Getting Old Is to Die for (16 page)

Evvie adds, "It goes through the Everglades, which you all know is a swamp."

"Swamp!" says Sophie. "You want us to go in a swamp?"

Evvie says gleefully, "Filled with snakes along with the alligators. I did a travel article about it in my newsletter last year. I guess nobody reads anything but the garage sales and restaurant specials. This highway was the most fought-against road ever built in Florida. It goes through the Big Cypress Seminole Indian Reservation and has many nicknames: Killer Road, Suicide Lane, Death Row, the Road to Nowhere."

With that Bella actually jumps off the bench in horror.

"Evvie, stop it!" I tell her, really annoyed now. I try to reassure the girls. "It's a perfectly good highway; it's just boring with nothing to do or see. It's either that or fly."

"Okay," says Ida, recapping. "You want us to drive about a hundred and fifty miles for more than three hours each way on a very boring road that may or may not have snakes and alligators walking along it, just to have some lunch. And remind us why it's necessary to take this short, hard trip?"

"Because Linda Silverstone asked us to accompany her. I guess she wants some moral support for when she faces her parents with her illness. I promised I would."

There is a long silence at that. I sigh again. "Okay," I say without confidence. "Raise your hand if you want to join me on this trip."

More silence.

Swell.

"Thanks a lot. Evvie, since you are such an expert on I-Seventy-five, I elect you to be my traveling companion." I don't even bother to hide my sarcasm.

The girls applaud my choice. Even Ida is happy about letting Evvie take back her position of number one assistant on this. Evvie shoots me a dirty look.

"I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun," I tell her sweetly.

26

STRUCK OUT

J
ack makes his early Thursday morning leave-taking obvious. He puts on a big show of paying his bill in the tiny front office of the motel and wondering aloud to passersby what the weather might be back in the city. He drops his duffel bag into his trunk. Stalling some more by going to the coffee shop across the road and ordering coffee to go, he lets everyone there know the cop is leaving town. He can almost feel their relief. Then he waits outside. And hopes.

Nothing.

He goes back to the motel and phones the Nabisco factory, only to find out Ms. Sutterfield has taken sick leave. No, no date when she is expected back. To Jack's surprise, for someone so secretive, she's listed in the phone book. But, then again, why wouldn't she be? She wasn't expecting the Ghost of Christmas Past to show up nearly fifty years later. When he sees her next, he'll remind her that there is no statute of limitations on murder.

On his way out of town he decides to pay her a home visit. Shabby street, shabby neighborhood. Barbara's conventional 1950s tract house is on a corner lot. House hasn't been painted in a very long while. Once it might have been a sea green, with a white trim; now the colors are faded and drab.

He knocks on her door. No answer. Not that he expected one. Clearly Barbara has run from Jack. He walks around the house to see if there is any activity in the rear. Shades all drawn. A kid's bike on the back porch. A few towels hanging on a clothesline. There's a doggy door. And a small food and water dish, with the name Spooky on it. Dog on sick leave, too?

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a window curtain next door being moved. He makes a calculated guess that this is the neighbor who babysits the kids. If he knocks on her door, she probably will pretend not to be home. But if it looks like he's snooping in Barbara's windows, she'll either come out in a huff or call the police.

Sure enough, as soon as he pretends to peer around the window shades, the woman comes rushing out her back door. Very foolish, the cop in him thinks. She's too gullible. A woman who can easily be taken advantage of. She should have called the police. She's in her sixties, white-haired, pudgy, wearing an apron with apple designs running along the border. Probably baking--face and hands look like they're covered with flour. She's a sweet motherly type. But right now, she's anything but friendly.

Hands on hips. "She's not home."

Jack shakes his head at her foolishness. He could be a burglar wanting the homeowner not to be home.

"She told me about you, that you'd be snooping around." She shakes her fist at him.

That explains it. Barbara warned her about him. Mother bear being protective of her cubs. No surprise, he gets the cold shoulder. Apparently Ms. Sutterfield has taken her children and dog away with on her "sick leave." And no, neighbor lady has no idea where she went or when she'll be back. So, just get away from here, she warns, or she'll call the police.

On his way home, driving the turnpike he phones Emily. No use putting it off. She's excited to hear his voice. She can hardly wait to hear what he has to tell her.

He doesn't want to drag out bad news. "Sorry, Emily. No luck."

He hears the disappointment in her voice. "Does that mean you're giving up?"

For a moment he has to concentrate when a Pabst beer truck swerves to get in front of him, narrowly missing a huge SUV merging from the other lane.

"Jack, are you still there?"

Recovering, he answers, "At this point, I don't know what else to do. My only lead left town. I scared Barbara off."

"Do you have to go back home to Florida right away?"

He thinks about that for a moment. "No, not really." Nothing much waiting for him there.

"Stay awhile longer. Maybe through the weekend. Barbara might change her mind and call you."

"I wouldn't take any bets on that."

"I'm sure Lisa will be glad to see more of you. My family, too."

What a lovely woman she is. "Perhaps I will. For a short time, anyway."

When he hangs up he feels better about it. He isn't ready to go home and have to face Gladdy and lie about his strange behavior. And know in his heart he failed her. He's happy to put off the inevitable. He's not looking forward to it.

27

DRIVE TIME

T
he trip is too quiet. Evvie and I are in the sleek black limo that Linda Silverstone has hired to drive us to Naples. For over an hour now, Linda has been stretched out across the three back seats, an afghan covering her, needing to sleep. Evvie is in no mood to talk to me. Last night we had quite a tiff; she insisted she would not go and I insisted she must. She can't understand why I didn't find an excuse to get out of this trip. What is the point? Linda will deal with her parents one way or another, and what are we supposed to do? I explained that her parents wouldn't take no for an answer. They insisted I accompany Linda and they want to thank me personally. Actually all of us were invited, but since Linda hired this limo, there's only room for two more.

"Well," Evvie had said, "you should have gone by yourself if you don't know how to make people take no for an answer." I reminded her we were partners and I wanted her by my side. Impasse. We were both being spiteful.

So, this morning, still tired and annoyed, we are not speaking. Which is just as well, since anything we might discuss would have Marjory, sitting next to us, listening in, and the way things are between us these days, that's not a good idea. Evvie leans against the glass and stares out the tinted window, lost in her own thoughts. Marjory brought a book to read. And I'm sorry I didn't think to bring one also. As for the driver, he's closed the partition between us, so I can't find an excuse to talk to him.

I look over at Linda; even in her sleep, her body remains restless. Whether that's from her medical condition or a nightmare about facing her parents, I don't know.

I try making conversation with Marjory. I ask softly, "Have you ever been to her parents' house?"

Marjory just shakes her head and continues reading.

The three hours will feel like ten at this rate. I look out the window, too. Nothing much to see. Yes, swamps to the side of the highway. Then finally, one small store and gas station. I'm guessing we're about halfway there. I suppose the driver doesn't need to stop. I wouldn't mind getting out and stretching. He doesn't stop.

Evvie is determined not to speak to me, so finally, I close my eyes and start to nod off.

When my eyes open I see that Linda is awake and sitting up. Marjory is seated next to her and giving her some pills with water and then something hot to drink from a thermos. Evvie is discussing movies she has loved over the years. Linda, who admits she isn't much of a moviegoer, seems entertained anyway. Marjory maintains her stoic face.

"Well, look who's up, it's Sleeping Beauty," my devious sister says. "We're just about there."

Linda looks from me to her. "I'm so glad you both came along to help me through. I couldn't face this alone. Frankly, I'm terrified."

I give Evvie a look to say,
See, you meanie, I told you we should come along,
and her look back says,
I know, I'm sorry I was such a pill!

I love that we can read one another's minds.

"What should I do? How should I handle it? What should I say?" When Linda gets agitated, it's even harder for her to speak clearly. She shifts in her seat, constantly squirming as she tries to hold a knee from swinging back and forth.

Evvie climbs back to sit on the other side of her. She takes Linda's shaking hand in hers. "Just be yourself. Let things just happen," she says.

Good for you, sister.

Linda asks, "But what if they look at me with revulsion? I won't be able to stand it."

"They won't, I promise you," Evvie says.

"You swear?" Linda says in an almost childish voice.

"I'd take odds on it."

Good old Evvie, always right there in a crisis.

"Me, too," I add.

Marjory takes a brush and brushes Linda's hair gently.

As she leans into her assistant, Linda says, "I just know I'll ruin their whole weekend. I should have planned to come afterward. How can I do this to them? Hello, Mom and Dad, here's your dying daughter."

Now Marjory gets upset. "Don't you keep saying that, Linda. You have an illness. You're being given the best of treatments. You don't know anything about the future other than that you're here now, and that's all that matters!"

Linda turns and hugs her. And Evvie and I watch, tearing up a bit.

"Now, let's get you looking beautiful," Marjory says, reaching into a purse and pulling out a lipstick.

The limo pulls into the circular driveway of a very large and gorgeous estate. The driveway takes us past rolling lawns and exquisite gardens. The house is reminiscent of the one Linda lives in, only larger. Linda sits with the three of us, all holding hands. I look at Linda. Her eyes are closed and I think she is praying.

The front door opens immediately as the limo pulls up. The Silverstones have obviously been watching for us through the windows.

There they are, just as they looked in the photos I've seen. Very healthy-looking, very agile, looking years younger than a couple in their nineties. Very tall, standing straight, arms around one another, big smiles.

I say a little prayer myself.