“Come on, beautiful. Let’s go dance in the fresh air while Cinderella cleans up the kitchen. Maybe we’ll run into Wimsey.”
“Pompous, presumptuous pinhead,” Addie said with a snarl, though it wasn’t clear whether she was referring to her invisible friend or to Bryan. She dug the heels of her rubber boots into the floor and gave him an amazed look. “Why on earth are you wearing that ridiculous hat?”
“There’s a rabbit in it,” Bryan said, coaxing her toward the door as Rachel began flinging pots off the stove in a rage. “I thought you might want hasenpfeffer for breakfast.”
“You’re an idiot, Hennessy,” Addie declared, but followed him out of the room nevertheless.
“I’ll second that,” Rachel grumbled, poking at the debris inside the cookstove with a tongs. “Ghosts. What intelligent man with degrees from two major universities believes in ghosts? What intelligent woman falls in love with a man who believes in ghosts? Ghosts. The man must have been hit over the head with something when he was young.”
She bent over to look inside the oven, and an enamel pot tipped off the cooking surface and bounced off her skull. She stared at the pot as it rolled across the floor, sure she had knocked it over during her initial burst of fury. Dismissing it, she turned her attention to the mess her mother had made.
“Oh, no…” she said on a long groan.
With her tongs she fished out a stack of half-burned mail. She flipped through the ruined envelopes, her heart sinking. Bills. Bills that had never been opened. Bills that had certainly never been paid. She bent over again and tugged out another long envelope, this one only slightly charred, and her heart dropped from low to the pit of her stomach, where it lay like a rock.
“Ooooh, noooo…”
“What is it?” Bryan asked, returning to the kitchen without his dancing partner.
In a daze, Rachel handed him the envelope. “Yon know how you keep saying something will turn up? Something just did.”
Bryan took the letter out, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and began to read to himself. He paled a bit beneath his tan and handed the piece of stationery back to Rachel, muttering, “Oh, no…”
Feeling as if all her bones were dissolving, Rachel sank down on a chair at the kitchen table and stared across the room in a trance. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a letter like this one. It was, however, the first time she had felt dizzy because of it.
The IRS was going to audit Lindquist Antiques.
Visions of Leavenworth danced in her head.
She looked up at Bryan and forced the corners of her mouth into a parody of a smile. “Got anything in your magic hat for this one, Mr. Hennessy?”
“I am not moving from this house.” Addie pressed her lips into a thin line and crossed her arms over her meager bosom. She leaned back into the worn red velvet of an enormous thronelike Victorian chair, settling in for the battle.
Rachel and Bryan had spent the day working their way through the huge maze of rooms that made up Drake House, tagging the antiques that would be offered at the sale. It had been a long day of building tension. Addie had trailed after them, pulling the tags off the furniture and complaining incessantly about the way Rachel was treating her. Twice she had called the police to tell them she was being robbed. Twice Rachel had had to call them back and tell them it was another false alarm. Meals had been stilted affairs seasoned with sharp remarks. Addie’s mood had darkened with every hour, and Rachel’s control on her temper had worn down to the last frayed threads.
Bryan watched both women with a terrible sense of foreboding. He could feel Rachel’s tension, the hurt and anger that had been simmering just under her lovely surface for days. Her jaw was set at a mutinous angle and trembled with the emotion she was struggling to keep in check. And Addie, who had been on a rampage all day, showed no signs of backing down.
He pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. He was exhausted from intercepting Rachel’s feelings all day and from running interference between the two Lindquist women, but it was clear there would be no rest for the weary this evening.
“Addie, you look like a queen in that chair,” he said, flashing one of his inane smiles. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met the queen of Sweden?”
“Could she sing?” Addie asked. “Rachel used to sing, you know. She had a voice like an angel, but she wasted it, and now we’re destitute.”
“Addie, that’s not fair-”
“No, she’s right, Bryan,” Rachel said with a frightening smile. She threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. “I screwed up the whole flipping world because I didn’t become an opera singer. I’m sure they would have found a cure for cancer by now if only I had gone on to perform
“Rachel, don’t be flip,” Addie snapped. “Carmen was never a role for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” she said without a hint of remorse. “How could I have been so foolish?”
“You take after your aunt Marilyn. She never had any sense of responsibility either.”
Rachel staggered back as if she’d been struck a savage blow. No sense of responsibility? She had always been responsible! She had given up much of her childhood and adolescence to her responsibilities for her singing talent. She had given up her dreams to take on the responsibility of managing Terence’s career. Now she was giving up all hope of a happy future, taking on responsibility for the very person who sat in judgment of her.
“Rachel,” Bryan said softly, reaching out for her.
She could see him out of the corner of her eye, could easily read the concern in his expression. She could have gone to him for comfort, but she didn’t. The pain she was feeling was too personal. It went too deep for comfort, too deep for tears. She stepped away from Bryan and nearer her mother, isolating the two of them in the aura of her pain. She stared into Addie’s pale eyes and spoke softly in a voice that trembled with the strength of the emotions underlying it.
“I’m sorry, Mother. How many times do I have to say it? I’m sorry for the disappointment I caused you. I’m sorry I wanted something more in my life than training and practice and performance. And most of all, I’m sorry I wanted you to love me regardless of what I did, because obviously you weren’t capable of it.”
It was Addie’s turn to look stricken. Her thin, lined face turned ashen, and she pressed a hand to her chest, as if to see if her heart was still beating.
“How dare you?” she said, her voice as soft as Rachel’s had been, as full of pain. “How dare you say I didn’t love you! I did everything for you.”
“You turned me away. You exiled me. That’s an awfully funny way of showing love.”
Addie said nothing. She struggled to sort through her feelings. They seemed to assail her from all sides and from within-anger, guilt, resentment, regret, disappointment. The present faded, and she suddenly found herself in the past, wishing back the words that had forced Rachel to leave, wishing Rachel hadn’t pushed her into saying them. They were in the little house in Berkeley, and Rachel was backing away from her, moving toward the door with a terrible look of hurt in her wide eyes. It was too late. Her daughter was leaving her. She had pushed too hard, expected too much, laid down one law too many. Her sweet Rachel was leaving her.
“This is all your fault,” Addie said bitterly, turning on Bryan. “You good-for-nothing, god-awful folk singer!”
She pulled a man’s shoe out of the patch pocket of her housedress and flung it at him. Bryan caught it and stared at it, frowning, not quite sure what to say. A cherry tomato sailed through the air and caught him unaware, bouncing off his forehead.
“Mother, stop it!” Rachel ordered. “That’s not Terence, it’s Bryan.”
“Bryan-” The word caught on the end of Addie’s tongue, and she bit it back, but her confusion was already apparent and she knew it. Panic left her only one option-escape.
She pushed herself up out of her throne chair and backed toward the hall. She pulled half of a cheese sandwich from her sweater pocket and held it out in front of her as if it were a gun.
“Stay back or I’ll shoot!” she demanded. “I’m going to call the police!”
“Mother!” Rachel started after her, but Bryan caught her by the arm and pulled her back.
“Let her go, honey. I unplugged the phones after the last call.”
