you just let me know, all right?”

Caroline, following her into the kitchen with the last of the chicken casserole they’d put together for dinner, eyed her suspiciously. “Did Tony talk to you while I was upstairs before dinner?” When Melanie only looked blank, she relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that—” She hesitated, then decided to make a clean breast of it. “We were actually calling your aunt tonight to see if she might be willing to sit for us for the next couple of weeks.” As they scraped the dishes and began loading them into the washer, she told Melanie what had happened at school that day. “I can’t leave Ryan at home alone, and I can’t take any more time off work. But I certainly can’t ask you to watch him for two whole weeks.”