Chapter 18
Dear Sophie,
I am planning a service for my grandfather. Everyone in the family wants it done differently. Memorial service or funeral or both? A wake or reception afterward? There are too many options! What is one supposed to do?
Devoted Granddaughter in Wake Forest, North Carolina
Dear Devoted Granddaughter,
Families are spread apart these days, and not everyone can be present immediately after the death. People are choosing to do what works best for them, from lavish receptions to private services and interment. Some memorial services are put off for six months to a year, depending on when the family members can come.
Sophie
The woman nailed me with a stern stare. “I’d like to see your badges, please.”
Nina screeched, “We don’t have any badges!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I turned and shot her a look of disbelief.
The woman said, “I thought as much.” She pulled her door closed and drove away.
“I cannot believe you said that.”
“It’s not like we could lie about it. What was I supposed to do? Tell her that by total coincidence we both left our badges at home? Badges!” Nina sputtered. “Who does she think she is?”
“Well, that was a big bomb,” I said.
“We should ask Bernie who she is,” said Nina. “He knows everyone.”
“Sophie! Nina!” Bobbie Sue ran along the sidewalk toward us. In a hushed voice she hissed, “Who was that woman?”
Just as I feared. “You don’t recognize her?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember someone like her. I looked through the guestbook, but I didn’t find any names I didn’t recognize.” Her gaze moved back and forth between Nina and me. Her mouth tightened. “Was he . . . were they?”
“We don’t know,” I said quickly. I wondered if we should be the ones to break the news that he had spent his last night on earth with that gorgeous woman instead of his wife. It seemed too hurtful. How would Bobbie Sue feel if she knew he had skipped her party and their daughter’s performance to be with this other woman whom no one knew?
Bobbie Sue’s brows rose. “What did she say to you?”
“She wanted to see our badges! In all the years we’ve been doing this, I can’t remember anyone else asking that,” Nina whined.
“Why did you want to talk with her?” asked Bobbie Sue.
“Because she—”
Nina broke off quickly when I kicked her with the side of my foot. It wasn’t hard, just enough to get her attention.
“Ow! Sophie!” she protested.
“Because she was seen with Tate,” I said.
Bobbie Sue’s eyebrows shot up. “I see. Doing what?”
Someone called Bobbie Sue’s name. “I’m so tired,” she said. “I can’t think clearly. Thank heaven I hired a caterer. What a horrible day. The only bright side is that I can’t bury Tate yet, so we can skip the graveyard part. I hope you’re coming to the house.”
She looked defeated. The woman who had been micromanaging everything had been drained.
“If you find out who she is, would you let me know?”
I nodded, unsure whether I would want to tell her. If Tate had been having an affair, would Bobbie Sue feel better or worse? In the end, I decided it wasn’t my decision to make.
Bobbie Sue hurried off to a black limousine that waited for her.
“We should probably go over to her house to be helpful,” said Nina.
“You just want to nose around and eavesdrop.”
“Well, it’s not like Bernie can go.”
Nina had a point. I looked around for Mars, but everyone had cleared out. “Okay. Who knows what kind of information we might pick up.”
* * *
Bobbie Sue’s house hummed with people. They had spilled out onto the small front lawn, where they stood around in small groups, talking quietly. Inside wasn’t any better. People clustered everywhere. A young woman with a tray of tiny tea sandwiches stopped in front of us. “There’s a buffet in the dining room. Deviled ham sandwich?”
Nina picked one up and took a napkin. “Thank you. Where would I find drinks?”
“There’s iced tea, water, white wine, and coffee in the dining room.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But rumor has it that Mr. Bodoin’s brother is serving harder stuff in the family room.”
“Thank you, darlin’!” Nina abandoned me in search of the harder stuff, whatever that was. Probably bourbon or Scotch. I moseyed through the crowd and picked up a glass of iced tea in the dining room, trying to listen to the conversations going on around me.
I studied the room while I listened. Butter-yellow walls matched the background color of upholstered chairs around the table. The fabric was a blue toile print that looked mostly Grecian to me. The drapes matched the blue of the toile precisely. A collection of blue and white china ginger jars and urns decorated a long Hepplewhite-style sideboard. A butter-yellow tablecloth covered the table. Blue and white china vases ran down the middle, overflowing with yellow lilies, red roses, and purple gladioli. A sparkling chandelier added soft lighting.
Three women discussed the merits of the ham biscuits at various eateries in Old Town. Next to them, two gentlemen helped themselves to cheesy potato casserole, sausage and grits casserole, and fried chicken. They spoke quietly. I had to strain to hear them over the women, who hadn’t budged from the platter of ham biscuits.
“I just don’t see it,” said the balding one with a pronounced Southern accent. “I know Bernie. He’s not the sort of fellow who would do something like that. Besides, what was in it for him? He didn’t stand to gain anything. No, I think they’ve got the wrong man.”
The other one, who wore wire-rimmed glasses, replied, “I totally agree that Bernie is a nice guy. I have no beef with him. But there’s more to life than money. Did it occur to you that Bernie did have something to gain through Tate’s death?”
His gaze finally left the food and swung straight over to Bobbie Sue, who was fully visible chatting with someone in the foyer.
His friend followed his gaze. “Oh! You don’t say? I never imagined that, not even for a moment. Really? Bernie and Bobbie Sue?”
“Well, that’s what they’re saying. She’s a looker, for sure. Wouldn’t surprise me if she conned him into it and will claim there was nothing between them. Women have their ways of manipulating men.”
I was horrified. Bernie didn’t date much, that was certain. But a married woman? I didn’t think so. His mother had replaced husbands more often than most people changed cars. Having suffered the repercussions of his mother’s merry di-vorcée behavior, I didn’t think he would engage in an affair with a married woman. Then again, anything could happen in life. Sometimes we revised our views. Had Bobbie Sue been the reason Bernie didn’t date much?
Natasha strode toward me. Her black dress had little cap sleeves and clung to her figure. What I noticed most, though, was a chunky gold necklace, medium brown shoes, and matching purse. As usual, she made me feel shabby even though I’d thought my V-necked little black dress and black shoes looked quite fine at home when I had dressed.
“What a turnout,” she said, picking up a glass of white wine. “But I don’t see that woman.”
“I haven’t seen her, either.”
“I wanted to thank you and Nina for your advice the other day. I have decided to put my energy into something new and modern. Something no one else with a big brand has launched yet. I’m starting a line of baked goods with CBD in them.”
I was so stunned that I took a step back to steady myself. “CBD, like pot only it’s from hemp?”
“Isn’t that brilliant? It’s the next big thing, and I will be the first to be on top of it.”
“Aren’t there CBD products out there already?” I asked.
“Not in high-concept cookies and cakes. Imagine eating a scone with CBD in it. Isn’t that perfect? I will elevate CBD to tea-party-worthy delicacies.”
I was speechless.
But Natasha wasn’t. She smiled broadly. “And I met someone. I’m telling you, my luck changed the moment I left that horrid diner!”
“A man?” I asked.
“The man. The most perfect man you have ever seen.”
I thought I might have heard that from her before.
“He makes Mars look like a country bumpkin.”
“How did you meet Mr. Perfect?”
“I can tell you’re saying that sarcastically, but you just wait until you meet him. He’s tall, built like a runner, with thick, lush, black hair that has just a tinge of gleaming silver along the sideburns. Oh, Sophie! He’s just dreamy. I was looking for a storefront for my business and he had one for rent and there was just an instant attraction. Did I tell you my brand name? What do you think of this? Natasha’s CBDelicious.” She pronounced it C B Deelicious. “I think I might use a bee in my branding. Wouldn’t that be adorable?”
“It would.” I was happy for her. She had been so dejected and in the blink of an eye, everything had turned around.
Natasha gazed at Bobbie Sue. “I can’t say I’m surprised about Bernie, though. I never did like him.”
That wasn’t news to me. Bernie didn’t buy into Natasha’s demands and wasn’t keen on her haughty manner. The dislike was mutual.
“I knew he would come to no good. I just hope he doesn’t drag Mars down with him.” Natasha eyed the food on the table. “Good thing I’m not hungry.” She gasped. “Oh . . . my . . . word! Do you see what I see?”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Jan Figueroa let her hair grow out gray. It’s ghastly. Excuse me, Sophie, I need to go drop a hint or two.”
“Natasha!” I protested. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Nonsense. She needs to know. She clearly has no idea how terrible it looks on her. If her friends don’t tell her, who will?” Natasha scooted off in her haste to offend Jan.
I left the dining room and wandered into the kitchen, where I found myself smack in the middle of an argument. I tried to edge out of the room, but Jo grabbed my hand.
“Tell them to stop,” she said with tears in her eyes.
My heart went out to her.
“Spencer would like to get away from all this and go for a run,” said Coach. “I told him that was fine.”
A flush had risen up Pierce’s face. “Lower your voice, please. I do not want to upset Bobbie Sue, nor do I want to argue in front of all these people. In case you have forgotten, I have not died, and I am still Spencer’s father.” He looked his son in the eyes. “No one wants to be here. I certainly don’t. But there are things in life that one must do and this is one of them. Tate was very good to you. The least you can do for him is stay here to show your respect. And if you can’t bring yourself to do that, then at least behave and be here for your mother and your sister, who are very much alive and need you right now.”
Well said, Pierce. I was glad it wasn’t up to me. Jo still held my hand. I smiled at her and said, “Now that that’s over, why don’t you show me Oinky?”
She wiped her face and walked slowly through the kitchen to the family room. I followed her but glanced back. Spencer had capitulated and listened to his father.
Unfortunately, Oinky was in the room where hard liquor was being served, which meant it was crowded with men and women wearing dark suits. Most held lowball glasses, though a few carried brandy snifters. The mood was somber, with most people speaking in hushed tones. It probably wasn’t the best place for Jo.
I was wrong. As soon as she entered the room, she became the center of attention. When I was her age, I would have grabbed Oinky and made a mad dash for the door. But Jo moved through the room like her mother would have, greeting each person by name. When she didn’t know someone, she would ask their name and invariably respond with a very mature, “I have heard my father mention you.” She was a little Bobbie Sue. She didn’t need me or Oinky to distract her.
A woman I didn’t know approached me. “Excuse me. Are you Sophie Winston?”
“Yes, I am.” What had I done now?
“Aaaaah,” she screeched. “They told me you would be here. Can I give you a hug?”
Before I could answer, she embraced me. When she let go, she said, “I never dreamed I would meet you. I tell everyone that you have the solutions to all of my problems. Why, when you wrote about hypoallergenic flowers, you changed my life. I planted roses and you wouldn’t believe how gorgeous they are. It transformed the front of my house. Everyone raves about them.”
She got my attention with you have the solutions to all my problems. Who was this woman? “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know your name.”
She shrieked again. “Oh my gosh, you’re so nice. I’m your biggest fan, Belinda Bodoin. I’m married to Tate’s younger brother. Tate was a middle child, you know. There were three boys. That must have been wild for their mom.”
I could see Natasha listening and sneaking up behind her.
“But they all grew up to be wonderful men, even though their parents struggled financially. Tate always cooked for us when we had family reunions—”
Natasha wedged beside me and interrupted. “Hi. I’m Natasha.”
Belinda nodded at her. “Nice to meet you. Tate was our anchor. Always the voice of reason. Such a calm and even-tempered man. We all loved him so much. I can’t imagine how Bobbie Sue and the children will manage without him. And I cannot believe that anyone would want to murder him. They tell me that you investigate murders. I hope you’re doing that for us. Whoever did this must be caught.”
“We’ll do our best,” said Natasha.
I turned and shot her my best look of disbelief.
“Do you need any help?” asked Belinda. “My husband and I live over in Maryland but it’s not that far away.”
Natasha brightly asked, “Do you read my column?”
Belinda blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
“Natasha.”
“Natasha who?”
Oh boy. We were headed for an encounter of the ugly kind.
“Belinda, would you please excuse us? I believe we’re needed in the kitchen. It was so lovely meeting you.”
I grasped Natasha’s bony arm and tugged her into the kitchen.
She sputtered, “I must find out where that woman lives. Do you suppose they don’t carry my column in the local paper there?”
“I’m sure that’s it.”
“I’ll have to get the name of her newspaper.” She started to return to the den, so I said, a little too loud, “Oh look! The mayor is here!”
Natasha did an immediate one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and disappeared in the crowd. I hadn’t seen the mayor, but while she searched for him, maybe she would forget about Belinda.
Through the window, I spied Spencer in the backyard, sitting on a bench, his head sagging forward. I stepped outside and skirted a few other people who gathered in small groups.
“May I?” I pointed to the bench.
Spencer glanced at me. “Yeah, sure.”
“I understand you’re a terrific runner.”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you thinking about college yet?”
“A little. I’d like to go to William and Mary. That’s where my dad went.”
Dad was a complicated word in his life. I wondered if he meant Tate or Pierce.
“I wish I had told him that,” he said. “I wish he had known how much he meant to me.”
Aha. Tate was the graduate of William & Mary. I spoke softly. “I’m sure he knew.”
Spencer swallowed hard. “I doubt it. We had a big blowout the day before he died.”
“Spencer!” called Bobbie Sue. She hurried toward us, deftly avoiding the people who tried to snag her for a chat. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
He looked up at his mother with a you have to be kidding me expression.
“It will be over soon. In an hour or so, most of these people will go home and we’ll get back to normal.”
Spencer stared at his mother. “Nothing will ever be normal again.”