Time and Trouble (14 page)

“
Did Penelope drive?
”
Billie asked.

“
Knew how. But she didn
’
t have her own car. We aren
’
t made of money. Rode her bike a lot.
”

“
She was a great help to me since the accident, since I couldn
’
t drive. She drove me around. Although I
’
m trying to do it myself again, now that I
’
m working with the cane, you see.
”

“
Sophie!
”

“
Were you able to find Penelope
’
s Social Security number?
”
Billie asked.

Sophia pushed a piece of paper toward Billie, who seated herself on the sofa.

“
And a photo I could use?
”

Sophia nodded again, but this time, her lips were pursed.
“
Showing a photo of my daughter to people
…
That makes me feel so
…
That
‘
Do you know this person? Have you seen her anywhere?
’
thing. It
’
s SO
…”

“
Yes, of course, I understand.
”
It was unsettling, suggesting that Penelope Redmond had not simply gone off for a long joyride with the object of her raging hormones but had, indeed, disappeared. Possibly permanently. She thought of the skeletons in the meadow, of somebody, somewhere, going door-to-door with their photos years ago.

“
I have her high-school graduation photo. The one that will be in the yearbook,
”
Sophia said.
“
She had so many copies made. Here. She looks too serious, though, and she has such a nice smile.
”

Billie picked up the photo. Baby-faced, people used to call that look. She bet it annoyed the hell out of Penelope Redmond, and no amount of older people telling her to enjoy it would change her mind. It was the portrait of a girl who was hell-bent on becoming someone else. She had refused to smile for the camera. Her cheeks were sucked in and her eyes focused on a grand horizon far beyond San Rafael High.

Billie recognized herself in the photo. The fantasies she
’
d had at that point. The expectations. To be Somebody or die.
“
She
’
s quite pretty,
”
she said. A mane of curls spiked the air around Penny
’
s face and tumbled onto her shoulders.
“
Her hair is lovely. Is it brown?
”

“
It photographed dark. It
’
s more red,
”
her mother said.
“
But there
’
s also lots of blonde highlights, more in the summertime, and all of them natural, may I add. But she won
’
t do a thing about those curls. Won
’
t cut them or use a straightener or pull them back or anything.
”

Arthur grunted. Billie couldn
’
t tell if he resented the idea of doing anything to Penelope
’
s curls, or that Sophia was veering off-course again. Or perhaps he had indigestion.

“
Her eyes are hazel,
”
Sophia said.
“
And she
’
s five foot six and a half. Slender. A decent student. Until this year.
”
She pursed her lips and retreated somewhere inside herself.

Billie felt much more urgency than the girl
’
s mother seemed to.
“
It would save time if you could give me the names of her friends at school and of the people she baby-sat for.
”

Sophia came out of her twilight sleep and nodded.
“
Friends,
”
she echoed.
“
Well, there
’
s
—
Oh, look at me! I
’
m so embarrassed! I asked what you wanted and never did another thing about it! Coffee or tea, Miss August? They
’
re both easy, one or the other, so don
’
t be bashful. Arthur will help, won
’
t you, Arthur? And I have a little tray of cookies
—
store bought, I
’
m afraid, and not even from the good bakery, but it is hard reaching everything while I
’
m in this
—”

“
Tea, please,
”
Billie said. Maybe with Arthur out of the room, Sophia would speak less and say more.
“
And those names?
”

But first, Sophia had to give excessive directions about water temperatures and the box of teabags and the small jar of sugar
—
or would Billie prefer honey?
—
or maybe lemon?
—
to Arthur, who was, according to her, a man who actually, literally, couldn
’
t boil water until this accident turned them all upside down, could Billie believe that? She was so grateful to him, so impressed at how quickly he
’
d stepped in to help.
…

And with a glare and a grunt, he escaped from the room.

“
Now let
’
s see,
”
Sophia said.
“
There are so many friends. She attracted people. Some folks have that gift, and she was one. But their names have just
—
I
’
m in such a dither these days between my accident and then this, I can
’
t seem to concentrate on anything. Even the names of my daughter
’
s friends. You must think I
’
m a
—”

“
Don
’
t worry, it
’
ll come to you.
”
What came to Billie was that perhaps this woman didn
’
t know her daughter at all. Zilch.

But a name and then another slowly emerged.
“
I don
’
t want you to think I
’
d ever let her sit for anybody unless I know their name and the hours and their phone numbers,
”
Sophia said.
“
She knew that, and she was good about it. She tried, you know? She isn
’
t a bad girl, whatever you might think, given this
…
situation. I think if she hadn
’
t met this man
…”
She shook her head.
“
Anyway, there
’
s a blackboard in our kitchen for writing things like the name of the people she
’
ll be sitting for, and she never once to my knowledge went out on a job without writing all that information on the board.
”
Except.
Billie heard that word waiting to be said, to negate the promising sentence.

“
Except that of course, every time she
’
d come home from a job, she
’
d erase the blackboard.
”
Sophia smiled wanly.
“
Who could have known it might be of any relevance? Is it?
”

“
I don
’
t know yet.
”
Billie leaned forward and patted Sophia Redmond
’
s subtly patterned floral skirt.
“
Doesn
’
t matter,
”
she said.
“
It might just speed up things. Incidentally, could I speak with your son, too?
”

Sophia looked terribly sorry.
“
He
’
s not home from school yet. But don
’
t worry about that. Wesley
’
s only eight
—
a baby. An innocent. What would he know about things like cults and kidnapping and boy-girl things? Except the little we
’
ve already told you. He doesn
’
t know where she is
—
we asked, of course. And the kidnapper never came here socially, so he couldn
’
t have met him.
”

Billie nodded acknowledgment and tried to get Sophia back on track.
“
The people she sat for.
”
They would know. Or the girlfriends would. She had to meet him somewhere, didn
’
t she? It might be after school or after a baby-sitting job.

“
I know a few. The regulars,
”
Sophia said.
“
The Feldspars, of course. Mimi and Joe. She
’
s worked there off and on since their older child was born. And Sally O
’
Neall. She
’
s divorced now, a working mother with three children, and her ex-husband is no help at all. It
’
s so hard in that situation.
”

Billie felt a flash of resentment. As if she needed Sophia Redmond in her poufed-up house to remind her of what it was like to be set adrift with a child in an expensive world.

“
I was like that,
”
Sophia said, her voice lost in the past.
“
Such a bitter struggle to keep Penelope and myself alive. That
’
s why
—
Arthur might be a little
…
but he saved me.
”
She nodded emphasis for her words.
“
I don
’
t know what would have become of us, otherwise. I don
’
t know whether you
’
re married or not or have a child or not, but if you were and then you weren
’
t, and you
…
were left with a child to raise
—
it would be easier for you. You have a trade, a profession. You have special knowledge and skills. I don
’
t.
”

Billie tried to look neither startled nor amused. Special knowledge, indeed. She cleared her throat.
“
About the baby-sitting
…”
she prompted.

Sophia nodded and glanced fearfully toward the kitchen, toward the thought of Arthur, who
’
d saved her, whom she was attempting to delude along with the insurance company
—
Arthur, who owned her poor, unskilled self.
“
Penelope
’
s done more than her usual sitting this year. She was saving toward college. At least until she met him.
”
She frowned.
“
Unless she wasn
’
t baby-sitting at all. Unless that was a lie so that she could meet him.
”
Her indignation was short-lived. She sagged and sighed.

Arthur, having presumably finally learned how to boil water, reappeared carrying a tray laden with a carafe, a box, and a small ceramic bowl.

Billie watched the Redmonds
’
interaction, or noninteraction, with the fascination she might give the stylized motions of Kabuki theater. Husband and wife seldom looked at each other or directly responded, unless Arthur
’
s growls counted. Now, while Arthur made much fuss over his tea ceremony, clattering cups onto the tray, twisting the carafe top, and asking Billie what flavor she wanted, Sophia, without acknowledging his arrival, continued to look skyward and mull over baby-sitting clients.

“
She made up this box of different kinds,
”
Arthur said, holding out a calico-covered box with neat rows of packaged teabags.
“
Any kind you can think of. Peppermint, chamomile, raspberry-lemon
…”

“
Lemon, please.
”
Billie didn
’
t want tea. Didn
’
t want to stay long enough to drink it. But going along with the Redmonds
’
sense of timing, not interrupting their performance piece, promised to be more rewarding than forcing them into her mold.

“
Oh,
”
Sophia said,
“
of course! How silly of me
—
our next-door neighbors! Don
’
t know how I forgot! Lord, Sunny uses her all the time, what with those three boys of hers.
”

Billie nodded encouragement.
“
Good.
”

“
Sugar or sweetener?
”
Arthur asked.

“
Nothing, thanks.
”
Billie
’
s house was chaotic and a mess, but there was a sense to the interruptions and detours. A three-year-old lived there. A Russian immigrant. And a crazed single mother. Theirs was an intricate and jaggedy dance, but it was with each other, and in the end, or at least so far, it worked. But living here in this tidy, controlled unhappiness would drive her mad. She wondered if perhaps Penny was.
“
If you have those addresses, or phone numbers,
”
she told Sophia Redmond,
“
I
’
d appreciate them, and if you think of any more people, let me know.
”

“
All nonsense,
”
Arthur grumbled.
“
The kids she baby-sits didn
’
t take her away. Neither did their folks.
”

Sophia said nothing.

“
It
’
s possible that the young man in question spent time with her while she baby-sat,
”
Billie said.

“
That
’
s against the rules,
”
Sophia said firmly.

So was running away. And so was faking an injury.
“
Perhaps he picked her up, gave her a ride home. Or she mentioned him by name to a client.
”
Billie felt less and less sure of the worth of these names as she spoke, but Arthur was such a pain in the ass, she wasn
’
t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. Besides, if she didn
’
t gather names and a list of places to go and people to see
—
what would she do?
“
It
’
s a start,
”
she added.
“
Could I see her room before I leave?
”