Hellfire

Instinctively, he stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, rather than invite them all inside. As Phillip began to explain the reason they were there, Alan’s feeling of apprehension grew. There could only be one possible reason why Abigail wanted to talk to Beth, and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss that subject in front of Tracy. Why, he wondered, couldn’t they have left her at home?

“Beth and I were just going out for supper,” he said at last, not really intending the statement as anything more than an attempt to buy some time to think. But Phillip immediately suggested that they all go together, and Alan, taken off guard, was unable to invent a polite way to refuse.

It was a mistake.

Alan realized it was a mistake even as he pulled into the parking lot at the Red Hen, to be greeted warmly a few moments later by Eileen Russell. When the Sturgesses appeared behind him, Eileen’s welcoming smile all but disappeared, and Alan felt a distinct chill between Carolyn and Eileen as Eileen led them to a large round table near the fireplace, that, even on this warm early-summer evening, was ablaze with the false warmth of poorly designed gas logs.

“This is totally tacky,” Tracy announced as they spread themselves around the table. “No wonder Grandmother never comes here.”

“How is Mrs. Sturgess?” Alan asked immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen Phillip opening his mouth to admonish his daughter, and all his instincts told him that if he let that happen, Tracy would do her best to make the meal as difficult as possible for all of them. And for Beth, it would become sheer misery. As if to confirm his feeling, he saw Carolyn shoot him a grateful look.

“Much better,” Phillip replied, his attention diverted from Tracy. “In fact, she’s doing her best to make life miserable for everyone at the hospital, which, for Mother, is a good sign.”

“Did she say what happened?” Alan asked warily, still certain the woman’s experience in the mill had to be the reason she now wanted to talk to Beth.

Phillip hesitated, but shook his head. “Not really. She said something in the basement frightened her, but she couldn’t say exactly what.”

A nervous silence fell over the table, which Alan finally broke with an attempt at a lightness he didn’t feel. But he still wasn’t ready to discuss Abigail’s request with Beth, so he tried to put it off with black humor. “Aside from the darkness, the smell, and the rats that live down there, what’s to be scared of?”

It didn’t work. Beth, who had said nothing until then, turned serious eyes to him. “Smell? What kind of smell?”

Alan winked at his daughter. “The smell of dirt, damp, and age. That place was closed up so long, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get it aired out.”

“Of course you will,” Phillip replied. “It’s just a matter of getting a decent furnace in, and letting it dry out.”

“It might not be that simple,” Carolyn said quietly. “With the mill, it seems that nothing is as simple as it appears, doesn’t it?”

Alan eyed his ex-wife carefully. “Do I hear a note of skepticism?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve joined forces with your mother-in-law and decided the mill shouldn’t be reopened.”

Carolyn shot him a look of annoyance, but then decided that under his bantering tone, he’d meant the question seriously. “It has to do with a lot of things,” she replied. “Aside from the history of the place, it just seems to me that Westover isn’t big enough to support the kind of shops that always go into places like Ye Olde Mill.” In an attempt to take the sting out of her words, she purposely pronounced the final E in “olde,” and was relieved when Phillip joined in Alan’s chuckle.

But then Phillip’s laughter died away, and when he spoke, his voice was serious. “I’m afraid that despite what everyone else thinks — including my wife — I’m still convinced it’ll be a success. If it turns out the way Alan and I have planned it, I’m hoping it will draw people from the whole area. And that could give the entire town a boost.”

“Well, God knows Westover could use that,” Alan sighed. He picked up his menu, and glanced at the list of appetizers. “How does escargots sound?”

“Here?” Tracy asked. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Her father shot her a warning glance, but Tracy ignored it. “Why couldn’t we have gone to a nice restaurant?”

“There’s nothing wrong with this place, Tracy,” Phillip said quietly.

Tracy’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth set into a sullen pout. “If Grandmother weren’t in the hospital, we wouldn’t have had to come here at all.”

“We’re here because we want to be,” Phillip replied, and though his voice remained quiet, it had taken on a certain edge.

Carolyn seemed to be doing her best to ignore the exchange, and Alan, certain that anything else he said — no matter how innocuous — would only exacerbate the situation, concentrated on his menu even though he was quickly losing his appetite. And this, he thought as he began eliminating entrees to narrow his choices, is what Carolyn and Beth have to put up with every day. He felt a flicker of sympathy for Carolyn, and wondered if this marriage, like their own, was also going to be a failure for her. If Tracy had anything to do with it, he was certain it would be.

And more and more, it was becoming clear to him why Beth had found it necessary to invent a friend.

Surreptitiously, he stole a glance at his daughter. She seemed to be trying to disappear behind the menu. But she couldn’t disappear all the time. How did she cope with Tracy’s constant hostility and snobbery?

And why should she have to? Maybe, after all, he should try to find a way to make it possible for her to come and live with him. “Anything look good to you, honey?” he finally asked when the silence at the table began to become uncomfortable.

“I like the shrimp,” Beth replied, but when she tried to tell Tracy how they were cooked, Tracy merely glared at her, and turned away. Beth once more fell silent, and as the meal wore on, the conversation became increasingly strained.

Then, over coffee, Phillip Sturgess suddenly came to the point of their unannounced visit to Alan’s apartment. Without a word to Alan, he turned to Beth.

“Beth, Tracy’s grandmother would like to see you.”

Carolyn stiffened slightly, as Beth’s eyes widened in surprise. Alan, who had been sipping his coffee, set his cup down as he felt his daughter staring at him accusingly from across the table.

“Is that why they came to the apartment?” she asked.

“Well, we didn’t come because we wanted to see you,” Tracy hissed, then fell silent when her father glared at her.

“I’m afraid so, honey,” Alan confessed. He turned to Phillip. “But I really don’t understand why she wants to see Beth,” he went on. “I thought—” Then he stopped himself, embarrassed to utter the words that had been on the tip of his tongue.

“That Mother isn’t particularly fond of Beth?” Phillip finished. Then, when everyone except Tracy — whose mouth was now twisted into a smug smile — seemed as embarrassed as Alan had been, he went on. “I don’t think there’s any reason for any of us to pretend the truth doesn’t exist. But today she specifically asked to see Beth. I don’t know why — she wouldn’t tell me. But she did say that Beth doesn’t have to come if she doesn’t want to.” He turned to Beth, who was now looking at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. “And she also told me that if you do decide to come and see her, you can leave anytime you want to.”

Alan frowned. “What in the world did she mean by that?”

Now it was Phillip who looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure about that either,” he replied. “But I have to assume that Mother is well aware of how she’s treated Beth, and this is her way of apologizing for it.”

Alan felt a sudden surge of anger for his daughter. “It seems to me,” he said tightly, “that your mother is still busy acting like the queen of the world. If she’s been mean to Beth — and I think we all know damned well that she has — then I see no reason for Beth to go see her now. Frankly, I’m surprised you’d even ask, Phillip.”

Tracy’s eyes flashed angrily. “Don’t you talk about my grandmother that way—” she began, but Alan had finally had enough.

“Shut up, Tracy,” he said, not even glancing at the girl, but instead keeping his eyes on Phillip, as if challenging him to try to defend his daughter’s rudeness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shock on Tracy’s