Rebel Without a Cake (8 page)

Maybe I'd sent that text too soon.

In response to Bernice's cry, I rushed back to the kitchen. I hoped she hadn't hurt herself or, worse, had had a heart attack or something. Last night had been troubling for her, and this morning's visit from Isabeau and Mambo Odessa hadn't helped. Had the phone call been the last straw?

We ran into each other at the kitchen door. I was relieved to see her walking around on her own, but just like the night before, her face was pale and her expression alarmed.

“What is it?” I asked. “Bernice? What's happened?”

She weaved a little on her feet and I worried she might faint. “Oh, Rita! It's my cousin Eskil. He's gone.” Her voice was thin and reedy, but I was relieved to know she wasn't seriously ill.

“Gone? You mean he . . . died?”

Her eyes flew wide and she gaped at me in horror. “You think he's dead?”

“No. I mean I don't know. What did you mean when you said that he's gone?”

“Oh. I meant that he's missing. He went fishing yesterday morning and he hasn't come back. They're afraid he's lost out in the swamp.”

I put an arm around her and helped her into the living room with its comfortable chairs. I made soothing noises the whole way along the lines of, “I'm sure they'll find him. He's probably just fine. Maybe he stayed out too late and slept somewhere else.”

Bernice clutched my arm gratefully. “Oh, I do hope you're right.” She sank into an overstuffed armchair and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “It's just so distressing. It's like Uncle Cooch all over again! This is exactly what happened when he disappeared.”

Coincidence? I had trouble believing that, but I didn't want to upset Bernice any more than she already was. I sat in a nearby chair and kept an eye on her. “Try not to jump to conclusions,” I said. “It's probably not the same at all.”

She wiped a few tears away and tried to smile. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” I assured her, which wasn't entirely true, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “Who called you just now? How much information do they have at this point?”

Bernice sniffed and dabbed and made an effort to pull herself together. “It was Eskil's sister, my cousin Bitty. She lives with Aunt Margaret now. In fact, all the children do. Eskil never left. He's been there taking care of Aunt Margaret ever since Uncle Cooch disappeared. Tallulah came back after her husband left her for another woman, and Bitty . . . well, the poor thing. She was left at the altar when she was just a young woman. We don't talk about it, though. It makes her too sad.”

All very interesting, but not what I asked. “So Bitty called you. What exactly did she say?”

Bernice gave me a cross look. “Just what I told you. Eskil went fishing yesterday and he never came home. Bitty says Aunt Margaret is fit to be tied, but of course she would be, wouldn't she? After what happened to Uncle Cooch. I hope this doesn't set her back. She's a bit frail, you know.”

I nodded as if I knew all about Aunt Margaret and asked, “So the missing cousin . . . Eskil? He's Cooch's son?”

Bernice nodded and patted her forehead with a handkerchief, then reached for my hand. “That must be why Uncle Cooch came to me last night. He was trying to tell me about Eskil, wasn't he?”

I didn't want her to go there. I shook my head. “I don't think—”

But Bernice wasn't listening. Her eyes grew as round as quarters and she shot to her feet. “I think I know what he wanted to tell me. He wants me to go to them. They need my help!”

Mambo Odessa's warning that Bernice was heading for trouble echoed in my head, but I stuffed it into a corner of my mind and ignored it. I needed all my powers of concentration just to follow the conversation. “Do they have people out looking for Eskil?” I asked.

“Bitty says the whole town is out there. She and Tallulah are doing their best to keep up, but what a job. It's too much for the two of them.” She skipped from one subject to another like water in a hot pan, which made it tough to keep up.

“What job is that?”

Bernice
tsk
ed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Feeding the volunteers, of course. You don't think they're going to let people go hungry?”

“Well, no, but—”

She flapped a hand at me and took a few steps toward her chair, stopping on her way to pluck some dead leaves from a plant. She moved nervously, as if she was having trouble remaining in one place. “I can't just sit here while they're going through such a thing. Honestly, Rita, imagine how you'd feel if we were talking about your family.”

The argument I'd been about to deliver withered on my tongue. I'd been thinking about Bernice and her health. After all, she wasn't exactly a spring chicken. But she wasn't ancient either. Clearly, she cared about her aunt and cousins. I could relate to that. Losing my parents in that car accident had been horrific. I couldn't imagine how it must feel for a family member to go missing in a swamp filled with man-eating creatures.

Maybe it would do Bernice good to see her family. Maybe it would do them good to see her. “What can I do to help?”

Bernice wiped away a few more tears and sat down again. “I knew you'd understand. Thank you, dear. You'll drive me, won't you? I can't see as well as I once could, and I don't like to drive at night.”

Wait. Me? In the swamp? At
night
? Was she out of her mind? This wasn't what I'd had in mind when I'd asked if she needed my help. Pros and cons ping-ponged around in my head. I knew I should say yes, but I desperately wanted to say no. I had work to do. Lots and lots of important, time-sensitive work. I was a busy, busy woman. And most important, I don't do swamps.

When I didn't respond immediately, Bernice released my hand and waved the handkerchief in front of her face. “Oh, it's too much to ask. Forget I said anything. It's just that with Uncle Cooch gone, Eskil is the only man in the family. He takes care of all the women, you know.” She let out a distressed cry and fluttered her hands some more. “But I'm sure they'll be all right. I certainly don't want to put you out. I know how busy you are.”

Guilt gave both my heart and my stomach a big old squeeze. I could have handled a straight-out assault. If she'd told me I had to take her as penance for opening my big mouth last night, I could have argued with her. But plucking at my heartstrings like that? It was too much. I couldn't take the thought of poor Aunt Margaret out there all alone with nothing but her two daughters and a swamp full of alligators for company.

“Well, of course you need to go, and I'll be happy to drive you. Do you want to leave right now?” I said.

Just like that, Bernice's tears dried right up. It was a miracle. “I need to make a few phone calls first,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I'd like to pack a few things to take Aunt Margaret in her time of need. Could we leave around four? That way we can get there before supper and help the girls get food on the table. Those people will have been searching all day. They'll need to be fed.”

Right. Four o'clock. Subtracting time for travel, that would give me roughly two whole hours to work on ideas for the Belle Lune Ball. Whatever would I do with all my spare time?

*   *   *

“You wanted to see me?”

The unexpected sound of Ox's voice startled me. I'd been so engrossed in the blog I'd been reading, I hadn't heard him come to my door.

I didn't want to give him the upper hand, so I tried not to let him see that he'd surprised me. “Yeah, come on in.”

He moved into my office and took a chair. Usually, I talked things over with Ox in the design room while we worked, but I didn't have enough time to do that today. Plus, I figured it didn't hurt to remind him occasionally that the butt in the boss's chair was mine.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “In a manner of speaking. You know how it is.”

He didn't even crack a smile. “What's up?”

I didn't know if Isabeau had told him about the way she and Mambo Odessa had ambushed Bernice that morning, but I wasn't going to tell him. He and I might be on rocky turf, but I knew better than to stir up trouble in someone else's relationship.

“I'm going to have to leave early this afternoon. It's important.”

“Oh?” In that one word I heard the whole list of accusations: I'd been gone most of the morning and now I needed to leave again? Maybe Ox
should
be the one running this place. Then again, it might just have been my own guilty conscience speaking.

“You remember Miss Frankie's neighbor Bernice? Her cousin has gone missing in the swamp. Bernice needs to get to her family and she can't drive at night. She needs me to take her to some place called Baie Rebelle.”

“Okay. You coming back?”

I laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. “Of course . . . assuming I don't get eaten by an alligator.”

“You're going today?”

“Later this afternoon. I'll be in tomorrow to take care of a few things. I just need to leave a little early today.”

He regarded me through narrowed eyes. “Let me guess: You want me to take over while you're gone?”

Okay. So he still wasn't over last night. I was determined to take the high road. “It's just for a couple of hours, and everybody seems to be on task and working well. Or is there a problem I don't know about?”

Ox shook his head and drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Nope. Unless you count the fact that I'll have to get someone else to finish the Howard reunion cake.”

“I'm almost finished with it,” I said. “It won't take long to make the jack-o'-lantern for the top. I can finish that before I leave.” He didn't say anything so I waited a moment and then said, “Okay. Good. I'll have my cell phone on me, so if you run into any problems, just call.”

He snorted softly. “Right. If there's something I can't handle, I'll make sure I find you. But you really think you'll have cell reception in the middle of the swamp? Good luck with that.”

He really was in a mood. I sucked in a calming breath and reminded myself that no good would come from prolonging the argument, even if he was being a jerk. “Have you ever been to Baie Rebelle?”

Ox shook his head. “Never even heard of it.”

“Well, then, maybe it's an exception to the no cell service rule. We can only hope.”

I thought he'd leave, but he settled more comfortably in his chair. “How did your appointment with Evangeline Delahunt go?”

The question sounded innocent enough, but the challenge in his eyes was unmistakable. I like to think that I'm an honest person, but there are times when it's necessary to be careful with the truth. This was one of them. No way was I going to give Ox the satisfaction of saying he told me so. “It went fine,” I said with a sugary smile. “She seems like a lovely woman.”

Okay, so that was an outright lie and I'd probably be struck by lightning for telling it. But I just couldn't—or wouldn't—admit that he'd been right.

He grinned but there was nothing friendly about the smile on his face. “Lovely? Are you sure you met the real Evangeline?”

“Of course I did. Somewhere in her sixties? Tall. Thin. Short silver hair? She was delightful.” And this is why I try not to lie. Once I get started, it's hard to stop.

“Delightful. Really.”

I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “Yes. Really.”

“So what was the decision? What are we making?”

“We haven't made the final decision yet,” I admitted reluctantly. “I'll be meeting with the decorator. We'll make a decision after that.”

“Sounds interesting. When is the meeting?”

“Tomorrow.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

One of Ox's eyebrows arched. “You're meeting on Sunday?”

The lies just kept on coming. “Yes. They're very eager to work with us.”

“Really. Maybe I should join you. If that's okay, that is. Isabeau and I don't have any plans.”

Again, it wasn't what he said; it was the way he said it. Almost as if he knew I didn't actually have an appointment. As if he was trying to catch me out. I nodded and tried to look pleased with his suggestion. “Great idea. I don't remember the time off the top of my head, but I'll let you know.” Which was a ridiculous thing to say with my phone, my computer, and my calendar all sitting right in front of me.

Ox smirked. “Why don't you just check now?”

His attitude was really starting to rankle. I was ready to be finished with the conversation, but I couldn't see a way out . . . except to change the subject. It was a low blow, but I felt backed into a corner. “You have family around here, don't you?”

Ox nodded uncertainly, probably confused about where I was going with my question. “My folks are from Georgia, but I have an aunt and some cousins here. Why do you ask?”