Lights Out Tonight (5 page)

Meg added her name to the sign-up sheet. As she walked back to her dorm, she thought about what she wanted to do for the memorial. Meg knew she had been Amy’s closest friend at Warrenstown. They had liked each other right away, and in the six weeks they’d known each other, they’d found that they had much in common. Meg wanted to do something special for Amy. As for Tommy, Meg didn’t know him that well, but Amy’s happiness about her new boyfriend had been obvious.

Back in her room, Meg went straight to her desk and turned on her laptop. She reopened the first of the pictures Amy had sent her Sunday morning. Someone had taken a picture of Amy and Tommy standing in front of the Mt. Greylock visitors’ center. The two of them were smiling, their arms around
each other, oblivious to the fact that it was the last day of their lives.

Meg clicked to the next picture, sent just ten minutes after the first. It showed Tommy, baring his teeth in a mock snarl, standing beside a glass case. Meg zoomed in on the case and could see that Tommy was mimicking the expression on the stuffed bobcat on display. She recognized it from the time she had visited the center a few weeks ago. It had been fascinating to learn about the various indigenous creatures that inhabited the area.

It was over an hour before Amy had sent the next two pictures. This time, Tommy had taken them of her. In the first, Amy was sitting on top of a rock wall that surrounded a pond. In the second, she was smiling at a butterfly that had alighted on her arm. Fifteen minutes later, Amy had e-mailed a picture of a deer.

One by one, Meg looked at the other pictures, documenting the hike up the mountain, along a portion of the Appalachian Trail. The last of the series were shots from the top of Mt. Greylock. The pair had gotten another visitor to take a picture of them together in front of the Veterans War Memorial Tower, which stood at the peak. Next, there were several shots of the views from the mountaintop. Meg knew, from being up there herself, that the photos didn’t do the spectacular vistas justice.

As she opened the rest of the pictures, Meg was glad, at least, that the final day of Amy’s life had been spent with so much happiness amid such beauty. But she didn’t understand why Amy had sent her the last blurry, blue image.

 C H A P T E R 
11

Not bad for a woman in her mid-forties,
thought Victoria Sterling as she studied her reflection in the mirror over the tiger-maple dresser. Somehow, even her almost two-pack-a-day habit hadn’t altered her appearance much as far as Victoria could see. She looked nothing like that defeated, wrinkled woman with the sunken, dark-circled eyes that the smoking police used in their ad campaign.

After running a comb through her dark, curly hair and pulling on a blue silk robe, Victoria grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her purse and walked out of the bedroom. She tiptoed past the closed door of Belinda’s room, glad that her hostess wasn’t up yet. Victoria wanted some time to herself.

The timer Belinda had set the night before ensured there was a pot of fresh coffee waiting for Victoria downstairs. She filled a mug and looked around the newly remodeled kitchen. It must have cost a small fortune. The custom cabinets, the granite countertops, the top-of-the-line professional appliances, even the antique farm table that served as an island in the center of the spacious room, all contributed to a feeling of security and well-being.

Taking a sip of the hot brew, Victoria walked over to the large bay window. It hadn’t been here the last time she was a guest at Curtains Up, two years ago. She would have remembered. She and Daniel had had coffee down here every morning of their stay. They’d used the long trestle table as their desk, spreading their papers across the pine planks as they worked out the necessary changes to their play being produced that summer. While the actors were running through their rehearsals of
Treasure Trove,
she and Daniel were making adjustments to the script—right up to opening night.

Everyone said that was what had killed Daniel. The stress of that summer. He hadn’t taken care of himself, and when you’re a diabetic, you can’t afford not to.

“Come here, kitty. Come here, Marigold.” Victoria leaned down to coax the orange cat closer. But the cat walked right by on the way to her spot in the sun on the window seat.

“All right, have it your way, you little witch,” Victoria said and lit up a cigarette. She turned her attention to the scene outside the window. A figure was making its way across the meadow, walking away from the house. Even from behind, Victoria knew it was Gus. She recognized those broad shoulders. That caretaker sure was a good-looking guy, in a dangerous kind of way. And she had been a widow for two long years.

 C H A P T E R 
12

Caroline stared out the back window as the crew car sped north on the New York State Thruway. The acres of farmland that lined the highway and the mountains that sat off in the distance were so soothingly green. Just a little more than an hour out of New York City, and already it was another world.

Caroline decided to try making conversation with her companions. “Boomer. How did you get that name?”

The large man in the front passenger seat turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Uh, they started calling me that a long time ago. Soundman. Boom mike. Get it?”

“What’s your real name?”

“Michael,” Boomer answered. “Hey, Lamar, let’s pull in at the next rest stop. I’m hungry.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” protested the driver. “We just left.”

“Yeah, but I have low blood sugar,” said Boomer.

“Then why don’t you just bring food with you?”

“That would take too much planning.”

Grudgingly, Lamar steered the car off the highway at the rest stop exit.
Mutt and Jeff,
thought Caroline, walking into the
huge multirestaurant building behind the tall, thin cameraman, Lamar Nelson, and the short, round soundman, Michael “Boomer” O’Mara. She hadn’t worked with them before, and she had the distinct impression they were sizing her up.

“I’ll meet you back at the car,” she said as she headed for the ladies’ room. It was going to be a long couple of days, she thought. The duo were well known for their bickering, which was tolerated by reporters and producers because they had no choice. In these days of budget constraints, a video crew was a hot commodity. There was always more demand than supply. When you were lucky enough to get a crew assigned to shoot your story, you grinned and got through it with them.

Caroline washed her hands and tried to dry them, rubbing them under the hot-air blower attached to the wall. When she came out of the lavatory, she stopped to buy a cup of coffee. By the time she got back to the car, Lamar and Boomer were waiting for her.

As they pulled out onto the highway again, Boomer turned his thick frame sideways in the seat. “What are we going up here to shoot anyway?” he asked as he bit into his jumbo Cinnabon.

“The Warrenstown Summer Playhouse,” Caroline answered.

“Yeah, I know. What about it?” Boomer licked his lips.

“A piece on the summer theater festival, a story about this new play that everyone is talking about, and maybe, if we can get her to cooperate, a profile on Belinda Winthrop.”

“Mmm. Belinda Winthrop. That is one fine woman,” declared
Lamar. “I fell in love with her back when I first saw her in that remake of
The Letter.
Man, I had dreams about her for months after that.”

“You and millions of other suckers, Lamar,” said Boomer.

“And you didn’t?”

The soundman didn’t answer, popping the last of the cinnamon roll into his mouth.

Lamar looked with disgust at his partner. “You got icing dripping down your chin.”

“Anybody got a spare napkin?” asked Boomer as he leaned forward to check if there was one in the paper take-out tray.

“Slob. You’re spilling your coffee all over the seat.”

“Don’t get your shorts in a knot, Lamar.”

Lamar gripped the steering wheel. “You know, Boomer, when you have low blood sugar, you aren’t supposed to stoke it with a sugary, zillion-calorie coffee cake.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor now. I forgot.”

There was silence in the car as both men figured it would better to stand down now rather than push on. They had to travel together, work together, eat together, and basically live together for the next several days. If their nudging turned into a full-scale fight, which it had been known to do, the tension would make the assignment before them sheer misery.

Changing the subject, Lamar called out to Caroline in the backseat. “So you’re pretty new to television, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been with
KTA
for about six months,” she answered. “Before that, I worked for newspapers.”

“Like it?”

“Still getting used to it.”

Boomer crushed the paper take-out tray. “I’d read that as a no, wouldn’t you, Lamar?”

“Sounds to me like a rookie trying to cope with that maniac Nazareth,” said Lamar, smiling as he drove.

Boomer twisted his thick girth around toward the backseat. “Let me tell you something, little lady. You might never get used to that crazy bastard.”

“Little lady?”
Caroline asked. “I didn’t think anyone used that expression anymore. Last time I heard it was in an old John Wayne western.”

“Hey, Boom.” Lamar grinned. “You’re busted, you chauvinist.”

 C H A P T E R 
13

Belinda forced herself to get out of bed. If she hurried, she’d have time to take a walk around the property before she had to go to the theater. What had started as a way of getting some exercise had become as essential as brushing her teeth in the morning. No matter where she was, if she didn’t get that walk in, four or five times a week, Belinda found she just didn’t feel good. In the final stages of rehearsal for a play, the exercise was
even more important. While walking, she could go over the scenes in her head, run her lines, think about her movements.

Even though the daily maid service she’d hired wouldn’t be in till noon, Belinda left her bed unmade. She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and ran a comb through her ash-blond hair. Dressing in khaki shorts and a purple Warrenstown Summer Playhouse T-shirt, she laced up her walking shoes and went downstairs. The door to her study was open, but Belinda ignored the urge to check her e-mail.

“Good morning,” she said when she walked into the kitchen.

Victoria turned her gaze from the window to her hostess. “Hello, sleepyhead,” she said. “Have a good rest?”

“Slept like a log. I was exhausted.”

“Coffee?” asked Victoria, going to the counter to get the coffeepot.

“Okay. Just a half.”

“Black, right?”

Belinda nodded. She took the cup from her houseguest. “Thanks,” she said. “What have you been doing so far this morning?”

“Not much. Just fantasizing a little about that caretaker of yours.”

“Ah, yes. Gus.” Belinda walked over to the picture window and looked out. “He’s a little too handsome for his own good, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You can’t be too rich or too thin
—or
too good looking.” Victoria pulled the tie tighter on her silk robe. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

“I doubt you two would have much to talk about, Victoria. Gus is no rocket scientist—or award-winning playwright, either.”

“Funny, but my fantasy had nothing to do with conversation.”

Belinda chuckled and then swallowed the last bit of coffee. “I’m going out for a little exercise. When I get back, I’ll take a quick shower and we can head to the theater.”

“Well, that hunky caretaker got into his golf cart and headed out across the meadow.” Victoria nodded toward the picture window. “If you see him on your walk, tell him I was asking for him.”

Standing in the driveway, Belinda did a few stretching exercises. She inhaled the fresh morning air, crisp and without a hint of humidity. It was going to be another glorious day in the Berkshires.

She began down the driveway but then changed her mind, turning and starting across the meadow. If she could catch up with Gus, she could talk to him about the arrangements for the party she planned to have for the cast and crew after the opening tomorrow night. Gus really had to replace those pieces of flaking slate on the patio. It looked messy, and a guest could trip and fall.

She’d noticed a few things this season that Gus hadn’t attended to, and she didn’t like it. She hoped she wasn’t going to
start having problems with her caretaker because, up till now, the situation had worked out well for both of them. Gus had a steady job, was paid well, and had a cozy place to live. Belinda had great peace of mind in knowing that Curtains Up was being taken care of and wasn’t deserted when she couldn’t be here.

She tramped through the grass and wildflowers, heading in the direction Victoria had indicated Gus had taken. Money might not be everything, she thought as she looked out over the meadow, but she loved what her success had purchased. This serene, beautiful place was perhaps her favorite piece of real estate. As long as her career held out, she knew she would be able to maintain all the residences she kept. And even when her professional life began to flag, as it inevitably would as she aged, she could keep a few of her favorite homes, sell the others, and live more than comfortably for the rest of her life.