Dolores looked around, and then half whispered, “Norman is among the missing once again. I am starting to be curious about where he goes and what he does all day.”
“I did see him outside when I went to exercise. He said he was making intercontinental business calls.” I took a sip of coffee. “I was under the impression that he wanted me to encourage you to allow him to remain in charge.”
Dolores’s long sigh echoed a mixture of sorrow and frustration. “Willis was so busy treating me like an empty-headed princess that I have no idea where the business lines are drawn between my interests and Norman’s. Of course, that old fool Marcus Holmes could untie all the knots on that ball of string, if only he wasn’t a coward. I can’t wait to fire him.”
“Now, there’s the spunky Dolores I know.” I was feeling more confident in her by the moment. “This is going to be a difficult day. Then you will have to get through the wake and funeral. Once those events are behind you, it will be time to sort out how your life will be without Willis.”
“Jess, I know you speak from your own experience, but no one accused you of murdering Frank.” Dolores’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh dear, I hope that didn’t sound as harsh to you as it did to me.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I patted her hand. “You are in an unusual position, of course. What I meant was that even while you and Mr. McGuire are contending with your, ah, difficulties with the sheriff, you still have to work to get your life back on track.”
“Without Willis? Oh . . . I don’t know if I can.”
“Dolores, you have already started. Look at the adaptations you have begun. You’ve decided to do whatever it takes to keep Abby in your life. You are planning on being an active participant in the family businesses. Most importantly, you are keeping people who are loyal and compassionate like Marla Mae and Lucinda as part of your life, while dismissing anyone who isn’t supportive. Marcus Holmes comes to mind.”
“And I am lucky enough to have a lifelong friend like you,” Dolores said. “Now, my first challenge of the day is to put together a dashing outfit for Willis to wear. One thing we don’t have to worry about is his hair. He got a haircut a little more than a week ago. He would hate to look scraggly.”
As she pushed back her chair and stood, so did I, ready to help.
Dolores nodded her thanks. “I always thought that our having separate rooms was silly, but since . . . he’s gone . . . that has made it easier to pretend Willis is in his room and that I will see him after the late news, or at breakfast. Now it’s time for me to face the empty room.”
Willis Nickens’s bedroom was as dark and gloomy as I’d imagined it would be. A tallboy chest with deep drawers and the four-poster bed with thick stanchions were made from heavy mahogany. A tan leather recliner next to a beige reading lamp on a small table filled one corner. Dark brown drapes flecked with gold thread completely covered the windows. The connecting door to the dressing room stood partially open, allowing a thin shaft of light from inside to cut across the middle of the bedroom.
Dolores said, “Thank goodness Willis forgot to turn his dressing room light off. Otherwise we’d be stumbling in the dark.” She pulled the drapery cords and the bright South Carolina sunshine flooded the room.
Dolores reached over and gave the bedspread a tug with one hand as she smoothed it out with the other. “With a perfectly decent recliner in here and a chair in the dressing room, Willis consistently rumpled the bed linens when he bounced down on the bed to change his shoes or make a quick phone call. As I am sure you’ve already noticed, a bed made up by Marla Mae could pass the test of any drill sergeant.”
Dolores stepped into the dressing room. It seemed to be larger than the bedroom, but with the myriad shelves, closets, drawers, and huge racks of suits, jackets, and slacks, it was crowded. I decided to stay in the doorway so that Dolores could move around freely.
“It has to be a suit, of course. Where is my favorite navy blue? . . . Oh, here.” She pulled a dark blue double-breasted suit off a rack and hung it on a wall hook. “What do you think, Jess? Now that I look at it, the fabric is so obviously winter. I wouldn’t want Willis to look awkward. Still, navy is the color, am I right?”
I agreed that it was. As she slid hangers along the rack, I was amazed at how many navy or near–navy blue suits hung there. There appeared to be close to a dozen.
Dolores narrowed the search to a double-breasted navy cotton-wool mix and a single-breasted linen suit, perhaps one shade lighter than navy. She hung them side by side on wall hooks and stood looking critically at first one, then the other.
“I think the single-breasted linen is a winner. Double-breasted suits are passé in my book, although I never could get Willis to part with the ones he had.” She put the cotton-wool mix back on the rack, opened one of the built-in drawers in the far wall of the dressing room, and pulled out a tailored white shirt. She gave it the once-over. “Long collar, button cuffs. Looks fairly new. This will do. Now we’ll need a tie.”
She twisted a brass knob on the wall and a door next to the shirt drawer popped open. Four metal tie stands—two top, two bottom—held at least a hundred ties.
Dolores said, “I’m thinking subdued stripes,” and
