The food was amazing. The staff was attentive. Halfway through dessert, people started standing up and telling stories about my mother. They were all loving, funny, amazing stories. The best were from her sisters, talking about how they’d all grown up in the two-bedroom walk-up, with one bathroom, with a timer outside in the hallway, so that no one could stay in there for more than three minutes at a time.
The wine and the beer flowed freely, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. I know that my mother was, sitting at the head table, receiving her guests with the grace and poise of Queen Elizabeth. I sat beside her, and on a few occasions, had to whisper in her ear to remind her who she was actually speaking to. Her main problem was with my cousins, all of who were now adults with children of their own. I’m sure she remembered them as children and was baffled at these strange faces with such familiar names. Anyone over the age of fifty she knew at once. The smart looker that Mr. Silvio had known was back.
At one point, things got dicey as she glared at Marc, standing and talking with Lou, their bodies close, and the intimacy between them obvious.
“Is that your husband I see over there, canoodling with that other woman?” My mother asked in a not-so-subtle voice.
“Mom, you know that Marc and I have been divorced for a while now, don’t you?”
She frowned at this information before nodding slowly. “Yes, I do seem to recall that. She looks very familiar.”
“She’s from Mt. Abrams, Mom. Lou Lombardi. You’ve met her before.”
“Hmm. Well, that was very inconsiderate of him, picking one of your friends. But, did he leave you for her? I still love Marc, you know, and I’m worried he may have taken a bit of a step down, if you know what I mean.”
“No, Mom, he didn’t leave me for anyone. We just drifted apart.”
She shifted her gaze to Sam, who was entertaining the table with something that had them all leaning in, listening.
“You, on the other hand,” Mom said slyly, “have done quite well. That Sam is something, isn’t he?”
I felt a glow. “He sure is.”
“He also looks like the kind of man who’d be a tiger in the sack. Am I right?”
Ahh…
Ted, sitting on her other side, came to the rescue. “Mom, do you really think Cal and I should get married?”
Her head whipped around. “My heavens, Teddy, you’ve been shacking up with the man for how long? The least the two of you can do is make it legal. Do you know you can do that now?”
Ted grinned. “Yes, Mom, we know.”
Mom smiled, then turned back to me, whispering. “I bet Cal is also a tiger.”
I gave up. “Excuse me, Mom, I’m going to mingle.” I signaled to Cait, who trotted over, her boyfriend Kyle trailing behind. She looked lovely, her long red hair piled on top of her head, her slender body in a pale blue maxi dress. “Honey, can you keep Gram company? I really need some wine.”
Cait smiled in understanding, and I slipped into the crowd.
Joanne was at the bar, saw me coming, and had a glass of white wine ready. “Fun crowd,” she said.
I glanced around. “Well it’s certainly a mixed crowd. Where’s the bartender?”
“We needed some heavy lifting in the kitchen,” Joanne said. “I don’t mind. In fact, I’d rather be doing this. I like old people. They have great stories, and they’re more than willing to spill all their secrets. See that stooped guy over there? Crazed killer.”
I followed her eyes, expecting to find Dominick the Destroyer, but instead found myself looking at Mr. Silvio, sitting quietly, an empty glass in front of him.
“No, he’s just a storekeeper,” I said. “The assassin is over there, with the well-preserved blonde.”
She laughed. “Him too? Quite an interesting group of friends your mom has. I sure wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”
“Joanne, you have no idea.” I looked around. “Things are winding down. As an expert, how do we start telling people it’s time to go home?”
She glanced at her watch. “It’s just three now, so your party is officially over. Which means in about ten seconds, Enza is going to send the staff out here to clear off the dessert table, and I will begin to put away the booze. That usually sends a signal.”
She was right. As I looked toward the back of the room, Luxe staff appeared with a cart, and the remaining dessert plates vanished, the flowers and candles disappeared, and the table stood, naked, draped in white like a coffin.
The bartender joined Joanne, and they began taking glasses and bottles off the bar. Enza had found the switch for the light sconces around the room and turned them on.
Yes, the message was sent and received, loud and clear. Chairs scraped the wooden floors as people stood to leave. I gulped my wine and hurried to play hostess again, saying good-bye to the guests, all of whom had to run through the drizzling rain to get to their cars.
There were, of course, a few folks who didn’t want the party to end, and not surprisingly, most of them were from The Manor. The rental people, with impressive efficiency, had broken down the tables and whisked them back onto the truck, along with the folding chairs, and had driven off. Not to be outdone by a simple lack of places to sit, the hangers-on simply crossed the foyer and settled themselves in the long, dim-lit room known as the library, furnished with a few bookshelves, as well as wicker chairs and cushy sofas in faded chintz. I watched as Ted and Cal helped Cait and Tessa pack a few trays of leftovers to take back to the house. Connie wandered by, like an aged, exotic bird. Dominick paced back and forth in the foyer, cell phone to his ear.
The rain had finally stopped. Mom and her sisters were still holding court. Ted returned without Cal. I knew he was probably itching to stretch out and dissect the party, but he stood patiently over Mom in case she needed anything. Sam, ever faithful, was relaxed and smiling and saying all the right things. I admired him for his unflagging energy, because I was exhausted.
I walked back to the kitchen. Enza, Jo, and Phyllis, huddled together with their staff, were probably doing a post-game commentary and didn’t notice me. I went through the parlor and dining rooms for a third time. They were back to their original condition, all traces of the party gone. I headed back to the library.
“Hey, everyone, I hate to be the party-pooper here, but its time to go home,” I told them.
Dominick looked up. “We’re waiting for Connie.”
Peggy made a noise between a cough and a snort. “She went looking for the bathroom. That was hours ago.”
“Not hours,” Roberta corrected gently. “But it has been a while. I bet she wanted to take a look in that big kitchen back there.”
I sighed and headed back to the kitchen.
It was empty except for Enza and Phyllis. They both looked up.
“I’m missing a guest,” I explained. “Bright red hair? Tottering around on platforms from 1975?”
Enza shook her head. “Not here. But if the poor thing tried to find the bathroom, she could be in Bay Ridge by now.”
She had a point. Bathrooms had been added in the forties, a low addition tacked on to the back of the house, with access to the outside, so people didn’t have to go through the house, dripping lake water all over the hardwood floors. To get to them from the main rooms required three well-placed signs with red arrows.
Enza put down her notebook. “I’ll help you look,” she offered, and followed me back into the sunroom.
We dutifully followed the arrows and found the restrooms empty. I called for Connie, my voice echoing weirdly in the small space. Enza knocked on the men’s room door, waited, then stuck her head in.
“Now what?” she asked.
We went back into the main house, and as we did, I saw that the doorway to the back stairs was ajar. I chuckled.
“Trust Connie to go exploring,” I said. “She’s probably wandering around all the bedrooms, trying to figure out how to get back down.”
We took the stairs up to a narrow hallway, all the doors slightly open, pale light filtering through.
“You take the right side,” Enza said. “Should we be checking in the closets?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Connie?” I called.
Silence.
Enza glanced at me. “Isn’t she too old for hide and seek?”
There were six bedrooms, a bath, and a sitting room on this floor, and another four bedrooms on the floor above. I felt a flash of annoyance as I looked into the small bedroom on the left. Nothing. I went into the second. Again, empty, except for a lovely four-poster bed and a bare mattress. There was also a painting hanging above the bed, and I went over to look.
It was Josiah’s wife, Jean Marie. I recognized her but had never seen this portrait of her before. She was older, in a white dress with a high lace collar. I smiled at her. She had been a lovely woman.
“Ellie?”
I turned at the sound of Enza’s voice. “Find her?”
“Oh yeah.”
I walked back to the hall. Enza has across from a doorway, her back pressed against the wall, her face white.
“Holy crap,” she said.
I went to her and looked.
The room was empty except for a twin bed with an iron headboard and Connie. She was on the floor, lying on her side, her hair across her face, and her brightly colored scarf was tied tightly around her neck. I could see that her eyes were wide open, and her skin was blue-gray.
“She’s dead, ain’t she?” Enza asked.
I nodded and swallowed hard.
Enza sighed. “I hate when that happens.”