Woman in Black (4 page)

What if he'd told Lila and
she'd
said something?

In horror, Abigail watched as Gwen Meriwhether advanced toward them, silent as a stalking cat in her satin slippers. She was staring at Rosalie in a way that made her seem slightly deranged. Maybe she
had
lost her mind. Maybe that was what this was all about: Rosalie covering for the fact that Gwen had gone mad. Abigail felt a sick sort of relief at the realization that this might not have anything to do with her after all.

At last, Abigail's mother replied in a low, trembling voice, “I would never steal from you. You know that.”

“Why don't you tell it to the police? They'll be here any minute.” Gwen's thin lips stretched in a mirthless smile. “Meanwhile, I suggest you start packing your things.” Her gaze softened slightly as it fell on Abigail. “I'm sorry you had to get caught in this, Abby. I know it's not your fault.”

Abigail watched her mother's eyes go wide with panic. “Where would we go? This is our
home
.” It was less a plea than a cry of lament. Rosalie looked vaguely unhinged herself at the threat of their being kicked out, as she stood there swaying on her feet, clutching the back of her chair for support.

“You might have thought of that before you took what didn't belong to you,” Gwen said, her pitiless gaze showing no mercy.

Abigail couldn't believe this was happening. If last night was a dream, this was a nightmare. She couldn't shake the suspicion that it had something to do with her. And now, because of what she'd done, her mother was going to lose her job and they'd be homeless. She couldn't let that happen. She had to
do
something.

Mr. Meriwhether
, she thought.
He won't allow this. He'll put a stop to it
.

She dashed outside in search of him. But when she reached the stable, out of breath, with a stitch in her side from having run as though her life depended on it—which, in a way, it did—he was nowhere in sight. There was only Lila, seated on the bench by the tack room, tugging at one of her boots. “I swear, my feet must have swelled two sizes since I put these on,” she said through gritted teeth. “It's this damned
heat
.” She managed to yank off the boot before she straightened to fan herself, her cheeks pink with exertion, ringlets of blond hair pasted to her sweating forehead. Then she took note of Abigail's expression and all at once grew still. “Oh, Abby, what is it? You look like
death!
”

Abigail struggled not to give in to her panic. First she needed to get to the bottom of this. “Did Vaughn say anything to you after we got home last night?” she burst out without preamble.

Lila's delicately arched brows drew together in a frown. She seemed vaguely put out. “I haven't seen him since yesterday afternoon. Really, I should be angry at you two, taking off like that without me.”

“We couldn't find you.” Abigail felt a guilty flush spread through her cheeks, though technically it wasn't a lie.

“Well, you couldn't have looked very hard. I was here the whole time,” Lila said, as though it should have been obvious. “What
about
Vaughn, anyway? Are you two up to something I don't know about?” She shot Abigail a darkly speculative look.

“No, of course not,” Abigail said, too quickly, hoping her inflamed cheeks wouldn't betray her.

“What, then?”

“It's … it's your mother.” Abigail didn't bother to explain the connection. There was no time.

Lila visibly tensed. “What about her?”

It wasn't something they'd ever discussed, but Abigail knew that Gwen's drinking was a source of embarrassment to Lila. At the same time, she'd defend her mother to the death were anyone to suggest she had a problem. Mindful of this, Abigail found herself downplaying the situation as she explained, “She's missing a piece of jewelry—the diamond necklace your dad gave her for their anniversary. She seems to think it was stolen.”

“I don't see how that's possible. As far as I know, there aren't any burglars skulking about. And we're the only ones who know where she keeps her jewelry box.” All at once a horrified expression dawned on her face. “Oh, God. She's not accusing
you
, is she?”

Abigail shook her head. “Not me. My mom.” Even saying the words made her feel sick with shame, as though there might be some truth to Gwen's accusation.

“That's the craziest thing I ever heard! She's just confused, that's all.” Lila scrambled to come up with a logical explanation for her mother's irrational behavior. “She gets that way sometimes when she's having one of her headaches.”

The Meriwhethers never made reference to Gwen's drinking; when she had too much wine at dinner and suffered for it the next day, it was always filed under the general heading of migraine. “Don't worry. We'll get it straightened out. Does Daddy know?”

“Not yet. We have to find him.” Abigail cast a panicked glance around her.

“Well, I'm afraid it'll have to wait until he gets back from his ride. We'd never catch up with him on foot, and Maverick lost a shoe, so he's out of commission for the time being.” Lila gestured toward her horse, in his stall contentedly munching on hay, before she bent to tug off her other boot. “Don't worry,” she assured Abigail once more. “Daddy will deal with it as soon as he gets back.” She didn't sound overly concerned.

“What about Vaughn? Do you know where he went?” asked Abigail in mounting desperation.

“I told you, I haven't seen him.” Lila glanced up at her, looking annoyed, as if at being reminded of how she'd been stood up the night before. Then her expression softened. “Look, I know you're upset, but I promise it'll be okay. Like I said, it's probably just some silly idea Mother's gotten into her head. Five minutes from now, she'll have forgotten all about it.”

“It's more serious than that.” Abigail struggled to keep from losing her cool, with her heart pounding and her stomach up where her throat ought to have been. “She's phoned the police.”

“She
what?
” Now Lila did look alarmed.

As if on cue, Abigail heard the crunch of tires in the driveway. Peering out the stable door, she saw a police cruiser slow as it approached the house before pulling to a stop in front of the pillared portico. Something lurched in her chest, Lila's assurances scattering like so much dandelion fluff in the wind. Her mother would be arrested … or evicted … or both. It was her word against Mrs. Meriwhether's, and whom were the cops going to believe? Her only hope now was Lila. If Lila could somehow persuade her mother to see reason …

She turned to find Lila hobbling her way toward her, the one boot still stubbornly wedged onto her foot. “Come on, help me with this. I can't get the damn thing off.”

Years later, Abigail would burn at the memory of her kneeling to pry off Lila's boot—an innocent gesture that would be transformed into a humiliating act of servitude in light of what came after. But in that moment all she felt was gratitude. Lila led a charmed life, true. Nothing bad had ever happened to her, certainly nothing as bad as this. But that didn't mean she wouldn't stick up for those she loved. Maybe it really would be all right.

She gazed up at Lila, loving her and envying her at the same time. Lila, slender as a willow switch and so light on her feet she scarcely seemed to touch the ground, with eyes the blue of a cloudless sky and hair a natural shade of blond that women paid hundreds of dollars to achieve. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. At sixteen, she already possessed formidable social skills: She could have conversed charmingly with a brick wall, in French as well as in English, and she could throw a party with as much ease as any society matron; most of all, she had every young male from here to the Mason-Dixon line vying for her attention, never mind she seemed to prefer hanging out with the horses or with Abigail and Vaughn.

By the time they got to the house, the two policemen, a burly salt-and-pepper-haired veteran and his younger, skinnier sidekick, were seated in the front parlor with Mrs. Meriwhether. She was giving them her version of events while Rosalie stood meekly to one side, amid the antique furnishings so lovingly dusted and polished by her hand. It was obvious from their deference, which bordered on obsequiousness, that Gwen's would be the only version that mattered. Rosalie must have known it, too, for her head hung low and she said nothing in her own defense. She managed to look both wrongly accused and guilty as charged.

Abigail wanted to shout at her mother to stand up for herself. Why was she taking this lying down? She was on the verge of speaking out when Lila piped up.

“Mother, what on earth is going on? Abby's just told me the most unbelievable th—”

Gwen didn't let her finish. “Stay out of it, dear. This doesn't concern you.” She spoke softly, in her creamiest patrician tones, but it was clear from the sharp glance she cast Lila that she wasn't going to tolerate any interference.

Lila shut up at once. She just stood there, staring at Gwen in wide-eyed astonishment. Clearly, this was a side of her mother she'd never seen. Usually Gwen was either “indisposed” or on her way to becoming so. She rarely took an interest in household affairs, preferring to let her husband handle any crisis that might arise. Right now, though, she was not only stone-cold sober but clearly in charge.

A search was conducted of the cottage. It didn't take long for the necklace to turn up, in one of Rosalie's dresser drawers. Abigail wasn't all that surprised to see the skinny policeman emerge from the bedroom, necklace in hand. “Lookee here at what I found,” he crowed, casting a nasty, knowing look at Rosalie. Mrs. Meriwether was summoned. She didn't look surprised, either. When asked if she cared to press charges, she replied with a queenly wave of her hand, “That won't be necessary.” Now that she had the necklace back, she would settle for having the “culprit” clear out at once, she said. She gave Rosalie an hour to pack her things.

Abigail appeared to be the only one who saw through Mrs. Meriwhether's act. The whole thing was so obviously a setup. It was like a scene out of a hokey detective show. The only thing she couldn't figure out was
why
. Why would Gwen want to frame her mother? Wasn't she always saying,
What would I do without Rosie?

Abigail was nearly done with her packing when Lila showed up. She looked as if she'd been crying. “I'm sorry,” she said in a low, cracked voice.

Abigail stared down at the clothes neatly folded inside the suitcase that lay open on her bed, many of them castoffs of Lila's. An open cardboard box sat on the floor, filled with books and old report cards; a pink music box her mother had given her for her tenth birthday, with a ballerina that twirled to the tune of “Tiny Dancer” when you opened the lid; a crepe-paper lei Vaughn had brought her back as a souvenir the year the Meriwhethers had gone to Hawaii on vacation; ticket stubs from the concerts she'd attended with Lila and Vaughn; a trophy she'd won in a districtwide spelling bee. None of which meant anything anymore. It was just junk.

She took slow, careful breaths. She herself was beyond tears. Now that her panic had burned off, all that was left was anger, like a thick cloud of volcanic dust, filling her throat and lungs, choking her. Anger entirely focused on Lila right now. Because she'd believed Lila was her friend, and Lila had let her down in a way that was so profound, even now Abigail had trouble believing it.

She turned on Lila. In her righteous fury, she felt ten feet tall. “Why didn't you say something? Why did you just
stand
there?”

Tears rolled down Lila's cheeks. “I tried,” she said weakly.

Abigail gave a scornful laugh. “You
tried?
What kind of lame excuse is that? I've seen how you act when it's
your
reputation at stake. That time Lainie DuMarche was spreading those lies about you and Timmy Jordan? She was in tears after you reamed her out. And God forbid anyone should lay a hand on your precious horse. You'd knock them flat. So don't insult my intelligence by saying you tried.”

“Think what you like.” A note of defiance crept into Lila's voice. “But the fact is, even if I'd said something, it wouldn't have done any good. Mother clearly wasn't in the mood to listen.”

Abigail's eyes narrowed. “Or maybe you
believed
her story.”

She saw from the sheepish look on Lila's face that she wasn't far from the mark, even as Lila protested, “Of course I don't think your mom would ever do anything like that on purpose. But maybe she …” Lila floundered, trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't incriminate Rosalie. “Well, she could have borrowed it and forgotten to put it back.”

“She wouldn't do that, not in a million years.” Abigail felt a prick of guilt for having thought the same thing herself, if only fleetingly. Coldly, she added, “Anyone with eyes in their head could see it was a setup.”

Lila looked aghast. “Are you suggesting that Mother
lied
to the police?”

“I wouldn't know,” Abigail replied in the same coldly derisive tone. “Why don't you ask
her?
”

Now it was Lila's turn to grow indignant. “You're out of your mind. That's insane!”

“Then I guess it all boils down to who you're going to believe. The woman who practically raised you, or the one who calls herself your mother.”

Abigail was aware that she'd crossed a line even before she watched the color rise in Lila's cheeks, saw her eyes flash and her chin tip up in a haughty pose worthy of her mother, but she was too angry to care. She slammed the lid down on her suitcase. When she looked up, Lila was gone. She'd left without even saying good-bye.

Ames Meriwhether was another one. She heard him come back from his ride while she and her mother were loading the car, but any hope that he would come to their rescue was soon crushed. He never even showed his face. Abigail lingered a few minutes longer, praying he would intervene … that Vaughn would show up … but in the end there was no one to see them off when they finally rolled down the driveway of 337½ Vermeer Road. Abigail thought she saw a flicker of movement behind the window of the upstairs bedroom that was Lila's, but it could have been merely a reflection playing against the glass.