The Guests on South Battery (34 page)

“And Nola? And your parents?”

I stopped again in the middle of the sidewalk and faced her, an elderly man walking his dog nearly colliding with us. “Yes, you know I do. What has this got to do with Jack fooling around with our nanny?”

Sophie looked up at the sky as if searching for divine intervention, a look I was growing familiar with. “There are many reasons why we embrace people—and not all of them have to do with lust. I'm sure seeing the two of them together like that would make you want to assume that what you saw wasn't an innocent embrace. But what if it was? What if he was, I don't know, comforting her? Trying to make her feel better? Because that's the Jack I know—a really nice guy who cares about others and who also happens to be crazy in love with his wife.”

I wanted to argue with her, remind her of the times when Jayne and Jack were practicing their putting in the foyer. And when the two of them had a picnic in the park with the children. When he comforted her in the hallway after the night-light got broken and he wasn't wearing a shirt. But I stopped before I made a complete idiot of myself. Because I had the sneaking suspicion that she might be right.

I'd once asked Thomas to explain circumstantial evidence, and I'd have to agree that all those instances with Jayne and Jack that kept smacking me in the head could only be called circumstantial. Yet I'd convicted them without a trial and with a jury of one. Worse, at the first sign of trouble, I'd reverted to the old Mellie who'd always found it easier to prove that her world was falling apart instead of really looking and seeing how good it truly was.

“I don't know what to do,” I said. I blinked twice, wondering why
she was so blurry. Grabbing my arm, she pulled me off Broad and onto Church Street. The store on the corner wasn't open yet and there was very little pedestrian traffic, which made it easy for me to press my forehead against the cool stone of the building, pushing against it until my head hurt.

“Well, you have a few options—all of which involve you talking with Jack and getting all this out in the open. And don't forget about the rest of the stuff Rebecca told you—about Button and your mother forgiving her, and the thing Hasell showed her was hidden in the steps. And listening to Sarah.”

I turned around, recalling something else, too. “She said that Jack had a great book idea, but that he couldn't do anything until he'd spoken with the people involved. That it might hurt people he loved.” I stuck my hair behind my ears with agitation. “Jack's been trying to talk with my mother, but I wouldn't let him.” I stared at her in horror. “What if I've been making everything worse?”

She smiled ruefully. “That certainly wouldn't be the first time. And I doubt it will be the last. But as long as you're willing, it's always fixable.”

“Are you sure?”

She put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “Just as sure as I know we will never have a date night with Rebecca and Marc.”

I
listened to my phone call go directly to Jack's voice mail for about the fifth time that day. Despite it being nearly six o'clock and growing dark outside, I had yet to get anything accomplished at work even though I hadn't left my desk all day. The air sat heavy and full, unrelated to the torrential downpour and accompanying thunder and lightning. Or the dark clouds that added another layer of gloom to an already charged atmosphere.

I dialed again, listening to it ring and then cut off with Jack's voice telling me that he'd get back to me as soon as he could. I was sure it was my imagination, but there was something in the dial tone that didn't sound authentic. As if something were mimicking it but falling short of an accurate imitation. Like listening to a favorite song sung by a cover band.

I called Nola and she picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Melanie.”

“I'm glad you picked up—I thought something was wrong with my phone. Is your dad home?” I held my breath.

“No. And I'm beginning to get worried. He's usually home by now, but I haven't heard from him. Mrs. Houlihan hasn't heard from him, either.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“It goes straight to voice mail.” She paused. “It sounded weird. And my phone is showing the wrong time.”

I stilled. “Ten minutes after four?”

“Yeah—how did you know?”

I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at the screen before speaking again. “Because my phone is doing the same thing. We shouldn't be on our cell phones during a storm, so I'm going to hang up. But please have your dad call me when he gets home. Tell him I'll pick up and that I unblocked his number.”

“You blocked his number?”

“I know, I know. Please don't say anything, Nola. I don't think I could handle being scolded by a fifteen-year-old right now.”

“Sure.”

I was about to say good-bye when she spoke again. “Melanie?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you text that photo of the broken snow globes?”

“Excuse me?”

“You sent me a photo of the broken snow globes laid out in a line on the nursery's dresser. I was wondering if it was some sort of code you wanted me to figure out or something.”

I placed my hand on the back of my neck, feeling pinpricks of fear beginning to sprout. “I didn't. I'd actually forgotten that I had it on my phone. I meant to send it to your dad.”

There was a slight pause before she spoke. “Maybe you hit my name instead so it was sent to me.”

I almost agreed with her. Because that would have been the easiest thing, to pretend that there was an obvious explanation to everything. But we both knew there wasn't.

“No,” I said. “I know I didn't.”

“Then who did?”

“Hasell.” I said the name without thinking. It was probably because her time of death was frozen on both our phones that made me jump to the most obvious conclusion. “Maybe she's trying to tell us something.”

“I guess that would be weird coming from anybody else but you.” Even though her voice trembled a little, I thought I could hear her smile, too. “Do you want me to play with it a little? See if I can make some sense of it?”

“Yes—that would be great. And I'll do the same as soon as I feed the babies and put them to bed. Call me if you figure anything out.”

“Okay. And you do the same.”

We said our good-byes and I quickly packed up my briefcase to leave. My mother had convinced me that it made sense to bring comfortable walking shoes so I could walk to and from work on days when I didn't have to drive clients anywhere. I slipped on the pair of flats she'd bought for me, and headed toward the lobby.

“Good night, Melanie.”

I looked up in surprise at Jolly, who still sat behind the reception desk, smiling brightly. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just cleaning up some things. Making my lists for tomorrow.” She stood and came from around her desk, holding what looked like a large photo album. “And your husband dropped this off for you about an hour ago.”

“Jack was here? And you didn't come get me?”

“You told me that if he stopped by to tell him that you were out with clients. And with your car being gone, he didn't even have to ask.”

“Oh,” I said weakly, reaching out to take the album, recognizing it as one of Button's albums Sophie and I had brought over to the house on Tradd Street for Jack. “Did he say why he wanted me to have this?”

“He just said to call him when you were ready to look at it. He's been trying to reach you, but he says you blocked his number so he couldn't.” She sent me a reproachful look. “You didn't really, did you? Of all the—”

“Thanks, Jolly. Good night.”

“You'll want this,” she said, digging into her large purse and pulling out an empty plastic garbage bag. “Otherwise the album will get wet and ruin the photos inside. You don't have your car, remember? Or you could call Jack and see if he could come pick you up. It will give you
time to clear the air before you get home to the family. And you can apologize for blocking his number.”

She ignored my glare, focusing on putting the album in the bag, while I tried to call Jack again, hanging up before it could go to voice mail. The windows rattled from a series of thunder cracks, the sky letting loose with bullets of rain. “It's not that far,” I said, pulling up the hood of my raincoat and tucking in my hair. The wind howled, letting me know that an umbrella would be useless.

Jolly moved to the door to open it. “Hurry up before the streets flood again and you have to swim home. I'd come with you to help, but I'm heading in the opposite direction.” As I neared, she sniffed the air. “I like your perfume. Smells like roses.”

“I'm not wearing any.” I didn't add that I didn't smell roses, either. “Maybe my housekeeper is using a new detergent.”

“Or you have a guardian angel,” she said with a small laugh.

I took a step toward the door, but she didn't move, preferring to stand staring at me, a frown forming deep creases along the sides of her mouth. “Tell Jayne to be careful.” She began rubbing her neck as if it were raw with bruises. “And your mother. At least I'm thinking it's your mother. She looks just like you but is thinner and has a bigger chest. I'm getting bad vibes.”

I forced myself to breathe in and breathe out, my mind trying to work its way through what Jolly had just told me. “Bad vibes?”

She nodded. “Yes, I just learned that last night in my online class. It's when you pay attention to your instincts and allow them to take you deep down to your real feelings. It's my first time doing it, so you'll have to let me know if I was accurate.”

“Sure,” I said through stiff lips. “Good night, Jolly. See you tomorrow.” She opened the door for me, and with my briefcase and wrapped album held tightly against me, I headed out into the pouring rain.

My mother greeted me at the door, taking my coat after I'd dropped my load on the kitchen floor by the door. “You look like a drowned
rat, Mellie. It's a good thing the dogs aren't here or they'd probably chase you.”

“Thanks, Mother,” I said, kissing her cheek and then those of the babies who were sitting on a blanket on the floor. Their little arms and feet were busy batting at various toys dangling in front of them from a toy mobile on a stand, and I was apparently not enough of a distraction to make them want to stop. “Where's Dad?”

“He's staying an extra night at the gardening show because of the weather. He'll be back tomorrow. Are you hungry? I made some minestrone if you'd like some.”

I suddenly realized I was starving, not to mention chilled to the bone. “That would be great. Just give me fifteen minutes to take a hot shower and to change.” I thought briefly of the album lying in its plastic bag on the floor, then remembered Jack's instructions to call him before I looked at it. I grabbed my phone and ran upstairs, dialing Jack's number again, and listening as it went to voice mail before trying again.

I was on my way back down to the kitchen and dialing again when a crash of thunder shook the air, vibrating the pictures on the walls. The lights flickered and went off, and I had a terrifying flashback of my time in Button's bathroom with Anna. I'd crouched down on one of the stairs when the lights mercifully came back on again. There was definitely something in the atmosphere tonight. Something that had nothing to do with barometer readings or burned ions.

“Have you heard from Jack?” I asked as I entered the kitchen.

My mother was ladling soup from a large pot on the stove into two shallow bowls. “No. As a matter of fact, he hasn't called me at all today, which is a first.”

“Can you try to call from your phone? I can't seem to get through to him on mine.”

She raised her eyebrow at my sudden change of heart, but didn't say anything as she picked her phone off the counter and dialed. I heard a piercing
ping
from across the room and watched as she held the phone away from her ear. “I must have dialed it incorrectly.” She tried again, and received the same result.

We sat at the table with the soup in front of us, neither one of us reaching for a spoon. “There's something wrong,” I said.

She nodded. “I can feel it, too. Nothing we can do until we know more, so we might as well eat to keep up our strength. I have a feeling we're going to need it.”

As we slowly ate, I told her about my talk with Rebecca. “She said that Hasell wanted you to know that Button did the right thing, and that you should forgive her. Do you know what that means?”

A crease formed between Ginette's delicate eyebrows. “No. When I went back to New York, Button and I left on good terms. There was no blame between us, no recrimination or acrimony. Only friendship. I remember telling her how thankful I was that she had been there during that dark time when I'd lost the baby, and that she'd sat by my side until I was well. There is nothing she did that I needed to forgive.”

I nodded, my appetite gone. My gaze fell on my phone, and I picked it up. I was in the middle of dialing Jack again when the front doorbell rang, making us both jump. We each scooped up a baby, then went together to answer the door, surprised to find Nola with her school bag, an overnight bag, and all three dogs. She turned around to wave at a car at the curb and I recognized Mrs. Houlihan, who waved back at us.

We ushered Nola and her entourage inside, waiting for her to shed her raincoat before we could hug her. “Daddy isn't back yet and we couldn't get hold of him. Mrs. Houlihan didn't want to leave me by myself on a night like tonight, so she drove me over. We tried to call first, but your cells kept going straight to voice mail.”

We returned to the kitchen and my mother put a bowl of soup in front of Nola. I settled the babies in the playpen my mother had set up by the table to keep them from chewing on the puppies and vice versa. She picked up her spoon but seemed distracted, glancing over at her backpack as if to make sure it was still there.

“What is it, Nola?” my mother finally asked. “Is it your father?”

“Yeah, but there's something else, too.” Minestrone forgotten, she scraped back her chair and retrieved her backpack. After rummaging through the outside compartment, she pulled out an envelope with a
folded piece of notepaper inside. “I've been playing with that photo that appeared on my phone.”

“The one of the snow globes?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. I finished my homework early and I was trying to distract myself from worrying about Dad. So I enlarged the photo and printed it out, then got a notebook and started playing with the letters.”

Rebecca's words came back to me in a rush.
“You should listen to Sarah.”
“Did you use the order Sarah wanted them in?”

“Of course. I mean, we'd have to be pretty clueless not to know she's got the gift or whatever you want to call it.” Ginette and I exchanged smiles. “Anyway, you know those word puzzles where you take a letter from each word and form a new word? Well, I did it with each letter of all seven city names in the order they were lined up, using the first letters of each and then the second and so on, and there was only one that made any sense at all.” She opened the notepaper and flipped it around to show us. “The first letters made two words when strung together. All of the other ones were pretty much gibberish.”

I stared at the page in front of me, with the various lines of letters written in Nola's clear, precise hand, then focused on the first line comprising the first letters.
MOMSICK
.

“Mom sick,” Ginette said quietly, repeating the two words that echoed in my own head.

“Weird, huh?” Nola said. “Considering it was Hasell who was sick, and we were pretty sure this was sent by Hasell.”

“Unless Anna was ill?” I turned toward my mother.