“You were as close to Susan as anyone. You were with her all that day until just before she was killed. Talk me through everything that happened from your point of view.”
“I did that with the lead character in my book. I wrote it from the viewpoint of a twelve-year-old girl.”
“I skipped the long paragraphs and only read the dialogue.”
“You still know what happened.”
“Not the behind-the-scenes stuff.”
“That’s the stuff in the long paragraphs.”
“Is there something you don’t want me to know?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, then. I wasn’t at the barbecue, remember? I need details.”
“You could go back to the book and read the parts you skipped.”
“Or you could just tell me.”
She gnawed her lower lip. He cocked his head to one side, prompting her. Then she suddenly began to talk, as though fearing she might change her mind if she didn’t.
“Daddy had initiated the company-wide Memorial Day barbecue two years earlier. It was the first party he and Olivia hosted as a married couple. Daddy used the occasion to establish Olivia as the new Mrs. Howard Lyston and to introduce Steven as his adopted son.”
Dent held up his hand. “Detail. If your dad adopted him, why didn’t he change his name to Lyston?”
“Olivia would have preferred it, I think. But Steven wanted to honor his late father by keeping his name.”
“Hmm. Okay. So the barbecue became an annual event. Brisket and ribs, kegs of beer, live music, dancing. Red, white, and blue banners.”
“Blue Bell ice cream. Fireworks at nine-thirty.”
“Quite a shindig.”
“Nevertheless, it had its detractors.” With her fingertip she followed a trickle of condensation as it slid down the side of her glass of tea. “There was a row at the breakfast table that morning. Steven didn’t want to go to the barbecue. He called the whole thing dumb. Olivia told him, dumb or not, he was going. Susan was acting like a bitch royale because…” She shifted her gaze up to him. “Because of the fight she’d had with you.”
“I came over on my motorcycle early—”
“Waking everyone up.”
“Someone inside the house had to activate the gate so I could get in.”
“It was me.”
“See? A detail I didn’t know. Anyway, I had to come early because Susan hadn’t answered her phone. I didn’t want to leave a message, but I had to tell her that I’d be late to the barbecue.”
“You were going flying with Gall.”
“He’d been doing some repairs on this guy’s plane and wanted to take it up, check things out. He asked me if I wanted to go along. I jumped at the chance. I told Susan I would hook up with her at the barbecue when we got back.”
“That didn’t go over well.”
“To put it mildly. She blew a gasket and issued an ultimatum. Take her to the barbecue when it started, or don’t bother coming at all. I told her I was going flying with Gall. She said fine, she’d have more fun without me.”
“She was in a snit. She told me…” She hesitated, then said, “She said she’d rather die than play second fiddle to that nasty old man.”
Those portentous words silenced them for several moments, then Bellamy picked up the story. “She was determined to teach you a lesson. Over Daddy’s protests, she drove her own car to the park. She left ahead of us, and I remember thinking how gorgeous she looked when she sailed out the door.
“She was wearing a new sundress, one that Olivia had bought her for the occasion. The blue color set off her eyes. Her legs were smooth and tan. Her hair was golden, shiny, and perfect. In fact, everything about her looked perfect to me.” She laughed softly. “Probably because I was so imperfect.”
“You improved. A lot.” He teamed his drawled compliment with a lazy-eyed once-over that he could tell flustered her.
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“Well, you caught one anyway.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He shot her a teasing grin, then returned to the serious nature of the topic. “Susan went on ahead.”
“Yes, despite Daddy and Olivia’s wishes that we arrive together and present a solid family unit. She insisted on having her own way. I admired her daring, because I was just the opposite. I never disobeyed, never went against what my parents wanted and expected of me. I was the Miss Goody Two-Shoes of the family.”
“Cooperative by nature?”
“Or simply a coward. I was also so happy to finally have a mother, I didn’t want to do anything to disrupt the new family.”
“How old were you when your real mom died?”
“Three. Susan was seven. Mother left us with the housekeeper while she went to the supermarket. She collapsed in the store aisle. A brain aneurysm had burst. They said death was instantaneous.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “I hope so. Realizing that she was dying and leaving us without a mother would have been awful for her.”
“Do you remember her?”
“Sometimes I think I do,” she said wistfully, “but it might just be images formed from pictures of her and stories that Daddy told me. When I started school, being without a mother made me different from the other kids. I didn’t like that. I was thrilled when Daddy and Olivia married.”
“What about Susan?”
“She was more wary because she was older and could remember our mother. But to Olivia’s credit, she was tactful and patient with us. With Steven, too, who was suddenly no longer an only child, but the middle child having to share his mother with two stepsisters. As an adult I can appreciate how dicey the merger could have been. But there were no major upheavals.”
Dent’s family background suffered by comparison. He didn’t want to think about what he would have become if Gall hadn’t taken him under his wing. So to speak.
He resettled in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Miss Goody Two-Shoes goes to the barbecue.”
She winced. “Not in a new sundress, mind you, but a pair of white slacks that were too big in the seat, and a red top with straps that kept slipping off my knobby shoulders.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t have the most graceful adolescence.”
He smiled, recalling how awkward she’d been. “I remember one time Susan and I passed through the kitchen where you were sitting at the table doing homework. Susan called you a dork for being such a conscientious student. You told her to shut up. But she kept teasing you. You picked up a bag—”
“Of colored pencils. I was working on a map of Europe.”
“You hauled it back to throw at her, but you knocked over your glass of milk instead. You burst into tears and ran from the room.”
“I can’t believe you remember that.” She buried her face in her hands. “I was so humiliated.”
“Why? Susan deserved to be smacked for making fun of you. I thought you showed a lot of backbone by standing up to her.”
“But I flubbed it and spilled my milk instead. In front of you. That was the worst of it.”
“Because of the crush you had on me.”
Her face turned bright pink. “You knew?”
He raised one shoulder. “Sensed.”
