Wreath (42 page)

“I miss you, Frankie,” she whispered when she walked into the bedroom that she guessed would have been where her mother slept.

From where she stood, she could hear the elderly owner’s daughter apologizing to Faye for the clutter. “People say your store has cute things,” the daughter said. “I hope this isn’t too junky for you. There’s even a box or two left from the former owners on the closet shelf in that bedroom.”

“You don’t mean it,” Faye said in what Wreath thought of as her bargaining voice. “We’ll take a look at all you’ve got.”

“Those boxes were up in the attic when Mother moved in, and she stuck them in the closet, thinking the people would come back,” the daughter said. “Apparently those folks left town in a hurry.”

“You never know what you’ll find lying around,” Faye said. Wreath felt like she was about to crawl out of her skin as she listened to their conversation, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from darting to the closet.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” the woman said. “I’ll be with my mother in the living room.”

Faye entered the bedroom at about the same time that Wreath pulled the first of the boxes down. “Don’t get your hopes too high,” she said quietly. She touched the small of Wreath’s back, as Frankie had done sometimes at night. “We don’t know if someone else lived here between your mother and the current owner.”

But Wreath was already opening the box. It contained one dingy pillowcase, a set of unfamiliar chipped grocery-store dishes, and a set of ragged pillow towels. She sighed, despising the musty smell.

“You’re right, Faye. I should have known Grandma wouldn’t have left anything here.”

Before Faye could reply, the owner of the house walked into the room. Her cane thumped on the hardwood floor.

“Don’t like what you see?” the old woman asked, her eyes moving from Faye’s face to Wreath’s.

“We’ll purchase the kitchen items and most of the furniture,” Faye said quickly. “I believe I’ll come back tomorrow and go through the rest, if that works for you.”

The woman nodded but spoke to Wreath. “Would you mind getting that other box down?” she asked. “I’ve lived in this house for nearly eighteen years, and I’ve never even looked in there. I reckon it’ll have to go out on the street.”

Wreath stretched on her tiptoes and finagled the box from the back corner. As she placed it on the floor, she saw it was labeled M
Y
S
TUFF
. She turned to Faye. “Should I look at it?” she whispered.

“I doubt you’ll be able to sleep tonight if you don’t,” Faye said. Her face reflected Wreath’s anxiety.

“Do whatever you want with it,” the home owner said and headed for the door. “I’m just glad to have that closet empty. All this stuff has to go.”

Settling onto the floor, her legs crossed, Wreath peeled brittle masking tape off the top. Faye sat on the edge of the bed. Layer by layer, Wreath pulled artifacts from the box: a Landry High yearbook with an unfamiliar name inside the cover and a few silly handwritten messages in the front and back, a stuffed animal whose fur reminded Wreath of the carpet in the Tiger Van, and a school picture of a boy. “I wonder who he was?” she murmured.

Finally, Wreath pulled out a dried corsage, the flower’s odor stale and sweet. She held it briefly against her cheek, squeezing her eyes shut. “I wanted this to be something of Frankie’s,” she said. “But it’s not.”

“I suppose it could be,” Faye said.

“No,” Wreath said firmly and pulled out the small card that had been wedged in the corner of the box. She held it up like an exhibit in a courtroom. “This is not my mother’s name. Not my grandma’s, either.”

“I’m sorry, Wreath.” Faye stood as she spoke. She wore a solemn expression.

“How stupid was I to think this could be Frankie’s stuff,” Wreath said, kicking the box. “This is just anonymous junk, the kinds of things we buy every day for the store. They mean nothing! Nothing!”

“I know it hurts,” Faye said, once more putting her hand gently on Wreath’s back. There was a long quiet moment, the only sound the television from another room. “I should have insisted you stay outside. I hoped coming inside might … well, settle some things in your mind.”

Wreath looked at Faye, trying to get her bearings.

“I guess I had to come sooner or later,” Wreath said. “This house is one of the main reasons I came to Landry.” She threw her hands up. “This! Like I was somehow going to find Mama in this place.”

Faye remained silent and continued to rub Wreath’s back.

“I loved her so much,” Wreath said.

“I know you did,” Faye said.

“She’d really have liked you,” Wreath said and followed Faye out of the room.

Chapter 39

H
ow do I look?” Wreath asked Faye for the tenth time, adjusting the bodice of her dress and fidgeting with the wispy curls that touched her face.

Faye, a smile on her face, rolled her eyes, sighed, and threw up her hands. “Wreath, you look beautiful, just like you looked when you asked me five minutes ago.”

“But are you sure this dress is all right?” Wreath glanced at the clock by the bed. “If I hurry, I probably have time to run and swap it.”

“That’s not such a good idea since Law’s on his way,” Faye said, patting the bed. “Let’s go sit down with J. D. and relax.”

“I can’t sit down,” Wreath said. “You know how bad this chiffon-y stuff wrinkles.”

Faye made a small noise, almost like a choking sound, and Wreath’s eyes flew to hers. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Wreath said, and, despite her jitters, she could feel a laugh work its way up her own, pink-chiffon-covered body. “I’m nervous.”

“I’d have never guessed,” Faye said, standing up and carefully putting her hands on Wreath’s shoulders. “Look at yourself.” She turned Wreath toward the full-length mirror on the closet door. “You’re so pretty I can hardly stand it.”

“Do you like my hair up like this?” Wreath fretted.

“It’s my favorite of all the hairstyles you tried,” Faye said.

“And the pink’s okay? I’d planned on a blue of some sort until I found this.”

“The color is lovely. I think it’s much better than the dresses you tried on in Lafayette.”

“I couldn’t buy a new dress,” Wreath said. “But I still can’t believe you made this one fit so perfectly.” She gave a small twirl. “I bet I’ll be the only girl at the prom who paid a dollar for her dress.”

Faye chuckled and fingered the thin straps. “Your dress is special, just like you.”

Moving from foot to foot in her first pair of high heels, Wreath looked at Faye again. “What if I don’t know what to do?” she asked, holding up her fingers and counting off her fears. “I’ve never been to a big party before. Never been to a country club. Never been on a date.” She moaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Child, what am I going to do with you?” Faye asked. “You’ll have a wonderful evening. Let’s go in the living room and show J. D. how you look.”

When Wreath stepped from the hallway into the den, J. D. was reading a magazine, and she silently struck a modeling pose, a grin on her face.

“Ahem,” Faye said.

J. D. looked up and then leapt to his feet, almost stumbling over the coffee table. “Oh, Wreath,” he said. Then he said her name again, softer. “Well?” she said. “What do you think?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, almost like no words would come out.

“J. D.,” Wreath demanded in a playful voice. “Are you speechless?”

He drew a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said.

Faye looked a little flushed when she spoke. “Well, it won’t be long now.”

Wreath nodded. “Law and Mitch are picking Destiny up first, but it’ll only be a few more minutes.”

Faye looked over at J. D. with a tentative smile. “Let’s go into the living room and wait,” she said.

With J. D. on her heels, Wreath followed Faye into the formal room, where they seldom sat. With its white carpet and brocade sofa, it looked like one of the displays at Durham’s Fine Furnishings. She stared at herself in a mirror with an ornate gold frame and opened her mouth to speak.

“Yes, Wreath,” Faye interrupted. “You look beautiful.” They all three laughed, and Faye jumped when the doorbell rang. “Well, I’ll be,” she said, walking toward the door. “We have company at the front door. It’s been a long time since that happened.”

Giving a last look in the mirror, Wreath couldn’t resist touching her shiny, soft hair and sliding her fingers along her neck where small feathery strands lay.

Beaming, she turned as Law walked in. His eyes widened, and she blinked.

“Whoa,” Law said. “You look fantastic.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, drinking in his dark tux, freshly trimmed hair, and the corsage box in his hands. “No, I mean you look great,” he said.

Wreath felt the creep of a blush working its way across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said. “I guess we’d better go. We don’t want to keep Destiny and Mitch waiting.”

Law reached for the door and then gave his head a brief shake. “I almost forgot.” He thrust the box forward. “This is for you. I hope it’s the right color.”

Wreath looked at the wrist arrangement of pink roses and baby’s breath and wanted to cry. “Look, you two,” she said, holding it up. “Isn’t this the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

They both looked at her. “It most certainly is,” Faye said.

Julia, in her high school dress, and Shane, in his deputy’s uniform, sat down with Wreath and Law at a small table in the ballroom.

“So, Wreath, what do you think of the décor?” Julia asked. “Does it meet your standards?”

Looking at the purple and gold balloons and baskets of ferns, Wreath gave a small smile. “It’ll do,” she said.

“It’s not as good as if you’d done it,” Law said.

“Thanks,” Wreath said, “but Julia gets the credit for our prom displays. She’s the one with the super artistic eye.”

“You bring out the best in me,” Julia said and felt happiness seep through her. Shane reached over and squeezed her hand.

The walkie-talkie he wore on his belt interrupted with a quick squawk and a hard-to-decipher message. Shane held it up to his ear, listened intently, and then gave a brief answer, standing as he spoke.

“Duty calls,” he said. “Some guy’s hanging out in the parking lot, causing a little trouble. I’d better check it out.”

Julia didn’t miss the shadow that passed over Wreath’s face as Shane headed for the door. “Don’t worry, Wreath,” she said. “He deals with this kind of stuff all the time.”

“Wreath’s been a little jumpy since that man was asking about her,” Law said.

“Have you heard from him again?” Julia asked, concerned. “No.” Wreath shook her head, almost as though trying to shake off the thought. “Shane said they think he’s long gone.”