All Roads Lead Home (Bellingwood) Read online

  Before she could take off to look at anything in the room, Andy had pressed a glass of something in her hand. "A toast," she cried, "to Saturday night!"

  Polly brought her attention back to the group of women and raised her glass. Drinking it, she nearly choked, "What's in here?" she asked.

  Beryl smiled, "Maybe I overdid it with the tabasco? It's a bloody martini."

  Polly took a sip, "It's pretty good if I sip it. But, wait. What else is in here?"

  This time Beryl laughed out loud. "I found Bacon Vodka! Isn't it great?"

  All of them laughed with her and then she said, "The first game for the evening is for you to figure out which seat is yours. It shouldn't be too difficult, but you have to guess and then open the box on your plate. If it's yours, you'll know and you can sit down. If it's not, you have to shut the box quickly so no one else can see and then look again."

  The four women giggled and went over to the table. Each of them looked around, there were no clues, so they picked up a box and looked inside. Polly found a baby rattle. That made no sense to her, so she closed the box and put it back on the table, then looked at the others. They were all snickering, but it seemed as if Andy's snicker was a little bit pointed toward her. No one had chosen the right box, so they picked up their glasses. Polly went to where Andy had been, and dammit, sure enough. Inside was a bright purple bra. She closed the box and sat down.

  "Aren't you going to show us?" Beryl asked.

  "Hell no. You are all awful. If I show you, you're going to want me to put it on." Polly said.

  Andy picked up the box Polly had opened, looked at it with some confusion and then closed it and put it back down. "Oh my, I hope not," she said.

  Neither of the others had landed on their box yet, so they moved again. Sylvie opened the box at the place on Polly's left. She sat down with a smile on her face. "You shouldn't have," she said.

  Beryl was standing behind her and patted her on the shoulder. "Of course I should, you deserve it."

  "What do you have?" Polly asked, leaning over to look in the box. Sylvie pulled a chain out with two charms on it. Her boys' initials were on each charm. Between them was an amethyst and on either side were two other stones, a ruby and a diamond.

  "Birthdays?" Polly asked again.

  "Yes. Mine is in February, Jason's in July and Andrew's is April." Sylvie turned to look up at Beryl. "Thank you so much." Beryl patted her shoulder again.

  "Alright ladies. Are your gifts right? Andy?"

  Andy sat down in the chair and opened the box. "Yes, this is so me!" She pulled out a set of salt and pepper shakers. When they were placed together, two black cats wrapped around each other.

  "You have cats?" Polly asked.

  "Yes. Chaz and Addams," she said. "I'll show you later."

  Lydia had a puzzled look on her face, "I guess this is mine, but I don't get it," she said.

  "Sit down, grandma. I have some news for you," Beryl said.

  "Really? Who?" Lydia asked.

  "Marilyn called me yesterday and asked if I could find a creative way to tell you that she and Brian were pregnant again. They're coming over tomorrow after church, but she thought I could have fun with this. And I did!"

  A small smile lit Lydia's face. "I can't believe it. I didn't even know they were trying. After they'd worked so hard to have the twins, I didn't think they'd be able to have anymore." She looked around the room. "Girls, I'm going to be a grandma again!"

  Then she said, "Thank you, Beryl. I hope it is okay that this will be one of the baby's first gifts!"

  Beryl threw her arms around her friend. "Of course it's okay! Now, drink up, ladies, I have pitchers more of this stuff in the refrigerator." She walked back over to the bar and Lydia got up as if to help.

  "Nope, sit still. All I'm going to do is grab a few things. I can do this by myself."

  Picking up one of Polly's baskets of bread, she set it on the table and then brought over an antique blue and white covered soup tureen.

  "First course, bread and soup," and with a flourish she whipped the lid up and steam poured out. "It's a theme. Potato and bacon soup."

  The rest of the meal was served from the bar, brussels sprouts, asparagus and beans were Andy's offering. Lydia had brought mashed potatoes and roasted acorn squash. Small covered dishes at place settings were filled with fresh bacon crumbles and Beryl's ham was heavenly. By the time dinner was over, Polly was sure she would burst. She looked at Sylvie and said, "I don't know how I'm going to eat any dessert tonight."

  "Don't worry, I think we have a little time before we have to worry about that," Andy said as she stood and started to gather up the dishes around her.

  "Stop that," Beryl said and pushed her hand back down. "You know better," then she called out, "Deena? Meryl?" Two high school girls came down the steps.

  "Did you have a good supper?" Beryl asked the girls.

  "Yes! It was awesome! Thank you," one of them said and the two girls started clearing the table.

  "They live in the neighborhood and help me out," she explained. "They take art lessons from me. It's kind of nice having two excellent protégés around. I appreciate all they do. It's kind of like having," she paused, "I was going to say a wife, but they don't nag me. Well, anyway, they'll take care of all this and we’re going back upstairs. Leave your boxes. They'll make sure everything is ready to go when you leave."

  Polly put her napkin down beside her plate, stood up and followed them upstairs. While they had been eating, the main room had been transformed. The rugs were pulled up and large tarps covered the floor. Four easels were set up with 20 x 30 canvases on them and stools were placed in front each canvas. Wrap-around aprons lay across a small stand beside each stool and an array of paints, brushes, charcoal, pencils, chalk and pastels was laid out on a card table.

  Beryl said, "Pick a medium and an easel."

  Sylvie looked at her, stricken. "I'm not an artist!"

  Polly interjected, "And you're intimidating!"

  "Oh, stop it," Beryl said, a little disgusted. "You are all creative and I don't care at all what your canvases look like. Splatter color on them. All that matters is your hands get a little dirty and you make something happen between your mind and the canvas. If you want help, I'll help you, but I know you can all do this. Now get moving!"

  They jumped at her command and scurried over to the art mediums. Sylvie fingered the charcoal before picking up a piece. She chose the easel as far away as possible from Beryl. Lydia grabbed a few of the pencils, then thought about it and took a few more.

  Andy laughed and started squeezing acrylic paint onto a palette. "I've done this before, I know what to expect and I know what to do, too!" She picked up a few brushes and made her way to another easel. Polly stood in front of the different mediums looking shaken, Beryl said, "Take the pastels. They're perfect for you."

  Polly did and sat in front of a blank canvas, not knowing what to do.

  Beryl said, "Shut your eyes, all of you." Polly shut her eyes and listened. "Think about a place you love. Look at the colors, or the shapes. Are there people or animals? See the background in your mind." She was quiet for a few moments, then said, "Now open your eyes. You may not make a perfect piece tonight, but all I want you to do is enjoy yourself. Get a feel for the medium in your hands, play with it on the canvas. Put color where you want it, put another color where you think it should be. Draw random shapes or something which fits with the color. Really ... all I want you to do is get the feel of touching the canvas."

  Polly picked up a light blue and moved it across the canvas. It felt wonderful. She picked up a different shade and blended it into the first, then continued to work. The house had gone quiet, except for the girls working downstairs. She heard a low conversation across the room and looked up. Beryl was standing beside Sylvie, moving her hand back and forth on the canvas. "Yes," she said, "you're seeing it." Then Beryl walked past Lydia and hugged her. "You're a good grandma," she whispered as she m
oved to Andy.

  "Oh, Andy, I can always count on you. You should have taken more art in college," she said as she picked up the canvas and turned it so everyone could see it. "This is what I had to compete with while we were growing up." Polly burst out laughing. Andy had painted a hideous looking clown face.

  "How is THAT some place you love?" Polly asked.

  "I know better. Beryl gets all artsy fartsy on nights like this. I have to remind her I hate this crap."

  "Whatever," Beryl retorted. "You were pretty good. If you’d kept at it, who knows what you might have done. But, at least we know what it is. You are such a brat."

  "Me?" Andy sneered. "I knew what was coming tonight and I showed up. I think I'm the good girl."

  Beryl stopped behind Polly. "What do you have happening here, girlfriend?"

  "I'm not sure? I got all caught up in the colors and the way they worked together."

  "Okay, then, that's perfect. Color it is!"

  Everyone went back to their canvases and continued to work. Deana and Meryl brought up four large canvas bags and set them in the hallway, then returned to the basement. They continued bringing things upstairs and chattering away.

  Beryl said out loud, "Do we know anything more about the Stevens murders?"

  Polly looked up, she'd practically put the whole thing out of her mind, but Lydia responded.

  "Aaron called before he left Boone. The DCI is still processing everything they found. There were fingerprints, but of course, they don't know if they belonged to the girls, to someone else or the killer. They don't match anything in the system, so that wasn't helpful. I don't know how much he'll tell me, but I doubt they know any more now than they did on Wednesday."

  Polly looked up, "Did they ever have a funeral for the girls?"

  "No," Lydia said. "They weren't sure if they were dead, so I think everyone hoped someday they would finally show up. Rev. Boehm will talk to Linda and Sandy about it. It’s so sad. I'm sorry their parents aren’t here to be able to finally have closure, even if it was this."

  Andy spoke up, "I suppose it's better to believe they figured it out when they got to heaven and found the girls. We can't think about what might have been, especially since they've died."

  She put her brushes down and declared, "I'm done and I want something sweet to eat. When are we having dessert?"

  Polly looked at her watch. It was ten o'clock. "Wow! Where did the time go?" She put the sticks of color back in their slots, then stood and stretched. "Ow, my butt," and she arched her back, stretching again.

  Beryl gathered the canvasses and stood them up against the hallway wall. Andy's clown was a hideous face, Lydia had drawn a large baby quilt, filling in squares with soft pastel colors. Polly's attempts at blending colors looked silly to her, but the others seemed to like what they saw. Sylvie's charcoal was rough, but Polly saw waves crashing on a beach.

  Lydia said, "Beryl, do you see what I see?"

  "Sylvie?" Beryl asked, "Have you ever taken any art instruction?"

  Sylvie laughed. "Of course not! I don't have time for that and I couldn't afford it anyway."

  Beryl said, "Well, honey, you've got some talent. You and me? We're gonna talk."

  She walked into the kitchen muttering, "I hate it when talent hides. Schools don't know what they're doing. Stupid teachers, stupid schools."

  The rest of them looked at each other and giggled, not knowing quite what to say. Then Beryl called out, "Sylvie, could you help me in here?"

  Sylvie jumped up and ran to the hallway and into the kitchen. There was some giggling and muttering, enough so that Lydia called out, "Do you need any more help?"

  Sylvie called back, "No, we've got it! Just a minute!"

  Deena and Meryl quietly walked into the room and folded up the easels, setting them aside. They carried all of the supplies out and downstairs and then came back and folded up the tarps. While they were working, Polly looked at the other two women in the room, "Is it just me or do you feel useless?"

  Andy laughed, "It's not just you. Can we help, girls?"

  One of the girls said, "Oh no! You sit still."

  "Alright," Lydia said, as she lifted one foot and then another while the tarp was pulled away, then folded up. "Are you still alright in there?" she called out again.

  "Hush your mouth, woman! Sit still for once in your life." Beryl's laughter rang out.

  "I'm not sure if I know how to do that, but I'll try," Lydia said.

  The girls had removed the tarps and tossed the rugs back around the room. The hard wood floor looked comfortable enough, but the random piling of the brightly colored rugs certainly kept the room looking warm. After they finished, they brought the coffee table back in and placed the magazines back on it. One stacked them neatly, the other reached over and gave them a push so they scattered. "Trust me," she said to her friend as they walked out to the kitchen.

  Sylvie walked into the room with the platter Polly had carried in. Adorable little pewter towers ranging from a quarter inch tall to two inches settled into indentations in the platter and each had something on top. There were cheesecake bites and mini cream puffs, chocolate chip cookies and brownie bites, fruit tartlets and even tiny pumpkin pies. Beryl had in her hands another platter with little bowls filled with chocolate sauce, berries, crème fraiche, whipped cream, butterscotch, granola and other toppings. Deena and Meryl followed with plates, silverware and napkins.

  "Wow, Sylvie. You're an artist with food, too!" exclaimed Lydia.

  Sylvie beamed.

  "Did you make all of these separate dishes for tonight? There's only five of us! That's a lot of work," said Andy, "and a lot of money." Lydia tried to shush her.

  "Eat up," Sylvie laughed and the others took a plate and began picking out bites and covering them with toppings. Beryl handed plates to Deena and Meryl who sat down on the floor and ate while they listened.

  "Cooking and baking is one of the things I can afford." Sylvie, said, "Sam gives me an amazing discount on things. And don't worry. I decided this was a perfect time to make some gifts for the kids' teachers. It isn't a holiday, so they won't be expecting anything. It will be a nice surprise. Tomorrow, they're going to help me deliver some treats to a few women around town who probably don't get things like this anymore."

  "Oh Sylvie, that's so sweet!" Beryl said.

  "It's nothing, just something Mom used to do."

  "I remember your mom," Andy said. "She was wonderful. OH! I remember her treats, too!"

  "She loved baking, so we ended up sharing all the time!" Sylvie said. "Sometimes it feels like all I ever do now is work and run around after my kids. I don't get enough time to spend with other people."

  "You're here with us tonight, Sylvie. That's a pretty good thing,” Lydia said.

  "I know, and I appreciate you inviting me. It was great to get out and be normal. The kids are old enough to let them have a little freedom from me. I guess I'm not sure how to be anything other than their mom anymore."

  "They're good kids and lucky to have you. You've done a good job with them. And trust me; we'll make sure you get a life if that's what you want. We're good at life, aren't we?" Beryl asked looking at Lydia and Andy.

  "Well, we've certainly seen a bunch of it," Andy laughed.

  "So, what are you doing for the rest of the weekend, Polly?" Lydia asked. "It's going to seem odd for you not to be at my house tomorrow morning."

  "You and Aaron have been so good to me. I've only been in town a few weeks and I'm already spending nights at someone else's house. But, I honestly don't know what I would have done these last few days." She paused. “I could have gone to a hotel, but, you took care of me in so many ways. Thank you!"

  "Oh, I loved having you there," Lydia said. "My old fart is always so much more fun when there are other people around."

  "I'm sure that's not true,” Polly scolded, “You two are kind of crazy about each other."

  Lydia got a warm look on her face. "You know, I near
ly lost him once. I don't take him for granted now, but I'll tell that story another time." She looked at Polly, "So what IS up for you the rest of the weekend?"

  "Henry is going to have his guys help me bring up some more furniture on Monday, so I have a place to sit upstairs. I'm going to go down in the basement tomorrow and try to figure out what I want. I feel like my life has been in boxes for so long and I don't see much chance that's going to change until after the New Year!"

  Sylvie looked up, "Would you like some help tomorrow?" she asked timidly.

  Beryl and Lydia were sitting a little behind her and nodding wildly at Polly.

  "I'd love that, Sylvie! Would you like to bring your boys?"

  "Could I?" she asked. They've never been in the school and I’ve talked a lot about the fun I had when I was there, and now that those girls’ bodies have been found, it seems like that's all they ever talk about at home."

  "I've got plenty of food for lunch. Why don't you come over about noon? We'll make lunch and then go attack my stuff."

  Chapter Eleven

  Lifting a box to the floor, Sylvie said, "I don't think I was ever down here when I was in high school. Old Mr. Leon was kind of creepy and no one wanted to be around him. I think some of the boys came down to do industrial arts stuff in that part of the basement,” she pointed to the back, “but the rest seemed like it was his territory."

  "Was he the only custodian here?" Polly asked.

  "No, there were two other guys. Let's see, what were their names?" Sylvie paused in thought. "Darren something and Ken Malotte. It seemed like he made them do all the dirty work. They weren't very old, probably in their 30s at the time. I remember them hating phys-ed testing; they were forever sweeping up vomit." She looked at Polly. "Do you remember the smell of the sawdust stuff?"