Horton’s image rose in my mind. “I hope they were polite.”
“Oh, sure. It wasn’t hard to play the part of the shocked wife. And the tears came easily. I think they believed that I had no clue about Hank’s other life or that I knew he was dead before they told me.” She clenched her hands and said, “They didn’t know when the body”—her voice quavered a bit at that—“would be released. When it is, there will have to be some sort of funeral. I’m not going to let the county bury him. And I’ll have to explain to the kids.” Her hands rose. “What do I tell them? It’ll hit Henry the hardest. He has the most memories of his father.” With that, the tears began to roll.
“It’s all too new to make decisions now. I suspect you’ll have at least a week.” I didn’t add ‘before the body is released.’ “I’ve never had to face what you’re going through, Marcy, but I’ve been in some pretty awful situations, both personal and in my business. Whenever I don’t see a way out, I start a list. No particular order, no sense of probability. I simply write down every idea that comes. Somehow, it triggers my mind to take a deeper look at some things and discard others. Then I can prioritize.” I struggled to decide what I should say next. Tea always helped me feel better. “Would you like some tea?” I asked her.
“Uh, sure.”
“Good. Let’s stiffen a couple cups.”
She wiped her eyes and gave a tiny smile. “Sounds like a good idea.”
I poured a miniscule drop of brandy into my cup, just to keep Marcy company, but fortified hers more liberally. With a mere sip, I set mine on the coffee table. “Let me tell you what Hank told me this morning, Marcy.” I was glad that a box of tissues sat next to her on the sofa as she cried and rocked herself while I explained Hank’s motivation for leaving. “The last thing he said was, ‘Love.’ He wanted me to tell you that he loved you and the kids.” I teared up at the remembrance.
“I was so wrong about him,” she moaned softly. “So wrong. Hank, I’m so sorry.”
I moved next to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “Me, too,” I said.
Chapter 27
I never met a lasagna I didn't like. — Jim Davis
By the time I left the Wagner home, I was emotionally wrung out and feeling slightly unstable from lack of food. My watch read six-ten. I texted Spider: Ready to head your way with an Italian meal for supper. Driving a silver Ford Escape. I didn’t want to set off his mental alarms with an unknown vehicle.
His response was short and sweet: Yum.
Next I texted Bobbie, and asked him to contact Bram and Tiny Tim. Four men, two women—three, if the baby nurse was still on duty. I suspected that Bram, Spider and Tim were hearty eaters, so I called Mama Mia’s to order two pans of lasagna, salad, garlic bread and seven cannoli.
Spider met me in the driveway and hefted the bags of food inside. Magdalena sat at the table in the large informal dining area attached to the kitchen, nursing a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. The other twin, wrapped in blue and seated in one of those bouncy contraptions, looked around with apparent curiosity. I quickly divested myself of outside clothing and boots, washed my hands at the kitchen sink, and made a beeline for little blue man, Daniel. “May I?” I asked Magda.
“But of course.” She smiled. “He’s been fed and burped and there are no noticeable smells.”
I scooped him up and he stared into my face, his brown eyes bright. “I don’t believe it when doctors say they can’t see for a while,” I said. “Look at him, so alert. And his eyebrows!”
Magda laughed. “Like his father, no?”
From the other room, Joey popped his head into the kitchen. “Octonauts is ovah.” He saw me and bounded in. “Hi, Miss Angie. I love my nightlight! Now I’m nevah afwaid in my woom.”
I sat down with baby Daniel and leaned over to Joey. “That’s just what I thought when I saw it, Joey.”
“Thanks, Miss Angie.” He ran a chubby finger over Daniel’s cheek. “The babies aw weally cute, wight?”
“They are.” I feigned exasperation. “But babies can be noisy and smelly. I bet your mom and dad are happy you’re not that little anymore, and they can have fun with you.”
He considered that for a moment. “That’s wight. Dad and I can do stuff in the gawage. And I help Mommy when she makes cookies. I’m the taste-ah.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Spider invited Bobbie, Bram and Tiny Tim inside. “Uncah Bwam,” Joey yelled as he barreled into Bram’s legs. I winced, thinking of his injury, but he just laughed and lifted the boy into the air.
With a smile, Magdalena put a hand under the cotton blanket that discreetly covered her as she nursed, and placed Gabriela on her lap while she rearranged her clothing. “And here is our little girl,” she said.
I gently settled Daniel back into the baby carrier on the table and lifted Gabby. She had a shock of auburn hair and cognac-colored eyes. “She’s so beautiful,” I breathed. Nestling her in the crook of my arm, I smiled at Magda. “You have a wonderful family.”
She nodded. “We do.” Her words were low, like a benediction.
“And how are you feeling?” I asked.
“After Joey, I sprang back very quickly. But these two … well, let’s just say the nights are long. Len and the nurse are a huge help, but they can’t feed the little ones. That’s my main job, I’m finding. I’m a glorified milk supply.” She chuckled and glanced at the huddle of men near the fridge, each with
