Page 101 of The Attic on Queen Street
“One-two-two-one,” Jayne and Ginette said simultaneously.
“You really should change that,” Jayne said. “Not only is it easy to guess, but you’ve used it for every single password in your life. Thomas says that’s just asking for trouble.”
“You’re seeing Thomas?” I glanced at my sister, watching her cheeks pinken.
“Go ahead and read the text, Mother,” Jayne said.
“I like the size of your font, Mellie. I can actually read it without my glasses. So can Martians from space, I’d guess.” She cleared her throat. “ ‘Mandy said the missing painting is a small one and shows the fountain in the garden. So you’ll know what to look for.’ ”
“The fountain?” Jayne leaned forward from the backseat. “Why would Marc have chosen that one to take? Assuming he’s trying to prevent us from discovering something, that just seems like a strange subject. He knows that the fountain has been taken apart and reassembled and nothing was found, right? Well, besides the two skeletons.”
I barely heard her. “That’s it? Jack didn’t mention anything about lastnight?” I bit my lip, too late realizing what I’d just said and in front of whom.
“No,” my mother said. “That’s it. Do you want me to text him back and ask?”
“No!” I shouted, making both of my passengers turn to stare at me. “I mean, I’ll ask him later.” I turned up the volume on the radio to prevent further discussion for the remainder of the short drive.
Rebecca had moved into Marc’s beachfront home on the Isle of Palms when they’d married. I’d been there only once, with Marc when we were dating, and I wasn’t looking forward to a repeat visit. The yellow stucco raised McMansion was new construction, undoubtedly built on the foundation of a modest home that had once held a generation of a family’s memories. Marc had told me proudly that he’d designed the house, culminating in an odd mixture of Craftsman, Greek Revival, and medieval castle. Judging by his forays into writing and movie directing, Marc wasn’t of the belief that one had to have extensive training or talent for any endeavor one chose to dive into. Or, in Marc’s case, make a huge belly flop.
“Wow,” Jayne said as we climbed out of the car, our heels crunching on the crushed-shell driveway. “I’m glad Sophie isn’t here. She’d have a few things to say about those crenellations encircling the roof deck. Doesn’t really say ‘beach,’ does it?”
I popped the trunk open and grabbed the two bags of food from Rodney Scott’s that my mother had picked up earlier as well as the requested doughnuts from Glazed, and handed one to Jayne. “Oh, just wait until you see the inside.”
“Be nice, girls,” our mother warned. “We should feel nothing but compassion for Rebecca right now.”
“Because she’s pregnant?” I asked as we climbed the long flight of tabby front steps, feeling winded by the time I reached the top.
“Because she’s married to Marc Longo,” she whispered, indicating the security camera above the front door.
I pressed the doorbell and listened as we were serenaded with chimes ringing out Gershwin’s “Summertime.”
“Is that...?” Jayne began.
“It is. I haven’t been inside since Rebecca redecorated it, but from what she’s told me, the chime will probably be the most tasteful thing in the house, so prepare yourself.”
Rebecca opened the door swathed in mauve silk disguised as a dressing gown. “Good morning, girls!” She greeted us all with air kisses, then closed the door behind us. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have our doggy playdate, but our groomer had a last-minute cancellation and you know how hard it is to get an appointment with a good groomer. We were desperate because I wanted Pucci to look her best for the shower and her fur is always at its fluffiest perfection after a couple of weeks. Not to mention the color rinse. It’s always too fuchsia at first, and it takes a while before it fades to the perfect shade of pink. And we want her to look her best for the party, don’t we?”
My mother’s knuckle prodded me from behind. “Of course. And no worries. We’ll do it next time.” I didn’t mention that I could have sworn all three dogs looked relieved when I told them they weren’t going to see Pucci.
Rebecca looked at the paper bags Jayne and I held and sniffed. “Perfect timing. I’m famished. Follow me, ladies.”
Rebecca led us behind a double-winged staircase with wide brass banisters and across pink marble floors. My eyes blurred from the sheer quantity of rose-hued furniture on our way to the enormous rear patio. It overlooked the ocean and an infinity pool, but I don’t think any of us really noticed either one, as we were too busy taking in all the cushions, rugs, and tableware in every shade of pink imaginable. The pièce de résistance was a blush-colored stone statue of a mermaid, with two starfish placed strategically on the tips of her pendulous breasts, that protruded over the built-in grill.
Rebecca slid open the glass doors, folding them until they disappeared into the wall, then swept past us, her silk hem swishing over the marble. “The weather is just perfect right now, so I thought we’d eat outside.” She indicated chairs for us to sit around a large distressed-wood table stained a pale rose.
“It is lovely,” I agreed, thankful we had the open water to look at while eating. Jayne and I began taking the food out of the bags, my stomach rumbling loudly at the tangy sweet smell of the renowned barbecue sauce.
Rebecca picked up a glass pitcher of sweet tea and began pouring it into glasses already on the table. “It will be perfect for my shower in less than a week!”
“That’s not really a lot of time, Rebecca. I’ve been wondering if I might have a couple more weeks. I’ve got a lot going on, and I want to make sure that I have enough time to make this shower special.” Which was only partially true. Mostly, I was hoping that given more time she’d change her mind about the theme completely.
“Not to worry, Melanie. I’ve done all the work for you.” She picked up an accordion file sitting on a side table and helpfully placed it in my tote bag. “I’ve got the menu all set, the name of the caterer, and my plans for party decor. I wanted to hire your designer, Greco, but after I told him my plans, he realized that he was already booked for another job that night. Such a shame. And then, after looking around my house here, I realized that I didn’t actually need anyone else’s ideas.” She giggled.
I shared surreptitious looks with my mother and sister as I transferred individual food orders onto rose-decorated china plates.
“We thought this was supposed to be a planning session,” Mother said as she carefully took off her gloves to prepare to eat.
Rebecca’s expression grew serious. “Well, yes, but then I got to thinking that my tastes are a little more... refined than most people’s, so I decided to just go ahead and do it all myself. Besides, I didn’t get the impression that Melanie was completely on board with my shower theme, so I thought it best to take charge so I can be assured it will be the party I want. Not to mention the time crunch, of course. Luckily, I have a natural knack for design and entertaining, which allows me to come up with something brilliant with very little time.” She smiled brightly as she began slathering a hush puppy with honey butter. “But I’m glad you’re here, because there’s something else I wanted to talk about.”
