The mention of a granddaddy that was not rightfully hers made Suzanna cringe. She bent down, slid her foot into the second sandal, and buckled it ever so slowly, all the while wondering if she could ever make up for the lies she’d told. Ida deserved better. She deserved the truth, but that was the one thing Suzanna could not give her. She had chosen her path, and there was no turning back. The only thing she could do was embrace Ida wholeheartedly, return the love that was given, and pray her treachery was never discovered.
“Get a move on,” Ida finally said. “I’m anxious for you to take a look at what they’ve got in the sportswear department.”
As they rode the escalator up to the fifth floor, Suzanna again protested, saying she didn’t need anything other than the shoes. “Colette wants me to wear her fashions at work, and the clothes I’ve got are fine for now.”
“For gardening maybe, but not if you’re dating.”
“I’m not dating.”
“Not now, but in time you will be.” As they passed a display of sweater sets, Ida stopped and held up a cardigan that was the same shade of blue as Suzanna’s eyes. “Now something like this would be perfect for weekends or a dinner date.”
“Grandma,” Suzanna said with an air of frustration.
“Darla Jean,” she replied just as emphatically, “you have got to learn to accept gifts more graciously.”
Suzanna quit protesting after that, but she couldn’t rid herself of the lump of guilt that had settled halfway between her chest and her stomach. Although she said nothing more, she vowed that every dime of her first paycheck would go directly into Ida’s bank account. She’d say she too had had a windfall and claim the money was what was left over. Once she actually had the job at Cavalier’s Couture and was working steadily she could think about saving for Annie’s college and the things she wanted, but her first priority had to be making sure Ida was paid back. Stealing Darla Jean’s identity was bad enough; there was no way Suzanna could justify taking gifts that were intended for her.
Even after she’d made that decision, the guilt remained lodged in her chest. When they sat down to lunch in Lady Anne’s Tearoom, the only thing Suzanna could manage was a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of dry toast.
Earl
The Search Begins
ONCE HE HAD BOBBY DOHERTY’S name, Earl thought finding him would be a breeze. He left the library, drove to the gas station, and parked in the back alongside the telephone booth.
The county directory was dangling from a chain inside the booth. Earl flipped it open, turned to D, and began searching for Doherty, Robert or Bob. The Dohertys started with Arthur and stretched on for nearly half a column. In all, there were twenty-three: five in Sun Grove, the remainder scattered across the county. Not one of them a Robert, Bob, or Bobby. With this many Dohertys, Earl felt certain he’d find Mr. Football or a relative who could say where he was. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he ripped the page from the book; he’d need the addresses as well as phone numbers.
He pulled a pencil from his pocket and marked a check next to the locals. He’d start there and, if need be, branch out. Twenty-three wasn’t all that many. He’d come this far; he wasn’t going to stop now.
Earl took a handful of change from his pocket, laid it on the shelf, then dropped a dime into the slot and dialed the number for Charles Doherty, the first of the five locals. As the trill of the ring echoed in his ear, he thought through what he’d say. His plan was to try and sound friendly, casually call the guy by his first name and claim to be a classmate planning a reunion or maybe a football player from the high school team. He was trying to remember the name of that team, but before he could pull his thoughts together a woman answered and her voice took him by surprise.
“Charles?” he said without thinking.
“No, this is not Charles,” she said in a snippy sort of way. “Do I sound like Charles?”
“No, No, of course not. I just thought—”
“Well, you thought wrong! Charles isn’t here. He hasn’t been here for six months. Try his girlfriend’s apartment, he’s probably living there.”
“I’m not really looking for him. I’m actually trying to find Bobby—”
“Is this some kind of sick joke? Did Bobbi Ann put you up to this? I suppose she thinks it’s fun to torment his wife for believing a marriage is something sacred, for believing that…”
It was hot as hell in the telephone booth. Earl’s nerves were already on edge, and now he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. He allowed her to ramble on for a minute then cut in.
“Look, lady, I got nothing to do with whatever’s going on. I’m just trying to find the Bobby Doherty who played football for Sun Grove High back in 1952. Do you know him or not?”
“Not!” she said and banged the receiver down.
“Asshole,” Earl grumbled into the dead line.
He waited a moment, trying to hold back the irritation he was feeling. He couldn’t afford to sound like he was spoiling for a fight if he wanted to find Bobby. He had to make them believe he was a friend looking to catch up with a classmate. He opened the telephone booth door for a breath of air, then dropped another dime in and dialed the number for the second local, Diane Doherty.
The phone rang twenty-eight times, then Earl hung up and waited for the clink of his dime dropping into the coin return.
With discouragement already feathering the edge of his thoughts, he dialed the number for Frank Doherty, the third local. A man answered on the second ring, and Earl felt his optimism rise. Men were easier
