Chapter 9
Four hours later Libby was in the store kitchen forming the crab cakes for Nigel’s party and mentally going over her to-do list when Tiffany walked through the door. Libby took one look at Tiffany’s face and told Amber to take over.
“I’m making you a chicken salad sandwich,” she told Tiffany.
Tiffany put her hand to her throat. “I can’t eat.”
“Oh, yes, you can.”
And while Tiffany watched, Libby took two pieces of peasant bread, spread them with honey mustard, and then put on a layer of chicken salad, which was composed of poached chicken, homemade mayonnaise, chopped walnuts, and halved green grapes. Then she wrapped the sandwich up and grabbed a bottle of water. At least Tiffany wasn’t drunk, she thought. Or not so she could notice.
“We’re going to the pond.”
“You’re busy.”
“I can use a fifteen-minute break. My back is killing me. Anyway”—Libby gestured to Googie, who’d just come in the door in answer to her call—“I have three people working. It’ll be fine.”
“If you say so,” Tiffany said, repeating the tag line of one of their old jokes.
“I do.”
The pond was officially called the Spenser Durant Swan Pond, and Libby and Tiffany had been going there since they were in junior high. Libby watched Tiffany out of the corner of her eye as the two women walked down the street. She looked as if she was fighting back tears. But she didn’t say anything, and Libby managed to contain herself until they got to the pond.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded once they reached it. “Don’t you check your messages?”
“I was at a motel near Wyckoff. I just needed to think.”
“Well, next time you do that, think to call me first.”
“Sorry.” Tiffany twisted the gold chain around her neck. “I’ve always liked it here,” she said as she watched the swans gliding on the water. “Especially when the lilacs are blooming.”
“It is nice,” Libby agreed.
Libby sat down on a bench, and Tiffany did the same. For a moment all of Tiffany’s attention was taken up watching a little boy and his mother throwing bread crusts to the swans.
“Three kids wouldn’t be bad to have,” Tiffany said as the boy and his mother left.
“It’s not too late.” Libby unwrapped the sandwich. “You have to eat something.”
“I’ll eat half if you eat half.”
Libby groaned.
“You’re killing me. I had half a turkey sandwich a couple of hours ago.”
“That’s the deal,” Tiffany said. “Take it or leave it.”
Libby unwrapped the sandwich, handed half to Tiffany, and bit into her half. “There. Happy?”
“Yes.” Tiffany took a bite. “I wish I could cook like you.”
“And I wish I could do hair like you.”
“Well. Not today,” Tiffany gestured to her head.
Libby smiled and handed her the water bottle. “I still remember the first thing I cooked by myself. It was some kind of liver and eggplant pate.”
Tiffany made a face.
“It looked so disgusting I threw it in the garbage without even tasting it,” Libby reminisced.
“I went to an AA meeting last night,” Tiffany said.
Libby reached over and squeezed her hand. “That’s good.”
“Remember when Orion broke off your engagement?”
Libby nodded. She didn’t think she’d ever forget.
“And you couldn’t get out of bed for a week.”
“I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach.”
“And you were too embarrassed to leave the house.”
“And you practically dressed me and made me go out to dinner with you.”
“Well, before Lionel . . . you know . . . died.” Tiffany swallowed. “He told me he was getting married.”
“That’s terrible.”
Libby hugged Tiffany.
“He said it was just this PR thing, but I didn’t believe him. I told him . . . well . . . I told him awful things. I feel so horrible.” Tiffany burst into tears. “Those were the last words I ever said to him.”
“Ssssh.” Libby stroked Tiffany’s hair.
“And now I can’t even think of anything else,” Tiffany gasped. “I blew off my appointments. Even old Mrs. Randall.”
“She’ll manage,” Libby said as she rocked Tiffany back and forth.
Finally Tiffany quieted down.
“So,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Not to change the subject or anything, but what did Orion have to say?”
“He’s separating from Sukie.”
Tiffany patted Libby’s hand.
“Be careful.”
“I intend to be.” Libby moved her neck one way and then another, working out a kink in it. “He gave me some glass beads that he made.”
“What is a glass bead?”
“It’s like a large marble.”
Tiffany shifted around in her seat. “Personally I think you deserve a diamond ring.”
“I like these better because he made them.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “You really are hopeless.” Then she turned her attention back to the pond. “What happened to the black swan?” she asked Libby.
“He died. Which reminds me.” Libby consulted her watch. “I was supposed to be down at the police station ten minutes ago.”