Beyond Midnight (42 page)

"
I was wondering if you knew anything about how she died? I
'
m asking strictly for Katie
'
s sake; I wouldn
'
t want to pry.
"

Candy looked up from her flowers. The question
was
intrusive. She knew it, and Helen knew it. Nonetheless, she obliged Helen with an answer of sorts.
"
It was her heart,
"
she said.

Yeah. It stopped,
thought Helen. This was getting her nowhere. Disappointed but determined, Helen let out a sigh of sympathy and tried one last feeler.
"
She was so young.
"

"
Yes,
"
Candy said coolly.
"
It was tragic.
"

Well! Nothing more there. Temporarily defeated, Helen took herself off to see how she could help Janet, who had begun impatiently to spread the tablecloths on her own. Janet needn
'
t have worried: Becky drove up right on time in her Escort—today being an exception to the driving ban that was still in force.

Outfitted in a black spaghetti-strapped dress and a straw bowler topped with a sunflower, Becky emerged from the Escort, whacked her brother on the head over some insult or other, waved cheerfully to her mother, and helped her arthritic great-aunt out of the car.

Helen set up a rocking chair under the maple tree for her aunt, who never missed the Ice Cream Social. She loved to watch the young ones romp while their parents, dressed in summer pastels, mingled nearby. True, Aunt Mary was older now, slower now; but her joy was the same. She always dressed with particular care for the social. In her
floral frock, white gloves, and neat bun, Mary Grzybylek gave the event the kind of dignity that only old age can confer.

Janet Harken, on the other hand, supplied the momentum.
"
Timing is everything,
"
Janet liked to say. She had a mind like a stopwatch and a voice like a starting gun.

In the next half hour she had her ragtag volunteers performing like a crack catering unit. A long table was set with bowls, spoons, and napkins arranged in pretty patterns. A second table was set with several luscious sauces—hot fudge, cold peach, plain chocolate, warm apple, crushed strawberry. Next to the sauces was placed a vast array of toppings: nuts, candy sprinkles, chocolate chips, crumbled cookies, sliced berries
, chopped pineapple, chocolate-
covered espresso beans and raisins, mini
-
marshmallows, and last of all, maraschino cherries.

In between the tables, in copper tubs that the fathers had filled with dry ice and topped off with ice cubes, the mothers began nestling the ice cream itself. (As always, Janet had insisted on the classics: French vanilla, dark chocolate, butter pecan, black cherry. Mrs. Lagor
'
s mint chocolate chip was unexpected; but room was made.)

By two o
'
clock the place was rich with the sound of happy squeals and summer laughter. Parents milled, children cavorted, a dog or two barked excitedly. Expectations were high. The place was full.
Everyone
knew not to be late for an ice-cream affair.

Almost everyone, anyway.

Helen, who
'
d been moving briskly among her guests introducing outgoing sets of parents to incoming ones and incoming ones to each other, had no real reason to expect Nathaniel Byrne to show. The man had a long history of good intentions and broken promises.

If his heart
'
s in the right place
,
Aunt Mary had said.

Unquestionably, Nat
'
s heart was in the right place. But the pressure to make money for his shareholders was intense. He was a wizard at it. Wizards had obligations. How could a bowl of ice cream expect to compete with two billion dollars?

Time is money.
It was an old saying.

Money is the root of all evil.
That was an old saying, too.

Damn it. You could make a case either way.

Helen put aside her disappointment and turned her attention to a three-year-old whose ice cream was about to slide out of its bowl and into the mouth of a lurking golden retriever. After averting that crisis, Helen stood up and found herself facing another one: Nathaniel Byrne, getting out of his Porsche in the parking lot.

He came, after all. I love him, after all. Dear God, what do I do now?

Heart soaring, she waved giddily, though he couldn
'
t possibly have picked her out in the crowd, and waited while he fiddled in the backseat of his car. She moved away from the guests, the more easily to be seen.

I love you,
she shouted to him in silence.
I love you, I love you, I love you.

"
Him!
What
'
s
he
doing here?
"

Helen whirled around. Candy Green was standing behind her, glaring furiously in Nat
'
s direction. She was a pale, blond woman, but right now her cheeks were red with anger, her green eyes dark with outrage.
"
He has a hell of a nerve,
"
she said, putting down her untopped bowl of ice cream. She began looking around for her husband and daughter.
"
Henry!
"
she said, calling over across the crowd to him.
"
Round up Astra. We
'
re leaving!
"

"
Wait!
"
Helen said, amazed by her vehemence.
"
What
'
s wrong?
"

"
He
'
s
wrong,
"
Candy hissed.
"
He made Linda
'
s life
hell, and now he
'
s playing the do-good dad! It makes me sick!
"

"
What
'
re you talking about?
"
Helen said, instinctively coming to his defense.
"
It
's true, the man is career-
driven—
"

"
Career
-
driven!
"
Candy was focused like a laser beam on the Porsche.
"
All those so-called business trips? All that time away? He took along some young twit! And Linda put up with it. And for what,
"
she said through gritted teeth.
"
She was heartbroken. She should
'
ve left him as soon as she found out.
"

"
Are you out of your mind?
"
said Helen, agape with emotion. The grass beneath her sandals began to sink away, like quicksand.
"
He's
not the cheat—
"

Candy fixed her burning gaze on Helen.
"
The hell he isn
'
t. Linda had proof.
"

"
Proof? What kind of proof?
"

"
Someone she trusted completely saw him at a bar in an airport with another woman before they boarded the plane together. That kind of proof!
"

"
That
'
s not proof,
"
said Helen, outraged.
"
That
'
s malice!
"

Stung by Helen
'
s reaction, Candy became defensive.
"
It
'
s true she was too proud to hire an investigator the way I told her to; but she had proof enough. There were other things—lipstick marks, long blond hairs. Not that she
'
d ever have noticed—she wasn
'
t the type—if it hadn
'
t been for the initial tipoff from her friend.
"

"
Friend! That person was no friend,
"
said Helen, deeply offended for both Nat and Linda.

Candy hardly heard her protest.
"
Look, there
'
s the nanny. I
'
m amazed she stayed on; she must be incredibly devoted to Katie. That
'
s something, at least. If she
'
s still around, it must mean he hasn
'
t set up his bimbo at the house.
"
She laughed bitterly and added,
"
Not that he
'
d
dare. Linda would come back to haunt him if he tried.
"

Poor Henry was hauling little Astra over to her mother as fast as he could. Candy grabbed her surprised daughter
'
s hand, then turned to Helen with a forced smile.
"
Thank you for all the care you gave Astra. Do the same for Katie. And please,
"
she added in an undertone,
"
think twice before you ask that bastard to a school event.
"

Helen had absolutely no answer to that. Her first thought as she watched the Greene family march off in protest was that someone might have overheard. She looked around her: apparently not. Everyone was having too good a time.

Still dazed, she swung back around to see Nat walking as fast as he could, carrying a big two-handled pan in his hands. He was grinning at his own awkwardness and making apologetic grimaces for being late. Behind him came Peaches, dressed like many of the guests in a flowing dress and wide-brimmed hat; and Katie, in a sky blue dress with a print pinafore over it.

How clever of Peaches,
Helen thought with dull irrelevance.
If Katie drips ice cream on herself Peaches can just slip off the pinafore. She really does plan ahead.

"
Better late than never,
"
Nat said as he got within earshot. He took in the table layouts at a glance and said,
"
Can you make room for this?
"

"
What is it?
"
Helen asked, staring blankly into the pot. It might as well have held fish guts.

"
Toasted Almond Sauce,
"
Nat said, not without pride.
"
Lots of it.
''

"
Why, Nat?
"
The question had nothing to do with the almond sauce.

"
Why? Because one batch didn
'
t look like much. So I made another. Then another. And I burned one. And meanwhile,
"
he said, amazed at the variety of sauces already laid out,
"
I guess y
'
all can live without it.
"

Still having trouble taking everything in, Helen gave Peaches a vague greeting and Katie a halfhearted one.

Katie looked up at Helen and said,
"
You fell down. And Daddy picked you up. And sometimes he picks me up, too. When I hurt myself he picks me up. Did you hurt yourself?
"

Helen opened her mouth to say something, but Peaches mercifully interrupted her.
"
Oh, look, Katie—there
'
s Amy.
"

Katie skipped away to say hi to her new friend. Peaches smiled and said pleasantly,
"
Helen, I noticed you collect glass globes, and I thought you might like this one. It
'
s spun glass—not solid—but I thought of you at once when I saw it.
"

She held out a small, palish-pink ball the size of an apple to Helen, who said distractedly,
"
Well, I don
'
t actually collect
...
but it
'
s very pretty
...
thank you.
"

Helen held out a stiff shaky hand to receive it. In the meantime Nat, tired of holding the pot, cleared his throat comically. It was enough to distract Helen even further. Somehow the ball slipped away and caught the back of a folding chair, shattering into many pieces.

Heads turned; the sound was an ugly intrusion. Helen
'
s cry of dismay was an overreaction—it was only a bauble, after all—but by now she was completely off her mettle.
"
I
'
ll get a napkin to put the pieces in,
"
she said.
"
Peaches, will you stand guard so that no one steps on the glass?
"