“So now what?” asked Miles as they got into the car.
“It seems as if there’s something I’m forgetting.” Myrtle pursed her lips and sat quietly in deep thought. “No. No, I can’t remember it. I suppose we could forage our way through the jungle outside my house and watch our soap opera and have a snack or something.”
“As long as it isn’t an Asian-inspired snack.” Miles’s lips twisted in a smile.
“Don’t be silly,” said Myrtle crossly.
“What did you think about our conversation with Felix?” He followed Myrtle down her walkway and into the house.
Myrtle said, “I think there’s more going on with him than he’s letting on. He had such a pat answer for everything. Very smooth.” She walked into the kitchen and looked in her refrigerator for inspiration.
“Naturally. He’s a politician. He’s very practiced at answering questions and evading inconvenient truths. He seemed to have it in for Bonnie, if you ask me. He really threw her under the bus,” said Miles, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Myrtle snapped her fingers. “That’s it. What I’m trying to remember. Book club.”
Miles sighed. “That’s the last thing on my mind. When is it ... tomorrow? You and I haven’t gone for a while. I don’t even know what this month’s selection was and I sure don’t think I can read a book before tomorrow unless it’s a very special book.”
“As a matter of fact, it is a very special book. Special because Bonnie Pendergrass picked it out.”
“What?” asked Miles. “Bonnie’s not in our book club.”
“Clearly you haven’t been reading your emails,” said Myrtle.
“I’ve only avoided the book club ones,” said Miles.
“Bonnie is our newest member. As newest member, she got to pick the next month’s selection when she joined the club.”
Miles sighed. “Dare I ask what her pick for the month was?”
Myrtle peered at her cell phone to re-read the email. “It appears to be The Heart Knows All.”
Miles rubbed his temples as if his head hurt. “Myrtle, I don’t think I could possibly read that book today. I only read books in one day if I really enjoy them.”
“Now, now. You and I have become book snobs, Miles. We should open our minds to expanding our reading and opening our minds to new experiences,” said Myrtle. She pulled out peanut butter, jelly, and bread and shoved them at Miles.
Miles stared glumly at the peanut butter. “Okay, clearly the real Myrtle Clover has been abducted by aliens. You’re the one who said that you were avoiding book club until they started focusing on literary fiction.”
“Well, maybe I want to make an exception under the circumstances. I know that our book club is full of people who wax poetic over rubbish. But if you can’t beat them, join them. Here, how about we skim the book together? I’ll buy it on my phone and I’ll skim it really quickly and pull out the salient points.”
Myrtle browsed on her phone for the book while Miles morosely spread peanut butter on a slice of bread that looked as if it had seen fresher days. “I thought the purpose of the cooking class was to improve our culinary offerings for guests,” he muttered.
“Not after a mere two days of class,” said Myrtle. “Don’t be so unreasonable, Miles. Besides, peanut butter is a classic.”
“I think you need to make a trip to the grocery store,” said Miles. He peered into the jelly jar. “I’m not even sure there’s enough jelly to spread over the bread.”
Myrtle grinned at him. “Thanks for offering to take me.”
“Wait ... what? I didn’t.”
“Who else will take me? Red is too busy with the case to even buy Dusty a new mower. My yard is fast becoming the Jungles of Borneo and you think he can drive me to the store?”
“Elaine drives you sometimes,” said Miles, looking cranky.
“And I’m sure she would if she weren’t so involved with her volunteering at the art class. She’s apparently some sort of mentor to a talented kid.” Myrtle paused. “Actually, that gives me an idea. Although I won’t have time to act on it until after I get this book read. And maybe we can go to the store after we do our skimming. I’ve got a list ready to go.”
“Great,” said Miles flatly. “That should be around midnight. I don’t see us finishing skimming a book before then.”
“Oh ye of little faith. Besides, you should be happy that we’re spending time reading, going to the store, and attending book club. You’re the one who’s so concerned about being endangered. I can’t think of a safer place than my house, the grocery store, or book club.” Myrtle pulled up the book, enlarged the print, and spent a few minutes in silence. “Well, it starts off with a bang. Chrissie’s husband of twenty years is gone one morning, leaving the resentful Chrissie with no job and three children under the age of five. Lots of diaper changing going on.”
Miles groaned.
Myrtle started skimming the book and noting plot points as she went to Miles. Fortunately, the book wasn’t particularly heavy on plot. What’s more, it had a reader’s guide at the back of the book. Myrtle came up with some pertinent points as she went; in particular, why Chrissie would choose the insipid Randolph over the fun-loving Pierre.
“And Miles, you could start a discussion about how our approach to life choices changes as we age.”
“Wonderful,” said Miles morosely. “Are you sure that has something to do with the book?”
“It’s tangentially important. And you know how book club is. They love to veer off the subject on little tangents.”
Miles said, “I think of them as rabbit holes. It happens to an annoying degree.”
“Anything you broach will seem reflective and astute,” said Myrtle, waving a hand dismissively.
Miles looked surprised. “Why thank you, Myrtle.”
“That’s because those old biddies think that everything that comes out of your mouth is golden. You know what a hot commodity you are in Bradley. What with driving and everything.”
Miles’s lips tightened together in a thin line.
Once Myrtle and Miles returned from the grocery store, Miles helped her unload her groceries and then quickly left before Myrtle found something else for him to do.
“See you tomorrow for class!” said Myrtle.
Miles looked as if the thought of class gave him indigestion.
Myrtle picked up the phone. She’d told Red that she’d check in on Elaine anyway. And now she had a great idea. “Elaine? Hi there. How are you and how is my darling grandchild?”
Elaine laughed. “A little less darling than usual today, but cute as always. How are things going?”
“Oh, you know—always busy around here. Actually, I had a question for you. The last time I saw Red, he mentioned that you were mentoring an art student,” said Myrtle.
Elaine said, “I am! Myrtle, Sam Sinclair is wonderful. Really gifted. But he has had a very tough upbringing and I don’t think his family understands art or him, and they don’t encourage him at all. The high school class has a participation fee because of all the supplies that they need, but he couldn’t afford to pay it. Sam washed Red’s and my car and did a few odd chores for the money. Did you need him to mow your lawn for you?”
Myrtle sighed. “It sounds like heaven, but Dusty’s lawnmower is broken. You must not have been able to catch up with Red much to hear about the saga. I’d hire another yard man to come out, but I’d feel as if I were letting Dusty down. And letting Red off the hook! At least this way my yard serves as a directly-across-the-street reminder for Red. Which brings me to the point of my call.”
“You need his number? There’s some other chore he can do for you?” asked Elaine.
“Indeed. There is some other chore,” said Myrtle.
Cooking class the next day was a bit of a non-event, as far as Myrtle was concerned. She and Miles had arrived slightly late for class and Louvenia hadn’t particularly wanted to repeat what they’d missed. She’d learned all about cooking techniques and shortcuts, but she and Miles were able to ferret out no information from any of the fellow students. Louvenia had been a bit of a nuisance and paired Myrtle and Miles together again so that Myrtle had no chance to ask anyone else questions. Hattie was absent once again, although Louvenia said that Hattie had sworn to ‘bravely make it’ to the next class. Bonnie was rather withdrawn. The only time she brightened was when Myrtle found a couple of seconds to tell her that she was looking forward to discussing her selection at book club later that afternoon.
On the upside, Louvenia had finally done her ‘special event’ class and Myrtle now had a menu for her dinner party. After finishing the dish, which Miles had annoyingly mostly prepared, Myrtle cleared her throat and said, “By the way, I wanted to let everyone know that I’ll be hosting a dinner party and coffee at a date to be announced!”
Everyone blinked at her and Louvenia’s eyes were cloudy with concern.
Myrtle frowned. “Nothing to be concerned about. It’s merely a way to practice what I’ve learned.”
“It sounds delightful,” said Louvenia in a falsely cheerful voice. “Do keep us appraised as to the time and date of the event.” She hurriedly moved on to cover what the next class would be covering.
Miles was gloomy as they walked out of the building after class. “I’m in danger and you’re inviting a bunch of murder suspects to a dinner party I’m attending?”
“You know it’ll be a great way to investigate. I can really add some pizazz to my next article for Sloan. It’ll be more of a ‘special report’ on progress in the case. But never mind that. Are you ready for book club?”
“Am I ever ready for book club?” asked Miles as he drove away.
“You remember the point that you’re making for the discussion?”
“Of course. I pretend that this is a worthwhile book with worthwhile areas to discuss. I mention that the choices we make as we age may change.” Miles shrugged.
“I’m hoping we can catch Bonnie at the beginning or end of the meeting and really get a chance to talk to her,” said Myrtle. “She’s simply not easy to catch up with at cooking class.”
“I get the impression she’s not trying to make friends,” said Miles. “Or maybe she doesn’t like us.”
Myrtle glared at him. “Of course she likes us, Miles. Everyone does. She’s merely shaken by what happened in that classroom. The fact that someone was murdered makes her jumpy. She seems nervous and she scrambles away during breaks and at the end of the class. It’s very frustrating. With any luck, she’ll be more relaxed at book club.”
The rest of the drive was consumed by talk of their soap opera and what the characters were up to. Miles slowed the car down as he approached Myrtle’s driveway. “Who is that?”
“Oh! I completely forgot. What time is it? Okay, well, at least I’m not late,” said Myrtle.
Miles said, “So you know who this is?”
There was a young man standing in Myrtle’s jungle of a front yard. He was dressed in a black shirt and black pants and probably had black shoes on, although they couldn’t see because of the height of the grass. He had several earrings in a variety of places and some visible tattoos.
“Naturally. This is Sam. He’s an artist that Elaine is mentoring. I have a project for him.”
“I can’t wait to find out what that is,” murmured Miles. “Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of hours for book club, then.”
He drove away as Myrtle reached out her hand in greeting to the young artist. “Sam? Good to meet you.”
He shook her hand and said a little shyly, “Good to meet you too, Mrs. Clover.”
“As you know, I’ve asked you here because I wanted to commission a work. You got the photo I emailed you?”
Sam nodded.
“Good. And you brought some props and other things to work with?” asked Myrtle.
“They’re in my car,” said Sam, gesturing to a small, very old sedan nearby.
“That’s great. But before I commission this project, I need you to understand something about it—it won’t last long. It’s the kind of artwork that will be created for brief, maximum impact and then will likely be removed.” She peered at the young man with concern.
But Sam was nodding his head calmly. “Impermanence. I’ve been learning in school that there are many artists experimenting with impermanent art.”
“Really?” Myrtle blinked.
“It’s supposed to be a part of life and can represent its painful transitions. Besides, I’ll take lots of pictures of it when it’s done.” He grinned at Myrtle.
“Perfect! All right, here’s what I want you to do.”
Myrtle went in to eat and watch Tomorrow’s Promise before book club. She could hear Sam working outside from time to time and smiled to herself. Occasionally, he knocked on the door and asked her if she had particular items. She would hand them to him and then go back to watching her show.
She realized she had evidence of cooking school smattered on her blouse and changed a few minutes before Miles was due to pick her up. When she walked back out to her living room and heard voices outside, she smiled again and peered out the window.
Her neighbor, Erma Sherman’s, strident voice was raised and she was gesturing wildly with her hands. Miles, staring out his car window, looked at her yard in wonderment.