Bead onTrouble Read online

  It appeared Ms. Martin's reputation for knowing all and seeing all was well earned. "As a matter of fact, I'm staying at the camp with her."

  "So, what are you doing here? Only Ron is home."

  She looked at me suspiciously, as if I might be having a tryst with Ron—I shuddered to even consider it.

  'Well, I'm glad he's home," I said. "Beth's doing a demonstration today, and she forgot some beads that I need to pick up." I looked at my watch. "Oh, and I need to hurry if I'm going to get back on time. Nice seeing you."

  "And you." She went back to her house, while I hurried up the brick steps to the front door and rang the bell. God was going to punish me for all my lies.

  There were long narrow windows on either side of the door, and through the glass I heard Sinatra yowl loudly.

  Then the door opened and Ron Fairfield was in front of me.

  He looked tired, but other than that he seemed the same as always.

  A little under six feet, he had fine, light brown hair and a thin, slightly pear-shaped body. He did have a nice smile with straight white teeth. Even counting those, I didn't get what May saw in him. I didn't get what anyone saw in him, but then men who think they know it all have never been my type.

  "Kitzi. Hello:'

  "Ron, good morning," I said in response. At least we knew each other's names.

  He stared at me for several seconds before he said, "Is everything all right at camp?"

  I nodded automatically. "Oh, sure. Fine."

  "That's good. Come in. Come in."

  On the floor was a cage and inside was Sinatra looking lost. He meowed hopefully at me.

  "Wait a minute, Ron," I said, stopping a few feet inside the door. "Everything isn't okay. I have some bad news, and I thought someone should tell you in person:'

  His expression flashed to concern. "Is Shannan—"

  "She's fine," I said quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Beth's okay, too," I added. "I don't know if you need to sit down or what. This could be upsetting."

  "Upsetting?" His concern switched to amusement. "Certainly we can sit down if you'd be more comfortable."

  He gave a sweeping gesture in the direction of the living room, and his expression made it pretty clear that he was humoring me.

  I stood my ground. "Never mind. This will do:' He turned back around to face me, then I said, "I'm sorry to tell you this but it's about May Feather."

  "May?" He looked wary as hell.

  "Yes. I thought someone should let you know. She—"

  couldn't do it, not like that. Not even to Ron.

  "Whatever you have to say," he snapped, "just say it."

  I nodded. "All right. Ron, I'm sorry, but this morning May was found in the river by some campers. She's dead."

  At first the anger stayed on his face, like he'd forgotten it was there. Then he swallowed and his expression went completely blank. No words came from him and he didn't move.

  I felt bad about spouting off like that. No matter what he'd done, he was a human being, and I'd just hurt him

  "I'm sorry," I said. "Are you okay? I'm sure this isn't easy to hear:'

  He began to breathe carefully, like he was relearning the technique and might get it wrong. "No, no, that's fine'

  He looked at the floor, then back up to me. "I'm sorry to hear it."

  He took his time before he spoke again. His face was back under control, but his voice was tighter than usual.

  "This must be hard on all of you."

  "It is."

  "How is Shannan?"

  "She's just fine." I wanted to say more about her, but what? I didn't want to tell him she'd gotten drunk, because to Ron that was a sin requiring punishment. "She's made a new friend at camp," I said. Then I remembered that Jennifer was May's assistant, so there wasn't much more to add.

  "Good. That's good," he said, but he didn't look like he was really listening. "And how is Beth taking, uh, it?"

  "Just fine," I said. "We're having a memorial campfire for May tonight."

  He nodded his head in a small gesture of understanding.

  "I'm sure people will like that."

  I waited, but he didn't add anything. He didn't even ask why I'd driven to town to deliver the news, and since I couldn't bring it up, it felt like there was something big and smelly between us. It didn't leave us anything to say. Ron shifted leg to leg, looking out the window.

  "I'd better go," I said, turning and hitting the wire cage with my leg. For something to fill the silence I asked,

  "Why is Sinatra in there? Has he been bad again?'

  "What?" Ron's gaze returned to the room, then down to the cage. "Oh, Sinatra. He's going to the animal shelter. He isn't suited for our house." Sinatra yowled and Ron frowned.

  "The shelter?" I said. "You can't just take him like that!

  He might be put to—"

  "He can't stay here." Ron was firm and angry. It was misplaced anger, I was sure, but that didn't matter a whit to me, and it certainly wouldn't matter to Sinatra. Ron added,

  "I can't have him here."

  "Fine, but he's my cat. Beth gave him to me yesterday, and I was going to pick him up when camp was over."

  Ron nudged the cage with his toe. "He needs to go now. He's too much to deal with. Especially with .

  everything."

  I could understand that managing Sinatra on top of May's death might be a bit much, but Ron had decided to get rid of Sinatra before he knew about May. What kind of a person takes a family pet to the pound without even con-sulting his wife and daughter?

  I looked closer at Ron, but there was nothing to see except a plain old face, and not one that I found particularly attractive. His expression was perfectly blank.

  I'd forgotten that Ron was a lawyer and a good one who made a lot of money with his high-profile real estate cases.

  If this control was something he'd learned in law school, then he'd been trained well. Too bad it made him even less appealing.

  "Fine I said. "I'll take Sinatra with me now." I snatched up the heavy cage and almost fell over with the weight.

  "If that's what you want:' he said as I struggled.

  The wood-and-wire box was huge, but after some adjustment I was able to open the door. Since Ron hadn't offered to help, I had to wrangle the cage outside and across to the driveway by myself while it slammed against my hip the whole way. I didn't say good-bye, and neither did Ron. I did hear him close the door behind me.

  "Mo-Ron," I muttered.

  When I rescued Sinatra, I wasn't thinking ahead. I hadn't thought about having to take him back to camp. My house was another fifteen minutes away in the wrong direction, and I had a demonstration to give that morning. It was my first demonstration, and I didn't want to be late for it; under the circumstances that would be very hard on Cordy. Another thing, I wasn't willing to part with Sinatra just now.

  He'd been too close to being given away, or worse, and I wanted him where I could keep an eye on him.

  He must have felt the same way, because as soon as we were in the car and I opened the cage door, he climbed up on my shoulder and started purring. It made me think of the song about having a bluebird on your shoulder.

  "Are you my bluebird?" I asked him. "Because I could really use a bluebird, what with everything. else that's happening."

  He purred even louder, so I reached up to pet his tiny body. "You know," I said as we started off, "you could be just what everyone needs at Green Clover." He jumped from my shoulder to my lap, where I could pet him more conveniently. "See what I mean? The perfect little sweetheart. You just need to stay this way."

  I was almost to the highway when he stood up and poked his head through the steering wheel. "Not a smart move," I said. "Get out of there."

  He looked at me, then around the front seat and down to the floorboard. He was poised on the edge of the seat. "No, you don't!" But he did. He jumped down to the floor and went right under the brake pedal.

  I nearly had a
wreck hauling him out, but I managed it.

  Then I pulled off to the side of the road, much to the annoyance of an eighteen-wheeler behind me.

  To Sinatra I said, "You may not get on the floorboard."

  He purred. "You've just been grounded. Or you can call it a time-out. Whatever you call it, you're back in the cage." I leaned over the seat and popped him inside which caused a few pitiful yowls. "Vent all you want, but you're staying in there while I' m driving."

  I went a few more blocks to a strip mall with a pet store, and sucker that I am, I took Sinatra out and carried him around while I got all of the things he'd need at camp.

  Three people offered to take him off my hands because he's so darn cute. Fine for them to say, but they didn't know that Trouble really was his middle name.

  That I could deal with. Unfortunately, my middle name was going to be mud if I had to face Beth before I could figure out a good explanation for why I had him.

  Nine

  "Run, run

  little deer, now run.

  The hunter has a gun.

  He's a mean old man

  from a wicked old clan.

  So run

  little deer,

  now run."

  Camp Green Clover song

  We arrived at the Lazy L battered but unbloodied. I like to think that meant I had won, but the truth is, Sinatra had spent the rest of the ride on his first-class perch on my shoulder. I did make him wear a collar and a leash, which I had kept clamped in my hand.

  "What are you doing with Sinatra?" Beth asked as I came in carrying the cat and his newly purchased belongings. I'd been hoping she wouldn't notice, which just shows my state of mind.

  Beth was alone on the sleeping porch, sitting in an old straight-back chair with a TV tray in front of her. On it were beading materials and a flat bracelet of deep olive greens and blacks, which was taking shape. It was almost two inches wide, and Beth had added a few bright turquoise beads that made the design pop.

  "And do me a favor," she added. "Please don't let him loose just yet." On the tray was an old towel so the beads wouldn't scatter, but that wasn't going to help a whit if Sinatra decided to leap up there.

  I placed him on my bed along with all of his new accoutrements.

  "I'll control him," I promised, holding the end of the leash.

  "Kitzi, you are a woman of amazing talents, but I seriously doubt that even you can do that. He is an infant and a wild animal, neither of which can be controlled?"

  "Not such a wild guy—besides he's also adorable."

  "No argument from me?' She was working away, only glancing up periodically. "But you haven't said why you went to get him."

  "Oh, you know," I said, depositing his new litter box in the corner and filling it with a layer of gravel. I turned my attention to the things that went in the cage. Sinatra loved the crinkling of the sack and crawled into it as soon as there was room.

  I took my bath towel, folded it half a dozen times, and laid it down in the bottom of the cage; it covered about two-thirds of the space and was almost three inches thick.

  Talk about a soft, fluffy bed; Sinatra was going to love it.

  And I was going to have to dry off with a hand towel after my showers, but Sinatra was worth it.

  Beth had dropped all conversation for the moment, and I decided I'd made it through without any third degree from her. That was a good thing. Next I filled Sinatra's food and water bowls and put them in the other part of the cage. It was going to be a happy little home—

  "Ron was at the house?" she asked.

  I'd been a tad premature in my relief. "Yes," I said. "I didn't break in, if that's what you're concerned about."

  Actually, I have a key, but I hadn't remembered it until that minute.

  "Well, then I don't have to worry about the silver being missing."

  I smiled. To an observer this might look like a casual conversation, especially since Beth hardly looked up from her work. I wasn't feeling a bit casual, and I doubted Beth was, either. Her fingers work separately from her mind, and beading is how she gets her thinking done. She was thinking hard.

  When all my preparations were complete I climbed onto the bunk beside Sinatra. He immediately moved close to me, his blue eyes watchful as I stroked his fragile body with its soft fur. I adored the little guy. "I hope Cordy doesn't get upset," I said, "but I wanted some comfort. You know."

  "No, actually, I don't." That woman knows me way too well. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to go get him?" she went on.

  "Why I went for Sinatra?"

  "I hate when you do that!"

  "Answer a question with a question?"

  "Not funny."

  "Sorry," I said. "Actually, it's simple. I was walking around the camp feeling lonely, and I thought of Sinatra." I leaned forward so I finally met her gaze. "And you know me. I just got in the Rover and left!'

  I could see on her face that she knew there was more to the story, but she let it drop. Why? Because she was aware of Ron and May's affair?

  "What was Ron doing?" She asked.

  "I don't know what he was doing."

  I didn't want to tell Beth what a jerk her husband was.

  Of course, she lived with him, so she must have known.

  "Okay," she said, glancing at me again. "Then why did you look steamed when I asked about him?"

  "Oh. That."

  93

  Barbara Burnett Smith

  "Yes, that."

  "If you must know, Ron did upset me. When I got to your house, he had Sinatra in a cage and he was going to take him to the animal shelter. I know—you're going to say that wasn't all Ron's fault, since we didn't tell him you'd given Sinatra to me—"

  "No, I wasn't going to say that."

  "Well, it is in his favor, but still he was getting rid of Sinatra without telling anyone:' I rolled over on my back so I wasn't looking directly at her. "And that's why Mr. Sinatra is at Green Clover!'

  "I wondered where you'd gone!"

  "What did I miss?" I asked, snuggling with the kitten.

  "Right now there's a demonstration on making lamp-work beads, but I decided not to attend. If I did, I'd have to start making my own beads, and you know how addicted I get to things. I'd never get my house clean or a book read."

  "You could always hire someone to clean." I sat back up. "Oh, I almost forgot; my demonstration's in a little bit.

  Don't let me be late." She nodded and I added, "Any more word on May's death?"

  "Not that I've heard. Everyone is so upset." Beth let out a sigh and finally focused on me, not her work. "Maybe we should all go home!'

  "I can't," I said. "I promised Cordy I'd stay for the weekend, and that's a promise I intend to keep."

  "But there are mitigating circumstances. Jeb is here, remember?" When I shrugged, she looked me over. "You can pretend it doesn't matter, but, I'm not sure I'll believe you."

  "It's been a long time—"

  "I know that, and I also saw your face when Leesa said his name."

  "It's a big camp, and there are plenty of other things to hold my attention. My demonstration, for one. The Tivolini buyer. May's memorial tonight!" All true, but thoughts of that darned Jeb weren't far from my frontal lobe. I'd have cut and run, but I couldn't think of a way to do it and still maintain any dignity. I'm big on dignity.

  "How's it going?" Leesa said by way of a greeting as she came in. She looked like all the cool had gone out of her, and I doubted the effect had been caused by heat and humidity, although there were plenty of both.

  "Fine," I said.

  She climbed up to her bunk and laid down, her head over the edge so she could watch us. "Nice bracelet," she said to Beth.

  "Thanks. It's the technique I showed how to do last night."

  Obviously, Leesa hadn't attended the demonstration, either.

  The kitten observed from his spot beside me, but as soon as he was over his intimidation I knew he'd be clawing his way to the c
eiling. Or up a tree, or worse. I picked him up and cuddled him for a moment, stroking his fuzzy head.

  "Do you do any beading?" I asked Leesa.

  "Actually—"

  The door opened and Jennifer, May's assistant stepped inside. She was holding sheets, blankets, and a pillow and her head moved side to side taking in the sleeping porch.

  "Hi. Is Shannan here? Isn't this where she sleeps?"

  Beth said, "No and yes. Her bunk is above mine, but right now she's on a trail ride with the Eastern contingent.

  She'll be back in a little bit."

  "Oh." Jennifer's shoulders sank. "She said there's an empty bunk in here and if you don't mind, I'd like to move in. I was staying in the trailer, but I don't, like, you know, feel, uh . .."

  "You don't need an invitation; you just pick a spot and move in. Up there," I said, pointing to the bed over mine,

  "or down there." I indicated the space beneath Leesa.

  "Your choice; we'd be pleased to have you."

  I thought I spotted tears in her eyes as she heaved her bedding onto the mattress above me. "Thanks." She swallowed a couple of times. "I just don't want to stay alone right now, especially in the trailer. You know . . ."

  She wasn't much older than Shannan, and here she was facing May's death alone. Poor kid. I stood up and put an arm around her shoulders, leaving Sinatra on my bunk.

  "Make yourself at home. I can't imagine anything worse than being off by yourself with everything that's happened.

  Do you need any help making up your bed?"

  "Oh, no. I can do it. But thanks."

  "We're glad you're here," Beth said, looking up. "Shannan will be glad, too. She could use a friend at camp who's near her own age."

  Sinatra didn't like being alone, so he stretched out his long pink tongue in a yawn, looking for a little attention.

  Then he meowed and jumped up, clinging to the waistband of my sweatpants with his sharp little claws. I let out a yelp.

  "Oh, how darling," Jennifer said, reaching out to help me extricate him. "Is he yours?" When we got him loose, she cupped him in her hands and he began to purr. It was all the encouragement she needed. "He's so cute! Is it okay if I hold him?"