Boo Hiss (25 page)

Wolfe woke up from where Melb had been a permanent fixture in his home. It was a nice, comfortable couch, perfect for a midday nap. Wolfe wasn’t really a napper. And in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually taken a nap. But there was no better way to deal with one’s problems than going unconscious. He awoke to what sounded like bags rattling in the entryway. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Goose and Bunny, full of worry about why their owner had suddenly taken to their pastime, had sat on the floor beside him and watched him slumber.

Blinking twice, he realized it wasn’t a nightmare. His life had gotten complicated, beginning with the fact that Oliver was now not speaking to him.

Oliver had driven Wolfe to his house, ranting about how in the world he was going to tell the new and improved Melb that there was indeed a snake in their house. Wolfe didn’t have any good ideas. Telling her now would only bring on hysterics. But the risk of not telling her and letting her “stumble upon it” might create a circumstance beyond hysteria, and as Oliver continued to remind Wolfe,
She’s with child
.

Which Wolfe took to mean,
She’s in a fragile emotional state, let’s not wreck this
.

No matter how Wolfe tried to explain the situation or apologize, his effort seemed incomplete and insincere. The friendship was in jeopardy. From the kitchen, he heard voices. He rose from the couch and stumbled into the kitchen.

“Alfred?”

“Good morning. Oh, wait. It’s not morning. I was suddenly confused by the bathrobe, slippers, and unshaven face.” Alfred’s way of implying he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Wolfe looked at the packages on the table, then at Ainsley. “You’ve been shopping? Don’t you have that big thing at the church tomorrow? Normally wouldn’t you be spending your afternoon baking up a storm?”

Wolfe’s head pounded, and then the realization hit him that he was also going to have to find a clever way to tell Ainsley he’d misplaced her brother. Maybe he should go back to sleep.

“Every career woman needs an outfit to accent her talents,” Ainsley smiled. “To inspire her.”

“Speaking of inspiration,” said Alfred, “have you—”

“I don’t have anything. Not even a small piece of a story. Not even an idea. I may get to do some research in jail, which might spark a few ideas, but I have nothing. Okay? Off you go.”

“Wait,” Alfred said, yanking his arm away from Wolfe. “First of all, you look terrible.”

“‘Wait,’ Alfred, usually indicates that what you’re about to say has enough worth to keep the door from slamming in your face.”

“I’m worried about you. Seriously.”

“I’m fine. But in no mood to talk.”

“Good. Then I’ll do all the talking.”

Ainsley pulled a pink suit from the bag.

“Darling! Fabulous!” Alfred exclaimed.

Ainsley twirled around, holding one of the outfits in front of her. “What do you think? What does it say, Alfred?”

Alfred studied it like a fine oil painting. “It says you’re a sophisticated modern woman who chooses to deliberately keep her small-town roots because she doesn’t feel the need to oversell her beauty.”

Wolfe cocked his head to the side. How’d he come to
that
conclusion? It looked more like a cupcake to him.

“Yes! Yes! That’s it!” Ainsley gushed. She hugged Alfred. “That’s exactly the look I was going for.”

“With perfection,” Alfred said, winking. “Now, Wolfe, shall we go into your office?”

“Why?” Wolfe asked.

“I have some important news.”

“Well if it’s not about me, I don’t want to hear it.”

Ainsley and Alfred exchanged worried glances.

Alfred tried again. “I think I’ve had a religious experience.”

“Oh, great. That’s just great. Now what am I supposed to do? If I say no, I don’t want to talk, I’ve made myself look like a complete you-know-what!”

“Because of my religious experience, I can’t fill in the blank for you, Wolfe.”

“Oh, all right. Let’s get this over with. Come on,” Wolfe said, stomping to his office. He could hear Alfred and Ainsley whispering behind him.

Wolfe fell into his office chair.

“In all seriousness,” Alfred said, his hand over his heart, “I want to know if you’re okay.” He quietly shut the door behind him.

“Do I look okay?” Wolfe said, throwing his hands in the air. “Look
at me, Alfred. Do I look like the all-time best-selling horror novelist that you once knew? Do I look like a brilliant writer? Do I look like a man who has complete control of his life?”

Alfred looked like he might answer him.

“The answer is
no
, Alfred. Look at me! I’m a loser. I’ve written one meaningful thing since leaving the world of horror. And though I’m glad I wrote it, it seems to be the only thing I’m capable of. I can’t find a single thing to write about. Nothing!”

“You know the best stories are in the places you least expect them to be.”

“I’ve recently been in three of the most least-expected places you can imagine, so you can take your unexpected places theory and try it on your other client.”

Alfred was looking at him the way one might observe a dying dog on the side of the road. But Wolfe didn’t have anything more to say.

“Okay, just sit and listen for a moment, will you? Now, first of all, I want to confess some things. I know that I wasn’t exactly the model of confidence when I introduced you to this religious publishing thing. I wasn’t sure what to expect from it, and to tell you the truth, there have been a lot of surprises along the way, not the least of which was how well you fit in with those people.”

“Christians, Alfred.”

“Right. I was recently at one of their publishing houses, pitching a very agreeable story, which they became interested in, but they wanted to know more about you,”

“Like how washed up I am?”

“
No
. They wanted to know what kind of person you are. They were curious about why you left the writing world as you did, and what has become of you now.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“I told them what a wonderful man you are, Wolfe. How you’ve changed my life, and the lives of others around you. How you stood up for what you knew to be right, and no matter what temptations came your way, you were determined to stay the course. I told them what a good person you are, that’s what I told them.”

Wolfe rocked back and forth in his chair. “This morning I broke into an old farmer’s house and stole something that didn’t belong to me. Then I lied to my friend’s wife, snuck back into my friend’s house, attempted to find the stolen item that was inadvertently misplaced. After that, I botched an important deal that has probably ended the friendship, but since that wasn’t enough, I broke back into his house, hid in his coat closet and listened to him and his wife kiss.”

Alfred’s face was frozen with shock.

“But I am a good person.” Wolfe was enjoying Alfred’s inability to find words. “So tell me more about the religious publishers.”

“Okay … for one, they don’t particularly like the term
religious.
After all, as they pointed out, every book has an agenda, so there’s no reason to treat them differently. And apparently they’re what’re called evangelicals. Here’s an interesting fact for you … They don’t actually put halos around Mary’s head. That’s a Catholic thing.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I was describing what I thought would be a lovely cover for Doris Buford’s book.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, Wolfe, the reason I came by is simple: to tell you that I think this is your niche. You’re going to fit right in, and you’re going to find something that works. I really believe that. The more I talk to these people, the more I’m convinced that you’re one of them.”

“What about you, Al? Where are you in all of this?”

Alfred paused in a thoughtful way. “A few weeks ago I would’ve
called myself a casual observer. But I’m being drawn in. I won’t lie. And it was all because of one experience.”

“What experience was that?”

“Do you realize that there are several dead men whose books remain bestsellers even to this day? You don’t find that in any other market, my friend. And these people have been dead for decades, some even centuries. I was shocked. I learned this after failing to attempt to acquire them as clients. Because they’re dead. Dead! Can you imagine? You just don’t find a lot of dead authors on a regular bestsellers list.”

“So what are you saying? You’re going to kill me off so I’ll hit the bestsellers list?”

“Funny. And a good idea. But actually what I’m saying is that it has given me an understanding. What these people are writing, it’s timeless. Fads come and go, as you know, and some of them thankfully faster than others. But truth … now that stands firm.”

For the first time in his life, Alfred Tennison looked genuinely passionate about something that didn’t affect his salary. Alfred opened up his hands like a book. “You, my friend, have talent. You have a gift. And I think you’re going to find that when that story comes, whatever it is, it’s going to fit perfectly with everything else in your life. Including your religion. That’s all I had to say.” Alfred stood and offered his hand.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere. But it sounds like you need to go to confession.”

C
HAPTER
24

L
OIS HAD TAKEN A BUBBLE BATH
to try to relax before rehearsal. She knew she had to be focused, no matter what her love life looked like. After all, the show must go on. She’d tried not to let herself become irritated by how distracted all her actors seemed to be.

Wolfe, usually the one who seemed most able to concentrate, was running around asking about Butch Parker, of all people. She did
not
need to be reminded of Butch or their earlier conversation. Mariée had apparently gone three shades too light and was now wondering if her head was creating a glare in the spotlight. Of course, Lois didn’t care what Sheriff Parker was doing at the moment, which didn’t look like much, except staring into space. Then there was Martin, eagerly trying to please her while letting her know he might have to leave early because of a suburban crisis at the mayor’s office. He implied that the crisis at the mayor’s office might be the mayor himself, but he didn’t elaborate.

She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right. I want you all to know how much I appreciate how hard you’ve worked on my play. Without actors, this would never come to life. The success of this play is on your shoulders. One little dropped line, and it could all come crashing down like an unsecured backdrop on a fly rail. I want everyone to just relax, enjoy the process. Before we do a complete run-through, we’re going to do Act 2, Scene 8. This is such a critical scene, and nobody seems to be getting it. I want you to
feel
your characters. Get in
touch with them. Understand what it is they want, why they are motivated to do what they do. Places everyone. And remember, have fun.
Mariée
, get to
stage right
!”

Mariée whizzed over to the other side. The woman still didn’t know her stage left from her stage right. It was maddening. Lois fingered her hair for one last fluff and drew in a deep breath. “Now, let’s take it from the top. I want everyone concentrating. The focus should be on one woman. Me and Lotus. Understand?”

Everyone nodded. The lights dimmed. Wolfe stepped forward.
“News in a small town travels fast And it wasn’t long before everyone caught wind of Gibb’s affections for Lotus. He was able to control the whole town, but could he control the one woman he ever loved? Could he win Lotus back
?”

Wolfe stepped back, right on cue. Mariée walked forward, humming and skipping along next to the painted backdrop of trees. They discovered early on that Mariée couldn’t skip and whistle, so now she was humming. If ever there was a casting mistake …

“Lotus?”
Martin walked in, right on cue. She loved that intense look he could give when he played Gibb, the mayor. His eyebrows would scrunch together. His lips would spread tight. He dragged his left foot in a somewhat unattractive way, but overall, he owned the character of Gibb.

“Why, Gibb. What are you doing here on this fine afternoon? Bird watching
?”

“
If ever there was a more beautiful humming bird, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it”
Lois had to add that line to compensate for Mariées lack of whistling ability. Originally it had been a bluebird.
“What are you doing here
?”

Mariée tried as best she could to look in despair. “
I shouldn’t say
.”

“
Why not? It’s me. Gibb
.”

“
In complicated.
”

“
I know complicated. You’re talking to the mayor who single-handedly brought this town back to life after our most famous actor, the great Plum Blazey, was so tragically killed. The town grieved, and wondered what in the world would come of it. But we’ve rebounded, and look at us now. Were thriving, despite the fact that were known as the town that killed the greatest actor to ever live. I know and can handle complications
.”

Mariée turned to him, right on cue.
“Okay. It all started the night before last
.”

“
Wednesday
?”

“
Tuesday
.”

“
Well, that would be two nights ago
.”

“
I know. The night before last
.”

“
But it’s not evening yet
.”

Lois had to add those lines in attempt to compensate for Mariée’s perpetual dazed and confused look. She figured Lotus could be a bit of an airhead. It wouldn’t take much away from the character.

“It doesn’t matter what day it was! The fact of the matter is that I’ve fallen in love with Bart
!” A bit melodramatic, but she managed to carry it off.

“The sheriff? But how
?”

“
The same way it always happens with you, Gibb. You’re married to your job. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that you might not be the marrying type? Oh sure, you love the romance of it all. But when it comes to commitment, you really just can’t manage it
.”

“
I’ve been a changed man for a long time. You just haven’t noticed
.”

“
Gibb, you haven’t been changed since you were in diapers
.”

Lois howled. That was a good line. Everyone turned to her.

“Don’t look at me!” she yelled. She clapped her hands, indicating everyone should stop for a moment. “We haven’t addressed this yet, so
now is probably a good time. The fact of the matter is that you’re going to have to anticipate some laughs from the audience. Don’t jump into your next line. Wait until the laughter settles down, give it a little pause, or the audience is not going to hear the next line, which is so vital to the play. Okay?” She gestured toward Martin.

“Change, Lotus, comes from the gut, not the diaper pail And I know what I’ve lost. I know that you were the perfect woman for me, and I blew it. I was selfish and uncaring. I always thought the grass was greener on the other side, and I never realized what I—”

“Martin, I need you to be more pathetic. Slump your shoulders and look like a loser.”

Martin nodded, complying.

Mariée turned again, this time toward the audience so they could see the angst in her face. The angst turned out to be an awkward grimace, but at least it was emotion.
“Gibb, you will always be special to me. But I can’t take the risk anymore. I love Bart. And I always will
.”

The sheriff entered on cue.
“Somebody call my name
?”

“
Bart
!” Mariée squealed, jumping into his arms and hugging him. She’d written in a kiss, but everyone was totally grossed out by it. Bart extended his hand toward Gibb.
“Gibb
.”

Gibb didn’t shake it.
“I won’t shake the hand of the man that stole my woman
.”

“
I didn’t steal her. You let her go when you refused to give this spectacular woman the love she deserved. “ “I’m still the better man
.”

“
You’re a good mayor, Gibb. You’ve done a lot for this town. But it’s time to let Lotus go into the arms of the man she truly loves
.”

Lois sat back in her seat as the lights faded. The lines were said perfectly. The set turned out better than she expected. The lights were right
on cue. But there was something not right. Something that was holding this play back from being what she’d envisioned it to be.

In the dark, Lois knew who it was. She was standing center stage with hair color 49 glowing in the dark.

Ainsley was cooking as fast as she could, whipping up batter for cookies, cupcakes, and brownies. She’d spent her day shopping, then trying on her clothes. Now she was behind on everything she needed to do for the church celebration tomorrow. She’d never waited until this late to prepare for a catering job.

She was just about to pour the fourth batch of brownies into the pan when the doorbell rang. She smiled. Right on time.

She wiped her hands and did a quick check in the oven mirror. She’d bought this little number yesterday. It was a cotton sweat suit with silk trim and a matching T-shirt to go underneath. She’d spent an hour this evening getting her ponytail to look like she hadn’t thought twice about it.

Opening the door, she said, “Hello, Katelyn!”

“Hi Ainsley!” Katelyn walked in wearing belted jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back on top, with a few wisps hanging around her face. At her side was a young man, who Ainsley guessed was her son. “I brought Willem as an expert taste tester.”

“Willem, welcome to our home,” Ainsley said, bending down to his level. “I bet you like chocolate chip cookies, huh?”

“They’re not my favorite.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve got brownies, too. Do you like brownies?”

“Depends how moist they are.”

Ainsley stood up and looked at Katelyn. “A little chef in the making, isn’t he?”

“I’ve enrolled him in cooking classes this winter.”

“How … how old is he?”

“Five,” she said, walking into the kitchen. “I know, he seems a lot older, doesn’t he? He’s in all the gifted programs.”

“What’s he gifted in?”

“Life.” Katelyn scrutinized a plate of cookies like they were about to do something very impressive, like get up and walk away. “So tell me how it’s going. It smells wonderful. They are doing wonders with those boxed brownie numbers, aren’t they?”

“They’re all from scratch. Please, go ahead and try one.”

Katelyn picked one up and took a nibble. “You’ll have to share your diet secrets with me later. How do you stay so slim? What are you wearing? A size two?”

Ainsley frowned. “No, I’m a size … size …”

“I’ve got a ton of out-of-date clothes you can have. So you’ve got the drinks taken care of?”

“We’ll have tea and lemonade.”

Katelyn made herself comfortable on a barstool while Willem sat on the floor to play with the dogs. “Tea and lemonade. That’s cute. This town, as quaint and tender as it is, is ready to be shaken up a little, don’t you think?”

“Shaken up how?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t see how enthusiastic the citizens are about some of the changes that have been made. This sleepy little town was just begging for a slice of the modern life. And that is the genius of a ‘burb, no matter what kind of ‘burb it is.” Katelyn watched Willem
while she spoke. “It’s having it both ways, you see. You get all the perks of modern life, while enjoying fresh air, green backyards and towering trees.”

Ainsley stirred her batter, trying to keep her calm. “But what about the values that keep a small town safe? Those will be in jeopardy, won’t they?”

“Oh, those can be implemented in creative ways. Believe me. I lived in a suburb for years, yet we still managed to work in that root beer float you all are so fond of.”

“I’m not talking about root beer floats. I’m talking about values. I’m talking about how we all look out for one another. How we know everyone’s relatives, even those that don’t live here. I’m talking about the expectation that when you walk down Main Street, at least one person is going to wave at you. And if you get sick or have a baby, you’re going to have meals for four weeks straight.”

“Honey, listen. Meals are no problem. We have a list. It assures that all funerals and births will be covered by a choice of five different casseroles, including bread and salad. We even have pre-signed cards for any occasion. The Card Coordinator just sticks them right in the mail whenever one is needed. All she needs is a stamp, which we of course reimburse her for on a monthly basis out of our Generosity Fund, where we’ve raised money by selling off the extra frozen casseroles at the end of the month. It’s actually so self-maintaining that we don’t even have to call each other anymore. Everyone knows what they are supposed to do and they just do it.”

“I’ve always done most of it myself. A few people help, if it’s a really big family.”

“See? This way you only have to work on the first Tuesday of every month, which will leave more time for you to expand your company.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Oh, you’ll get the hang of it. I can show you how to program your cell phone to remind you that you’re on casserole call if you want.”

“Maybe another time.”

She took another bite of brownie. “You really should try the boxed kind, Ainsley. They taste just as good.”