You Can Run... (22 page)

Diana stood up and was talking as she headed for the kitchen, Willow right behind her. “I know we have lemonade. You like lemonade. And peanut butter and jelly and . . .” Diana opened the refrigerator door. “And turkey cold cuts! We can have two kinds of sandwiches! And potato chips—Nan thinks we don’t know she has a bag stashed in this cabinet but we do—and she has sugar cookies, too! Oh, bless you, Nan!”

“Bless Nan?”

“For bringing in food we need for our picnic. I don’t want to go to the store. I want to have everything ready when Lenore gets here.”
So we don’t have to spend more than a few minutes alone in this house with her and God knows who else might show up,
Diana thought. “It’ll be a surprise for her. She’ll get to see you and have a nice day in the park. Oh, where’s the picnic basket?” Willow pointed to a large pantry. “How did you know that?”

“Sometimes when I came with Mommy and she was
workin’ with Uncle Simon, Mrs. Murphy let me explore. She’s way nicer than Nan.”

Nan. And Glen, whose class Nan took spring semester. Glen seducing a student, unless she simply had a crush on him and followed him around. Diana had a hard time believing Glen was merely the innocent object of a crush, now that she recalled a few awkward times when he and Nan had been in the same room and exchanged uncomfortable glances. She also recalled the afternoon they seemed to spring apart in the hall when Diana came down the stairs, and she’d told herself that they’d merely passed too close. And she remembered a day when every time she left the room, she came back to find the nonsocial Nan talking to Glen.

Glen was definitely involved with Nan. Diana knew she had to face it and she had to do something about it, even if it only meant she had to force Glen out of her own life. She couldn’t make Nan give up on a relationship that Diana was certain would only give the girl pain, but she didn’t have time to dwell on those two now.

Twenty minutes later, Diana had assembled a less-than-elegant collection of food in the big picnic basket. She’d just added a handful of paper napkins and three plastic cups when the doorbell rang. She opened the front door to see Lenore Wentworth waving away her husband, Blake, driving a white sedan.

She looked back at Diana. “Jeff took the Lincoln, of course. He left the car with the faulty air conditioner to us,” she said, rolling her eyes. “My! I didn’t even say hello!” She laughed. “Hi, Diana. I wish I was thin enough to wear such tight jeans and look so
great
in them!”

Diana laughed, slightly taken aback by Lenore’s exuberance but unable to receive her coolly. “Hello, Lenore. As for the tight jeans, I have a habit of getting busy and skipping meals. I’m glad you think I look nice. Uncle Simon complains that the modern woman is obsessed with denim. He claims he’s forgotten what I look like in a dress.” Lenore had stepped into the foyer. She smoothed her beige linen
slacks and matching short-sleeved belted top that looked simple but Diana recognized as designer garb.

“It seems awfully quiet around here,” Lenore commented. “Are we alone?”

Diana spent a moment wondering if the question had significance before she decided to answer honestly. “Simon took Clarice to church.”

“And your housekeeper? Ann, is it?”

“Nan. Short for Nanette. Her mother, Martha Murphy, has been our housekeeper for twelve years, ever since she became a widow. Martha had a mild heart attack the first week in June, and she begged Simon to let her daughter fill in for her. All I can say is that we will be grateful beyond words when Mrs. Murphy returns in two weeks.”

Lenore burst into laughter. “So
that’s
the answer! Blake and I were baffled as to why you would have a housekeeper like Nan. She certainly has a style of her own!”

“That’s putting it mildly. Aside from being totally inexperienced, she doesn’t like us and doesn’t care about letting us know it. Oh well, we don’t have to endure her for much longer.”

“And there’s my niece right behind you. Darling, how cute you look!” Lenore effused. “When did you become a queen?”

Willow smiled tentatively. “I’m not really a queen. I don’t know if my crown’s got real diamonds. Diana bought it for me.”

“So it’s definitely not made of real diamonds,” Diana said dryly to Lenore.

“Who cares? The stones look like real diamonds and you look wonderful Cor—Willow. My husband and I decided this morning that because your mother wanted you to be named Willow, and it’s what you’ve gotten used to, we’ll both call you Willow instead of Cornelia.”

Willow smiled. “Good. I don’t like that other name.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Lenore,” Diana said.

“Well, I’d hate to be called a name I didn’t like.” Lenore looked at Willow. “Do you remember my name?”

Willow had heard Diana say “Lenore” twice in the last five minutes, but when she said, “Len-ore,” the woman clapped her hands.

“Even when you were little more than a baby, you were determined to say ‘Lenore,’ not ‘Len’ or ‘Nore,’ ” she exclaimed. “My husband, your uncle Blake, sometimes calls me Len, but you never did.”

“Oh,” Willow said, looking as if she didn’t really know how to respond to this information.

“I usually walk around the park on Sunday mornings and take pictures,” Diana intervened. “You said you’re an amateur photographer so I thought you might be interested. Then Willow and I decided it would be fun to have a picnic. Is that all right with you?”

When Lenore seemed startled and not pleased by this sudden change in plans, Diana felt a tinge of relief that she and Willow would not be staying alone in the house with this woman they didn’t know. Maybe someone else
was
supposed to arrive.

But Lenore’s expression quickly morphed into one of pleasure. “That does sound like fun. Maybe you’ll give me a few tips about photography. I’m sorry I didn’t know last night how accomplished you are, but it turns out my husband saw some of your photographs in a gallery in New York. He was very impressed with them. I felt like a complete idiot for bragging about the Christmas picture I’d taken.”

“You didn’t brag and the photo was quite good.” Lenore gave her a chastising look. “All right, it showed promise.”

“I consider that a compliment coming from you.” Her blue eyes darted around. “Well, I guess we have some gear to gather up for our excursion.”

Diana picked up her newest camera and a blanket, while Lenore insisted on carrying the picnic basket. Willow removed her crown and they loaded into Diana’s car and drove down the hills to the parking lot beside the wide, flat land at the front of Ritter Park. Across the street stood some imposing, beautifully maintained homes. Near the entrance
to the park, a large fountain sent sparkling jets of water into the air. Several stone bridges arched over the narrow Four Pole Creek and led to rustic steps ascending a hill to rose gardens.

“My goodness, this is just idyllic!” Lenore exclaimed, looking at the acres of lush grass and towering trees. “I had no idea. Last night we focused on finding your house and today I was chattering to Blake, as usual, and not paying attention to my surroundings. How big is this park?”

“About seventy acres,” Diana said as they climbed out of her car and looked for a good picnic spot. “There are tennis courts, the rose gardens—you can see a bit of them from down here—an amphitheater, and an impressive museum at the top of the hills above the park.”

“And see those steps over there?” Willow said, abruptly showing some of her usual ebullience. “There’s about a hundred of ’em goin’ up that hill—”

“I think it’s more like twenty-five or twenty-six steps,” Diana corrected, smiling.

“Yeah, well, a lot. They go up to the rose gardens, Lenore, and there’s this building up there with lots of glass called A Room with a View where people have weddings and parties after the wedding and the guests come out and walk around the roses and look over the hill and the fountain’s all lighted up and that’s where I’m gettin’ married when I pick out the right boy,” Willow ended breathlessly.

“My goodness”—Lenore smiled—“you certainly have things well planned, Willow. Do you have any boys in mind?”

“Mommy says I have plenty of time, but I know I want a prince or a movie star or a rock ’n’ roll singer. There’s a place here where they have rock ’n’ roll concerts and Diana and Mommy took me to
three
of ’em and I like the guys that sing. And play guitar. If I marry one of ’em, I’ll sing with him and his band.”

Diana raised her eyebrows at Lenore, both of them swallowing laughter. “You’ve really thought this through,
Willow,” Lenore said. “That’s good. But remember what your mommy told you—you have plenty of time.”

Diana cleared her throat and looked beyond Lenore and Willow. “I see a nice spot near the park entrance. No Frisbee players or sunbathers anywhere near it. We can just enjoy the day.”

“Yeah, that’s a good place,” Willow agreed, running ahead of them.

“Well, she certainly doesn’t seem afraid of
me,
” Lenore said, pleasure in her voice.

“I guess she isn’t. She let you in on her plans for the next twenty years of her life. Even the site of her wedding. I hope you like rock music in case she doesn’t meet a suitable prince or movie star.”

“I’m afraid my taste in rock froze when I was in my early twenties. I don’t like most of the modern stuff. Heaven knows what it will sound like by the time Willow gets married.”

When they reached the spot, they set down the picnic basket and the blanket. “I’m afraid the picnic was a last-minute idea, Lenore, and we don’t have any fancy food.”

“No chocolate-covered strawberries? No caviar? Well! I’m going back to the hotel,” Lenore laughed.

“Who eats chocolate-covered strawberries?” Willow asked.

“People who want to get fat,” Lenore answered, helping Diana spread the blanket on the grass. “I like simple food.”

Lenore seemed to doubt her own claim when she saw the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the bag of chips, and the Thermos of lemonade. She stared at the sandwiches with disdain before she remembered to smile. “I haven’t had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since . . . I can’t remember!”

“We have turkey cold cuts, too. And sugar cookies!” Diana said grandly, amused by Lenore’s attempt to look enthusiastic. “I just love sugar cookies!”

“I’m watching my weight. I wish I were statuesque
like you, but I’m only five-four and usually carry twenty pounds too many. I exercise like mad and even do weight training. I get stronger but not thinner. Blake says I look perfect, though,” she emphasized. “I lost five pounds staying at my mother’s, and I don’t want them back, so I think I’ll just have a turkey sandwich.”

“I’m five-six. I’d hardly call that statuesque.” Diana laughed, handing Lenore a plastic-wrapped turkey sandwich then pouring her a plastic cup full of lemonade.

During the picnic, the earlier chatty Willow ate silently and steadily, occasionally casting half-shy, half-reflective glances at Lenore. Finally she asked, “Lenore, do you go to a place like this called Central Park?”

“Central Park! You remember!” Lenore cried out, laying down her sandwich. “Central Park is in New York City and it’s even bigger than this park. Your mother took you there at least three times a week when you lived in New York. Sometimes I would come with the two of you.”

“Oh.” Willow regarded Lenore with a pensive gaze. “But other people came sometimes, too.”

“That’s right! Your uncle Blake came with us a couple of times. Then your daddy started sending a man to go along with you to protect you.”

“To protect me from what?”

“Sometimes bad people loiter in the park—muggers, homeless people who are crazy and dangerous. Not that all homeless people are crazy and dangerous—just some.”

Clearly, Willow didn’t understand “loiter,” “muggers,” or “homeless people,” but she didn’t ask for any explanations. Instead she asked, “Did my daddy ever go with us?”

“No. He was always busy, but he loved you very much.” Willow frowned. “Honey, you remember him. You saw him last night.”

Willow went still and said distinctly, “The man you said was my daddy last night wasn’t my daddy. He was the Bad Man.”

“Honey, he
is
your daddy. He’s a
good
man. What makes you think he’s bad?”

“He just is. You can’t fool me because I’m a kid,” Willow maintained stubbornly. “He is the Bad Man.”

“Willow, he isn’t bad. He loves you. He wants you to be with him always.”

Willow drew back. “I don’t want to be with that man! I’m scared of him! Diana, don’t let her take me to him!”

“Lenore is not going to take you,” Diana said in her most authoritative voice, hoping to pierce through the armor of Willow’s fear. “She didn’t come here to take you or to talk about your daddy. She came for our afternoon in the park. Didn’t you, Lenore?”

Lenore looked at Diana’s stern expression and seemed to pull away slightly. “Yes, Diana is right.” She sounded disappointed but she clearly knew that Diana thought she was pushing the child and wouldn’t allow any more talk of “daddy.” “I’m just here for a visit today, Willow. That’s all.”

The child gave Lenore a penetrating look for a moment then began to relax slightly. She made a few bland comments about the people jogging by them, and threw some pieces of bread to the small, almost tame, gray squirrels. A little girl about Willow’s age carrying a disposable camera ventured over and asked if Willow would take her picture. Diana nodded and Willow jumped up delightedly. She often said that when she grew up, she wanted to be a “picture taker” like Diana. The two girls ambled away, talking as if they’d known each other for years and looking for the perfect background for the photo.

“I didn’t want to mention this in front of Willow,” Lenore said, lowering her voice although no one was near, “but I saw the morning newspaper. The police claim a bomb caused the explosion at Penny’s house!”

“I saw the paper, too,” Diana replied carefully.

“My God, do you believe it?”

“According to the newspaper, the fire marshal has no doubt and neither does the ATF.”

“But it’s incredible! A
bomb
?” Who could have built a bomb?”