Dangerous Undercurrents: A Valerie Urniak Mystery, #6

CHAPTER ONE

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The room was so quiet, it could have been empty. No one had offered congratulations or made any kind of comment after Vince finished speaking.

We’d moved from the dining room in Vince’s house into the living room after our meal was over. The room was definitely not empty, nor was it crowded despite all the people it held: my son, his wife, their baby daughter, and me; Vince and his four sons, three of them adults. Vince’s sister Rosemarie, who lived with him and served as both housekeeper and caregiver for his youngest son, was busy in the kitchen. She had refused the help my daughter-in-law Wendy and I had offered in cleaning up after dinner. That wasn’t surprising; Ro liked doing things on her own, not seeming to mind that it increased her workload. I’d sometimes wondered if there was a bit of a martyr in her. Once she was finished in the kitchen, there was space enough for her to join us in the living room.

Silence continued to reign after Vince’s announcement. I’d been a little surprised that he hadn’t waited for Rosemarie to join us before he spoke; perhaps he had already told her what was to come. I glanced over at my son, J.J., who smiled at me as he stood and broke the silence.

That’s great news. Congratulations, Vince. He walked toward Vince, who was standing by the fireplace, and held out a hand. I guess I don’t have to tell you that Mom’s a wonderful woman, which makes you a lucky man.

I wish you much happiness. J.J.’s wife Wendy also rose, shifting baby Eleanor in her arms as she came toward me and bent to kiss my cheek. Of course, the same goes to you, Vince. She walked to him. Since he towered over her petite frame, she waited until he had leaned down to bestow a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Vince turned expectantly toward his older sons. The look that passed among the three young men was more surly than pleasant. His oldest son, Vincenzo, called ‘Little Vincie’ as a child, got to his feet. How could you do this, Dad? he asked accusingly, clearly acting as the spokesperson for the older boys. "Mom’s not been gone a year! And it’s been way less than that since her husband died. His inflection on the pronoun made their collective opinion of me clear. What were you thinking?"

I was thinking that my sons would show better manners than this. If they don’t intend to do so, they should say their goodbyes right now. Vince’s voice was grim. Valerie Harris is going to be my wife. If you can’t show proper respect for her or me, you’re not welcome in my home.

It had been Vince’s idea to have a dinner at his house with his sons and mine, followed by an after-dinner announcement of our plans to wed. Although I had dropped no hints about it, I’d known that my son J.J. and his wife Wendy were not going to be surprised by that news. After all, it had been J.J. who had clued me in to the fact that Vince was in love with me, and shared with me his belief, based on observation, that I unknowingly reciprocated Vince’s feelings.

It didn’t take me long to realize that my son was right. Vince Cardonza and I had known each other for decades. We had worked together many times. I considered him a close friend, and had always thought he was attractive. The foundation we had already established quickly blossomed and grew into something much deeper than friendship.

As Vince finished his barely veiled threat to throw his sons out of his house, my heart sank. The last thing I wanted to do was create a rift between Vince and his sons. Or, more correctly, between Vince and his three older sons. His youngest, I suddenly discovered, had perched himself on the arm of my chair. His fair head leaned closer to mine. Mrs. Harris, when you and Dad get married, can I call you Mom? he asked me softly.

May I? I corrected automatically, my voice also low. I would love that, Bobby.

He grinned. You already sound like you’re my mom – or like Aunt Ro. She likes to tell me the right way to say things.

You should listen to her.

Our attention was drawn back to Vincenzo because he had stomped his foot in anger. He certainly wasn’t taking the news well. It seemed apparent that Vince’s announcement had come as a complete surprise to him.

Or was that not true? Vincie was Vince’s only married son, yet he hadn’t brought his wife and his own infant son to this dinner. I was certain they’d been invited, just as J.J.’s wife and daughter were. Vincie had given a vague, mumbled excuse as to why they couldn’t make it. Had Vincie expected some other kind of news he wouldn’t like? If Vincie anticipated hearing something he would want to protest, he might not have wanted his wife to witness him behaving in his current manner, in which he seemed to have reduced his age by more than half.

You can’t kick us out of here! he cried. This is our home! He looked to the two other older boys for support. They nodded in agreement. I don’t see why you’re getting married anyway. You’re too old to bother with that.

If Vincie actually believed his father was too old to enter into another relationship, why had he allowed his wife to try to fix Vince up with one of her mother’s friends last Christmas? Vince and I had been simply friends at that time. Vince hadn’t mentioned Vincie throwing any fits about the fix-up. Could it be Vincie would not object to his father finding happiness with another woman as long as that woman wasn’t me?

Suddenly Vince’s sister Rosemarie was in the room, standing with her hands on her hips. She was a short woman, and definitely on the far side of stocky. Despite the fact that Vince’s older sons towered over her, they looked a little intimidated by her stance. This probably came from the fact she had been their caretaker, too, after their mother Claudia had decided to return to school to study nutrition while they were young children. After Claudia had completed her education, she’d started opening women’s fitness centers that focused on both exercise and diet. Rosemarie had continued to pitch in on an as-needed basis for the older boys. She was there regularly after Bobby, the baby of the family, was born thirteen years after his next oldest sibling. Last year, after Claudia’s death, Rosemarie, who had been living with one of her sisters, moved in with Vince to run his house and be on hand for the then nine-year-old Bobby. The three older boys were already out of the house by that time, Vincenzo married, Marco living in his own apartment, and Dario away at school.

You think your father is too old to be getting married? You think that? Although Rosemarie had been born and raised in Chicago, there was always a hint of an Old World accent in her voice, perhaps the influence of Vince’s immigrant grandmother who had lived with Vince’s parents while Vince and his five sisters were growing up. What are you going to say when you hear that I am getting married too? Tell me that, Mr. Smart Guy. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Vincenzo.

Vince and his older sons all spoke at once, a cacophony of questions, their originators almost indistinguishable. What are you talking about? You can’t be getting married! You’re making that up, right? Is this a joke? Who are you marrying?

I knew the last question came from Vince. That was the question Rosemarie chose to answer.

Mike.

Mike? Vince echoed. Mike, our meter reader?

That’s the one. Rosemarie beamed. I prayed for years to the Holy Father to send me a husband. I guess because he made me wait so long, he made up for it by sending him right to my back door. I didn’t have to leave the house! Rosemarie sent a look – probably her version of their grandmother’s famed evil eye – at her three oldest nephews. I used to hope it would happen in time for me to have children of my own. Seeing how they can turn out, how disrespectful they can be, I understand His wisdom in making me wait this long so that’s impossible.

Ro, I’m so happy you’re getting married! That’s wonderful news, I said, springing out of my chair and going to hug her. Have you set a date?

No. You want to have a double wedding? She cackled. You might want it, but you’re not going to get it! I’ve waited so long to be a bride, I don’t want anyone sharing my spotlight. Except Mike, of course.

Auntie Ro, what’s going to happen when you get married? Will you keep living with us? Bobby’s blue eyes were wide as he waited for her to answer his questions.

What’s going to happen? she repeated. I’m going to go live with my husband, of course.

Where? Vince spoke up.

Mike’s got a nice house on the northwest side, Rosemary told him.

You’ve seen it? You’ve been there? Vince seemed dumbfounded. I wondered if he had ever viewed his sister as anything other than a caretaker, someone who made his own life easier. That could account for his surprise at discovering she was a woman who was seriously involved with a man.

Of course I’ve been there! Rosemarie stated. This isn’t the Old Country where I’m going to marry a stranger. I’ve been to his house lots of times.

But— How can that be?

It occurred to me that Vince was reacting to Rosemarie’s news with as much shock and disbelief as his older sons had reacted to his own announcement.

You think I was really at the dentist all those Saturdays? she asked him with a sly smile.

"You mean you lied about where you were going?"

"Listen, little brother, she said, fixing him with a milder version of the evil eye she’d given Vince’s sons. I might have fudged with the truth a bit. That’s because you had the idea that the only thing going on in my life was taking care of you and Bobby – not that I’ve ever minded doing that," she added hastily, casting a smile Bobby’s way.

That statement practically confirmed my earlier thought about how Vince viewed his sister.

I love you,’ she went on, and I love your sons, but it’s time I had a life of my own. A man like Mike, he doesn’t come along every day. You think there weren’t other women on his route who didn’t see what a catch Mike is, a handsome man like him with a good, steady job? You think that when he invites me over, I’m going to say no?

Vince looked clearly uncomfortable at the thought of his sister taking up with the meter reader; his older sons looked like they shared his discomfiture. My son J.J. and his wife Wendy looked ill at ease, too, though I felt sure it was not at the idea of Rosemarie getting married. Their distress would stem from being witnesses to what should have been a private family discussion.

Isn’t it getting close to Eleanor’s bedtime? I directed my question to my son and his wife. They both looked at me gratefully.

You’re right, Mom. We’d better get Elly home.

I tried not to cringe at J.J.’s use of the baby’s nickname. I was grateful that they had named their daughter after my long-deceased infant whose name I had chosen because I wanted her to be a strong, courageous woman, like Eleanor of Aquitaine and Eleanor Roosevelt. I would have never used a diminutive with my own daughter.

J.J. and his wife, however, had shortened their baby’s name almost as soon as she was born. Perhaps I was at fault for that. I’d adopted J.J. as a newborn, and had named him John Jacob, John for the husband I had recently and tragically lost to murder, and Jacob after my best friend, who became my second husband shortly thereafter. The double moniker seemed too much for an infant. I had given him the nickname J.J. almost immediately. Perhaps that had set a precedent in my son’s mind that nicknames were a desirable thing, and his own daughter should have one, too. After all, his wife’s first name Nguyen, pronounced Wen in Vietnamese and usually mispronounced as Nugen in this country, had been Americanized to the nickname Wendy.

As J.J. and Wendy busied themselves getting all the baby paraphernalia ready to go, I went to Vince’s side. Shall I have J.J. drop me off at home? I asked him quietly.

He brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. No, I’ll take you.

Can I go along? Bobby asked.

Not this time, sport. It’s too close to your bedtime. Vince smiled at his youngest son to soften his refusal. That is, if you’ll be sticking around here, Ro? he asked his sister.

Of course I am, she answered indignantly. I’m not going over to Mike’s house at this time of night. We’re not married yet!

So a mass exodus ensued, my son and his family, Vince’s sons, and finally the two of us. Vince was quiet as we got into his car. He started the engine, then sat for a minute as it warmed up. He let out a sigh. That didn’t go exactly as planned.

I laughed. Things seldom do.

I thought they’d be happy for me, for us. He put the car in gear and pulled out into the street. We didn’t live that far apart, Vince in Evanston, me in the Rogers Park neighborhood of Chicago, which bordered that suburb. We were at my building in minutes. Vince steered his car down the narrow alley that led to my building’s small garage. After my husband Jacob died, I gave Vince the use of Jacob’s parking spot since parking was always a problem in my neighborhood. Vince had become a frequent visitor after I was widowed, both with and without his youngest son.

I didn’t ask if he was coming up because I knew he would; he wasn’t the kind of man who would think it was acceptable to drop me at the curb, or in the parking garage even though that was safely inside my building. What I didn’t know was whether he would be staying.

The elevator in my building probably could have made The Guinness Book of World Records for slowness. I lived on the building’s top floor, and was that floor’s only occupant. Vince let out another sigh as we got into the elevator. I leaned into him, letting my head rest on his broad chest. I thought they’d be happy for us, he grumbled. Instead they acted like spoiled little brats. I felt his kiss on the top of my head. At least your son behaved decently about it, he murmured before he sighed once more.

I don’t think it was as much of a surprise to J.J. as it was to your boys.

You told him?

I chuckled. No, I didn’t tell him. If you’ll recall, it was J.J. who told me— I raised my eyes so I could look at his face, how you felt about me when I didn’t have a clue about it myself. You might also recall that J.J. went through a period during which he seemed none too fond of you once he realized you were interested in me.

Before his death, my husband had suffered from dementia, possibly Alzheimer’s, although I refused to let his brain be autopsied for a definitive diagnosis. I had chosen to be his caretaker, which wasn’t easy and was also rather isolating, as Jacob’s behavior when we left our apartment could be erratic at best. Vince had visited me often during that time, so often that it seemed he was always there whenever J.J. came by to see his father. My son’s reaction to the presence of my male friend, as innocent as it had been, was not always positive.

I’d kind of forgotten that, Vince admitted as the elevator crept upwards. Does that mean if they’re given time to get used to the idea, there’s a chance that my boys will come around?

I certainly hope so, though that’s kind of hard for me to say, I mused. I hardly know them, after all. Vince’s eldest and my J.J. were a few months apart in age. Vincie’s mother Claudia had once predicted they’d be close friends. That had never happened, though it wasn’t because of animosity between the boys. Claudia had disliked Jacob; my friendship with her had virtually ended after I married him. I can tell you one of your sons approves. Bobby asked if he could call me Mom after we got married.

That kid loves you, Vince said, his arms sliding around me and pulling me closer. You’ve already been more of a mother to him than Claudia ever was.

The elevator doors slid open. I chose to see that as a sign not to pursue the subject. My keys were already in my hand. I unlocked the door to my apartment.

I’d been living in a two-bedroom apartment in this building when it went condo years ago. Jacob and I had been newlyweds; my adopted son J.J. an infant. Jacob had immediately purchased the two apartments that comprised the top floor of the building, and had them remodeled into one apartment. While the other floors had four or more units, this floor originally had only two apartments because half of its floor space was taken up by a terrace. After the remodeling, our family had become the floor’s only occupants. The slow elevator ride always felt worth it once I opened the door to our unit, with its gleaming hardwood floors, spacious airy feeling from the wall of windows in the living room, and, of course, that terrace with its view of Lake Michigan.

Want anything? I asked Vince as I put my purse on the foyer table. Some tea?

I’m fine, Vince said, and went to what had quickly become his spot on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him. Join me?

Are you staying? I asked as I bettered his invitation to sit next to him by moving so close I was practically sitting on his lap. I was sure I already knew the answer to my query. I waited to have it verified.

No, Val, I can’t. Bobby’s going to be keyed up tonight from all the news. He’ll be listening for me to come home. If I don’t come home... He held his hands palms up. You know what kind of questions that will raise.

I turned in my seat so I was facing the back of the couch; this allowed me to drape my torso across Vince’s and place my head on his far shoulder. His arms wrapped around me to keep me in place. I can’t believe you’re serious about doing it this way, I groused. It’s been a long time since the 1950s, Vince. It’s not unusual for people our age to live together before they’re married. We’re not going to become pariahs if you move in here with me. We—

I know this is not how it’s done these days. He cut me off. It’s that— I want to do things right this time.

Oh, honey. I kissed the side of his neck. I don’t think the fact that Claudia was already pregnant when you two got married had anything to do with the way things turned out.

I guess you’re right—

"You guess?"

I know, he corrected himself. But humor me on this.

Humor him, indeed. I had thought he was joking when he told me he not only wasn’t going to move in with me, he didn’t want us to have sex until after we were married. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his body exhibited tangible evidence that all his parts were in proper working order every time things started to get heated between us, I might have thought he was creating an excuse in order to hide a dysfunction. That clearly wasn’t the case. If I wanted to marry this man, and I most certainly did, I apparently was going to have to play by his rules.

All right, I grumbled. But it had better be worth it.

He used a forefinger to raise my chin before he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me in a way that showed me it would be well worth the wait.

But I didn’t want to wait. You know, I whispered as he ended the kiss, I can’t get pregnant, so how would anybody find out we’d slept together? I won’t tell. I shot him what I hoped was a seductive look. If you have to go home to say goodnight to Bobby, you could always come back once he’s asleep.

Vince laughed and eased me away from him. You’re incorrigible, he said, and awfully hard to resist. I’m going now, while I still can. He kissed me again, quickly this time, and got to his feet. Come with me and lock the door.

His words sent me back more than two and a half decades. John Wilson, my first husband – my first real husband – had been a police detective and Vince’s partner on the force. He’d been an absolute stickler about locking up. How many times had he said those same words to me during our all-too-brief relationship?

I shook those memories away and followed Vince into the foyer. One more kiss and he was out the door. I knew he was standing in the hall, waiting for the telltale clicks that would let him know I was securely locked in for the night. I did that, and waited until I heard the ping of the elevator arriving on my floor. That told me Vince had truly left, that he hadn’t had a last-minute change of heart and mind, and had decided to stay the night after all.

I walked through the apartment, switching off lights as I headed for bed, wondering how I had ended up with possibly the only man in America who wanted to refrain from premarital sex.

CHAPTER TWO

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The phone woke me at an ungodly hour the next morning.

At least the ringing felt as if it was occurring at an ungodly hour. It had taken me a long time to fall asleep the night before as I relived Vincie’s fit and Vince’s ire at his oldest son. I’d finally fallen into a restless, non-restorative sleep, which gave me the erroneous idea that the phone had rung far too early. When J.J. was younger, I would have been up for several hours already, half-walked, half-ran at least a couple miles with Jacob, and would be ready to head off to my job. Jacob had retired last year, at which time I gave up my practice as a psychologist so we could spend more time together. I had always been aware that the seventeen-year age difference between us would mean I could lose him far sooner than I would choose to, which, of course, was never. At the time I had not been aware that he was already slipping into dementia; he’d been doing his best to hide it from me. Unfortunately, his descent into that condition became sudden and complete. It was no longer a few minutes of seeming confusion here and there; it became a heartbreaking time when he didn’t know who I was, who J.J. was, or who he was.

The phone continued to shrill. I pushed my memories aside and reached for it, my voice hoarse as I said, Hello?

Did I wake you? Sorry! my once sister-in-law Lorna Roberts said cheerily. I thought you’d be up by now since it’s nearly eight, she continued, without the least bit of chastisement in her tone. Oh! I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? she asked, suddenly sounding embarrassed. I’m sorry, Val—

I’m alone, I inserted quickly.

Oh. In that case— I heard her take in a breath. When were you going to tell me? she demanded.

Tell you? I asked. Tell you what?

That you’re engaged! she squealed, sounding more like a teenager than a grandmother of two.

For a moment, I pulled the receiver away from my ear and stared at it. How could Lorna possibly know that I was engaged?

As if she had read my mind, Lorna said, Charles called. He told me.

Charles was the oldest of her three sons. "Charles told you? How did he find out?"

From J.J., Lorna said simply. Charles has to go downtown today on business. He called J.J. early this morning to find out if they could meet for lunch. J.J. told him about the announcement last night. Of course Charles called me right away with the news. Why am I not surprised at the way Vince’s boys reacted? I wouldn’t be afraid to bet that Claudia spent years turning those boys against their father, and she probably turned them against you, too. She seemed like the type who’d do something like that.

Now, Lorna, we don’t know that. I made the protest pro forma, although something about her speculation rang true with me. I knew traditionally you weren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead. Technically, I hadn’t actually said anything; I simply thought that Claudia had been the type who would employ such tactics.

Anyway, I’m calling because I want to make your wedding dress. I figured I might need to get started on it right away.

We haven’t set a date, Lorna, I told her. And while I appreciate the offer, I have so many beautiful things you’ve made me already, I’m sure one of those will do fine—better than fine, I added hastily. Lorna was a well-known fashion designer, her couture wear carried by the finest stores and boutiques, her line of ready-to-wear flying off the racks in more moderately priced stores, and her new line of baby and toddler clothes – inspired by her grandchildren – were must-haves for the younger set.

"Nonsense! It’s your wedding! You need something new."

It’s not my first wedding, I reminded her. Or my second. Oh! You know what? I related Rosemarie’s own surprise announcement. She’s at least in her mid-sixties, and this is her first wedding. Do you think you could do a gown for her instead of me?

I’d love to do that! Lorna exclaimed. I’ll give her a call right away. She’ll be up, right? She’s not a stay-abed like you, she teased with a laugh.

She’ll be up, I confirmed. It’s a school day for Bobby, after all.

I bet Bobby wasn’t upset to find out you’re marrying his father.

Nope. He asked if he could call me Mom, I reported happily.

At least one of Vince’s kids turned out all right, Lorna said. I’ll call you after I talk to Ro.

I hung up reflecting on Lorna’s words. She didn’t know; no one except me, and of course, Vince, knew that Bobby wasn’t his son. I had learned about Claudia’s deception during one of Vince’s late-night visits after Jacob’s death when Vince would stop in to check on me. In fact, I had learned more than I wanted to know about his marriage to Claudia during those talks.

I pushed the covers aside. Before I could get out of bed, the phone rang again.

It’s me, Lorna said as soon as I picked up the handset. Are you free for lunch today? Can you pick up Ro and bring her over here?

Ro had never learned how to drive after her best friend was killed in an auto accident while they were in high school. Public transportation between Vince’s Evanston home and Lorna’s northwest side bungalow would be slow and complicated. I mentally reviewed my day, which didn’t amount to much of anything. Sure, I can make it. What time did you tell her I’d pick her up?

You know my methods too well. Lorna laughed. Quarter after eleven. That way you’ll get here around noon. I’ll throw some sandwiches together for us. We can talk about dresses while we eat.

Let me bring some stuff from Gus’s, I suggested. Lorna’s quick agreement made me certain she’d been hoping I’d say that. I’ll get some cookies too, if they have them, I added. See you later.

I went to shower and wash my hair, knowing that by the time I was done, Gus’s Deli would be about to open. My best bet for not having to spend a considerable amount of time waiting in line was to be there the minute they unlocked the front door.

I managed to do that. The store had retained its original name, Gus’s Deli, despite Gus having long since retired to Florida. Gus’s Deli had been a city institution for the last couple decades, Chicago’s version of Zabar’s in New York or Junior’s in L.A. I had been a patron of this shop long before Gus’s Deli was ever on any foodie’s map. My first beauty shop had been down the street. More often than not, Gus’s Deli was where we headed for lunch. My condo was across the street. Patronizing Gus’s Deli was practically a given for me.

Gus’s son Tony had taken over as proprietor when Gus retired. Tony greeted me by name. Val! It’s been way too long, and you’re looking far too skinny. You’re lucky – my wife has some cookies in the oven this morning. You know they’re best when they’re still warm.

Oh, yes, I know that. It was a half-truth because I only remembered what they were like. I hadn’t actually eaten any myself for decades. Jacob had long ago weaned me from things containing white sugar. I bought the cookies for the enjoyment of other people; Tony didn’t need to know that.  

What can I get you today? Tony asked.

I’m bringing lunch over to Lorna’s, I told him. We’d known each other long enough that I didn’t have to explain who she was. There’ll be three of us.

A few sandwiches – turkey, and tuna? he suggested, A big container of mixed salad? Will a dozen cookies be enough, or is the third person Lorna’s husband?

It wasn’t, of course, but I hadn’t thought to ask Lorna if Jeff would be home too. Better throw in a roast beef sandwich in case he’s there – and another dozen cookies, I told Tony. Jeff loved the deli’s cookies.

Once my order was ready, we went through the usual argument. Tony’s father Gus had credited me, wrongly I believed, with putting his deli on the map. He had issued an edict that I would never be charged for anything in his store. When Gus retired, Tony had planned to continue to honor his father’s wishes. By that time, my son’s appetite was legendary. Tony usually allowed me to finagle at least a partial payment for what I ordered. Today Tony was holding firm to his father’s decree, insisting that because it had been too long since I had been in, they owed me. No amount of arguing would dissuade him.

Lady, go ahead, take the food, the man in line behind me urged. Why would you want to pay if he’s offering it to you for free? I know I wouldn’t put up a fight. Besides, you’re holding up the line. I glanced back and saw that already, mere minutes after the store had opened, the line almost reached the door.

This isn’t over, I murmured to Tony as I took the bags from him. He laughed and started working on the order for the man behind me.

Rosemarie was watching for me. I pulled into Vince’s driveway, and she stepped out onto the porch before I’d stopped the car. She gave me a cheery wave before turning to lock the door. She hurried down the steps and got in my car.

I can’t believe it, she said as she pulled her seatbelt into place. I’m going to have a wedding dress designed by Lorna Roberts. It’s like I’m some fancy society lady. Maybe I’ll get my picture in the paper!

I could have told her from sad experience that a photo in the paper wasn’t as desirable as it might seem. But she looked so happy and excited, I didn’t want to burst her bubble. That would be nice, I murmured.

Valerie, she said softly. I glanced in her direction before turning my attention back to the traffic. Her expression had sobered. I don’t think I told you last night how happy I am that you and Vince are getting married. While he might be my stupid little brother, I’ll admit he’s also a good man. He deserves a happy marriage. He sure didn’t have one the first time around, but he was too good a man to throw that one out on her ear like she deserved.

I didn’t know what to say. Before her marriage, Claudia had been both my employee and my friend. From what Vince had told me long afterwards, it seemed I had not known her as well as I thought I did. I certainly didn’t want to say anything that might encourage Rosemarie to tell me more details about Vince and Claudia’s relationship. Nor did I want to bring up anything that might remind Rosemarie that it had been at my wedding to John Wilson that Claudia and Vince had met. I didn’t want to risk her transferring any of her negative feelings for Claudia my way.

But Rosemarie apparently hadn’t expected a response, for she continued unprompted. Those boys— I was so ashamed of them last night, the way they behaved. That was their mother’s influence from beyond the grave. The way she’d talk to them about their father, it made me sick in my heart. I tried to do my best to counteract it. How good I was at it, I don’t know. It was like she had some kind of hold on those boys. That witch – pardon my language – got what she deserved.

I felt a little sick in my own heart hearing Rosemarie’s last statement. Claudia had endured a prolonged, painful death after ignoring warning signs of cancer until it was far too late. What I had learned after her death from another former employee made me wonder if she had ignored the warnings signs deliberately as a way to punish herself for both real and perceived wrongdoings on her part, some dating back to her childhood. Whether there was any truth in my theory or not was something I would never know.

What I wanted to do at this moment was change the subject. Are you thinking of white for your dress? I asked her.

Of course! Her tone was indignant. I’m entitled, she added with a hint of defiance. I glanced her way again; her cheeks were red with embarrassment. Mike’s never been married before either, she confided, so we want to do it up right and proper.

"You’re