A Catered Birthday Party (27 page)

“That’s all I’m asking,” Sean said and hung up.

“So what’s going to happen now?” Samantha asked.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“Nothing?” Samantha said.

“Not yet,” Sean said firmly.

“That’s ridiculous,” Samantha said.

“No,” Sean replied. “That’s reality.”

Five minutes later, Mrs. McKee called Sean and told him the rest of the story. “I just didn’t want to say anything in front of Samantha,” she said.

“I can see why,” Sean replied after he heard what she had to say.

“Who was that?” Samantha asked Sean when he was done.

“Megan’s mom,” Sean answered. “She just wanted to tell me she wanted to share her coffee cake recipe with Bernie and Libby,” he lied.

“She’s very nice,” Samantha said.

“Yes, she is,” Sean agreed.

I
t was nine-thirty the next morning. Bernie was in the kitchen of A Little Taste of Heaven putting a pumpkin pie in the oven. She was wondering if they should invest in one of those fancy new cash registers instead of sticking with their old basic ninety-nine-dollar model when her cell rang. She slid the pie in, closed the oven door, and picked up her phone. Megan was on the line.

“You’ve got to come over to the pet shop,” she cried. “Samantha is flipping out.”

“Flipping out as in how?” Bernie asked while she wiped her hands on the towel lying on the counter.

“Just please come,” Megan replied. Then she hung up.

“Great,” Bernie said.

“What’s wrong?” Libby asked.

Bernie told her. “It’s probably nothing,” she added.

“Probably,” Libby agreed.

The sisters were silent for a moment. The sounds of their early morning customers seeped in over the soundtrack of
My Fair Lady
that Libby was playing.

“On the other hand, it could be something,” Libby finally said.

Bernie nodded. Given the circumstances, there was no doubt about that.

“You’d better go,” Libby told her sister.

“I know. What about the cranberry bars?”

“I’ll take care of them,” Libby replied.

They had an order for five dozen cranberry nut bars for three o’clock that afternoon for a fund-raising event at the local high school.

“I’ll say one thing about Samantha,” Bernie said as she went to get her coat. “She definitely is a pain in the ass.”

Libby didn’t disagree.

Ten minutes later Bernie arrived at the pet store. She could see Samantha through the window. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the counter clutching a sheepskin lamb to her chest. The moment Bernie parked the van, Megan, who had been anxiously hovering by the shop door, ran out and dragged her inside.

“It’s her dad,” Megan whispered nervously to Bernie as they came through the door.

The door closed behind them. “What about him?” Bernie whispered back.

Megan swallowed. “They just had a fight and he’s kicking her out. He just told her he’s not her dad, so there’s no reason he has to put up with her nonsense anymore.”

Then she stopped talking, because they were four feet away from Samantha. “Here she is,” Megan said unnecessarily.

“I told you not to call her,” Samantha hiccupped between sobs.

“Well, I’m glad she did,” Bernie told her.

Samantha looked up at Bernie. Her nose was red. Tears were pouring out of her eyes. “All I said was that he should teach his brat to respect other people’s property—one of the spawn took my iPod and dropped it in the toilet—and he told me he was fed up with my attitude and he’d just taken me in as a favor anyway after my mom died. He said he wasn’t my real dad—Richard was.

“So I could go and live with him and see if I liked it better. I hate my dad, but I hate Richard even more. He’s a total control freak. I mean, you can’t take a breath without his counting it. He spies on people. It’s really creepy.

“I never even want to go to the bathroom in that place. I mean, what if he’s one of those sickos who likes watching people pee? And now I’m supposed to live there. I’ll have to go in a bucket outside. I’ll live in a homeless shelter before I’ll live with him.” And she started sobbing again.

“I’m sorry,” Megan said to Bernie as she was looking down at Samantha. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I mean, I don’t know what to do. Sam can’t stay here.”

“That’s right. Kick me out into the cold,” Samantha cried.

“I already told you that if my boss comes in and sees you like this, I’ll get fired. I told you that you could stay at my place—my mom won’t mind.” Megan turned to Bernie. “But she doesn’t want to.”

“Don’t you see?” Samantha wailed. “It will make me feel worse. Your mom and dad are nice. If anyone is nice to me I’ll die.”

“Spoken like a true drama queen,” Bernie said.

Samantha’s head shot up. She glared at her.

“This is not the end of the world,” Bernie said.

“Yes, it is,” Samantha cried. “How can you say that it isn’t? Have you no heart? No soul?”

Bernie crouched down next to Samantha. “Look at me,” she instructed. “Okay,” she said to her when she had. “We’re going to go back to the shop and go upstairs. You’re going to clean up and have something to eat. Then you’re going to tell me what happened, all right?”

“I told you,” Samantha protested.

“Well, you’re going to tell me again,” Bernie informed her.

Samantha nodded.

“And then we’re going to see what we can do about it.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Samantha protested. “I always thought I wanted to know who my real parents were. Talk about being unclear on the concept,” she said as Bernie led her out of the shop and into the van.

By the time they’d reached A Little Taste of Heaven, Samantha’s sobs had subsided into the occasional muffled sniveling and Bernie had a pretty good idea of what was what. Evidently Samantha’s dad had caught her taking some of his wife’s clothes to donate to the Salvation Army. The fact that one of the dresses that Samantha had chosen was a two thousand–dollar Missoni probably had something to do with her stepmother’s wrath.

Bernie was listening to her dad tell her what Mrs. McKee told him.

“This is very complicated,” Bernie said when her dad was done.

Sean laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Bernie could hear that. The water in the bathroom was still running. Which was good. She wanted to finish this discussion before Samantha came out.

“Let me repeat this,” Bernie said. “Anna, Trudy’s groomer, had something going on with Richard when she was going to Hampshire Community College. He knocked her up. Then Annabel came along and seduced him. Richard left Anna for Annabel. Anna went off and had Samantha. Samantha was adopted by Richard’s friend Robert Barron and his first wife. All four of the parties involved signed a nondisclosure document.”

Sean took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Go on,” he said. “You’re doing great.”

“Barron and his first wife got divorced after a year of marriage. She took Samantha and headed down to New York, where she stayed. Meanwhile, Barron remarried a woman with two young children. Or maybe she had them by him. I don’t remember.”

Sean shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay. When Samantha’s mom died, Sam had nowhere else to go, so she came up here and moved in with Barron. Barron wasn’t exactly pleased to see her, having his hands full with his second family and all. And Samantha wasn’t pleased because he’s a big-deal hunter—you know, one of those people who fly to Africa to kill inedible animals so he can mount their heads on the wall—a displeasure she was not shy sharing with him.” Bernie took a deep breath and said, “And now we come to the present. She started fighting with everyone and then came the final straw. Samantha decided to take it upon herself to reallocate resources.” Bernie explained about the dress. “And her stepmom hit the roof.”

“Understandably so,” Sean said. “She has a habit of relocating things,” he said, thinking about Trudy. “Always with the best of motives, of course. Actually, she reminds me a little of you when you were younger. Remember when you donated a freezerful of steaks to a homeless man…”

“…who turned out to be wanted on a bank robbery charge?” Bernie groaned. “Yes. I remember,” she said.

“Fortunately, we got the meat back in the freezer before your mom returned from her aunt’s.” Sean chuckled and shook his head at the memory.

“Anyway,” Bernie continued, “according to Samantha, her stepmom told Barron he had to make a choice. Either Samantha went or she went. So he kicked Samantha out. That’s what we know.”

Sean took another sip of his hot chocolate, sat back in his armchair, and thought about the yearbook pictures he’d seen at Joyce’s house, the one of Annabel and Joyce and Anna at Rockefeller Center.

“So,” he hypothesized, “maybe one day Anna comes into the Colbert house and sees Samantha working there. She looks at Samantha and she knows that this is her kid.”

“How does she know?” Bernie asked.

Sean shook his head. “Maybe there’s a family feature that stands out. Maybe Anna’s been in touch with the dad. I’m not sure. But let’s just say for the moment that she knows.”

Bernie nodded. “All right. Go on.”

“Everything comes back in a rush to her. All the hurt. All the angst. The betrayal. And she decides she wants to punish Richard and Annabel by killing Annabel and laying the blame on Richard.”

“That would explain the time frame,” Bernie said.

Sean nodded his agreement.

Bernie went on. “So Anna steals a bottle of the wine Annabel drinks, doctors it up, and makes sure that it’s the one on the sideboard the day of the party—which would be easy enough for her to do because she was there that day. After which she leaves, figuring that everything will go as planned. But it doesn’t.”

“That’s the problem with poison,” Sean said. “It’s unpredictable.”

“Very. That’s why most people use guns or knives. Unfortunately, those didn’t fit in with her scenario,” Bernie said. “So instead of Annabel falling over dead, thereby rendering the site a crime scene, Annabel passes out. Since everyone told the police she was having a heart attack—which in a sense she was, never mind that it was brought on by the insecticides—the cops didn’t secure the scene. That allowed Richard to engage in a bit of housecleaning, thereby throwing a major monkey wrench into Anna’s plans and leaving Richard free and clear and unarrested.”

“That must have pissed her off to no end,” Sean said.

“I would guess so.” Bernie fingered a button on her cardigan. It was coming loose and she needed to resew it. “About Samantha,” she said, changing the topic.

“You’re thinking that it’s going to be tough on her if what we think is true really is true?” her dad asked.

Bernie nodded.

“I know. That occurred to me as well.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“So what can we do?” Bernie asked.

“It may be irrelevant.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that it might never get to that point. What we’re talking about is still circumstantial—at best. Certainly there isn’t enough evidence to make a case against anyone with what we’ve got.”

“I’m aware of that,” Bernie said.

“Good,” Sean said. He leaned forward in his chair. “Do not—and I mean do
not
—go talking to Anna.”

“And why would I do that?” Bernie asked, hiding her dismay. Was she really that easy to read?

“To get her to do something she might not do otherwise,” Sean snapped. “And don’t bother denying it. I know how your mind works.”

“Just like yours.”

Sean opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Samantha emerged from the bathroom.

She’d washed her hair and scrubbed her face. When she sat down on the sofa, Bernie noted that though there was a slight redness around Samantha’s eyes, she looked as if she hadn’t cried at all. Bernie felt a moment of intense envy—when she cried, her eyes swelled up like a puffer fish—but she managed to suppress it.

“I guess I overreacted,” Samantha said after she’d had a glass of milk and two chocolate walnut brownies. “I mean, so what if I get thrown out? Right?”

“Right,” Bernie agreed.

“Now I don’t have to look at all those disgusting heads mounted on the wall. Just seeing them is such bad karma.” Samantha wiped off the top of her upper lip with the back of her hand. “I was going to move to Brooklyn in a couple of months anyway and be a waitress. Or maybe I can do voice-overs. Do you think Richard will give me some money?” Samantha asked. “You know, to kind of get me started.”

“Well,” Sean began but Samantha cut him off.

“Because I’m going to ask him. I’m going to ask him right now. Either he will or he won’t. And if he won’t, I can sue him for child support.”

Sean didn’t point out that Samantha was past the age where that would apply. He could see from the set of Samantha’s jaw that nothing he could say was going to register. She’d made up her mind and that was that.

Samantha turned to Bernie. “Can you give me a lift back to the pet shop? That’s where I left my car.”

“Bernie will take you to the Colberts’ house,” Sean said before Bernie had a chance to answer.

“You will?” Samantha asked.

“She will,” Sean said.

“By all means,” Bernie said, intuiting that her dad didn’t want Samantha wandering around in the state she was in. Of course, given the way she and Richard had parted company she wasn’t sure she was going to be a helpful presence, but it would still probably be better if she went along. “We could always hold Trudy up for ransom if Richard doesn’t agree to your demands,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned her gaze on her father. “That is, if we knew where she was.”

“Which we don’t,” Sean pointed out.