Widow's Tears (26 page)

Was Ruby
really
thinking of selling her shop to her sister—and hoping to sell her share of the partnership, as well? I was aware that she was overdoing
it and needed a vacation, but I hadn't suspected anything so drastic. Maybe I was being selfish about this as well, but the thought of having Ramona as my next-door shop neighbor did not fill me with rejoicing. And as McQuaid pointed out, if Ruby left the partnership, it would be very hard for Cass and me to keep all of the lions at bay. The catering service would probably have to go—and how would we manage the tearoom?

The thing that was bothering me most, though, was that I had failed to see any of this coming. Had I been too preoccupied to notice? Too self-absorbed, too busy with my own affairs? Was I guilty (as Ramona implied) of not paying attention to my best friend's feelings? I had to admit that this was entirely possible. McQuaid has pointed out to me more than once that I have a tendency to get overly involved with whatever I'm doing and forget about everything—and everyone—else.

Of course, Ruby doesn't always let on what's going on inside her, especially if she thinks it might worry me. She might have been deliberately keeping her thoughts to herself until she had come to some sort of conclusion. All I knew was that the past few weeks had been difficult for her, and that the invitation from Claire Conway had given her a break from her usual routine, which to my mind was a good thing. No doubt she and Claire were lounging around in their negligees, sharing a bottle of fine wine, nibbling on some great gourmet goodies, and trading girl-talk, catching up the events of their lives since they had last seen each other. I hoped they wouldn't be too irritated by my interruption. I had thought of texting Ruby to tell her that I was coming, but my concern was impossible to explain in a text, so I had decided against it.

And now it occurred to me—belatedly, I'm afraid—that she might have had another reason for wanting to go away. For all I knew, she might not just be taking a break from her shop and our partnership, but a break from
me.

At the thought, I felt a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Well, I wouldn't take more than an hour of her time. I wasn't asking for a yes or a no on the spot. I just needed to find out whether Ramona had described the situation accurately. And whatever the outcome of our conversation, my feelings for Ruby wouldn't change, I knew that much for sure. We would still be best friends and I would do whatever I could to support her choice and make her happy. And if the news was bad—well, at least I would know where I stood and could start making plans, which would definitely
not
include Ramona. That was another thing I knew for sure.

But I was already wishing I had taken the time to stop at home and pack my toothbrush and nightie before I left town. From the looks of the weather, it might be a good idea to stay over, if Claire had room for me. By sunset, the clouds that had hugged the horizon when I left Pecan Springs had grown to towering heights and seemed to fill half the eastern sky, billowing in delicate pastel shades of lavender, purple, and gray. Lightning slashed like jagged knives, and the radio crackled with static. When I managed to tune in to a weather forecast, the announcer, breathy with excitement, reported that Amanda had made landfall near Corpus Christi and was heading inland faster than expected. The winds had already peaked at gale force, around fifty miles an hour. Amanda obviously wasn't a big wind threat. But a cold front was stalled out across the middle of the state, which would slow Amanda's advance overnight. She was going to be a rainmaker, with a predicted seven or eight inches or more across the southern tier of Texas counties. This wasn't a bad thing, since the lakes and reservoirs were seriously depleted and a huge chunk of the state was officially parched. But the real danger would be the roadway flooding. It's not a good idea to drive in heavy rain, after dark on strange roads, where you don't know the terrain—especially in Texas, where flash-flooding kills a couple dozen people every year. “Turn around, don't drown” has become
the newscasters' mantra, and with very good reason. Slide off the road and into a roaring stream in the dark, and unless the swift-water rescue helicopter happens to be hovering overhead, you're a dead duck.

All of this was going through my mind as I hung a right off Highway 290 and headed south toward the little town of Round Top. I drive this way fairly often, because the Pioneer Unit of the Herb Society of America (of which I'm a member) holds its Herbal Forum every March at the Round Top Festival Institute. I hadn't had any supper, so I dropped in at Royers Cafe and ordered a burger. On impulse, I bought one of their great pecan pies to take along with me, as an apology for barging in on Ruby and her friend unannounced. If they hadn't bothered with dessert—or even if they had—they might be glad to see me arrive with a pie in my hand.

In the café, the television was turned on, and the crawler across the bottom of the screen carried a bulletin about the storm, as well as a short bit about the bank robbery in Pecan Springs. It was a painful reminder that Bonnie's husband and daughter were facing their first night without their wife and mother. I still couldn't get over it. And Ruby knew Bonnie as well as I did. She would be devastated by the news.

As I said, I've been to Round Top often, but I had never driven Texas 237 south of town, so I took it slow. By now, it was past eight o'clock and the rain was beginning to come down hard enough to make me wish I had not only brought my nightie and toothbrush but a poncho and boots as well. But I had Claire's sketch map on the back of the postcard she had sent to Ruby, and her directions were pretty clear. It was so dark that I almost missed the church camp sign that marked the road where I was supposed to make a right turn, but I saw it at the last minute. After that, it was a matter of spotting the black mailbox and the twin brick pillars on the left, and then all I had to do was peer through the sweeping arc of the windshield wipers and into the rainy cone of the headlights as I followed the
twists and turns of the narrow lane that led to the Blackwood house and Ruby. I fervently hoped that was where it led, because if it didn't I was probably lost. And from the looks of the road, which was getting muddier by the minute, turning around and driving back the way I had come might not be an option. Already this was beginning to seem like
not
the smartest idea I had ever had.

It was a long, dark, slippery seven miles, and in the end I was creeping along at about fifteen miles an hour. But just when I was about to despair, I found myself topping a hill and heading down a rutted incline so steep and slick that I had to shift into first gear and keep one foot on the brake all the way down. The car skidded in a couple of places and I clutched the steering wheel, biting my lower lip.

But I finally made it. At the bottom, the lane made a sharp dogleg turn and I crossed a narrow concrete bridge, so low that the water was already rushing hubcap-deep over the top of it. The hill and the bridge were shown on Claire's sketch map, so I allowed myself to hope I had come to the right place—because if I hadn't, I was in serious trouble. Off to my left loomed a bulky black silhouette—the Blackwood house, I guessed, although it was too dark to see much of it. I followed the curving lane around the back of the house, where Ruby's car appeared in my headlights. As I parked beside it, I breathed a relieved, heartfelt sigh. I wouldn't have to test my Toyota's traction by trying to climb back up that dangerously slick hill. And it wouldn't take much more rain to make that bridge impassable.

The rain had temporarily slacked off, and I could get to the house without getting soaked. But the place was dark as the inside of a tomb—no lights in any of the rooms, no outdoor light. Maybe Ruby and Claire had gone somewhere for the evening, I thought. But why hadn't they left the yard light on? I was going to need my flashlight, which I usually stash under the driver's seat. But when I found it, I said one of those words that
Brian and Caitlin are forbidden to utter. The flashlight wasn't working. The batteries must be dead, I decided.

I left it in the car, picked up the pie box, and groped my way through the gate and up the back walk. I didn't have much hope that anyone was home, but I knocked at the door just the same, and then for good measure, knocked again, louder. As if in answer, from somewhere deep in the house, I heard the sharp silver sound of a bell.

Well, that was promising. Where there was a bell, there was likely a bell-ringer. I knocked again. Then, just as I was about to give it up and go back to the car to wait for Ruby and Claire, a thin, quivering voice spoke up on the other side of the door.

“Sam, is that you? Kitty? Who is it?” The voice sounded afraid.

“It's China Bayles,” I said, in my most reassuring tone. “Ruby knows me. May I come in?”

“Ruby,” the voice said, “it's your friend. China Bayles.” I heard the sound of footsteps and then the clicking of a lock.

“China!” Ruby cried, flinging the door wide open. She sounded hugely relieved. “Oh, China, it's really, truly
you
! Oh, I'm so glad you've come!”

It wasn't quite the welcome I had expected, even if I was bringing a really good pie. Nor had I expected to see Claire—that's who I thought she must be, anyway, dressed not in a negligee but in ragged denim cutoffs, a pink shirt, and sneakers—with a flickering oil lamp in one hand and a wicked-looking iron fireplace poker in the other. Beside her, Ruby was brandishing a rolling pin. A
rolling pin
?

“Wow,” I said mildly, stepping into what I took to be a large, old-fashioned kitchen. “You guys are loaded for bear. You're expecting trouble?” I was going to ask whether those were appropriate weapons for ghost-busting, but something stopped me.

Ruby lowered the rolling pin and closed and locked the kitchen door.
Claire's lamp cast flickering shadows across her pale face, and I saw that she had changed out of the yellow sundress she had worn that morning and into jeans and a green-and-peach striped pullover.

“We saw your lights coming down the hill, and we weren't expecting anybody,” she said. “Given everything that's been going on, we decided that we'd rather be safe than sorry.” She turned the lock and slid the dead bolt firmly into place, then tested the door to make sure it was locked. “What are you
doing
here, China?” She was trying not to show that she was scared, and it occurred to me that my arrival might have frightened her. She was probably thinking that I was here because of a family emergency—in
her
family.

“Not that we're complaining,” Claire said hastily. “We're really glad you came.” She raised the lamp and gave me a brave smile. “I'm Claire, in case you haven't guessed. And I really have paid the electric bill.”

Well, then, what's up with the lights? I wanted to ask. And why are you locking the door? Afraid of the boogeyman? But I was too polite. Instead, I said, “I apologize for barging in on you like this, but something came up back home and I needed to talk to Ruby.” To Ruby, I added hurriedly, “I hope I didn't frighten you, showing up like this. You got my text message about Grace? I talked to Amy on my way out of town and our little girl is fine—or she will be tomorrow, once she's minus a pair of nasty old tonsils.”

“Thank God.” Ruby's eyes were large and dark. “Then it must be Mom. Something's happened to my mother? They haven't found her yet?”

“Oh, they've found her.” I shook my head, grinning crookedly. “Doris the Daring is safely back in the arms of her nurses. She was nabbed at the adults-only video store, in the tender care of a couple of cross-dressers who looked after her until Ramona and the Pecan Springs gendarmerie arrived on the scene and took her into custody. You know Doris. According to Ramona, she was thrilled with the attention.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Well,
that's
a relief.” She gave me a suspicious look. “If it isn't Grace and it isn't my mother, then why
are
you here? Dawn didn't have any trouble at the shop today, did she?”

“Dawn never has any trouble. Oh, and she said to tell you that she reordered more of the Motherpeace tarot.” I hefted the pie box. “I've brought dessert,” I added helpfully. “If you could rustle up some coffee, we could have a piece of Royers' world-famous pecan pie and I'll tell you why I've come.”

Ruby and Claire exchanged glances, then Ruby said, “We've already had supper, and some world-famous pie for dessert. But if you haven't eaten, we could warm up some leftover spaghetti for you. Totally non-gourmet, though.”

“And the coffeemaker is electric,” Claire said apologetically, “so I'm afraid coffee is out. I don't keep wine, because I'm a recovering alcoholic. Will you settle for some cold tea—without ice? I'd just as soon leave the ice cubes in the freezer. They might help to keep things cold. There's no telling when the electricity will be back on.”

Well. So much for my imagined scene where Ruby and Claire,
en negligee
, sipped a fine wine and gorged on gourmet goodies. Thankfully, my supper was a very recent memory, so I could pass on the spaghetti. But I accepted a glass of tea and followed Claire and Ruby down a dark hallway. A few moments later, we reached a small but comfortable old-fashioned parlor, which Claire called a morning room. Outside, the rain was beginning to pelt down hard again, rattling against the window. But there were oil lamps on the tables, and the yellow-wallpapered room was cozy in the flickering light.

We sat down on either side of a small fireplace and I got straight to the point. It took me about five minutes to tell Ruby why I had come, and about half that time for her to tell me that I needn't have worried.

“Yes, of course, Ramona's offer to buy me out of the store is tempting,” she said. “And every now and then I think there's nothing I'd like better than a little place in the country where I could raise chickens and have a garden and just be alone and
quiet.
” She sighed. “But I can't do that. I need to be close to Mom, and I want to spend lots of time with Grace. Anyway, it wouldn't be healthy for me, in the long run.” She made a face. “If I were alone too much, I'd probably drown in all that Colin stuff.”