No Perfect Secret (29 page)

“Anna needs to learn how to flirt?”

“She’s way out of practice.”

“Well, wind up that Victrola and come open your front door.”

Still chatting away, Lila skipped to the front of her house. She had Caburn by the hand when they emerged into the kitchen. Anna smiled, and rolled her eyes. “You two are a pair.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Caburn said. Then his attention was on food that covered the table and countertops.
“This is a good-smelling kitchen; lots of good juju.”

“You’re welcome to eat with us,” offered Lila. “We’ve got to deliver a bunch of it to our neighbors, but we cooked extra for ourselves. Didn’t we, Anna?”

Anna looked from one to the other. Both wore hopeful expressions. “Yes we did. Frank, if you want to eat, you have to earn it—we’re looking for a pot washer.”

“That was at the top of my resume.” He
tossed his coat on the back of chair and began rolling up his sleeves. “Pot washer deluxe—that’s me. Point me to the dishwasher.”

Anna put her finger in the middle of his chest.

Caburn gave her a lopsided smile. “Just like home.”

Lila took off her apron and wrapped it around Caburn’s waist. She tied the sash in front. “Ooooh, you have some abs there, buddy.”

“Miss Lila, you are shameless.”

“You think? Back in the day when a woman copped a feel, it was called risqué. Anna
—are you paying attention?”

“I am not. I’m cooking.” But, she was s
miling as she removed the green bean casseroles from the oven.

Lila brought out an ancient
, faded red wagon from her pantry. “Our version of Meals on Wheels,” she told Caburn.

He helped load the foods, and carried the wagon down the front porch steps. It took thirty minutes because they had to chat with Mrs Nagi, plead with
Mr Hannah ,the agoraphobic, to open his door, and then retrace their steps across the street to deliver to Mr Wilson, who was wrapped in an old woolen robe and standing on his porch, anxious that he wasn’t being passed over.

Once returned to Lila’s
kitchen the three friends sat down to their own supper. Caburn ate two helpings of everything, including pecan pie. Lila finished off the bottle of sherry and was nodding off in her chair in the living room by the time Anna and Caburn restored order to the kitchen.

“We can have coffee at my house,” Anna said.

“I don’t have room,” said Caburn. He followed Anna out the back door and across the yard into her own back door.

“Anna, you’ve got to start locking your doors.”

“The only problem I’ve ever had is Clara-Alice—and she had a key.”

Caburn leaned against the counter while she set coffee to brewing. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day. Helen and I are going up to Ellicott City
.”

Anna winced.

“We want to know if it would be all right with you if we mentioned that your marriage to Nesmith isn’t legal.”

“Oh...
I... But why?”

“Helen has the idea that you both are victims.”

“I hate that word. I hate it!”

Caburn exhaled. “I know, but we hope that if we show a patter
n, it will take the onus off you.”

She looked up sharply. “What onus?”

“Helen thinks wives often get blamed for a husband’s...a husband’s peccadilloes.”

“You mean
—as if I should’ve known what Kevin was up to?”

“Something like
—yeah. There’s more. Albert is adamant that we keep this quiet. No news stories.”

“I don’t want any publicity either. I would be humiliated if my colleagues and friends knew. It’s bad enough that
—”

“Yes, it is. It’s awful. I wish we could’ve caught it
—him. We want the folks in Ellicott City to feel the same.”

“Yes, Okay. You can tell them. But I don’t want to talk to Janie
—or her parents. That would just be too much.”

“That’s the second thing. We want you to unplug your landlines, your answering machines
.”

“Because?”

“Because the obit is being published in several cities. We don’t know what that will drag up—we hope nothing.”

Anna crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. “This is so hard. I was really pumped after I talked with
Dr Neal.”

Caburn put his hands on her shoulders. “Anna... In less than forty-eight hours you’re going to be on a beach
—sun, sand, tan, mojitos.”

She leaned her head against his chest, and felt a flicker of excitement. She could tell where each of his fingers touched on her shoulders. Frank was keeping a bit of distance between their bodies, so she knew he felt it, too.

She looked at him, a soft expression on her face, her eyes moving to his eyes. “Sun, sand, tan, and mojitos—that’s going to be my mantra for the next two days.”

“Want to come home with me? I could start you on the mojitos.”

Reality eased in. “I can wait—but my ironing won’t.”

“Get it done then, because you’ll have to overnight at my place tomorrow.”

He thought about her pajamas. The ones with the buttons missing. That would be a nice view across his kitchen counter. Then he thought about his own chest. It looked like a half-skinned cat. “We have to be at the airport no later than four a.m. I don’t want to fight the holiday traffic from my place to yours and then back again to the airport.”

“Good try, Frank. But all of Washington will be closed on Friday. The politicos and their staffs are already in their
home districts. The rest of government is off on Friday. That just leaves shoppers and tourists—and they won’t be up at four in the morning. I can meet you at the airport.”

“No. You’ll be late.”

“I’m never late for anything,”
except life
. “We are not going to argue about this,” she said, ushering him to the front door, and out.

“Yes, we are.”

She shot the bolt.

“No!”

~
~~~

Rain was beating down on the windshield one minute and stopping the next. Caburn kept adjusting the wipers.

“Will you please just put the wipers on or off. You’re driving me nuts.
”

“My morning was just as bad as yours, Helen.”

“That was godawful,” she said. “Stop at the first Starbucks you see. My mouth is dry. My eyes feel gritty.”

“I thought
Mr Abernathy was gonna murder me. That man is volatile.”

“Janie is his baby girl. Did you hear how much he said he paid for their wedding? $55,000.”

“That made me think—How was Nesmith gonna get out of his marriage to Anna? He couldn’t divorce her, because he wasn’t really married to her.”

“He was going to figure something out. The parents have money with a capital M. Good old Kevin was gonna stay with the money. So, what’d
Mr Abernathy say when you were in the kitchen together?”

Caburn
frowned. “Obviously, no publicity. He wants to keep up the charade of the marriage for Janie and his grandson’s reputation. His own, too, I imagine. I’m pretty sure he’ll force that down the girl’s throat. Add to that, he wants to do the funeral—in the hopes that will make Janie seem a legitimate widow. So that means we have to talk to Albert and Anna. You can do that. I don’t have time, or the stomach for it. I’ve got to pick up travel documents from Mr Charles, get over to the hospital to get these damned staples out, hit the drugstore, the bank, and call my mom.”

“You dog
—you left everything to the last minute on purpose.”

“Learned from a master by the name of Helen Callaway.”

“That and four bucks is gonna buy me a cup of coffee. There’s a Starbucks in the next block on your right. Let’s brave the rain and go inside. I want a slice of lemon pound cake. Then I’ll call Albert, and see how it went with Clara.”

While Helen called Albert
, Caburn called Anna, certain she would be in a funk, waiting to learn what happed in Ellicott City.

“Hey, Frank,” she answered, all cheer.

“You sound happy.”

“I am. Sun, sand, tan, and mojitos in twenty-four hours.”

“So, what’re you doing?”

“We’re having lunch out. I’m treating Lila and
Helen’s tenants. Then at two we’re going to a Christmas concert at Lila’s church. Matinee performance. The screen on my computer couldn’t be saved, so I bought a small flat screen television. JoJo is going to hook that up for me, so I’ll be back in business.” She paused. “I hope everything goes okay at the hospital—you know—when you get the staples out of your back.”

“They let people with purple hair in a church?”

“I’m disappointed in you, Frank. I thought you were better than that. I’m hanging up.”

Helen finished her call to Albert. “What’s with the sour face, Frank? Something wrong at Anna’s?”

“Nope, everything is just hunky-dory.”

“Aww, you don’t get to play the hero, today.”

“That’s not it.”

“Yes, it is. I know what
Anna is doing today. I got invited but I had to decline. You need to think things through, Frank. If you want a wimpy woman, don’t be looking at Anna. She has a real independent streak. She’s not going to need rescuing every single day of her life.”

“Am I supposed to be taking notes?”

“You need to be taking Xanax.”

“Right. I’m duly chastised.”
Twice.
“What did Albert say?”

“Miss Clara did not have a meltdown.
Dr Neal was there and so was a nurse advocate from social services. Clara insists that since she is Nesmith only blood relative, she wants his car, his money, his life insurance. Albert handed her the applications for the residential homes and told her to find herself a place to live. He warned her against harassing Anna ever again.”

“He didn’t mention Janie or her parents?”

“Nope. That will have to wait until the funeral arrangements are made. Even if they make contact—Clara won’t be able to bully Janie like she’s done with Anna. Janie’s folks would step on her in a New York minute. So. We’re free. Our holiday starts now. Take me to the office. I have to fill up the cat and water feeders and I’m so done.” She tapped his cup with her own. “Merry Christmas.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Within five minutes
of takeoff on the flight to Cancun Caburn tilted his first class seat back and went comfortably asleep to the droning rhythm of the jet engines.

Anna nudged him awake for breakfast.

“You didn’t go to bed last night, did you?”

“I couldn’t,” he said around a mouthful of scrambled egg. “I wound my alarm clock too tight. It broke.” He eyed her plate. It was still three-quarters full. “Are you gonna eat that?”

Anna’s fork landed on his plate quite sharply. “Do you plan to sleep away our entire first day in Cancun?”

“Of course not. I’m just catnapping.” He finished her breakfast, drank her coffee, and leaned back once more, pumping up the full size first class pillow. “Just catnapping, really.”

While he slept through the stop in Cleveland to board more passengers and de-ice the wings, Anna read through the packet and magazine the travel master had provided. She noted the details for their ground transportation, found a spectacular photo of the Grand Palladium White Sand Resort and Spa, Mayan Rivera, and nudged Caburn awake. “Look,” she said excitedly, “This is our hotel.”

“I see it,” he mumbled not opening his eyes.

After they deplaned in Mexico he tried unsuccessfully to sleep standing up as they waited in line to go through Customs and Immigration. While waiting for their luggage, he leaned against a post; his arms folded over his chest, his mouth open, snoring.

We are so different,
Anna thought. Frank was so laid back he can sleep against a post. She could get by on five hours of sleep. Coffee and toast could almost get her though a day. Frank had to have eight hours of bed time, and a feeding trough three times a day. Then there was the errant topic that got him skittish—sex—or anything having to do with it. She wondered how perturbed he was going to get when he discovered they were smack in the middle of Mayan culture.

She spied her luggage on the conveyor
—dragged it off to where Caburn was standing, and then quickly transformed herself from chilly D.C. chic to casual beach. From a side pocket of her carry-on she drew out slip-on sandals with a bit of shiny bling on the straps; slipped off her blazer to reveal a brown cotton camisole tucked into belted Banana Republic cotton slacks; repacked the blazer and loafers into the side pocket, and out of her purse came sun glasses and bobby pins—which she used to pin up her hair. She shook Caburn awake.

“Your luggage has gone around on the conveyor twice.”