A Lie for a Lie (5 page)

“If Aggie doesn’t know who he is, what about all the twentysomethings? The teenagers?” Sally demanded.

“Aggie, you’re not from Emerald Springs?” Veronica asked.

I shook my head, although an answer was unnecessary. Had I been, they would have known better than to ask me to serve beside them.

“You’ve heard of
Wayfarers of the Ark
?”

I scrambled for the right answer. I’d heard of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. The Ark of the Covenant. Geometric arcs. The Arc de Triomphe. Archetypes. Noah’s ark. Then I realized where this was going. I heard a snatch of a song in my head, a high, sweet tenor voice singing . . .

“The movie,” I said. “I remember the theme song, from my childhood.”

“Exactly. And the artist who performed it was our very own Grady Barber, who played Idan, Noah’s grandson. He’s also the same Grady Barber who had a big hit last year with ‘Remember Me in April.’ ” She smiled, as if I couldn’t possibly have overlooked this—which, of course, I had.

Veronica finished on a note of triumph. “He’s agreed to come to Emerald Springs and be our judge. At quite a reduced fee, may I stress again. But after all,
this
is where he got his start.”

“I know it’s too late to reconsider,” Sally said. “The tryouts are almost upon us, and I’m aware the contracts have all been signed—”

“It’s certainly official.”

“And there’s truth to what you say about better attendance with a celebrity. But there are ways to lighten our financial load,” Sally went on. “Since we’re also responsible for all his expenses, let me suggest we make sure he has as few as possible. We can give quiet dinner parties so he doesn’t run up extravagant restaurant bills, stock his room with quality snacks and drinks. We can chauffeur him everywhere he needs to go, so he doesn’t call a limo service or rent a Porsche.”

Sally was definitely reaching to make her point. To my knowledge Emerald Springs has one shoestring limo service, and anybody who needs to rent a car usually does it in Columbus or Cleveland and chugs into town under Chevy power.

“We’ve booked him the best suite at the Emerald Springs Hotel.” Veronica’s tone was noticeably frostier.

Sally smiled. “Of course we have. I wasn’t going to suggest a room in my attic.”

The tension eased a little. Some of the other women entered into the conversation, volunteering to host a dinner at their homes or assume chauffeur duty for a day. One volunteered to make baskets of local snacks and baked goods to be delivered to his room. Another agreed to stock the suite’s refrigerator with carefully chosen drinks. A curly haired brunette said that her husband’s dry cleaning service would wash or clean Grady’s clothes for free.

My gaze flitted back to the cages. I wondered how I could help with this phase of the committee’s work. Volunteer Ed to preach a sermon while Grady had his breakfast? Ask Teddy, my serious eight-year-old, to do tempera portraits of Noah’s animals to adorn the suite? Ask Junie to tuck Grady in every night with one of her prizewinning quilts?

“And that’s on top of your other assignments, right, girls?” Veronica asked. “We’re all going to be busy-busy.”

I’ve never believed you can actually feel a person’s gaze. I was sure that was only a plot device used in Gothic novels. But I’d been admiring the birds—cockatiels and maybe small parrots of some variety—when I suddenly felt the hair on my arms and nape begin to sizzle. I refocused and realized that indeed, a number of previously maligned Gothic authors were having the last laugh. I
was
being watched. Times eight.

I had missed something.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t that lucky. I hadn’t missed anything yet. What I’d felt was only anticipation. Theirs.

“So that brings us to you, Aggie,” Veronica said, neatly stacking an inch-thick pile of papers in front of her. “Everybody’s plate is heaped to the brim. Logistics. Promotion. Coordination with the college for use of parking space and room rentals. Our big party for the hospital board and largest donors. Tours of the present pediatric wing so people will know why this is so important—”

“I’d be happy to help with that.” Suddenly, a job I could fit in between summer dentist appointments and soccer games. It might be a stretch, but surely I could manage a tour or two.

“We have that covered, thanks,” Veronica said. “That and nearly everything else.”

Nearly
is not a good word. I know what nearly means. Nearly, as in:
We’re nearly finished giving out all the prizes except the booby prize . . .

I steeled myself. “What did you save for me?” I smiled like a team player. Like a hard worker. Like a practical woman with no choice other than slinking out of town with her tail between her legs.

“We need a liaison between Grady’s personal assistant and this committee. Somebody who knows the town and local resources. Somebody who can get things done, fix little problems, run interference if needed with the hotel or the production staff or anybody else. Somebody who thinks quickly on her feet. Sally says that’s what you’re known for. And besides, you’re a vegetarian, and nobody else is.”

“I’m sorry . . . ?”

“Grady’s a vegetarian. He lives in Southern California, after all,” she said, as if that explained everything. “And one of the conditions of his coming was that we have somebody check the menus and snacks he’ll be eating to be sure there’s no meat, dairy, preservatives. You’ll understand.”

I didn’t, but I tried to. “Kind of like a poison taster.”

Nobody laughed. I fumbled for an excuse. “Um, that sounds like a big job, and unfortunately I do have—”

“Oh, yes, indeed it is,” Veronica said, before I could go on. “But luckily, it’s only one job, not the multiple the rest of us are carrying. We didn’t want your first time on this committee to be too difficult.”

I weeded out seven pairs of eyes and went for Sally’s. She had been waiting and took up the hard sell. “The busiest part will be the first week he’s in town, Aggie. And that’s religious education camp at church, so the girls will be occupied all day anyway. I know you were planning to help with camp activities, but May tells me if
we
need you more, she’ll be glad to give you a pass.”

I wished I could get my friend May Frankel, who was chairing camp this year, in a dark alley. Of course, May and Sally were simply trying to be helpful. Both of them were sure that working on this committee would be good for me, that I’d meet new people, experience a little vicarious limelight. And now that I no longer seemed to be stumbling over dead bodies, I might establish an identity apart from the church and the police department.

Veronica must have timed my hesitation so she’d know the precise moment to leap in for the kill. She leaned forward. “I know this cause is dear to your heart. Sally tells me your younger daughter had a friend who nearly died a few weeks ago, before they could move her to a pediatric ICU in Columbus. Isn’t that right? It must have been particularly upsetting for a young mother with children of her own. The way things are now, all young mothers of Emerald Springs walk so very close to the edge.”

I was in the sights of a crack shot. My father could put Veronica’s talents to good use. No, what was I thinking? Veronica would round up my father and his cohorts, make them shave and change out of camouflage. Then she would find them nine to five jobs drilling ROTC units or working as instructors for the local agricultural extension office.

“Of course I’ll do it,” I said, as if I hadn’t just flashed through every possible way of wiggling out of it. “Just let me know what’s expected, and I’ll take care of it.”

Veronica’s smile stretched all the way to her wisdom teeth. She picked up the stack of papers she had so carefully straightened and held it out to me.

“It’s all right here. Phone numbers, contacts, schedules, Grady’s diet, Grady’s requirements for his suite, Grady’s contract. Thank you, Aggie. We were all so sure we could count on you.”

Ed looks great in a tux, but even for a fancy reception in Grady Barber’s honor, getting him into one isn’t worth the hassle. Since Ed debated his way through prep school in a coat and tie, if he can’t wear a disintegrating Harvard T-shirt, he’s most comfortable falling back on old habits. Knowing what I was up against, I had asked him to choose his best white shirt, and any tie his mother hadn’t given him for Christmas. Now, in the mirror, I could see he was waiting for inspiration and wearing the T-shirt in the meantime.

“You look good,” he said, coming up behind me as I tried for the third time to fasten the clasp on an agate-and-moonstone necklace. Every Christmas of
my
life my mother has given me something handmade and beautiful.

Ed took the necklace and fastened it. “In fact you look so great I hate to see you walk out that door. The kids are going to be gone soon, we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Nice try, Romeo.” I stopped his hands from sliding lower. “I have to be there, and
you
are required to go to this party, too, so don’t try to get out of it.” I faced him. “Shall we count the events I’ve been required to attend since your ordination?”

“If it will take up the rest of the evening.”

“This is your chance to meet a movie star.”

“It’s my chance to practice the self-control I preach and not punch Grady Barber in the nose.”

I understood where Ed was coming from. In the three weeks since Veronica Hayworth shamed me into taking on the job of “gofer” for the Emerald Springs Idyll, Ed had been on the verge of filing a missing person’s report. And the chances the local cops could find me? Not good. These days, from the moment I got up, I ran from one errand to another. Even I didn’t know where I was half the time. The days were a blur, the checklists longer and harder to complete. I had dreams where I’m tethered to a chariot with a toga-clad Veronica cracking the whip behind me.

“Has my snook’ums missed me?” I leaned over and kissed his patrician nose. Ed looks like the Anglo-Saxon royalty that supposedly lifted a leg against the trunk of his family tree centuries ago. Reddish blond hair, dark blue eyes, a princely set to his wide shoulders. For a moment his plans for our evening sounded a lot more fun than mine.

“I don’t mind you being gone. I do mind you being unhappy,” he said.

“Actually . . .” I rested my hands on his shoulders. “I seem to be good at solving problems. That’s something.”

“And tonight’s the payoff?”

“I wish. With Grady in town, it’s going to be a lot more work for me. But I can see the end. And I’ll feel so good when they break ground for the new pediatric wing.”

The doorbell rang, and before I could start downstairs to answer it, Lucy—who has our house key but can also pick the lock if she’s so inclined—slammed the front door and called up the stairs. “Ready, Ag?”

“You’re coming?” I asked Ed. “You’re not going to stand me up?”

“Unless we have an emergency.”

“Researching your next sermon is not an emergency. Watching old episodes of
Masterpiece Theatre
is not an emergency.”

“I’ll see you in an hour. Or I could trade you one absence at any meeting of your choice. Quid pro quo
.
”

“One hour.”

Lucy, hair tamed into an aura of corkscrew curls, was standing by an open window panting and fanning herself when I got downstairs. “Your air-conditioning is broken.”

“You’re standing by our air-conditioner.” Of course she knew this already.

“Can’t you get the church to do something?”

Our old Dutch Colonial parsonage is spacious, even charming, but unfortunately the parsonage committee is most interested in historical preservation. “They’ve been promising a new kitchen floor for almost two years. It would take a committee of six just to choose a window fan.”

“How do you sleep at night?”

I gathered my beaded purse, another Junie gift. “These days by the time my head hits the pillow, I’m so exhausted, a little sweat is soothing.”

Lucy was wearing a slinky black cocktail dress and sandals with heels so spiked I’m not sure why she didn’t tilt forward forty-five degrees. Until that moment I hadn’t realized I wanted some, too. Badly.

Teddy, my eight-year-old, trudged down the steps struggling under the weight of a backpack stuffed with all the clothes and games she’d need for a night with her friend Hillary Frankel. Her glasses were slipping down her nose; her new Dutch boy bob swung forward and temporarily hid her freckled face. I was afraid if the heat didn’t break soon, Teddy was going to insist on lopping off even more of her pale red hair.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” I said, corralling her for a kiss after she went to Lucy for a hug and hello.

“If you’re home.” This was said matter-of-factly, simply a reminder that I wasn’t around as much as I used to be.

“I intend to be. And if I have errands, you can come with me.”

Deena followed her sister’s path, stopping for a hello to Lucy, as well. In addition to a backpack, she had a sleeping bag. Luckily for me the Frankels have two daughters, and Maddie Frankel and Deena are good friends, too.

In fact, they are such good friends, Deena, Maddie, and three of their other friends had given me the shock of my life.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” I asked, ruffling Deena’s hair—still long despite the heat, and still strawberry blonde although we’d gone round and round about that recently.

“No chance, and besides, everybody’s coming over and we’re going to practice.”

I said a short, silent prayer for May and Simon, Maddie and Hillary’s mom and dad. A horn honked outside and both girls took off for the front door, calling good-byes behind them.

We waited for the door to slam and the furor to quiet, then Lucy and I followed in their wake.