FIFTY-THREE
“I appreciate you helping me tonight, Aunt Paulette,” Monica said, hauling a box of baskets out of her Range Rover and into the Sayer’s Brook Community Center. “This is one of the biggest classes I’ve ever taught.”
“I’m glad the town is giving you this space to use,” the older woman replied, lugging another box herself.
“Giving?” Monica laughed bitterly. “I’m paying a pretty penny to use this room! But what choice do I have? Nobody wants to come out to Hickory Dell since Jessie’s au pair was murdered in our backyard!”
“You know, Monica,” Aunt Paulette said, setting the box of baskets down on a large table around which were arranged about a hundred chairs, “I wish you didn’t keep blaming Jessie for that poor girl’s death. She was terribly distraught.”
“I don’t blame Jessie for the death,” Monica replied, unpacking baskets and setting them up on the table. “I just knew that bad things would follow if Jessie came back to town. I wish she had stayed in New York.”
“Sweetie,” Aunt Paulette said, approaching her niece with a tentative smile, “I wish you girls could be friends like you used to be.”
Monica scowled. “We were never friends.”
“Well, I know Jessie could use a friend right now.”
“You know, it would be nice if someone—just once!—could be as worried about me as they are for Jessie.” Monica picked up an unfinished basket and tossed it against the wall. It exploded like a wicker bomb, ribbons flying everywhere.
“Sweetie, sweetie!” Aunt Paulette attempted to take Monica in her arms, but her niece pushed her away. “I do worry about you! I worry whether you’re happy, whether you and Todd are getting along—”
“Todd?” Monica snapped her head around to glare at her aunt. “Why do you bring up Todd? What does he have to do with this?”
“I’ve just noticed how the two of you seem so . . . distant.”
“We’re not distant,” Monica replied curtly, defensively, gathering up the broken bands of wicker.
“Well, I do worry,” Aunt Paulette said.
“Stop worrying then.” Monica sighed. “Come on. There are still a few more boxes in the car.”
They filed back out onto the street. The night was dark, and the streetlamp on this corner was burned out. Monica popped open the back door of the SUV with her remote control, and Aunt Paulette walked around the vehicle to grab a box. But as she did so, she realized there was a man standing behind the car. He scurried away as she approached.
Aunt Paulette stopped in her tracks as if she’s been turned to stone.
“What’s wrong?” Monica asked, coming up behind her.
“That man,” Aunt Paulette said, her words barely above a whisper.
“What man?”
“Didn’t you see him?”
“I saw no one.” Monica was still in a bad mood. She didn’t appreciate her aunt getting her all worked up about Jessie right before a class. How would she be able to concentrate on teaching all these annoying ladies how to thread wicker? “Come on, Aunt Paulette, take one of these boxes, please. We don’t have a lot of time.”
But the older woman didn’t move. “That man,” she said dreamily. “You must have seen him.”
“There was no man standing here, Aunt Paulette.”
“There was!” She grabbed Monica’s arm. “I saw him! It was the tall, dark man!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know who he is now!”
“Let go of me!” Monica shrieked. Aunt Paulette’s fingers were digging into her wrist.
“It was Emil! It was him! It was Emil!”
“There was no man here, Aunt Paulette.” Monica was beyond annoyed. She was pissed. “It’s just another one of your crazy visions. Now let go of my arm!”
Aunt Paulette complied.
“Really,” Monica said, taking hold of a box and lifting it out of the car, “maybe it’s time you should see a shrink. These visions you have . . . they’re crazy, Aunt Paulette.”
The older woman just stood there, staring off into the dark.
“If you’re not going to help me, at least get out of the way,” Monica grumbled. She pushed past her aunt, carrying the box toward the community center.
“It was Emil,” Aunt Paulette whispered to herself. “But Emil’s dead.”
She stared off into the dark.
“Maybe that doesn’t matter,” she said out loud, talking to herself. “Maybe he still has come back!” She looked over at Monica. “I’ve got to call Jessie. I’ve got to warn her!”
Monica just rolled her eyes.