Page 86 of The Attic on Queen Street
“Yes, but...” I stopped, an idea forming in my mind. “You know, you’re right,” I said instead. “I did promise. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get my mother and Jayne to help. They’re so much better at parties than I am. I can do all the organizing needed, but they add the glitter.”
Her eyes widened with excitement as she clapped her hands. “I loveglitter! You see? I knew you’d come around to agreeing that I was right! And the more the merrier, I say. When and where should we meet to plan?”
I pulled out my multiple calendars and did a cross-check. “How about next Friday, noon, at your house? With Marc at our house all day filming, yours will be nice and quiet. I’ll double-check with Jayne and Mother, and with my dad, who will need to watch the twins, but let’s plan on it. And because I don’t want you to lift a finger, I’ll bring takeout from Rodney Scott’s BBQ and we’ll have lunch while we talk.”
Her eyes brightened. “And doughnuts?” Her eclectic taste in food combinations confirmed our blood ties.
“Of course.” Prepregnancy Rebecca had been a strictly nonprocessed, nonsugar, nonmeat person, and it was refreshing to know that she could be normal.
“Should I bring General Lee and the pups? Reunite the family for a playdate?”
She clapped again, her angst over Marc temporarily forgotten. “That would be so cute! I’ll take lots of photos for my Insta page. I’m trying to become an influencer. I’ve already got two thousand followers!”
“That’s great,” I said, having no idea what she was talking about.
I did have an Instagram account that Catherine Jimenez had said I needed and had set up for me to post houses on the market. I actually paid Nola to do all the postings with clever little blurbs and link them to the Henderson House Realty website and my phone number. It was a win-win.
We walked together toward Rebecca’s red Audi convertible, which she’d parked in the attached garage. She was headed home for a nap but would drop me off at my office on Broad Street on her way. After she’d stopped at the curb in front of Henderson House Realty, she pulled me back when I opened my door and began to exit.
Gripping the sleeve of my coat, she said, “I lied to you.”
I sat down again. “About what?”
“About not having any more dreams. I haven’t had any since I got pregnant, but I had one last dream right before I found out. It hadnothing to do with all those dreams I was having at the time about Jack getting buried alive, so I sort of forgot about it.”
I took a deep breath, preparing myself. “All right. So what was it about?”
Rebecca closed her eyes. “She was on the floor in the parlor. On her back. She was in front of the tall clock, and it was like she was trying to fit beneath it. But then...” Her eyes shot open. “But then there was a tall shadow. A man, I think. He was pushing on the clock. And then”—she rubbed her temples—“it fell on her. It crushed her.”
I felt ice sluice through my veins. “Crushed whom, Rebecca?”
She turned to me, her eyes wide with shock. “Nola.”
•••
I sat on the piazza in a rocking chair, drinking a glass of wine helpfully provided by Mrs.Houlihan before she’d gone home. I usually drank only at parties or on special occasions, and never by myself. And definitely not sitting on my porch, where Jack might see me. He’d been sober for a long time, but he still had moments when his sobriety was challenged by stressful events. Of which there had been quite a few in recent years, up to and including—but not restricted to—the crumbling of his career and a crisis in his marriage. Thankfully, I could claim responsibility for only one of them.
But after spending nearly a full day with Rebecca and then her revelation about her dream, I’d been in need of something to settle my nerves so I could talk with Jack. And not just about what Rebecca had told me.
I sat wrapped in my coat and two blankets—one brought by Mrs.Houlihan along with the wine—as the sinking sun grabbed the warmth from the day and dragged it beneath the horizon. I breathed in the chill air, enjoying the peacefulness. It was still too early for the spring tourist season, allowing the street to fall quiet with only the faint sound of tags clinking as owners took their dogs for end-of-day walks.
Despite the quiet, I couldn’t settle my thoughts. Charleston sat waiting for spring, fat buds of wisteria and jasmine poised to erupt in gardensand window boxes all over the Holy City. I felt suspended, too, waiting for... something. Maybe it was the key to discovering what had happened to Adrienne. Or whatever it was that Marc thought would solve his financial woes. Or the elusive insight that would help me solve the problem of Jack and me. Like the eye of a hurricane, I remained still as the world swirled around me, changing directions while I waited for landfall.
The sound of a lone car approaching made me sit up and strain my eyes to see down the street. I recognized Jack’s minivan, and my blood swished through my veins a little faster. Because the film crew had already left, Jack parked his van at the bottom of the driveway. I took a slow sip of my wine as I watched him exit the van, then walk toward the house and the piazza steps. Despite it being dusk and the exterior lights not being on yet, he was as aware of my presence as I was of his. He paused to look up at me, and I once again felt that familiar electric zing as his blue eyes met mine.
“Good evening, Mrs.Trenholm.”
Just the sound of his voice saying those words made me sweat. “Hello, Jack.”
I listened as he ran up the wooden piazza steps, using the time before he came through the door to collect myself and to slow my heartbeat.
He walked down the piazza and sat in the rocker next to me, placing his overstuffed backpack and a small white shopping bag next to his feet. “I’m sorry I’m a little late. I lost track of time at the library doing research, and then I had to run an errand. Did I miss bath time?”
I raised my arms to lift the blankets and open my coat to show off the huge wet spot in the middle of my blouse. “Yes, but I promise you that the twins will get dirty again tomorrow, so you’ll have another chance. Mrs.Houlihan put our dinners in the oven to warm so we can eat together and Nola is in her room studying for the SAT. She’s getting a bit panicked.”
I took another sip of my wine, aware of him watching my every move. “I bought a four-leaf-clover good-luck charm at the Pandora store to give to her for her bracelet before the test.”
A slow smile lit his face. He leaned over and picked up the small shopping bag, holding it close enough for me to recognize the Pandora label. “Me, too.”
