Bet Your Bones (7 page)

Chapter Nine

The tiny bridal shop on Kalakaua Avenue was crammed with so many pouffy white gowns and veils that Dinah had the sense of breast-stroking through an avalanche. She could scarcely move without bumping into another snowbank of dresses.

“Hello? Claude Ann? Anybody?”

“We’re back here,” called Claude Ann from somewhere in the muffled depths. “Behind the mauve curtain.”

Dinah pushed on through the racks, through the smothering billows of charmeuse and chiffon and georgette and satin, through the pervasive incense of dried rose petals. “I don’t see anything mauve.”

“Dinah, where are you?” Abruptly, the whiteness parted in front of her and Lyssa appeared like a bonfire in tangerine chiffon. Whether it was the hot color or the result of a good night’s sleep, her disposition had warmed. “Isn’t this place fantastic? Follow me. The work room is back here.”

She led Dinah through a mauve curtain into a large open space with floor-to-ceiling windows and bright overhead lights. Claude Ann stood in the center of the room on an elevated platform while a bird-like woman with a beaky nose and a row of straight pins clamped between her teeth knelt at her feet, pinning the hem of her billowing white skirt. A dress form clothed in tangerine chiffon stood behind her like a headless vestal virgin. That, thought Dinah, would be my cross to wear.

Claude Ann appeared euphoric. “Dinah, this is Yvonne, the shop owner. She’s an absolute genius with a needle and thread. She stitched up Phoebe’s dress in nothin’ flat just from the measurements Phoebe sent.”

Around the pins, Yvonne said, “Have a seat on the sofa. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

“Well?” prompted Claude Ann. “Do I look fabulous or what?”

“Fabulous,” said Dinah, preoccupied with Eleanor’s threat and Xander’s failure to disclose who she was and Phoebe’s lech for Hank and Claude Ann’s six figure loan to Xander.

“That’s pretty lame,” said Claude Ann.

“You look sublime. Enchanting. Ravishing. Beyond compare.”

“Bullshit. I know you don’t approve of my wearin’ white. You don’t have to say it.”

“I don’t care what color you wear, Claudy, as long as you’re happy. And what does my approval have to do with it? It’s your wedding.”

“Yeah, but I know what you’re thinkin’. You’re thinkin’, Claude Ann, you’re not a virgin any more. You’ve calved and you oughta wear somethin’ motherly.”

“That’s not even close to what I’m thinking.” She was thinking that she shouldn’t have let Eleanor intimidate her. She should have questioned her more closely. What or who was this Pash? What kind of a comeuppance did Xander deserve? And why hadn’t Xander fessed up that Eleanor was his sister-in-law? Dinah wished she knew how much money Mr. Smooth-as-Silk had borrowed from Claude Ann, but asking would only reinforce Claude Ann’s belief that she was overly suspicious and possibly even get her booted out of the wedding.

Lyssa stepped out of her dress and hung it on a rack. “Nobody pays attention to that silly rule about white anymore. I wasn’t a virgin and I married in white.”

“Who can find a virtuous woman? Proverbs thirty-one, ten.”

Dinah turned around and saw Marywave sitting on a sewing machine stool with her Bible open in her lap.

“Pay Marywave no mind,” said Claude Ann. “Her mission in life is to hammer me over the head with the gospel.”

Yvonne stuck the last pin in the Vera Wang, stood up, and rubbed her knees. “The dress is pure romance.”

Claude Ann posed this way and that in front of the full-length mirror. “It is perfect, isn’t it? Dinah, you remember that drapey, off-the-rack getup I wore at my last weddin’ made me look like a trick-or-treater draggin’ a sheet. This gown is from Vera Wang’s Luxe Collection. It set me back nearly twelve thousand dollars and it’s worth every penny.”

“It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, Claudy. And you’re the most beautiful bride.”

Lyssa pulled a snug blue tee-shirt over her head, freed her long hair with a sweep of her hand, and shimmied into a pair of tight white shorts. “What made you choose tangerine for the attendants’ dresses, Claude Ann? Was it because Dinah and I are both so dark and native looking? Or were you subconsciously repeating the Halloween motif from your first wedding?” Her back was to Claude Ann and her face in the mirror was unreadable as she prinked and applied gloss to her pouty lips.

“It’s a happy color,” said Claude Ann. “My favorite.”

Marywave scowled. “It looks like the flames of hell.”

“Another word out of you, Marywave Kemper, and I’ll tan your backside ’til it shines like the flames of hell. I hope Marywave’s brattiness won’t put the rest of y’all off having children. She can be a sweetheart when she wants to be.”

Lyssa turned around with a baiting smile. “You mustn’t feel bad, Marywave. My father thinks I’m a brat. We can’t always be obedient little angels, can we?”

To her credit, Marywave kept her mouth shut.

“Have you decided what you’re wearin’ to the party tonight, Lyssa?” Claude Ann’s patience was visibly raveling, but she seemed at pains to remain congenial.

“I may wear the dress I wore to the party Daddy threw for Raif and me at the Ko Olina Resort after our wedding. I can’t believe you’re having such a small reception. We had nearly three hundred guests.”

“Your father and I wanted something more intimate.”

“I’ll bet Daddy doesn’t want you to bump into any of his former lady friends.”

“That must be it.” Claude Ann took off her white satin pumps, hiked her skirt up, and jumped off the platform. “Are you gonna try on that dress, Dinah, or just stand around lookin’ feeble-minded?”

“I’m going to do as I’m told. Like an angel.” Dinah shed her street clothes, removed the dress from the dress form, and slipped it over her head. She had to agree with Marywave that the color was a shade wicked. But the layers of semi-sheer chiffon against her legs felt like heaven.

Claude Ann fumbled with her intricately buttoned lace sleeves. “Help me out of my dress, Yvonne.”

While unbuttoning Claude Ann, Yvonne gave Dinah the once-over. “Too big in the waist. I’ll need to make darts.” She nodded toward a short, peach-colored dress on a hanger. “Will you try on the flower girl’s dress for me, Marywave?”

“I’d rather descend into a fiery furnace like Shadrach and Abednego than be a stupid flower girl. You can donate it to the Salvation Army.”

“But it’s beautiful. It would make a saint feel just a little vain.”

The pages of Marywave’s Bible rustled furiously. “Woe unto them that draw iniquity with cords of vanity. Isaiah, chapter five, verse eighteen.”

Claude Ann said, “We’ll take Marywave’s dress as is.”

“But it would be so easy to alter.”

“It doesn’t matter. If she won’t wear it, she can stay at home with the sitter durin’ the ceremony and stew over my next iniquity, which will be to cancel her visit back to Georgia come September.”

“That’s not fair, Mama. You promised Daddy you’d send me home for my birthday.”

“Woe unto piss-ants who don’t mind their mamas. I’d rather carry my own flowers anyway.”

Marywave leveled sullen eyes on her mother. She was obviously determined to resist her mother’s remarriage in every way she could. Dinah wondered whether Phoebe had considered the likelihood that she would also resist any new liaison that Hank might enter into.

“I have to run,” said Lyssa. “I’m meeting Raif and one of his friends for lunch.”

Claude Ann stepped out of her bouffant skirt and climbed into a pair of pink cropped pants and a striped pink jersey. “Thank you so much for taking the time to come and try on the dress. I hope you’ll find another occasion to wear it after the weddin’. Maybe one of those gala Nascar parties y’all have back in Virginia.”

Lyssa looked as if she were about to say something flippant, but checked herself at the last second. “I’ll see you both at the party tonight. Ciao.”

Claude Ann watched her prance through the mauve curtain. When she heard the front door bang shut, she went off like a Roman candle. “What does she think she’s got to advertise in short shorts? She’s got a butt like two BBs.”

“She seems a mite catty,” said Dinah.

“Skanky little heifer. I wish she and that hotdog husband of hers would drive over a cliff and sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“That’s pretty extreme.”

“Glub, glub, glub. All the way to the bottom.”

“She’s a pill, but surely she’s not worthy of such strong feeling.”

“You haven’t had the pleasure of her company as long as I have. She’s been here for three long weeks and the twerp never misses a chance to devil me or take cheap shots at the man I love, the man who loves her though it’s hard to see why. I’ll be gracious for Xan’s sake. I only have to put up with her for a few more days and she’s gone. But she better mind her manners. She’s not the only cat who’s got claws.” She stood back and gave Dinah an appraising look. “Don’t they feed you over there on Mindanao? You’re scrawny as a slink calf.”

Yvonne gathered an inch of fabric on either side of Dinah’s dress and marked it for darts. “I can’t tell about the length until you put on the pumps, dearie.”

Claude Ann handed Dinah a pair of matching tangerine pumps. “I hope your feet haven’t spread. I ordered the same size as mine, like always.”

Dinah put them on. The right one pinched and the effort of holding back Xander’s and Phoebe’s secrets put a crimp in the camaraderie. She was on the verge of spilling the beans, but Claude Ann diverted her.

“Do you have something sharp to wear to the party tonight?”

“The same as last night.”

“That black thingy is sort of somber, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s classy. But speaking of what’s somber, how dorky is this Jon character Xander fobbed off on me for the evening?”

“Jonathan’s ugly as a hatful of pigs’ ears, but he’s Xander’s pride and joy. Just try and act normal and don’t say anything mean. I’ll owe you one.”

“Claude Ann, is something wrong in the Garst family? Or with Xander? I don’t do well with hints flying back and forth over my head like shuttlecocks.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“What is Pash?”

“What’s whuh?

“Pash. Eleanor Kalolo said Xander would know what it means. Do you?”

“When did you talk to that ol’ biddy?”

“This morning. She confronted me while I was having breakfast on the terrace.”

“Too weird. I can’t think why she’d know about Pash or give a rip. It’s a wedding planner service Lyssa told me about. I was thinkin’ about one of those destination weddings, but the closing date for Xan’s real estate deal hadn’t been confirmed yet. There’s a three day window of time when everything happens and we decided to wait until all the t’s were crossed and the i’s dotted.”

“Okay,” said Yvonne, standing back for a view of her handiwork. “The hem is marked. I’ll have the dresses ready by the end of the day, Ms. Kemper. Shall I send everything to your suite at the hotel?”

“Yes, please.” Claude Ann looked at her watch. “I’ve got an appointment to have my nails done. Will you take Marywave back to the hotel with you, Dinah?”

Dinah stifled a groan. This was above and beyond the call. But she had nothing else to do this afternoon and it was the maid of honor’s duty to serve at the bride’s pleasure. She would bear her burdens, whether they be ugly as a hatful or bratty as the dickens. “All right, but I don’t for an instant believe that Eleanor was talking about a wedding service. I think you should ask Xander to tell you more about this Eleanor woman.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Claudy. Will you ask him to give me a call? I’d like to tell him what she said to me this morning. He’ll want to know if she said something that bears on Uwahi.”

“Sheesh!” She reached into her purse and handed Dinah a roll of bills. “Y’all buy yourselves a nice lunch somewhere and when you get Marywave back to the hotel, just drop her off with the sitter. Her name’s Tiffany and she’s on call for the whole week. She’ll probably be in my suite watchin’ TV.”

“Claude Ann, you shouldn’t be throwing your money around like this. Let me at least buy Marywave’s lunch. And I’ll pay for my hotel room, too.”

“Nah. As soon as Xander’s deal closes, we’ll have tubs of money.”

As Claude Ann flitted through the mauve curtain and disappeared, Marywave’s Bible spanked shut. Dinah sat down on the sofa, eased her throbbing toes out of the tangerine pumps, and steeled herself for a dose of Jeremiah.

“Can we have lunch at the Dixie Diner? It’s not far from here. I know the way.”

It was the first time Dinah had seen Marywave smile and, as Phoebe might have said, it was transformative.

Chapter Ten

To Dinah’s surprise, taking Marywave to lunch wasn’t as onerous a chore as she’d feared. They left Yvonne’s Dream Weddings, walked past the Honolulu Police substation—surely one of the most attractively situated cop shops in the world—and meandered past the elegantly decorated shop windows of Fendi and Ferragamo and Hermès. The Waikiki Trolley plied up and down the avenue, picking up and disgorging tourists from the numerous hotels and shopping centers.

Marywave seemed to know her way around Waikiki. She led Dinah across the busy street, under the branches of a tremendous monkeypod tree, and down an obscure alley to the Dixie Diner, a homey little eatery that boasted “authentic Southern cooking.” Marywave stowed her Bible in her backpack and, after a plate of fried chicken, blackeyed peas, collard greens, and cornbread, she became expansive.

“I have a dog back in Needmore. Her name’s Ruby and she’s a Hovawart.”

“I’ve never heard of a Hovawart.”

“It means guardian in German.”

“What does Ruby look like?”

“Sort of like a golden retriever, only not as big. I brush her out every day. She doesn’t have a single flea and she sleeps with me in my bed. Daddy takes care of her for me, but he doesn’t know what she likes like I do.”

“You must miss her.”

“She might as well be dead. Xander’s allergic to dogs.”

Dinah couldn’t think of a consoling line. “Do you have room for dessert?”

Marywave smiled again. “Can we please, pretty please, get a shave ice at the snack bar behind the Outrigger? We could walk on the beach.”

Dinah’s toes still hurt, but she was back in sandals and loath to see Marywave’s smile fade. “The Outrigger, it is.”

They recrossed Kalakaua, cut between the buildings to the beach, took off their shoes, and started walking. Kicking barefoot along the ribbon of gleaming white sand, with posh hotels on her left and the vista of colorful beach umbrellas and gentle whitecaps on her right, Dinah’s forebodings seemed far-fetched. Every face they met sported a sunny smile. Dinah tried to relax and focus on the present.

“Why,” asked Marywave, “do people get divorced?”

Too bad the present was so fleeting. “When you’re older, you’ll understand. People change. Their feelings for one another change and sometimes they don’t want to live together anymore.”

“I hate change.”

“Some changes make people much happier.”

“Not me. And not Daddy. You think Mama’s feelings about Xander might change?”

“I don’t think so, Marywave. She loves him very much.”

“Because of sex?”

Dinah sighed. Lunch was one thing. The birds and bees were Claude Ann’s responsibility. “Possibly that has something to do with it.”

“A wife committeth adultery which taketh strangers instead of her husband. Ezekiel sixteen, thirty-two. Daddy says that God will smite the adulteress with His sword.”

“A woman has to be married before she can commit adultery. Your mother’s not married to your dad anymore. She’s not married to anyone just yet so you needn’t worry that she’ll be smitten. Smited. Whatever.”

“It’s not right what she’s doin’. She’s ruinin’ my whole life.” She looked up at Dinah with a glum face and Dinah remembered what it felt like when her own mother remarried less than a year after her father died. Dinah hadn’t been much older than Marywave and the onslaught of changes had left her confused and resentful. She’d complained to Claude Ann about her own ruined life. Even as a kid, Claude Ann had said the right things. Instinctively, it seemed. She’d reassured Dinah that the world hadn’t crumbled, that she was still loved and life would go on. She’d made her see the funny side. It was ironic that, all these years later, she wasn’t able to do the same thing for her own child.

“I know it’s hard, Marywave, but nobody’s life works out exactly the way they want it to, or think they want it to. Life takes unexpected detours. Your mom’s and dad’s marriage was kind of a detour, not what either one of them expected. Same thing with their divorce. They grew apart and now your mom has found someone new. She’s happy and you should be happy for her. It’s the Christian thing.”

“It was because of Wesley Spencer,” said Marywave.

Dinah hadn’t heard Wesley’s name spoken out loud for ten years and now it rolled trippingly from every tongue. There was no avoiding it. “Just what has your mother told you about Wesley?”

“His folks go to the same church as us. Christmas a year ago, Wesley came to town to visit and they brought him to church with ’em. After the service, Mama asked him about his wife and he said he didn’t have one. He never had had one. Mama got kinda bug-eyed and left and when Daddy came home, they had a big fight.”

Dinah picked up a sand dab and hurled it into the surf. So Claude Ann knew she’d lied about Wesley being married. In some ways, it was a relief. But why didn’t she just come out and ask for an explanation? “What did your mom say to your dad about Wesley?”

“She said it was Wes she loved and she only married Daddy after you told her Wes had run off with another woman and Daddy said yeah, Wes was always full of shit and you must of had somethin’ goin’ on with him or else why’d you lie.”

“What did Claude Ann say then?”

“There it is!” Marywave espied the Outrigger sign and bolted across the beach.

Jerusalem in flames. Dinah trudged through the sand behind her. Did Claude Ann think she’d had a fling with Wesley? Did she think that was the reason he jilted her? She knew Claude Ann blamed her for butting into her affairs. But sex? And what was Wesley thinking to show up in Needmore, tell Claude Ann half the truth, and leave the rest to her imagination? The weasel. Dinah hadn’t blabbed his secret.

Well, there was no reason to cover for him any longer. This very night she would give Claude Ann the final, unexpurgated and definitive story on Wesley Spencer. In retrospect, she’d probably say she suspected it all along.

Where was Marywave? She seemed to have evaporated. Dinah went inside the snack bar and looked around, but there was no sign of her. She asked the man behind the counter if he’d served a child in the last minute or so. He had not.

Dinah walked back outside, shaded her eyes with both hands and scoured the beach.

No luck. She turned back and ran into the hotel lobby.

She asked a porter, “Did you see a little girl with a blue backpack romp through here?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Have you seen a little girl with reddish-brown hair and a blue backpack pass this way?” she asked a woman at the reception desk.

“No. Maybe she went to the ladies room.”

Dinah hurried to the ladies room, called Marywave’s name, and checked out the feet under every stall door.

Terrific. Now she’d lost Claude Ann’s daughter. She felt the beginnings of panic. She dashed back to the hotel lobby. No Marywave. Had she run away? Had she been kidnapped? Had Eleanor Kalolo snatched her to punish Xander?

She ran out onto the street and looked up and down. Marywave had vanished. Did she have her own money? Could she buy her own shave ice? Make a telephone call? Hire a cab back to the hotel? With all the cash Claude Ann had been throwing around, the little blister could’ve stolen enough to get to the airport and pay her way back to Georgia. That seemed to be her life goal.

Dinah went back inside and found the main restaurant. She trolled up and down the aisles, looked at every table, questioned the hostess, but Marywave was nowhere to be found. She went out again and made another tour of the snack bar. How many minutes had gone by? How may other places were there to look?

Okay, she told herself. Get a grip. The best plan is to go back to the spot where you last saw her and wait. Let Marywave find you. But how long should she wait before she called Claude Ann or the police?

She jogged back onto the beach and there, happily slurping a purple snow cone, was Marywave.

“You scared me frantic. Where’d you go?”

“The snack bar. Did you want a shave ice, too?”

“Not unless they make one with cyanide.” Dinah put her hand over her thudding heart and studied Marywave’s cartoonishly wide eyes. It was a fairish attempt, but her lying skills weren’t yet so well honed. “You know, Marywave, it’s a sin to tell a lie.”

“Uh-uh. There’s no commandment against regular lyin’. Only bearin’ false witness.”

“Well, there’s a civilian rule against regular lying. Don’t try my patience, Marywave. Where did you go? What’s up?”

“Why persecutest thou me? Acts five…”

“Oh, can it!” Dinah was tempted to beateth her behind. What was she fibbing about? Had she sneaked off to buy itching powder to exacerbate Xander’s allergies or spray paint to trash her mother’s dress? Dinah resolved to give Claude Ann a heads-up about possible mischief in the works, but she didn’t have the energy or the patience to interrogate the little liar. She herded her back into the Outrigger’s lobby and asked the concierge to hail them a taxi back to the Olopana.