Death Runs in the Family (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

A Winding Down

“That’s the last of them,” I said, after I’d practically slammed the front door shut on the backsides of the funeral attendees, a couple I’d never met before, who ate more than some frat boys I’ve known. True, Tío had made some amazing food for the gathering after the short but intense funeral, but still. “I thought they’d never leave.”

“Liana, there’s no need to be rude.” My mother chastised me, heading back to the family room. I followed, while she warmed up to the subject. “In a situation as sad as this, people need time to mourn with friends.”

“Six hours? I think they met Stephen once at a bar mitzvah. And they ate all the Samba Corn Fritters…”

I stopped speaking as Mom stopped, turned around slowly, and glared at me. I almost bumped into her but pulled myself up short.

“Not that I begrudge anyone a fritter,” I finished lamely.

“Mija,”
said Tío, coming over to me, carrying a small white porcelain tray. “I have made more.
Aquí tenes
.” He thrust the tray at me, laden with hot, golden corn fritters, fresh from the oven. I grabbed one. I still hadn’t made up for nearly being starved to death the day before. These days, airplane food, even in first class, just doesn’t cut it.

“If people
wanted
to stay and remember Stephen,” Lila sniffed, “then it was only
right
we let them do so and extend the hospitality of our family. Jennifer was
deeply
grateful for our taking charge of these arrangements.”

I remained unswayed. “Mom, the funeral was over at one thirty. We came back here supposedly for a small gathering of friends and family. Even Jenn and the kids left at five. It is now seven-thirty p.m. We’re lucky the food held out as long as they did.”

The kitchen door swung open. Richard and Gurn walked out, chortling quietly together, as if they had just shared a private joke. They sobered instantly, when they realized they were among others and at the solemnity of the occasion.

“I guess we should start clearing up,” Lila said, ever the mother. She let out a deep sigh and picked up two glasses and some soiled napkins from the coffee table.

“Here, Mrs. Alvarez,” Gurn said. “You sit down and rest for a minute. I’ll do that.” I watched the man I love empty Mom’s hands, while guiding her to the sofa. After everything all of us have been through together, him practically saving her life a few months back, he still addressed my mother by her surname. That’s a southern gentleman for you. Of course, Mom still lets him, but that’s a California snob for you.

“Why don’t we all park ourselves for a few minutes?” I said. “We haven’t had a chance to talk, what with all those people milling around, and my feet are killing me.”

“We don’t ‘park’ ourselves, Liana. We are not a car,” Lila chastised again, quietly. I watched Richard, Tío, and Gurn struggle to keep smiles from their faces. Mom’s gentle chidings have become something of a family tradition, especially when directed at me.

“However,” she continued, in a much warmer tone, glancing over at me with approval, “I think it is a good idea to sit for a moment, converse among ourselves, and reflect upon the day.”

I reflected if anyone wanted to check out a living, breathing character straight out of one of Jane Austen’s novels, just come on over to my house and meet my mother.

“Yowser,” I said, flinging myself into one of the overstuffed, leather chairs. I removed the brand-new four-inch, dark gray stilettos, which would never see my insteps again, comfort being mandatory for any pair of shoes worn by me. The soon-to-be banished heels had been purchased to go with the rest of my outfit, a battleship gray, vintage designer suit I’d found in a consignment shop a few months previous. I would keep the suit. I usually hate dreary colors, but when I saw this beauty for a fraction of its worth, I couldn’t pass it up. I’d never worn it before—like the shoes—and hoped to never have to wear it again for such a somber occasion. Maybe at a happier time, I could spiff it up with a bright blue dickey, instead of the current black one, and throw on a few of my turquoise baubles.

I watched as the rest of my family and Gurn positioned themselves on the sofa and in one of the matching chairs, arranged around the large coffee table. I was glad we were done with the funeral and the gathering, not that the aftermath of Stephen’s loss was spent, but we could all take a breather and maybe try to get back to normal, whatever the hell that was.

I turned to Richard. We’d both been so busy playing junior hosts to the fifty-odd people who showed up, we hadn’t had any time for chitchat, since I’d retuned from Ipanema.

I opened my mouth to ask about the whereabouts of his wife and my sister-in-law, the much-adored Victoria, when he said, “You did a good job in Brazil, Sis. How you managed to pull it out of the fire, I don’t know, but good job.” He picked up one of the warm fritters from the tray Tío had set down on the table, held it up in a salute, and took a huge bite. Everyone else muttered in agreement, nodding their heads in unison.

I tried not to preen. I was feeling pretty smug, not to mention awfully lucky.
There’s the luck thing again
, I thought.
At any time we cross a street, we can find a million dollars, get hit

by a car, or get to the other side with nothing happening, where we go about our business.
The ‘x’ factor.

I looked over at Lila for confirmation on my terrific-ness, but she wasn’t listening. She looked tired, more tired than I’d seen her in a long time. There was something on her mind, too, something weighing as heavily as the day’s happenings.

“Mom, you look exhausted. Why don’t you head upstairs? Don’t worry about the mess. We’ll clean up here.”

I could see she was considering it. Mom stood and stretched in a languorous, chanteuse sort of way, very unlike her.

“Maybe I will. But first, I want to inform the family of something, now we’re gathered together.” She sat down again, studying her pale pink enameled nails, as if taking time to find the right words. “Tomorrow morning Jennifer and I are looking at houses around here. I want to show her a three-bedroom two blocks away I’ve found at an excellent price, with good schools and a mother-in-law unit in the back, perfect for her mother. In fact, the house is perfect for them. It was a rare find. There will be no other.”

I studied my mother for a moment, a woman who looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, albeit wearing pearls.

“You’ve already bought it for her, haven’t you?”

I’ve never seen Lila Hamilton Alvarez so taken aback.

“Well I…” she stuttered and then froze. Even with trust funds floating around like balloons at a parade in our family, buying a house in a place like Palo Alto was noteworthy.

“Well, I…” she said again.

Then she drew herself up into a stiff sitting position and spoke as belligerently as a fourteen-year old boy caught with a
Playboy
magazine.

“Yes, I did, as a gift from Roberto and me. The truth is Stephen didn’t leave Jennifer as well provided for as I’d hoped, what with the economic problems the country has been having lately. He had lost quite a bit on his investments. I’m sure he’d planned on making those losses up…” Mom stopped talking abruptly and pressed quivering lips together.

“It’s a wonderful gift, Mom,” I said, leaning in. “I’m sure it will make all the difference to her and the boys, especially now.”

Mom gave me a grateful look. “I hadn’t known until recently there were two mortgages on their home in Arizona, almost for more than its current value. Even if she could manage to sell it, she’ll make no money. In fact, it might be better if she simply walked away.” She paused for a moment and added in an almost inaudible tone, “I think your father would have liked my doing this.”

“Yes, he would have, Mom,” said Richard, with certainty. “Dad always believed that we need to take care of our own.”

Mom let out a deep breath and smiled, obviously feeling loads lighter.

“I’m glad the family understands. I was somewhat concerned you might see this as me being foolish or intrusive in Jennifer’s life. It’s not that way at all. The house is in her name to do with as she sees fit in the future. But for now, she will have a home and be near us. Even her mother thinks it’s a good idea.”

“And she’s one tough sale,” I commented.

“Indeed,” Mom said, agreeing with me, something she rarely does.

“
Eres muy generosa, hermana,”
Tío said.
“But I do not know you to be less.”

“Thank you, Mateo. It feels right.” Mom turned to me, changing the subject. “Liana, did I hear Frank tell you a short while ago nearly every partner in the Fantasy Lady had been indicted on charges of illegal gambling and match fixing? He left before I could ask him.”

“Well, it might be more complicated than we’d like,” I said. We were back at talking about business. The tenor of the room changed, becoming less fragile and emotional. “Putting aside most of the owners of the Fantasy Lady reside outside the United States, the crimes themselves took place in different countries. This could take years to sort out.”

“But the syndicate is no longer operational,” Gurn said, jumping in. “Spaulding is locked up without bail, having been charged with the attempted murders of Flint and Lee. Then, thanks to the evidence Richard got from the casino and coupled with what the FBI got off the microchip, most of the partners tied to Spaulding have been indicted for aiding and abetting, no matter where they reside.” Gurn glanced in my direction. “After what Spaulding tried to do to Lee, though, I’ve made it my personal business to see he and his syndicate goes down. In fact, I fly to Washington day after tomorrow to sit in on a meeting of an expert panel on the process of international crime convictions. Representatives from several countries affected—Peru and England come to me off the top of my head—will also be there. Working together, I believe justice will be served.”

“And is there justice for our Stephen?” asked Tío quietly. “And for all the poor ones whose lives are gone?”

“No, of course not,” Gurn answered, looking into his almost empty coffee cup and studying its contents. “No one can ever make up for that. All we can do is to punish the guilty to the fullest extent of the law and try to give the surviving loved ones a little peace.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy and oppressive. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it felt like someone had dropped a fifty-pound weight on my chest. Richard’s voice filled the void.

“It’s one of the reasons Vicky and I decided to name the baby Stephen, if it’s a boy, or Stephanie, if it’s a girl. Maybe a little more familial peace.”

I gaped at him, springing to life only when his words registered. A baby!

“Richard,” I screamed. “Richard! You sly dog, you! Is that why Vicky keeps disappearing all the time?” I lunged from the chair and threw myself at my baby brother, grabbing him around the neck in a bear hug. He stood up pretending to fight me off, but holding me just as tightly as I was holding him. He giggled, and I giggled, and suddenly, everyone in the room was giggling.

“It’s her morning sickness, but it comes all hours of the day. It should be over soon. She’s nearly ten weeks.” He giggled again and then sobered. “Not that it’s funny. I shouldn’t be laughing at her morning sickness. She’s so tired of saltine crackers.”

“Ten weeks! How long have you known?”

“About two weeks now. We were slow on the uptake. We thought she had the flu,” he said, his voice filled with joy and laughter, no matter how hard he tried to be serious.

I broke free, searching the other, happy faces gathered around. No one else seemed surprised.

“You all knew? The rest of the family knew?” They nodded, even Mom grinned from ear to ear. Most unlike her.

“Some days, it was the only thing keeping me going. I wanted to tell you, Liana,” she offered. “But your brother insisted it should come from him.”

“Un bebé,”
said Tío. Tío came over and clapped his nephew on the shoulder, words of congratulations and love uttered in Spanish. Simultaneously, Richard and I reached out for him. Tío went on, “
Dios,
he closes one door but opens another.”

We heard a sharp intake of breath and, locked in our three-way embrace, looked over at Mom, still sitting in the same position as before.

“Every time I think about it, Roberto,” she said, as if Dad was in the room, “our first grandchild.” And then my mother, Lila Hamilton Alvarez, burst into tears, burying her

face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said through tapered fingers. “All these highs and lows have been difficult. Forgive me.”

Well, that did it for me. I ran over to her, threw myself down by her side, and started boohooing on her shoulder. Richard joined in, laughing as much as crying. Tío offered up prayers of thanks, which would have done the pope proud, his watery eyes shining with happiness.

I heard Gurn’s voice amidst the lamentations. “Well, Lord love a duck, does everybody in your family cry at such good news? Must be the Latin way.” He set the dirty cup down on the coffee table and looked at us, one after the other. “When Rich told me, I smiled and clapped him on the back. I think I even bought him a cigar.”