Lilac Avenue (42 page)

“He sounds like quite a character.”

“He was,” he said. “He died this year, from liver failure. My mother passed a couple years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said.

He flinched, as if her sympathy physically hurt him. He seemed to brush it off quickly, however, and smiled, albeit a grudging, half smile. Maybe he was tired of other people’s feelings about his loss, or of their imposition on his grief.

“I don’t remember seeing you around town,” he said. “I’m from Familysburg, but I get over here fairly often.”

“I just moved back,” she said. “My dad’s Ian Fitzpatrick; you might know him.”

“I do indeed,” he said
. “A very good man, the Chief, one of the best. I heard he had a stroke.”

“
Multiple TMIs they call them,” Claire said. “He’s got dementia.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ll take a quick death over a long illness any day.”

“Me, too.”

“So you came home to help out,” he said. “That’s good of you.”

“Hopefully, it will make up for the shallow life I’ve led up to this point,” she said.

“At least you realize it and want to change,” he said. “Most never do.”

“Has your life been meaningful up to this point?” she asked. “I mean, do you feel like you’ve contributed something to the world, made it a better place somehow?”

“Sometimes I do,” he said. “And sometimes I think the best you can do is leave the place no worse than
how you found it.”

“You inherited your father’s philosophy gene,” she said.

“And his love of Scotch,” he said, raising his glass. “Lucky for me my late mother had strong impulse-control and self-discipline genes, or my liver’s days might also be numbered.”

“So you’re an orphan now,” she said.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. I wonder if there’s any benefit to that; some sort of credit union or guild I could join?”

“Do you know Scott Gordon?” she asked. “He’s recently orphaned as well.”

“I know Scott very well,” he said. “He’s one of my favorite people, actually, the kind that restores your faith in humanity. As a matter of fact, he helped me get the job in Pendleton.”

“Can I ask why you’re unemployed?”

“Certainly,” he said. “It’s no secret, especially not in Familysburg. I recently discovered that a subordinate of mine was having an affair with my wife.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It is,” he said. “Even more so because he was, or at least I thought he was, a very good friend of mine. Best man at our wedding, in fact.”

“So you socked him and got fired?”

“No, nothing so dramatic,” he said. “Remember, I have my mother’s impulse control and all that self-discipline. No, I quit. I didn’t want to have to look at him every day and it seemed unfair to deprive him of his job just because he made the same mistake I once did.”

“It sounds like you’ve had a pretty crappy year,” Claire said. “I guess I could see why you’d want to drink in another town.”

“Earlier this evening I had a work-related meeting here in town,” he said. “I just didn’t feel like going back to the hotel I’m living in. It’s too depressing.”

“I’ve been living with my dad, who’s so delusional he thinks my mom is cheating on him with his doctor, and he hates me because he thinks I’m covering for her,” Claire said. “I’d rather stay in a depressing hotel than go home.”

“You’d be welcome,” he said. “Anytime.”

The air between them became charged with that sparking energy that is produced when two people hit it off, quickly become confidants, and are also sexually attracted to each other. It tended to make Claire dizzy and prone to poor decision making.

“I think I better pass,” Claire said.

“Probably the wisest decision,” he said. “You have correctly surmised that I’m a drowning man; not someone you ought to cling to so much as swim away from, in order not to be pulled down in the existential undertow.”

“Oh, I’m tempted,” she said. “I’m just trying to practice some of that impulse control your mom was so good at.”

“Sensible woman,” he said. “My heart is a black hole of doom, evidently.”

“I seriously doubt that,” she said. “Listen.”

“What?”

The song “Wicked Game,” by Chris Isaak, had begun to play on the bar sound system.

“That is my favorite song,” she said. “I was feeling so sorry for myself today at the reception, because Patrick had put together a playlist of everyone’s favorite songs and no one knew what mine was. Nobody asked me, and nobody knows it, but this song is my favorite.”

“Good to know,” he said. “Care to dance?”

“I should probably close up before we’re arrested for being open after hours.”

“I think you’re safe tonight,” he said. “Besides, you seem like a woman who needs to dance to her favorite song.”

Claire came around the bar and met him in the middle of the aisle. He took her in his arms like a man who knew what he was doing, and Claire felt a little light-headed as she allowed him to lead. With one hand on his arm, she felt the hard muscle there, and with the other hand clasped in his hand, she felt that warm, comforting feeling again. He smelled like whi
skey and whatever detergent he used to wash his clothes.

He was only slightly taller than she was, but still she had to l
ook up to look into his eyes. His smile was sad and weary, but his eyes were kind. It didn’t feel like pity. It felt like compassion, kindness, and attraction. It felt good.

Dancing with a perfect stranger in the Rose and Tho
rn, in the middle of the night, Claire should have felt lonely and miserable, but she didn’t. She felt like she was going to be okay on her own. She felt like she was right where she should be. When the song ended, he didn’t let go.

“I’d like to walk you home, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I’d like to see that you get there
all right.”

Claire closed up and locked the door behind her while he waited on the stoop. She was very aware of him as they walked down Peony Street. His arm brushed
against hers a few times, and Claire almost believed it caused sparks.

“Why do you think your wife cheated?” she asked him.

“She was my second wife, and much younger than I am,” he said. “My first wife died of cancer two years ago, just after my mother passed away.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

There was that flinch again, plus he clenched his jaw.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said.

“It’s okay,” he said. “As you can imagine, I was a mess when I met her. I was drinking a little bit more than I should have. As soon as I sobered up I realized what a huge mistake I’d made. I was honest with her; offered to pay for the divorce. She refused, said I’d made the commitment and, by God, she was going to see that I honored it.”

“I don’t understand,” Claire said. “Why didn’t she just divorce you and then do whatever she liked? Why stay married to you and then cheat with your best friend?”

“I rejected her, you see, so she had to hurt me somehow,” he said. “She had to make it very clear to the world that it was she who was rejecting me.”

“Sounds like you’re better off,” Claire said. “Your friend may have done you a favor.”

“Poor guy,” he said. “His wife left him last year for some guy she was fooling around with, so he was in the same sorry state I was in when I met her. No, I’m not mad at him, not really; or her, for that matter. What I am is chronically, deeply, profoundly embarrassed, for everybody.”

“I’m starting to think romantic relationships are just a huge, cosmic practical joke,” Claire said.

“Are you seeing somebody?” he asked her.

“Kind of,” she said. “Sort of.”

“That sounds precarious.”

“It is,” she said. “He wants me to tell him all my secrets.”

“What a horrible idea,” he said. “Don’t do it.”

“The problem is,” she said. “I think the relationship is conditional on that point. If I don’t open up, he’ll think I have something to hide and won’t trust me.”

“There are some things that should stay hidden,” he said, “for the good of everyone. Wouldn’t better evidence of trust be to say, no matter what I eventually find out about you, and even if we part ways because of it, I will assume you meant well by me at the time, and will still regard you with affection?”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely
?” she said. “Just to accept someone as they are now and not hold their past against them.”

“Do you think it’s possible?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I certainly don’t regard my most recent wife with affection, and I don’t believe she meant well by me. I think she saw marrying me as a way to not have to work, along with free health benefits and a retirement plan.”

“Will you be all right, do you think?” she asked him. “Not soon, maybe, but eventually?”

“Oh, probably
,” he said. “As soon as the house sells, I’ll take my half and buy a small place in Pendleton, try to start anew, as they say. Will you come visit me? Even though I’m barely a shell of the man I once was? And, honestly, the full man I used to be was never that great.”

“I will,” Claire said. “Take my number.”

They paused so he could record her information in his cell phone.

“Do you want mine?” he asked.

“Text me later,” she said. “Then I’ll have it.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way to her front door, where Claire turned to say goodnight. The moon, now fully revealed in the night sky above Rose Hill, was the largest, brightest full moon she’d ever seen.

“Will you look at that,” she said.

“It’s called a super moon,” Laurie said. “We w
on’t have another one until next year in August.”

“It’s beautiful,” Claire said.

“It will be even closer tomorrow night,” Laurie said. “I’ll think of you when I look at it.”

The weary sadness in his eyes and the wry smile belied the romance of his statement. His expression seemed to say, rather, I will think of you, but I no longer believe I can be saved by love.

Claire felt as if she knew him very well, but from a long time ago, and had somehow forgotten him until they were reunited this evening. That eerie feeling, combined with the miraculous beauty of the moon, seemed to lend this moment deep, significant meaning. Still, Claire resisted its pull.

“It was nice to meet you, Laurie,” she said, holding out her hand.

He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you better,” he said. “I poured my heart out to you, so it’s the least you can do in return.”

“Just not too much,” she said. “We’ll keep some secrets.”

“It’s a deal,” he said, and let go of her hand.

Claire watched him walk away. When he reached the corner, he turned, looked up at the moon, and then back at her before he went on. Watching him go, Claire was filled with equal parts anticipation and dread. She felt as buzzed as if she had just downed several shots of tequila, but paradoxically, as alert and awake as if she’d just run a mile. It was a familiar feeling.

She went inside, and there in the front room, curled up on the couch together, were Mackie Pea and the new kitten. Claire could hardly believe it. Mackie Pea opened one eye, thumped her little stub tail, and then went back to sleep. The kitten did not even wake up.

Without turning on a light, Claire made her way to the kitchen, where just a few nights ago Ed Harrison had rocked her world with a kiss. Moonlight streamed into the kitchen, and to Claire’s fatigued mind it almost seemed as if it were seeking her out, compelling her to come back outside.

‘How can you sleep when I am this magnificent?’ the moon seemed to say.

This same moon, which had shone down through the pine trees in the terrifying moment when Jeremy’s gun went off, and had lit the romantic scene with Laurie, was obviously still not through with her.

“No more,” Claire said, shaking her head.

Later, as she lay in bed, she thought over the events of the day, from Maggie’s and Scott’s wedding, her confrontation with Anne Marie, getting the bride ready to go on her honeymoon, almost getting killed in Pine Mountain State Park, and then watching Laurie walk away from her in the moonlight. Taken all together these events signified a major turning point in her life, but toward what she couldn’t even imagine.

Her phone tweedled and it was the promised text from Laurie.

“Claire de Lune,” was all it said.

There was also a link to a
video performance of the classical music piece by that name, which was written by the composer Debussy. Claire, who knew it well and loved it, smiled in the dark. She closed her eyes, and eventually fell asleep listening to the beautiful music.

Chapter Twelve - Sunday

Claire woke up early, remembered it was Sunday, flipped her pillow to the cool side, and closed her eyes again. A little while later her mother came in and sat on the bed.

“Claire,” she said quietly.

“I’m awake,” Claire said.

She rolled over and her mother smoothed the hair back from her forehead.

“You did a wonderful job yesterday,” Delia said. “I’ve never seen a happier newlywed couple.”

“Have they left for the beach?”

“I don’t know when they’re leaving,” Delia said. “I brought you the paper.”

Cla
ire sat up in bed and unfolded the
Rose Hill Sentinel
. Above the fold was the headline “Alleged vandal has political connections,” followed by the story of Jumbo’s arrest. Below the fold was the headline, “Former resident’s ministry under fire,” with the story about Anne Marie. Claire read each story, and then the coverage of the mayoral candidates’ speeches at the IWS meeting on page two.

“Poor Marigold,” she said to her mother, when she brought her a cup of coffee.

“Some of her friends may stand by her,” Delia said. “Stuart and Peg are probably pulling strings of support backstage.”

“I should go up to Kay’s,” Claire said. “I should do a lot of things, but mostly I just want to stay in bed all day.”

“You’re due for some down time,” Delia said. “Take a day off.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s at the station with Curtis,” she said. “Where did you and Sean run off to last night?”

Claire paused, and then the doorbell rang, saving her from either telling a long story that would worry her mother, or lying to her, which she hated to do.

“Claire,” her mother called out from the front room. “Ed’s here.”

Claire dragged herself out of bed and looked in the mirror. Well, Ed did say he preferred the real her. She put on a flannel robe over her
T-shirt and yoga pants, wrapped her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun, and wiped the worst of the smeared mascara out from under her eyes.

She should have been looking forward to seeing Ed, but instead she was thinking about Laurie.

‘How fickle am I,’ she thought, ‘that it only took one mysterious stranger to turn my head away from Ed?’

Suddenly she realized why this felt familiar. Hadn’t she just told Maggie and Hannah that what she had always been drawn to in a man was a mystery to solve?
And there was Laurie, about whom she knew so little, other than his recent romantic woes and the loss of his parents. Of course she was attracted to him; she didn’t know practically everything about him like she did about Ed, who had grown up next door to her.

That excited, anxious feeling she’d had last night was the same one she’d felt when she met the handsome actor, the talented director, and the charming drama teacher, among others. Look how those romances had turned out. It was just a feeling, she reminded herself. It was just the moon. That damn super moon.

‘I just have to take myself firmly by the hand,’ she thought, ‘and lead myself away from making the same mistakes.’

When she got to the living room
, she found Ed talking animatedly to her mother. Claire felt a rush of affection at seeing him, so energetic and happy on his big day. She hugged him and waited for him to mention how ragged she looked, maybe make a joke about it. But he didn’t seem to notice.

“Claire,” he said. “They arrest
ed Anne Marie’s assistant for Courtenay’s murder.”

“Is that right?” she said.

As Ed told her as much information as he had, some of it wrong, Claire reflected that she hadn’t deliberated carefully and then decided not to tell him about her part in that adventure; rather, it had been her first instinct not to tell him. If she was later caught in this lie of omission, she’d just tell him it was because her mother was standing there. In the same moment she also seemed to have decided not to tell her, as well.

“I have to go,” he said. “I just wanted to stop by and tell you the latest.”

“Did you enjoy the party last night?” she asked him.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he said. “I had every intention of being there, but I had to get the issue out, and there was some late breaking news that had to go in.”

“The arrest?”

“No, I didn’t hear about that until this morning,” he said. “You remember the city council voted to give Scott a month off?”

“How is that big news?”

“That’s not the interesting part,” he said. “It’s who they got to cover for him while he’s away.”

“Who’s that?” Delia asked.

“Laurie
Purcell,” Ed said. “He was the chief of police in Familysburg until last month. Just up and quit his job after 25 years. He’s going to replace the chief who’s retiring in Pendleton next month, so meanwhile, he’s going to cover for Scott.”

“He’s a policeman,” Claire said.

“Chief of police,” Ed said. “He’s a great guy; the town couldn’t be in better hands.”

“He had a lovely wife,” Delia said. “She died of cancer a few years ago. I heard he got remarried but I don’t know to whom.”

“Gotta go,” Ed said.

He gave Claire a quick kiss on the cheek and smiled at her.

“See you later?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Claire said. “Of course.”

Delia was talking but Claire was only half listening. All she could think about was the fact that Laurie was a policeman. Not just a policeman, a chief of police. Why hadn’t he mentioned that?

‘Well,’ Claire thought. ‘We did say we could keep our secrets.’

Scott was loading the back of the SUV with a mountain of his and Maggie’s hastily packed belongings when Ed came walking down the alley behind the book store.

“Congratulations on your bloc
kbuster edition,” Scott said as he shook his hand.

“Thanks for the scoop on Jeremy getting arrested,” Ed said. “I guess you’re hoping he’ll turn on Anne Marie and Knox.”

“He already has,” Scott said. “There’s a warrant out for both of them.”

“And they, no doubt, will turn on each other.”

“No doubt,” Scott said.

“Mamie’s probably looking down on you and smiling,” Ed said.

“That would be a first,” Scott said. “She was an ornery, mean old woman, but I’m going to miss her.”

“And everybody thought she was broke,” Ed said.
“I even felt sorry for her.”

“Knox was diverting her trust payments to a bank account he controlled. They also think he forged her name on the mortgage and had Courtenay notarize the signature. He was counting on the insurance paying off the bank when she died. I don’t know what he did with the money, but you can bet the feds are going to find out.”

“Why in the world did Mamie leave so much money to Phyllis Davis?”

“I almost forgot,” Scott said, and pulled an old photograph out of his breast pocket. “When you have time, do some research on the maid standing at the en
d there; the one with the smart-ass look on her face.”

Ed gave Scott a quizzical look.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “Although my plate’s kind of full at the moment.”

“I almost hate to leave just when the shit’s hitting the fan.”

“Almost,” Ed said.

“Yeah, I gotta tell ya, in my mind we’re half way to South Carolina already.”

“I looked at the weather,” Ed said. “You’re fine until you hit Florence; they may have thunderstorms today.”

“Won’t stop us,” Scott said. “The last time I had a vacation away from Rose Hill was
more than ten years ago. I’m looking forward not only to not knowing what’s going on, but also not having to do anything about it.”

“I’m going to miss you, don’t get me wrong,” Ed said. “But Laurie’s going to make a great pub quiz team member in your absence. The guy’s a genius; went to Yale on a Fulbright Scholarship. He could have done anything after that.”

“His dad was a career cop,” Scott said. “That’s a pretty compelling legacy.”

“Well, there’s no one who can replace you, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Scott said. “Laurie’s a great guy but he’s kind of at loose ends at the moment. His mother died not long before his wife. His father was a pretty bad alcoholic, and he died earlier this year.”

“
Any one of those things would be hard enough to deal with,” Ed said. “Horrible luck.”

“Yeah, and it gets worse,” Scott said. “
He married some girl, young enough to be his daughter, and she started fooling around with his best friend, who also worked for him.”

“Oh, man,” Ed said. “That must be why he quit.”

“I helped him get on the short list to be interviewed for Bud Shifflet’s position,” Scott said. “I put in a good word for him and made sure some other people did, too. He’s a good man, and he’ll be an excellent chief, but it might be a rough transition.”

“Is he drinking?”

“He drank a little too much after his wife died, but pulled it together before it affected his work. I have every reason to believe he’ll do the same this time.”

“I’ll certainly do my best to make him feel welcome,” Ed said. “Maybe Claire and I can have him over for dinner at my place.”

“That would be great,” Scott said. “I think Rose Hill’s a good place for him to regroup before he starts in Pendleton. He needs to stay busy.”

“That was a nice celebration yesterday,” Ed said. “Claire and Hannah did a hell of a job.”

“Sorry you missed the party last night,” Scott said. “I guess Claire had an exciting evening.”

Ed looked confused.

“I was working with the publisher all night,” he said. “Wasn’t Claire at the party?”

“You don’t know about that?” Scott said. “Have you seen Claire today?”

“Just a little bit ago,” Ed said. “Why? What happened?”

“Oh, man, I should have kept my mouth shut,” Scott said. “Sean told us about it this morning; they were probably not sup
posed to tell anyone. I’m sure that’s why she didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s the reason Anne Marie’s assistant got arrested,” Scott said. “She met with him up at the State Park last night, wearing a wire, with the feds listening in. He took a shot at her. She’s lucky to be alive.”

Ed’s face turned pale.

“How did Sean know about it?”

“He was up there in the fed’s van, listening to it go down.” Scott said. “Listen, Sean probably wasn’t supposed to tell me, and you probably can’t write about it or they’ll both be in big trouble. This is strictly off the record.”

“My first concern is that Claire’s okay, not the friggin’ story,” Ed said.

“Of course
,” Scott said. “I know that. Just don’t be mad she didn’t say anything.”

“Her mom was standing right there,” Ed said. “That’s probably why.”

“Sure,” Scott said. “She’ll tell you later.”

“The feds, huh?” Ed said. “Does that mean Jamie Brown’s back in town?”

“Yeah,” Scott said. “He was helpful to Ava when Brian came back, and that’s all Sean knows about him. I should have warned him. Then he would’ve known better than to let Claire get involved in anything that man is in charge of.”

“Did you tell Laurie about him
?”

“If you don’t mind
, I’ll leave that to you,” Scott said. “I’m off duty; I promised Maggie.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“You can help me with the heavier stuff,” Scott said. “Sean’s going to feed Duke. I gave Laurie the keys to my house so he could stay there, and he also has the keys to Mom’s house, just in case.”

Ed helped Scott load the
cooler and various bags full of stuff.

“I’m going to miss you, buddy,” Ed said. “You all have a safe trip.”

“You know,” Scott said, “if you had told me a year ago this is what I’d be doing today, taking Maggie on our honeymoon, I would have thought you were out of your mind.”

“Well, you know what Anne Marie says,” Ed said. “In a loving universe everything’s possible.”

“Well, in the real universe,” Scott said, “where bad shit happens to everyone, whether or not they deserve it, this feels like a miracle.”

Ed he
lped Scott hoist the last duffel bag into the back of his SUV, and Scott shut the tailgate.

“Bon voyage,” Ed said. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

“And good luck to you,” Scott said to Ed. “Now that you’re involved with a Fitzpatrick, you’re going to need it.”

Acknowledgments

I give thanks to Betsy Grandstaff, Terry Hutchison, Ella McComas, and Joan Turner for being wonderful first readers, and a very special thank you to John Gillispie for his meticulous proofreading. I appreciate you all so much.