“Oh!”
“Oh!”
Susie Marsh’s startled reaction was genuine … mine, not so much. Still, I made a show of gasping and throwing up my hands.
As for Susie, she had spun about from leaning over an old-style briefcase that was open on the cot. Catching sight of me, she stared with eyes and mouth wide, the morning’s pink lipstick long since worn off. Then she quickly twisted about to shut the briefcase’s lid. When she turned back toward me again, both hands were pressed over her ample breasts as she gave a choked laugh.
“Oh, my goodness, Nina, you scared the heck out of me. I thought you’d gone out with the others.”
“You scared me, too,” I replied, somewhat truthfully. “I thought you were still asleep upstairs. I wasn’t going to leave you alone in the house, and I thought I’d pack up Len’s things so you didn’t have to do it yourself. But it looks like you beat me to it.”
Susie nodded and glanced around the parlor where Len’s belongings still were neatly strewn about.
“I—I was just getting started. I knew Len wouldn’t want anyone but me going through his things. I mean, he’d have been embarrassed to know someone else was packing his unmentionables.”
“Actually, that’s one of the innkeeper’s unofficial duties, gathering up whatever a guest leaves behind,” I told her. “I’d be glad to finish if you want to go back upstairs and lie down again.”
“Oh, heck no! I couldn’t stand another minute in that horrible room.”
Then, realizing what she’d said, she clarified, “No offense, Nina, it’s really quite lovely, but you know what I mean. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I had to do … something.”
At that, she slumped onto the corner of the cot and buried her face in her hands, body shaking with suppressed sobs. Suddenly feeling guilty for my earlier judgmental lapse, I promptly sat beside her and gave her a comforting pat on the back.
“I can’t guess how hard this is for you,” I told her, “but I understand needing to keep busy when something terrible shakes up your life.”
“You’re right,” she wailed through her fingers, “but it’s not just that. I’m having to do financial stuff that I don’t know anything about, just to make sure I don’t end up on the streets before the estate is settled. I called one of Len’s money managers a minute ago, and he treated me like I don’t know anything … which I guess I don’t!”
That last ended on another wail. Not that she’d sounded helpless on the phone from what I’d overheard, but then I hadn’t been privy to the full conversation.
“Why don’t you go ahead and finish packing,” I suggested, “and in the meantime I’ll bring you some homemade chicken salad since you missed lunch. And when you finish getting everything rounded up, I can help you carry it upstairs to your room if you like.”
Susie lifted her tear-stained face from her hands and managed a quavering smile. “Oh, Nina, that would be nice. Both the chicken salad and the help.”
I left her to resume packing and went back to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with the promised meal. As for the conversation I’d overheard, I dismissed it once I recalled something similar from when my ex–father-in-law had passed away. His body hadn’t even been cold before my then mother-in-law had hurried off to the bank and emptied their safe deposit box.
She’d explained later that the bank would have frozen even that joint asset upon learning of her husband’s death. That, in turn, would have meant she’d be unable to access their stashed cash and other items like their passports for some time. Especially with a pre-nup in place, Susie was probably simply being prudent in making sure she had access to sufficient funds while the lawyers and government got their ducks in a row.
With Susie temporarily settled, I retrieved my abandoned muffin and wine and finally headed outside. As the mosquitoes had already begun their assault, I bypassed the hanging swing near the front door. Instead, I barricaded myself inside the screened porch off my room, where I’d recently added a lighted ceiling fan to make the spot more conducive to evening use.
But that wasn’t the only upgrade I’d made. In a nod to Georgia tradition, I’d also repainted the ceilings of all the porches haint blue. The practice dated to the early nineteenth century, originating with the African slaves who believed the sky-blue color warded off unwelcome spirits from a home. These days, the superstition part of the practice had given way to simple Southern custom. I grimaced. Hopefully, it still would work on Len should the man decide to make a ghostly curtain call.
Mattie joined me, happily catching a few muffin crumbs tossed her way before settling at my feet. Meanwhile, I finished my wine and made progress on a paperback mystery I’d left out there for downtime moments like this.
So absorbed in my book was I that I didn’t realize darkness had fallen. In fact, I didn’t look up until the sound of a drunken chorus drifted to me from the street. With Mattie barking an accompaniment, I set down my novel and hurried out the screened door to the main porch. Then, grinning and gesturing Mattie to follow, I started down the dimly lit front walk toward the sidewalk.
The returning troupe was singing what sounded like sea chanties, based on a few bellowed yars and heigh-hos. My grin broadened. While not exactly the repertoire I’d have expected from a Shakespeare troupe, doubtless this was the closest they could come, given a likely limited Elizabethan songbook. The pirate tune ended as they reached the front gate, the final notes followed by laughter and a few drunken cheers.
“Let’s get inside,” I told them, opening the gate and waving the players in the direction of the front door. “We don’t want the neighbors complaining, and I’m sure Harry will want to get an early start tomorrow with rehearsals. Besides”—I paused and slapped at my arms—“another couple of minutes and we’ll all get bled dry by mosquitoes.”
“Not me,” Marvin chortled, loud enough to be heard all the way down at Peaches and Java. “Heck, I’ve got enough booze in me to drop any mosquito that tries to bite me in its tracks.”
“Me, too!” Radney bellowed. He threw his beefy arms around Bill and Tessa in what was more a headlock than a hug, though from the pair’s sloppy grins they apparently were fine with his manhandling.
Chris trailed behind them, carrying what appeared to be the remains of a large, whipped cream–covered ice cream sundae. I smiled, knowing this was the closest the youth could get to overindulgence, as he wasn’t old enough to drink. Though if he managed to finished the whole thing, the sugar high would likely rival the buzz the adults in the group were feeling.
Harry brought up the rear, along with Mattie. I held the door open for them both. Then, while the rest of the troupe dispersed to their rooms, I turned to the actor.
“Looks like everyone had a good time. Do you think they’ll be up to going through with the play?”
He nodded. “We had a few nice toasts to Len, then gossiped about him and Susie a while before eating the best that Cymbeline has to offer … not counting Daniel and Gemma’s breakfasts, of course. I’m pretty sure everyone is going to regret it in the morning, but they’re not feeling any pain right now.”
“What about you?” I asked, since it appeared to me that he’d not indulged like the rest of them.
He raised a brow. “You mean pain? Don’t worry, Nina, I’m fine. Now, do you mind rustling up a big pot of boiling water? I’m going to make everyone drink a cup of rooibos before they go to sleep. Detox, you know.”
I went to the kitchen and put on my largest kettle, then pulled down a stack of cups and saucers that I left there on the counter. The rest was on Harry, I thought with a grin. I’d tried his rooibos tea last time he stayed at the B&B and had not been a fan. My guess was his troupe wouldn’t be either.
Leaving the kitchen, I made a stop by the parlor. I found the room empty when I flipped on the overhead light, though Len’s luggage sat neatly in one corner. I’d strip the cot and store it away in the morning, I told myself. But recalling my promise to Susie, I hauled the luggage upstairs.
As I could hear the unmistakable sound of snoring from within—apparently, she’d finally taken one of her pills—I left the suitcases outside her door and then headed back downstairs to my room. It was barely nine, but given the exhausting day I was ready to make an early night of it. Besides, I’d likely need to brew double the usual amount of coffee come morning if there was to be any hope of keeping the troupe awake for that day’s rehearsals.
I checked my phone once I got to my room and saw that the good reverend had returned my earlier call. His voice message indicated that I should stop by the church office any time after nine AM and ask Sister Malthea to track him down. Perfect. And then, to quote Radney, it was lights out the minute my head hit the pillow.