Happiness Key (21 page)

She was humming under her breath when she pulled the mail out of the mailbox and sorted through envelopes as she walked up the path to her house. Rishi paid all their bills, but she organized them to make that easier, throwing out mail that advertised things they didn’t need, no matter how friendly or colorful the greetings.

Among the clutter was an airmail envelope from India. Her mother’s long-awaited letter had finally arrived. Janya stopped and stared at her own address for a moment. Now that the letter was here, she was reluctant to open it. Had the news been good, her mother would have told her over the telephone. Janya was fairly certain that sending bad news in letter form had been Inika Desai’s best hope for avoiding an emotional conversation.

Inside, she brewed a cup of masala tea and went to change her clothes. Then, at last, she sat at the table, the tea steaming beside her, and opened the envelope.

She read the letter, which was perfunctory and factual. The tone was no surprise, considering that the letter had come from her mother. For a moment she couldn’t absorb what it said. Then she crumpled the paper in her hand, balling it tighter and tighter, until even if she had wanted to resurrect and read it again, she would not have been able to.

It was past midnight in Mumbai. Her parents would have been asleep for hours, but Yash might not be. It was like him to stay up until two, even three in the morning, reading or doing research on the Internet. She had
e-mailed him twice more in the week since she found his e-mail at the library, but she hadn’t gotten a response. She wondered if her parents had found a way to keep her e-mails from her brother, as well as her phone calls.

Janya picked up the telephone and dialed the long series of numbers; then she tapped her fingers on the table as she waited. Quite possibly she would get one of her parents, or one of their maids. They would be angry that she had awakened the household, but she was too upset to care.

Yash answered after the first ring. For a moment she was too choked up to speak. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

“Yash,” she said in their native tongue. “Finally. I’m so glad it’s you on the other end.”

“Janya?” He sounded delighted. “I wasn’t sure you remembered how to use a telephone.”

She no longer wanted to protect her mother. “I have called many times. They don’t want us to speak. I might give you bad ideas. Have they been blocking my e-mails, too?”

There was a pause, and not just the normal pause that was part of any international call, or a sometimes problematic phone system.

“I didn’t know about the telephone calls. But the e-mail? That’s my fault,” Yash said. “I didn’t know how to tell you something.”

“That Darshan and Padmini are to be married? Our mother sent me a letter. I received it today.”

“That sounds like
Aii
. Did she tell you that this was all your fault?”

“She spared me that. For her, my betrothal to Darshan is a thing of the past. And the way Padmini betrayed me is simply my imagination.”

“She is looking ahead, in that way she does. Since she can’t change what happened, she’ll change what happens next. She and
Baba
will go to the wedding and take elaborate gifts to show they have forgotten the unpleasantness between our family and Padmini’s. Then all will be as it was.”

Tears stung Janya’s eyes. “How can she be so blind?”

“It’s easier to blame her daughter than her wealthy cousin’s daughter. Padmini’s family is a connection she’s not willing to sever. She has hopes I will marry well and lift the shame that’s fallen on us. And she believes the Bhagwats and the Tambes can help make that true.”

“I can’t believe she and
Baba
will go!”

“Yes, you can believe it.”

And in fact, Janya could. Because her mother had always cared most about the way their family looked to others. Janya’s feelings in this matter, as they had been so often during her childhood, were irrelevant.

“I got an e-mail from Darshan just over a week ago,” Janya said.

“What did he have to say for himself?”

“I don’t know. I deleted it. What can Darshan say to me now that I want to hear? The time for saying things is over.”

“Perhaps he wanted to tell you why he is marrying the woman who caused all the problems between you?”

“I don’t think he believed Padmini was the culprit.”

“But you know better.”

Janya did. Her cousin Padmini had not stabbed her in the back, she had stabbed Janya directly in the heart. And Janya knew her attacker well. She could not be disguised.

“Padmini and Darshan deserve each other,” Yash said. “Don’t be a sap and let this get to you. You were fortu
nate to get out of that marriage before it tumbled all around you.”

She felt a rush of warmth for her little brother who wanted so badly to make her feel better. “Thank you for caring.”

“So you have been telephoning me?” Yash said.

“
Aii
and
Baba
don’t want us to talk.”

“
Aii
may stop sleeping forever when she hears we spoke tonight, so while you can, tell me how you are.”

“Rishi is a good husband. He’s rarely here, but when he is, he treats me well. He wants my happiness more than anything.”

“And the place where you’re living?”

“Rishi knew how much I loved our seaside cottage at Marve. This was as much the same as he could find. He is very kind in those ways.”

“I wish I could see the United States.”

“You could come for a visit, Yash. You would be so welcome.”

“Can you imagine
Baba
’s reaction if I asked him for the time?”

“Are you still determined to be an accountant?”

“No, but they are determined for me.”

“I miss you,” she said. “My little brother. Soon you will marry and have your own family, and forget your older sister.”

“Janya, if I marry, I will first be certain my wife adores you.”

She laughed. “You know you can phone me anytime? I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

“Check your e-mail. Until our parents figure out a way to get my password, we can always write.”

She laughed at the picture of her traditional mother sneaking onto the Internet.

She hung up and stared at the wall. And in her head, she watched a video of her cousin Padmini, who had been as close as a sister, marrying the only man Janya had ever loved.

On Friday evening Lee stopped by to see how the week had gone, and Tracy invited him to sit on her patio. He had brought a bottle of wine to celebrate her success in her new job, and she opened smoked oysters and crackers.

“Today the schedule felt right,” she concluded, after a brief account of the kids’ activities, and the way both staff and campers had adjusted. “They were moving in and out of time slots without a lot of fuss. We’ve got them sorted into ability groups for sports and swimming. I even found an arts-and-crafts teacher, but she got a better job offer before I could get back to her.”

“So what’s the craft plan for next week?”

“I guess we’re going to do shell art. I bought a bunch of foam balls, and they can glue shells on them. It was the best I could do on the spur of the moment. Crafts aren’t my thing. If I can’t find anybody to fill the slot, I’m going to see if I can bribe a couple of local artists to share the position. They can make more selling decou
paged beer bottles and knitted tea cozies on Saturdays down at the beach, but I’ll try.”

She spooned an oyster on a cracker and popped it in her mouth. “We had a girl drop out. She has some kind of allergy to chlorine and the whole center reeks of it, so she was breaking out.”

“That can’t be good.”

Lee was wearing blue again. Tracy wondered if somebody had told him he ought to.

“That’s my lead-in,” she said, pulling herself back into the conversation before she started panting. “So now we have an opening for Olivia. Why don’t you enroll her, Lee? We have a waiting list for younger children, but no one fits into that slot as well as she would. She’s the same age as the girl who left.”

“I considered it. But I worry about Alice.”

“The regular program’s just until three, no different really from school hours. And I saw Olivia on Wednesday, and she says she’s already bored. Vacation just started.”

“She shouldn’t be complaining to you.” He sounded annoyed.

Lee was a strict father. Olivia’s manners were excellent, and she was a child who knew better than to cause a fuss. Tracy wondered exactly what went on at home, how Lee made certain his daughter toed the line without breaking her spirit.

“She wasn’t complaining,” she assured him. “I asked her how she was doing. And I know there’s very little to do out here except watch seagulls and chase fiddler crabs.” She sent him the smile she had practiced in front of a mirror as a teenager. “Lee, I also told her I’d ask you if she can get her ears pierced. That was my idea, not hers,
but she would look so cute. Now that her hair’s short and her ears are so visible.”

“Did she complain about her hair, too?”

She wasn’t happy with the way this subject was going. “Olivia isn’t a complainer. Like I said, the earrings were my idea.”

“She was unhappy about her hair, but I guess she’s over it now. Is this what I’ll have to deal with when she becomes a teenager?”

“When she gets to be a teenager, she’ll just ignore you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so….”

She laughed. “Mean old Lee. Anyway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry. She’s got a level head. She’s a great kid.”

“So you really want her in your program?”

“She’ll be the best kind of influence on the others. Maybe she’ll even teach Bay Egan some manners.”

“I’ll think about it.” He left it at that and went on to tell her about his week. She could see he was discouraged that a sale had fallen through, but he seemed pleased that the brochures he’d printed for Happiness Key were going out in the mail on Monday.

“You’re a whiz,” she said. “I have a feeling you’ll be the one to sell it.”

He checked his watch. “The Realtors’ association is having a barbecue on Sagmore Beach, and I’ve got to show up and make nice all night. I would have asked you to come, but I can’t imagine doing that to somebody I like so well.”

She got up to walk him to his car. “Make some good contacts and get good leads.”

“I’ll think about the earrings.”

“Great. I’ll take her to have it done if you like. Just let me know.”

The phone rang as Lee drove up the road toward the bridge.

“Tracy?”

She recognized Alice’s voice. “I’m afraid Lee just left, Alice. Are you trying to reach him?”

“No…I made cake. I thought…you…the others…”

Tracy waited, then filled in the blanks. “Did you want us to come over?”

Alice sounded relieved. “In an hour?”

“Would you like me to call Wanda and Janya? I found out something interesting today.”

“Oh, yes.”

Tracy hung up and wondered if Alice had waited for the exact moment when Lee would be gone. For some reason, that possibility disturbed her.

Alice’s cottage was decorated in soft florals and smelled like lilac air freshener. A flamingo lamp sat on a tinted-glass table beside an overstuffed sofa, but the focal point was a huge aquarium on a knotty pine cabinet. Multihued plants waved from layers of white gravel, a treasure chest opened and closed in one corner, and iridescent fish darted between fronds.

“I tried one of these,” Wanda said. She leaned over and squinted through the wide expanse of glass. “I lost more fish than a Yankee on a deep sea charter boat.”

Janya joined Wanda, and they leaned over together, staring at the circling fish. “They are so beautiful. This must be work, to keep it so clear and clean.”

Tracy had been afraid her two feuding neighbors might refuse to attend the same gathering, but something had transpired between them since the incident at Herb’s.
Whatever it was, she was glad they had resolved their problems.

“I’ve had aquariums…” Alice joined them. “Since I was first married. My Fred?” She pointed to the cabinet. “My birthday. He made this for me.”

“He was a talented carpenter.” Wanda straightened, hands against her lower back. “Kenny now? Give him a hammer and he’ll have a black thumb to show for it, and not one thing more.”

“How long were you married?” Janya asked Alice.

She didn’t hesitate. “Forty-five years.”

“Now that’s a long time.” Wanda leaned farther back. “Kenny and me? We been married almost thirty. I figure that’s long enough. I’m still so young I ought to be good for another thirty with somebody else. But no more cops.”

“Does your Kenny know he is…what is your idiom? History?” Janya asked.

“It will probably take him a couple of months after I’m gone to notice.” Wanda began to wander, lifting a photo in a silver frame and holding it out to Alice.

“You and Fred?”

“Yes. Wasn’t he handsome?”

“My, yes, he certainly was. And you look beautiful. All dressed up with someplace to go.”

“Ballroom dancing.”

Tracy smiled, trying to imagine the Alice she knew whirling around a dance floor. It wasn’t as hard as she’d expected. Tonight Alice seemed relaxed and more confident. Even her speech wasn’t as halting. And when she held up one hand and did a little dance step in front of the aquarium, Tracy could glimpse the younger woman.

Wanda studied a shelf of multicolored pillars topped with couples in ballroom poses. “Are these your trophies?”

“We were good,” Alice said, lowering her eyes modestly. “Fred…tango was his dance.”

“I’m certain you were just as good,” Janya said.

Olivia came in from the bedroom and greeted everybody. She put her hand on Tracy’s arm as the others moved into the next room. “Did you find out if Daddy will let me pierce my ears?” she asked.

“I talked to him, and I told him you’d love the rec center camp, too. Let’s keep our fingers crossed on both fronts.”

“Awesome!”

The others were still enjoying their peek into Alice’s life, and Olivia brought Tracy up to speed. “Nana’s showing them the tablecloth she’s making for when I grow up. Come see.”

The group was watching Alice carefully remove something from a fabric bag on wooden legs.

“Alice is making a tablecloth,” Wanda said. “Crocheting the whole thing.”

“You can crochet a tablecloth?”

“Not everything comes from China. Sometimes people
make
things.”

“I can glue shells on anything that doesn’t move,” Tracy said. “Next week I’ll make you a Christmas ornament.”

Wanda snorted, and Tracy decided she really would.

“My grandmother…” Alice gently lifted the tablecloth from the bag. It was a soft winter-white, crocheted from impossibly thin yarn, or maybe some sort of thread. Tracy knew nothing about yarn crafts, but even she could see how intricate this was, and how beautifully done.

“My grandmother,” Alice started again. “She was so accomplished. Sewing. Knitting. Crochet.” She unfolded the tablecloth so they could see the lacework better. “She
made one…not this…for my hope chest. It was my pride.”

“I can just imagine,” Janya said. “Do you still have it?”

“No. There was a house fire when Fred and I lived in…St. Petersburg.”

“Nana and my grandpa lived there before Nana moved here,” Olivia said. “Grandpa Fred owned service stations.”

“Started working in a station right after the war,” Alice said, as if this were a good memory. “Worked up to owning four.”

“And you lost your grandmother’s tablecloth in the fire?” Wanda asked.

“I did…. I had wanted it for Karen. I made her things, of course…. But I didn’t have…not this pattern.”

“Is it the same one?” Tracy asked. “As the one you had?”

“I found an old book. Little antique shop in town. Last year in a pile. Maybe not exactly the same, but very close.”

“Nana’s making it for
me,
” Olivia said. “I told her I might not get married, but I want it anyway.”

Tracy laughed and ruffled Olivia’s hair. “Anyone would want it. It’s gorgeous. It’s an heirloom. You have to promise you won’t spill spaghetti sauce on it.”

Olivia giggled.

“How much more do you need to do?” Tracy asked.

Alice spread her hands about two feet apart. “A month. Maybe more.”

“Nana works on it all the time,” Olivia said. “When she watches television, when she listens to the radio, when I’m doing homework.”

“It’s a pineapple,” Alice said. “A sign of welcome. And I welcome all of you.”

Tracy was touched, and more so when Alice brought out an old-fashioned sponge cake covered with whipped cream and strawberries. Tracy bent to whisper in Janya’s ear, “You’re safe with that unless you don’t eat eggs.”

“I will eat them tonight, thank you.”

“We’ll catch on soon enough,” Tracy promised.

They took their dessert plates back into the living room, and Alice carefully brought in a tray with a silver coffee service and set it on the table. She filled delicate china cups, and even Olivia got one, with the addition of lots of milk.

Everyone complimented the hostess and dug into their dessert. When the room grew quiet, Tracy cleared her throat.

“Remember our conversation on Sunday night? Our guess that Herb and Clyde were the same man?”

She got a varied assortment of responses, but everyone remembered.

“Well, this week I discovered I could go online to see if a man named Herbert Lowe Krause was buried in a military cemetery.”

Wanda looked up. “And?”

“I drew a blank.”

“Oh…” Janya sounded disappointed.

“But I remembered what Alice said, about families wanting their sons nearby, in places they could visit. So I called all the cemeteries in Montgomery I could find numbers for and asked for help. I had a call on my voice mail when I got home this afternoon. One Herbert Lowe Krause, with the same birth date as our Herb, is buried at the Greenwood Cemetery. He died in Sicily in 1943, and his body was returned after the war at the request of his family.”

“Well, that clinches it. Clyde was in Sicily, too,” Wanda said. “It was right there on his discharge papers.”

“So we were right. And more important, now we can be positive the Herb we knew was living under an alias, and his real name was Clyde Franklin.”

Janya considered this out loud. “Then, for some reason, Clyde wanted to disappear. He needed a new name, and new identification. So he thought back to the war, and he took Herb’s name.”

Wanda held up her hand. “Okay, this is important. We have to decide something right this minute. Are we going to call this man Clyde? Or do we go on calling him Herb? I vote for Herb, because the real Herb’s not alive to care one way or the other, and Herb’s the name we knew our neighbor by.”

“I vote for calling him Herb, too, just like we always did,” Tracy said. “We know everything we need to about the real one now. That Herb’s just a name our Herb appropriated.”

“Stole, more like it,” Wanda said. “A chicken’s still a chicken, even when it’s plucked. And now, not to try to outdo you or anything, but as a matter of fact, I found out some things on my own. I figure while Kenny’s still hanging around, I should use him. He ought to be good for something.”

“Honestly, do you talk about the man that way when you’re with him?” Tracy asked.

“Talk?” Wanda laughed. “Did you talk to your ex before you divorced him?”

“CJ was
way
too busy with attorneys. The last real conversation we had was the day he told me life as I knew it had ended. After that, I almost never saw him alone again.”

“And when you did, you were too furious to talk to him,” Wanda guessed. “Am I right?”

Tracy wasn’t sure what to call the feelings that talk had inspired. “There was nothing CJ could do for me. His problems were a lot worse than mine.”

“Well, I’m the worst problem Kenny’s ever going to have. Anyway, I asked him to check and see if Louise got Clyde Franklin’s Social Security for their daughter after she had him declared dead. And she did. Not only that, I found the name of their daughter. Pamela Glade Franklin, born in November of 1943 right here in Palmetto Grove. So little Pammy was just eight when Louise started getting Clyde’s Social Security for her, money she really wasn’t entitled to, since old Clyde was busy pretending to be our Herb and breathing just fine, thank you very much.”

“We’ve got her name!” Tracy did a fake hand slap in midair. “Congratulations, Wanda.”

“Do you think Louise and Herb, our Herb, planned this?” Alice asked. “He was such…a nice man.”