Gotcha! (10 page)

“I’ll be damned,” was all Mace Carlisle could think of to say. Lola whimpered all the way down the steps and into the car. Mace whistled.

“I’ll be double damned,” he said again, as the 543.1-horsepower engine turned over. He waved, even though he knew no one could see him. Then he shouted, “I’ll be back before you know it! That’s a promise!”

C
harles gave Myra a quick squeeze, then kissed her lightly. “Fly safe, call me when you land, and if you need me, just let me know. Any idea when you’ll be back?”

Myra sighed. “We’re not sure, dear. My best answer right now would be we’ll be back when there’s nothing else for us to do for that poor lady. Can you handle that?”

“I can. Don’t get into any trouble,” Charles teased lightly. He picked up Myra’s small suitcase and carried it out to Annie’s car. He popped it into the trunk, closed it, then leaned over to kiss Annie lightly on the cheek. He stepped back and waved until both his ladies were out of sight.

“He handled that well.” Annie laughed.

“He did, didn’t he?” Myra smiled. “And how is dear Fergus this morning after his operation?”

“Myra, you would not believe what a horrible patient he was and still is. You would have thought he was the only man in the world to ever have his appendix removed. He milked it for four days. He ran me ragged. I was ready to kick him all the way to Scotland. Men make the worst patients. It’s a good thing men can’t have babies. Civilization would have died out long ago if that were the case. Whatever. He’s on his own now. The doctor said he could go back to work tomorrow as long as he doesn’t do any lifting. I arranged for a driver to take him back and forth. Nellie said she would cook for him until we got back. Win-win.” Annie chortled happily.

“A four-day delay is how I look at it, and, no, I am not complaining, Annie. Fergus needed you. I just wish he’d had his attack earlier. There we were at the airport, ready to board the plane, and—bingo!—you get the call that Fergus had been rushed to the hospital. Like I said, I’m not complaining; it’s just weird how that happened. But we both know everything happens for a reason. Four days is not that long a delay. I am worried about Julie Wyatt, though. Why do you think she didn’t call us back?”

“I don’t know, Myra. Maybe she had second thoughts. Maybe she didn’t get our message. I wanted us to call her back again, but you said no, so I deferred to you. We’re going to have a beautiful day for flying. Should we start thinking about what we’ll do if Julie Wyatt has had a change of heart and doesn’t want our help? Do we just turn around and go home?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Annie. In her letter, she said she had tried to get in touch with us a few years ago. Evidently, her situation is worse now than it was then, or she wouldn’t have contacted us a second time. I’m thinking some unseen force is at work here.”

“Always the optimist,” Annie said as she blasted her horn to pass a sedan that was going too slow for her liking. “I love this time of day, when it’s just turning light outside. The beginning of a new day and the mystery that it will unfold. I love sundown, too, because at sundown we know what the mystery of the day was.”

Myra laughed. “What’s your feeling about night, especially midnight?”

“Actually, Myra, I don’t have a feeling one way or the other about midnight because I’m usually asleep by then. Unless I’m doing
other things.
”

Myra didn’t need a road map to know what the other things were. She changed the subject. “I’m feeling a little guilty that we didn’t tell the others, with the exception of Nellie, what we’re doing. We had to tell her because of Fergus.”

Annie blasted her horn again, then turned on her signal light to move over to the right lane. “Really? Why is that, Myra? Martine Connor is in Copenhagen at some ex-president summit. Pearl is on a camping trip with her daughter and granddaughter. Nellie has been suffering with her new hips, with all the rain and dampness we’ve had the last two weeks. None of them could have come with us. What would be the point of calling any of them, when you and I can scout out the problem and see if we all need to act on it? For all we know, Julie Wyatt might just want to
talk
to us. She picked
you
to write to for a reason, Myra. That tells me she knows about your daughter. And you are listed in
Who’s Who
as well as the phone book. Does that all make sense?”

“Yes, it does. We’ll make our decision about whether to involve the others or handle it ourselves, after we talk to Julie Wyatt.”

“Ah, we’re right on schedule. I do like it when things work out the way I plan for them. All we have to do is park this buggy, sprint across the tarmac, and board our waiting chariot. Ah, I see it now. She’s a beauty, isn’t she, Myra?” Annie said, pointing to the sleek Gulfstream that was her very own private jet.

“That she is.” Myra giggled. “I’m not sure about that sprinting part, though.”

“How about a fast trot, then?” Annie said, swerving into a private parking space reserved for people who were rich enough to own private jets.

Twenty minutes later, the Gulfstream was airborne, and ten minutes after that they were at a cruising altitude of twenty-five thousand feet, and both women were being served eggs Benedict on fine china by a steward good-looking enough to pose for
GQ
magazine.

“I could get used to traveling like this very quickly,” Myra said. She raised her eyebrows when the steward set down two mimosas.

“They’re virgin mimosas, Myra. We can’t show up at Julie Wyatt’s house smelling of alcohol. How would that look?”

“Like we drink on the job, is how it would look. What do you think she’s like, Annie?”

“Well, I googled her and showed you everything that came up on her. She’s a pretty lady, not yet sixty, so younger than us. She has two sets of twins, which is a feat in itself. She’s a dog person, and that’s definitely a plus. She’s had success in her life—she hosts a cooking show on the Food Channel. She’s had tragedy, as you know, just as you and I have. My personal opinion is she
needs
help, our help, more than she wants it. Which means she’s smart, Myra. She knows she has to resolve her problem before she can move forward and heal.”

“She sounds to me like she’d be a good candidate to join our . . . second string.”

Annie burst out laughing. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to mentioning that.”

“You were ahead of me on that one, weren’t you, Annie?”

Annie just laughed.

 

 

Annie fixed her eyes on the rental-car employee, and asked, “Does this rig have a GPS navigation system?”

“It does,” the curly-haired youth responded. “This . . . ah . . .
rig
is fully loaded.”

“Hmmm. Well, this is where we want to go, so will you please program it into that . . . that
thing
so we can be on our way,” Annie said, shoving a slip of paper into the youth’s hand.

The boy laughed as he programmed
the thing.
He had it done in seconds. Myra tipped him $20 before she settled herself into the passenger seat. Annie huffed and puffed as she slid behind the wheel.

“Don’t look so damned smug, Myra; you don’t know how to do it, either. They say ten-year-olds can do it.”

“Well, guess what, Annie, we aren’t ten years old, and furthermore, I do not want to learn how to do that. You don’t, either, so don’t pretend you do. Now, pay attention to what that damned thing is telling us so we don’t get lost. Tell me again why we didn’t hire a car service.”

“Because you said we needed to economize.”

Myra started to sputter, then they were off and running, their way of relieving the stress both of them were feeling.

Thirty minutes later, the computerized voice on the GPS navigation system alerted the women that they were three miles from their destination.

“This is a nice little town. Do you want to stop for some lunch, Myra? We need to get our wits together.”

Before Myra could respond, Annie turned left and parked in a slanted slot on what she thought was the town square. “See, it says
Eats
. Soup and sandwiches. I’m not that hungry, but I could eat something. A cold glass of sweet tea would be greatly appreciated.”

“You made your point, Annie. Let’s take a table outside. It will give us a chance to get a feel for this little town. I like what I’ve seen so far. I just love towns with big old trees that shade the sidewalks. I wonder if children still roller-skate and ride their bicycles on the sidewalks.” Her voice was so fretful-sounding that Annie flinched.

“Don’t go there, Myra,” Annie said, a catch in her own voice.

“Small-town America,” Myra said, after they gave the waitress their order. One tuna sandwich to be split between the two of them, two cups of something called wedding bell soup, and two tall glasses of sweet tea with lots of ice.

The women made small talk; mostly it consisted of neither of them ever having been in Alabama. “I think they get a lot of hurricanes and tornados here,” was Annie’s contribution.

Suddenly, Annie poked Myra in the arm. “I think that answers your question, Myra.” Myra turned to look at four young girls, bike helmets on their heads, as they parked their bicycles outside Penny’s Ice Cream Parlor. They were laughing and giggling as they marched into the store, and they came out ten minutes later with ice-cream cones. They continued to laugh and giggle as they sat on a bench under the awning in front of the store. Both women looked away.

“Were we ever that young, Annie?”

“We were, Myra, but it was so long ago, it’s hard to remember.”

The moment the giggling girls pedaled away, Myra got up, placed some bills under the saltshaker, and they were back in the car and headed down Main Street on their way to Julie Wyatt’s house.

Ten minutes later, the navigation system came to life, saying they would arrive at their destination within three minutes. Annie slowed the rental car and turned on her signal light but was prevented from making the turn into Julie Wyatt’s driveway as a dark green pickup truck loaded with gardening supplies turned into the same driveway. They watched as the driver of the pickup punched in a set of numbers on the keypad. Their car was so close behind, it made it through the gate right behind the pickup. “Whew, that was close. We wouldn’t have been able to get in if that guy wasn’t ahead of us.”

“We could have called Ms. Wyatt’s number to ask her to let us in,” Myra replied.

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you, Myra?” Annie sniped.

Myra ignored her and got out of the car. “Oh, Annie, look at that glorious front porch. I wonder if they still call them verandas. Look at all the plants and ferns! And those wonderful rocking chairs. This is just too pretty for words. Shhh. Listen! Her dogs know we’re here! Well, come on. Why are you standing there like that?”

“Because . . . because, this house, this veranda looks just the way Mama’s did back when I was a little girl. Don’t you remember, Myra? We used to sit on the veranda and have tea parties. We were so young and innocent back then.”

“Annie, stop it right now. Tripping down memory lane isn’t going to help us. This isn’t about us or our memories. This is about Julie Wyatt. Now, come on, put one foot in front of the other, and let’s go up on the veranda and ring the bell before those dogs come through the door.”

They stepped up onto the veranda. Annie rang the doorbell, then stepped back. From inside they could hear a pleasant voice admonishing the dogs. The instant silence was deafening. The door opened, and a woman brushed back her hair as she stared through the screen door. She didn’t say hello. What she said was, “How did you get in here?”

“We followed a green pickup truck. Ms. Wyatt, I’m Myra Rutledge, and this is Anna de Silva. You wrote me a letter. We called you and left a message, but you didn’t return our call, so we came to see you. You have a lovely front porch.”

“Dear God! I am so sorry. Is it really you? You came all this way? I didn’t get any message, but we’ve had problems with power surges. When that happens, the answering machine goes haywire. I know I should get voice mail, but I hate all things electronic. Oh, my, I can’t believe you’re here!

“I’m babbling, and where are my manners? Please, come in. The dogs won’t bother you. They love people, especially Cooper. I can’t believe you came all the way down here from Virginia. I didn’t know what else to do. I did write you once before, but you didn’t respond, so I thought I’d try one more time.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t come when you first wrote, but the fact of the matter is that we never got your letter. We weren’t exactly easy to reach in those days. But we’re here now,” Annie said brightly.

“Yes, we’re here now,” Myra echoed, looking around at the cozy house. It was a woman’s house, for sure. Everything about it was spick-and-span, colorful and comfortable, and it smelled like the house of a woman who did a lot of cooking.

“Coffee? Tea? Something cold to drink?” Julie asked as she ushered the two women visitors into the kitchen. “I always conduct business in the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not one little bit, dear. Annie and I are both kitchen people. Coffee would be nice.”

“I just made it. I was going to take a break and sit down and think. I always think best with coffee.”

“Us, too,” Annie said, sitting down on a captain’s chair with bright blue-checkered cushions.

“Oh, I am so nervous,” Julie blurted.

“Don’t be,” Myra said softly. “Think of us as your two new best friends. You can tell us anything. Actually, you will have to tell us everything if you want us to help you. You can’t hold anything back. In other words, full disclosure.”

“Okay, full disclosure,” Julie said, pouring coffee into blue-checkered cups that matched the cushions on the chairs. She returned the coffeepot to the machine and brought a sugar bowl and creamer that matched the cups and set them in the middle of the table, along with spoons.

Julie sat down at the table and folded her hands.

“Talk to us,” Annie said.