Epilogue
“Really, Mike? When do you think I’d have time to have an affair with Adam Bryant?” Annie shot at him as she got ready to leave for the Saturday crop.
“I’m not saying you’re having an affair. I’m just saying that it was a very tender moment between you and I felt like an outsider in your life,” Mike said.
“Mike, I didn’t know if I was going to live or die,” she said calmly. “I didn’t know if Jon was dead or alive. Or Elsie for that matter. I have no idea what I was feeling or thinking. But believe me, if I had seen you first, I would have been in your arms. Hell, if I had seen Steve first, he’d have been the one.”
His eyes caught hers. Something was exchanged. A moment of truth. There was no need for talking at that moment. A few more beats of silence.
“I’ve noticed the way he looks at you, sometimes. Did you think I didn’t notice?” Mike said, as if it hurt him to speak.
Annie felt like the breath was knocked out of her. She held her arms open and sort of shrugged. “I’m really not paying much attention to what Bryant does or how he looks at me. Mike, I love you. We are married. I’m not going anywhere.”
Mike shifted his weight a bit. “You’d think I’d be used to other men looking at you.”
“Hey, it goes both ways. I used to see other women checking you out all the time when we lived in Bethesda. Remember that Louise?” she teased him.
He smiled. “Yep.”
She slid into the open space between his arm and shoulder, as he lifted his arm. He wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, Annie, I love you so much,” he said with his voice cracking.
“I know that,” she said, blinking back a tear. “And I love you, too.”
“Hey, it’s getting late. Don’t you have a crop tonight?” he said, looking at the clock.
“I do, but I’m not going unless we are okay, Mike,” she answered, looking into his deep brown eyes.
“Of course we are,” he said. “Now, you better get going and rechristen the basement, now that you all are allowed back in there.”
“Thanks, Mike,” she said.
The boys were already in bed. She grabbed her roller-bag and headed for Sheila’s. Thank goodness the Rogerses were back in their home. What would the croppers do without their basement every Saturday? Annie didn’t want to think about it.
As she entered the room, she drew back a moment and took the scene in. Vera was hovering over DeeAnn, who was holding green lacey doilies. “You can paint these things any color you want,” she told her. “I’m just loving the doilies.”
“We saw them used every which way on the cruise. I saw a lovely border made with them. I’ve seen people using them for negative space. And oh, I loved the oversized one on pages where people used them as a background. Really creative,” Sheila said.
Paige and Vera were already settled in and at work on their scrapbooks.
“Look who finally made it,” Sheila said.
“What’s that?” Annie said, noticing an old cardboard box on the floor.
“Those are Elsie’s photos. We’re doing a scrapbook for her. If you want to help, that would be great,” Sheila said.
Annie nodded, thinking about all the times she’d helped put together scrapbooks for people who were killed. Too many. But she liked the idea of working on something together, something that had meaning, something that might provide some comfort to a traumatized woman.
Annie selected a few photos from Elsie’s high school years, and next she chose a lovely lilac-colored paper. She started playing around with placement, thinking about embellishments.
“How is Jon?” Sheila asked.
“He’s doing well,” Vera said. “Mama is taking real good care of him.” She placed her scissors on the table and held up her page, grimacing. There was something about it she didn’t like.
Annie got up, reached into the fridge for a beer, opened it, and took a swig.
“How are thing with Mike?” Vera asked.
“Good,” Annie said. “I think I finally have him convinced I don’t have the hots for Bryant.”
“God, Annie, are you blind? We all have the hots for him!” DeeAnn laughed.
Annie didn’t crack a smile, even as the others laughed and made leering noises.
“That is one hunk of a man. Here, darlin’, have some chocolate peanut butter cookies. Good for you,” said DeeAnn, and she slid the plate over to Annie as she sat back down at the table. “I’m so tired of baking right now I could scream.”
“I bet you are,” Vera said, not looking up from her work.
“Did the police ever find out who placed the postcard in your box?” DeeAnn asked Sheila.
“Yes,” Sheila said. “Sharon came to town about the same time we were leaving. She was registered at the B and B. Nobody saw her do it, but Bryant says it’s safe to assume.”
“When do you leave for Minnesota?” Annie asked DeeAnn.
“Day after tomorrow. I’m not sure this is going to be a pleasant visit. But I’d like to see my mom—even if she doesn’t know who I am,” DeeAnn said. Her mom was riddled with Alzheimer’s.
“It will do you good,” Sheila said, sitting down at the table and opening her laptop. Then she looked up. “Well, here we are, cropping on a Saturday night, as if we don’t have anything else to do.”
Annie took another drink of beer.
Sheila’s face said it all. She was glad to be home, off the cruise, away from dead bodies, and back in her own surroundings.
“I know I won’t be sailing the high seas anytime soon,” Paige said. “But it sure was nice spending time with Randy.”
“I’d be perfectly fine to never step foot on another cruise,” Vera said. “I did hear that Ahoy’s chief of security has been fired. Imagine that. Firing a vampire.”
The group laughed.
“Yes, I’ve gotten so many apologies from Grace Irons,” Sheila said. “This is the first time they hired Ahoy Security. She was mortified. So was the cruise line. I know it’s kind of funny, but it turns out that the chief has something called Renfield’s syndrome, which is a kind of mental illness. He can get help for it.”
“I imagine,” said Annie, sitting down at her spot at the table. Her spot—she loved the familiarity. She picked up a postcard from Hannah, who had been in New York City a few days now.
Dear Annie,
This place is . . . magic.
Hope you are well,
Hannah
Annie grinned.
“How is she?” Vera said, looking over her shoulder.
“She’s smitten, I’d say,” Annie said. “I have to wonder if she will come back and marry like she’s supposed to.”
“Time will tell,” DeeAnn said.
Just then, Annie heard the sliding glass door open. Who could it be? All of the croppers were here: Vera, Paige, DeeAnn, Sheila, and herself. Sometimes Beatrice stopped by, but she was certainly home with Jon as he was recuperating.
Annie started to look over her shoulder, but Vera glanced up first and her mouth dropped open. Paige dropped her scissors. DeeAnn’s fork hit her plate with a clank. When Annie finally turned around, she glimpsed why her friends had been rendered senseless.
Their old friend Cookie Crandall stood there.
“Any room for me at the table?”