When Night Falls (19 page)

“I know what you mean. The fortune cookie sayings aren’t that easy to translate, either. One counters the other.”

“I’m right here, boys,” Uma said, softly enough to make the roses in her hair barely tremble. “Mitchell has a habit of overlooking that, but I didn’t expect it from you, Everett—”

“Why, so you are here,” Mitchell drawled, after wanting to hold her all night.

“Dance?” Everett smoothly offered Uma, with an intimate smile that Mitchell could have crammed down his throat.

But he wouldn’t; he was being “civilized.”

She looked confused, glancing from Mitchell to Everett and back again, and she wasn’t choosing Mitchell’s company that quickly. “I…”

Just then, Mitchell spotted Lonny’s patrol car across the street and Shelly arrived with a tray of petit fours. Mitchell decided that the party didn’t need him and he didn’t need it. Uma fit in perfectly; she always had. The old fences were still there; he still didn’t fit in her crowd.

“Excuse me. You two kids enjoy yourself. It’s time I left the ball,” he said as he took the tray from Shelly and with it high, eased over the Whiteford’s hip-high wrought-iron fence. If he couldn’t have Uma tonight, he’d at least enjoy her petit fours. He walked down the yard’s slope and across the street
to where Lonny waited. Lonny’s jowly face was illuminated by the flashlight he held as he read a book.

“Dinner time,” Mitchell said, as he eased into the passenger side and placed the tray on his lap.

Lonny snapped off the flashlight, put the sandwich he’d been eating back into the sack, and chose a small frosted cake with all the daintiness of a child selecting a special candy. He paused and held up a finger. “Wait a minute. These little cake things need a drink to set them off. I’ve got an extra cup here somewhere. You’ve been made…the whole town is gossiping that you’re here to scope out the site for your company.”

“I know. I’ve been getting hints all over town. Lots of friendly people here, all of a sudden…all except the old ruling class. They can’t bring themselves to ask me anything except to do their lawns. Lucky for them, I like lawns and yard work.”

“It’s good therapy. Not like fishing, though. Irma wants to be my friend, my buddy. She wants to go fishing with me. There are just some things men need to do alone or with other men, and fishing is one of them. I don’t want Irma for my buddy. Life’s rough when your wife is in the moody hormone business and having a midlife crisis about how she looks and wanting to be your buddy.” Lonny fished in his cluttered back seat and found a stack of foam cups, pouring coffee into two of them and setting one on the dashboard. He gave the other to Mitchell, who was already chewing on the cake, but not tasting it.

While Mitchell circled his gloom and his empty bed, Lonny ate two of the cakes and sipped his coffee. “Got a report of a prowler last night. Seems some big guy walked right up to Uma’s door in the storm and she let him in. I hung around for a while outside, but Irma likes me home during storms and the Lawrence house was real quiet. So that shot was either before I arrived—and whoever Uma let into the
house—or after. The Lawrences sure do have a problem with windows—and with visitors…heard you fixed some electrical problem there last night.”

Mitchell ate another cake and tried not to focus on the laughter floating down the hill to the police car. Or that Uma was probably dancing with Everett again…her ex-husband was probably cuddling her. “Did you talk with Mike?”

Lonny delicately patted his mouth with his handkerchief. “Had a nice quiet talk with Mike. He doesn’t know anything. Whoever our friend is, he likes long-distance work. There’s only one thing to do, and that is to sit on this one and hope that whoever he is, he makes a mistake. I figured you Warrens would stir up trouble, and I figure you can handle it. Roman is taking a liking to Dani, and he’s over at Shelly’s. I just thought I’d see that she got home safe…this tray is almost empty. I’d like to take a look-see at who is at that fancy party. I’ll take it back up to the Whitefords, if you want to mosey on somewhere. Or you can sit here with me. I’d appreciate a man’s opinion on this book and just how much sex he can tolerate before he goes blind.”

Mitchell had gone blind about three times last night, and his body told him that he wasn’t finished with Uma. “No, thanks.”

“Uma, wait!” Pearl called as Uma stood alone in the Whitefords’ rose garden, admiring Mitchell’s work. Retrieving a garden from a vicious storm had meant trimming broken branches and stems, and now the garden looked untouched.

She certainly wasn’t untouched, Uma thought with a quiver that ran through her every time she thought of Mitchell’s body against hers, within her, the passion and the fever, the hunger that prowled through her.

Uma watched Pearl make her way through the English
maze, frowning as her hostess gown caught on a rose bush. She jerked away her skirt and hurried toward Uma. “I want to talk with you.”

“Your party was wonderful, Pearl.” Pearl needed reassurances; her parents and her husband had left her fragile and wounded. Her mother was a cold, determined woman, and as demanding as her father that Pearl be the perfect child. When she failed, she was punished.

“Thank you, Uma. I think my esteemed ancestor from Boston, Matilda Radford, would have been proud of me tonight. I’m told she threw wonderful soirées that the social set back then wouldn’t miss. Shelly seemed so distracted that I had to get on to her several times tonight. I pay her well, you know.”

Pearl’s parents’ financial bias left little room for sentimentality. “She loves helping you. You’ve been so good to her and Dani.”

“Yes, I have. But I want to warn you about Mitchell. Body language tells, and tonight, you were definitely very intimate with him—as if you’d been in bed with him. I know you very well, Uma, and you’re usually so cautious. Mitchell isn’t for you. I don’t care if he is supposed to be an executive looking for a site for a new building and supply complex or that Madrid needs the financial stimulation. I cannot allow you to—to give yourself to a man who is beneath you. You know that his father was a drunk, and the whole Warren family, dating back generations, couldn’t keep a family homestead, selling it off piece by piece. The neighbors saw him coming out of your house this morning, still wearing his overnight beard. Don’t you dare dishonor your mother, your family, by having an affair with that low-class—”

“That’s enough, Pearl.” Pearl was on one of her favorite tirades, just getting warmed up to list all of the Warrens’ misfortunes and Fred’s drinking.

Pearl was determined to have her say. “Thank goodness my girls are visiting Walter’s sister in Connecticut. I wouldn’t want them to know that the woman who they think of as an aunt is…is interested in a Warren, one of the lowest families in this town. Don’t tell me that you can actually stand there and think that he is an equal to you, with your background. He doesn’t fit into Madrid, not the class that you’re in. He’s a lowlife, Uma. His great-great-grandfather was hanged for horse thieving. His great-great-great-grandmother was part Indian, and there’s some shanty Irish blood in there somewhere. I just cannot let you get involved with someone whose family bloodline reads like a criminal report. Now, you just listen to me—”

“Pearl, you need to stop,” Uma warned, and wished her temper wasn’t rising. Pearl’s ideas of class lines had been drawn by her parents, and there were secrets that Uma had guarded, handed down by her grandmother and mother.

Anger rippled through Pearl’s body like a snake, hissing and hot, and her blue eyes glittered. “You already have Everett wanting you. He’s the best man, with a perfect family line behind him. What could you possibly want with a no-account Warren?”

“Pearl—”

“Living right next to you, just like any honest person. His brother is going to fail at that garage business, because Warrens are lazy—”

“Mitchell did you a favor with this garden.”

Pearl clenched a rose blossom and crushed it in her fist before dropping the petals to the stone pathway. In the moonlight, her face was pale with rage. “I paid him, Uma. That doesn’t mean he’s my social equal. He forced me into an invitation, and I only invited him to show him how he doesn’t fit. His blood is tainted—”

The leash Uma had been holding on her temper snapped. Pearl’s gossip had hurt more than one family, and Mitchell
didn’t deserve more of what Pearl’s family had done to the Warrens.

Whatever Uma felt for Mitchell ran deep and true, and she would protect him. “Pearl, if you want to talk about family lineage, let’s talk about yours.”

Pearl straightened and said frostily, “Mine is impeccable. You should know. Your mother and grandmother knew everything. Don’t even speak my family’s name or Walter’s in the same breath as a Warren.”

Uma shook her head, aching for Pearl even as she served her the truth. “Pearl, maybe it’s time you knew a little more truthful story of your great-great-great-grandmother.”

“Matilda? She was from Boston, from the very best social class.”

“And she ran a bordello. The very best one, back in drover days, but a bordello nonetheless. Before she earned enough to buy that house, she was employed in that occupation herself.”

For a moment, Pearl looked blankly at Uma, and then her hand rose and slapped Uma’s cheek. “You’re just saying that to protect Mitchell.”

“If I have to, I can prove it.” With Pearl’s slap burning her, Uma still ached for her longtime friend. “Don’t push me any more, Pearl. You’re welcome to come talk to me when you’ve cooled down.”

Uma left Pearl standing alone in the garden—rigid, pale, stricken, and shaken. Uma ignored Walter’s leer and let Everett help her into his car, packing the serving trays into his back seat. “Something wrong?” he asked, taking her trembling hand.

“Pearl. She’s on her high horse again. I’m afraid I lost it this time.”

“You must have had a good reason.”

“I did, and I regret explaining a few facts of life to her. She’s had such an awful time growing up, and now with Walter. She’s so fragile, and I should have handled it better.”

Uma knew why she had been brusque with Pearl, when she usually handled her very carefully. Apparently Mitchell’s dark moods were contagious.

Shelly noticed that Lonny was following her home, but decided that he was just on his way from Clyde’s, where he’d often get Irma her favorite nighttime movie-watching snack of hot sausages and pickled eggs. Lately, Lonny had been patrolling more at nights and he’d looked exhausted and almost hunted. On the other hand, Irma seemed younger and chipper, almost girlish.

Shelly pulled into her driveway and sat for a moment, trying to push away the rock-hard headache she’d gotten tonight from Pearl’s demands. Pearl paid well and had always been supportive of Dani, but she wanted perfection, and was always on edge at her parties. Walter’s obvious belittling comments added to Pearl’s demands until she was almost frantic and brittle. Shelly felt sorry for Pearl; in a way, she’d had a harder life in her upscale family.

Drawing on the last of her energy, Shelly eased the leftovers from the party out of the car. More than once, Pearl’s leftovers had buoyed her tight budget. Pearl was generous and Shelly had always been grateful. She carried the boxes and plastic bags into the house and found Dani’s note on the kitchen table.

At the garage
.

The papers near Dani’s note and under a can of Pepsi were applications for a course to get her diploma. Shelly shook her head. How many times had she argued with Dani to complete her high school requirements?

One stormy night, and Dani was making bargains with Roman—and keeping them
.

Shelly noticed that Lonny’s car was parked on the oppo
site side of the street. It pulled off when Roman’s motorcycle rumbled in the driveway.

She smoothed the scar at her temple. Was it really possible that someone wanted to hurt her? And Uma and Pearl?

And Dani?
Fear streaked through Shelly, freezing her as Roman and Dani came into the kitchen.

Roman’s eyes narrowed, ripping down her maid’s uniform, the neat black dress, ruffled apron, and tiny ruffled hat.

Shelly hurried to hug Dani; she didn’t stop to notice that they were both sulking. Dani pushed her away and tromped back to her bedroom; soon the blaring sound of hard rock vibrated from her room. Roman’s grim expression became a scowl as he stalked back to her bedroom and knocked briefly.

When the music didn’t stop, he opened the door and walked in, clicking it firmly behind him. Fearing the tempers of them both, Shelly ran to open the door just as Roman punched the off button on Dani’s sound system. She glared at him from the bed.

“Anyone for leftover sandwiches from Pearl’s party?” Shelly asked, trying for a distraction. “Umm, Roman? It’s late. Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

“You can’t always protect the kid from herself and her temper, Shell. And no, not until we’ve talked and I’m ready.” He scowled at Shelly’s maid hat and eased it off her head, tossing it aside.

Dani glared at him. “Great. Move in and make everyone miserable. Then I’m heading out.”

“That’s your choice, little girl,” he snapped. “Keep that music down, or wear headphones. Your mother is dead on her feet and she needs some peace and quiet.”

“You’re sure not it, Pops.”

“I’m fine, really—” Shelly began, and they both scowled at her.

“Don’t women usually soak in a bubble bath or something to relax?” Roman demanded. “You look like hell.”

Dani glanced at Shelly, and the hard, angry look in her kohl-lined eyes turned to amusement. “Sweet, isn’t he—my pops?”

“You two are going to drive me nuts.” Roman shouldered by Shelly and went to the bathroom. The sound of running water followed his order to “Get in that bath and stay there. I poured some purple stuff in. It makes bubbles.”

Shelly stood her ground. “You are to stop ordering my daughter around.”

Dani was on her feet, her body taut with anger. “I’m one thing, because I haven’t got it figured out yet how I’m going to make your life hell. But don’t you dare order my mother to do anything.”