Chapter 53

Sarah was there the day Baby Owen moved out of Alma Gordon’s apartment. She remembered the awful day last summer when he went with Chantrelle to Los Angeles. Chantrelle was here today, too, standing to the side and looking lost. Harold and Sylvia and Alma Gordon and Baby Owen all left together, the trunk of Harold’s car stuffed with bags. Mrs. Gordon would stay with Sylvia and Harold for a while, for as long as it took, as Sylvia said. Mr. Glenn planned a visit the very next day in case Alma forgot something.

Everyone had smiles. Even Chantrelle smiled, though Sarah saw her lip tremble. Mrs. Gordon got out of the car and came back to her and took her hands and whispered in her ear.

The remaining Fog Ladies and Chantrelle and Mr. Glenn stood together on the sidewalk and waved. As soon as the car was out of sight, Chantrelle mumbled good-bye and left.

Sarah rode the elevator up, saying good-bye to Mr. Glenn at the second floor. She’d forgotten to push the third floor and ended up at the top with Frances Noonan and Harriet Flynn.

“Come in at least for some scones,” Mrs. Noonan said.

Sarah laughed and happily followed her.

“What’s all this?” Sarah asked. Mrs. Noonan’s kitchen table was strewn with pill bottles.

“Oh, my, this is embarrassing,” said Mrs. Noonan.

Sarah couldn’t read the labels on the bottles. Was one of these medications embarrassing? Some ailment Mrs. Noonan didn’t want her to know about? That didn’t seem like her.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been practicing.”

“What?” Sarah said.

“Watch.” Mrs. Noonan picked up a bottle, held it firmly in her left hand and gripped the lid with her right. Her fingers were bent at the tips from arthritis, making it difficult to turn the cap.

“Oh, here, let me.” Sarah reached out her hand to help.

“No!” Mrs. Noonan yanked the bottle away.

Mrs. Noonan’s cat flew out from under the table. Sarah dropped her hand.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to shout. But I’ve been practicing and practicing, and I’ve pretty much got it.” She pushed and pinched the bottle lid and twisted her right hand.

Mrs. Noonan’s fingers strained, but Sarah kept her hands at her side. The lid popped off and a few pills flew out. The cat meowed and ran back under the table.

“There. See? I can do it myself. Bill used to do this for me. I’ve struggled with these lids for years. Now I’ve got it down.”

Sarah picked a pill from between the scones and held it out for Mrs. Noonan to put back.

“My hands are really getting strong. It was watching Baby Owen that gave me the idea. He doesn’t know how to do anything, but that doesn’t stop him trying. He practices. And practices. And then he can make a block tower taller than he is. Or put the square block in the square hole and the triangle in the triangle. Well, now I can open my own pill bottles.”

Mrs. Noonan nodded with satisfaction. She looked so triumphant. Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her the pharmacist would be happy to give her medication bottles without the child-proof caps.

“What an accomplishment.” Sarah took a scone. “They call that ‘growth mindset,’ thinking you can do anything, within reason, as long as you put in the time and try hard enough.”

“Growth mindset. That’s me. Have some blueberry preserves.” Mrs. Noonan set a jar on the table, brushing her medication to one side. “I made them myself.”

“Oh, this looks yummy. Preserves. Pill bottles. Is there anything you can’t manage?”

“Well, I confine myself to baking and canning. And I do like casseroles. And I went through a soup phase, and I make a pretty mean meatloaf.”

“I guess that’s a ‘no.’” Of all those talents, Sarah guessed Mrs. Noonan was most proud of her pill bottle opening skills.

Sarah headed back down to her apartment with a plate of scones. Andy was stretched out on her couch, legs crossed and looking comfortable. She set the scones in his lap.

“New parents,” he said. “How exciting for Harold and Sylvia to be new parents.”

Sarah cocked her head. He’d never said anything like this before.

“I hope they don’t end up dead like all these other couples you’ve been telling me about. Parenthood must be hard. I’m glad I’m not a parent.”

Oh, well, Sarah thought.

He went on. “By the way, you can rest easy regarding Marco the chef. He had a nasty divorce and custody fight, but there’s no mention of bloodshed. Here or in France. I found a blurb about his wife from a year ago.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Mrs. Noonan found out from Shelley Stalk’s sister that Shelley liked to try all different kinds of perfumes, so she might have been wearing one with roses that summer. Seems such a little thing to make a man go berserk. I’m glad his family is alive. But that doesn’t let him off the hook. His wife could be safe in France, and he could still hate rose-scented women here in the United States.”

“Motive maybe. But means? San Francisco is three hours from Big Sur. And Shelley Stalk died in Philadelphia.” Andy bit into a scone.

“I know, I know,” Sarah said. “And David Evans definitely didn’t wear rosewater perfume. If Marco is killing because he hates fragrant women, David Evans must have gotten in the way somehow. Maybe he was protecting Serena. That would be too sad.”

“It’s impossible,” Andy said. “Philadelphia. Chicago. How would he do it?”

“Okay. Just Andrea Blackwell, then. He could drive here and back all in one long night.”

“One very long night,” Andy said, taking another bite of scone. “By the way, I can also find out about Tremaine’s Illinois license. Mrs. Noonan was wondering about that. There’s probably a record of when it was first issued.”

Sarah leaned down and kissed him. “You are amazing. Too bad you don’t have the blueberry preserves for those scones. Mrs. Noonan made them herself.”

“They’re pretty good just like this. That woman sure can cook.”

“For two kitchen doofuses like us, we’re lucky to have her,” Sarah said.

“Speak for yourself. Are you calling me a doofus?” Andy pulled her down and she lost her balance and landed laughing in his lap on top of the scones. He drew her in for a quick kiss.

“You taste even better than the scones,” he said.

“That’s ’cause you don’t have the jam.” She brushed scone crumbs off the two of them.

He kissed her again, this time longer. His arm circled around her waist and he stroked her hair.

“I wish we could lie here all night, but remember what we’re doing?” Sarah reluctantly sat up. She was doing her best to make sure Helen and Scott had some time together, alone.

“Agh. Babysitting. I forgot. Here I was gearing up for a nice, leisurely evening. With you.”

“It will be with me, but it will be anything but leisurely.” Sarah twined her fingers in his. “Unfortunately.”

They arrived at Helen and Scott’s to hear both babies crying and Scott shouting at Helen to hurry up with the bottles and Helen shouting back she was moving as fast as she could. They hadn’t rung the buzzer downstairs because the front door of the apartment building was held open with a newspaper. Now Sarah wished she’d given them some warning. She gave Andy’s hand a quick squeeze and then knocked on the door.

The two adult voices fell silent, but the babies kept crying. Scott came to the door with a baby in each arm. Their faces were bright red.

“Come on in, if you’re sure you want to,” he said. “We tried to get them fed before you came. It didn’t happen.”

Helen came out of the kitchen with the bottles. She used both hands to stick one in each baby’s mouth and the room became silent.

“Bliss,” she said. Scott rolled his eyes.

Sarah took a twin from Scott, the one dressed in pink. Emily, she assumed. Then she looked at the other baby as Scott brought it around to his front. It wore pink too.

“Which is which?” Andy said.

“Helen didn’t get to the laundry today, so everyone’s in pink,” Scott said. “We’re not sure who’s who.”

Helen gave him a mock slap on the arm. “You’ve got Aidan,” she said to Sarah.

“We’d better put something blue on him so we know,” said Andy. “I’ll never be able to tell them apart.”

“He has a little blue cap from the hospital,” said Helen. “I’ve been looking everywhere for it, but I can’t find it. I think we left it in Big Sur.”

“Something else, then,” said Andy.

“Everything’s covered in vomit and crap,” said Scott.

“Scott! Watch your mouth! They’ll hear you.” Helen seemed serious. Scott rolled his eyes again.

“Wait, I know what to do.” Andy took a blue pen out of his shirt pocket. He lifted Aidan’s little hand from the bottle and drew a smiley face on his lower arm.

Helen gasped. Scott looked wounded. Sarah couldn’t help herself and started to giggle. She felt Helen and Scott’s glares.

“You don’t draw on babies,” she finally managed.

By now Scott was laughing too. Then Helen.

“I think this will suit our purpose just fine,” said Andy. “This is Aidan.”

“Here, see what you can do with this one.” Scott handed Emily to Andy. Andy held her out in front of him, her lower half dangling. The bottle fell to the floor.

“Uh, I don’t, I’ve never…” said Andy.

“It’s easy,” Scott said. “You’ll get used to it. She won’t break. Bring her in and give her some support around the head.” Emily’s head had lolled sideways.

“Uh, how?” Andy said.

“Sit down,” said Helen. Andy sat. Helen readjusted the baby in his arms, laying her sideways with her head resting in his elbow. She wiggled around until Helen gave her the bottle. “There. Now don’t move.”

“I’ve got to change my clothes,” Scott said. Sarah looked at him now that he was free of babies. His shirt was wet with spit up and his pants were wet too. He saw her staring. “You’ll both look like this when we come home. And you won’t have any spare clothes.”

On cue, Emily turned her head, burped, and spit up onto Andy’s arm. Andy grimaced, but he didn’t move, his muscles tensed to keep his arm bent.

Helen dashed back with a cloth. “I’m so sorry.” She wiped off his arm and tucked the cloth under Emily’s head. “We have to get moving or we’ll be late for our dinner reservation.”

They left Sarah and Andy with the babies and went to get dressed. Andy sat stiffly on the couch. Sarah laughed. “Andy. Relax. She’s not going anywhere. Relax your arm.”

He let his arm sag. Emily started to whimper. He tensed his elbow again and she stopped. “This baby stuff is hard,” he said. “Who knew?”

“Scott, for one,” Sarah said.

They could hear Scott, his voice rising, looking for something he couldn’t find. He hissed at Helen and she hissed back. By the time they came out dressed, they were bickering again.

“Have a lovely time,” Sarah said.

“Right,” Helen said. She led Sarah into the kitchen to show her where the emergency telephone numbers were. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” she whispered. “Now look, we’re just going to fight all night.”

“No. You’ll see. By the time you get to the restaurant, you’ll have forgotten what you were arguing about and you’ll be fine.”

“We never do argue about anything important. That’s the problem. We never talk about the real problem.”

“Good luck, man,” Scott said to Andy, and he and Helen left, Scott walking in front and Helen walking behind.