Janie Face to Face (23 page)

“That’s private.”

Brendan saved the part about the truck and the chains for later. He leaned across the table, pointing with the tines of his fork. “My family plans to charge you with criminal actions. Stalking, to be precise. If you can prove you were an employee doing a paid job, that might help you.” This was nonsense and he hoped Michael was too nervous to notice.

“Nothing I did was criminal!” protested Michael. “It was just fun. We had a good time. Jane can’t pretend she didn’t have a good time. I’m the one who’s hurt. She was two-timing me! She decided to marry somebody else one weekend after we broke up!”

“How do you know that?”

“Facebook, how do you think?”

“Who on Facebook?” demanded Brendan.

Michael grinned in a snarky way. “Eve posts everything and I still have access to her.”

Brendan texted Eve to unfriend Michael Hastings. “What did Calvin Vinesett think of the information you sent?”

“I didn’t have much to give. Jane wouldn’t talk about her
past. But he was very interested that the money Jane inherited from her grandmother was paying for college. He wanted to know the details.”

“You and I are going back to your apartment,” said Brendan. “You’re going to print it all out for me.” He took money out of his wallet. He ate three huge mouthfuls and then wrapped the last piece of toast around the last strips of bacon to take along.

“I don’t have time for that,” said Michael.

“Michael, you’re obviously very proud of your nice little suit and your smooth skin and your cute hair. You won’t be when I’m done.”

“I’ll call the police!”

“Go for it. How do you think they’ll react to your stalking?”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“I’m also going to call your employer and explain why you’re late. Because you’ve been arrested for stalking.”

“You can’t do that! Anyway, you don’t know where I work.”

Brendan was on a roll. “You think you’re the only person who can follow somebody, Michael?”

“All right, all right. There isn’t anything worth looking at. I didn’t find out anything. He only paid me once. He said nothing else was worth payment. I spent six weeks on your sister for nothing!”

“I’m just flying down for the day, Reeve,” his father had said. “The flight from here to Charlotte is only an hour and a half. I’ll rent a car at the airport and drive to your office. You and
I will have lunch, that’s all. I won’t interfere with your workday. No tours of Charlotte. Just lunch.”

“But Dad—”

“My flight lands at ten-thirty-one. I’ll get a taxi and I’m guessing I’ll be at ESPNU around eleven-thirty.”

Reeve was crazy about his father. He wanted to be just like his father, except different. But he knew why his father was coming down with such urgency. Dad wanted Reeve to be strong and loyal and steady and kind and generous, just like Dad himself—and a bachelor.

Dad was coming to talk Reeve out of it. He might even be coming with a bribe.

Reeve dreaded this.

On the phone, it was easy to be flippant with Lizzie or sweet but stern with his mother. In person, facing his father, he was going to have trouble.

He did not want a confrontation, especially over Janie, whose company he wanted so much. The wedding was for her. Living together was for him. He pictured driving home after work, running up the stairs to his second-floor apartment. Opening the door. And Janie would be standing there, smiling at him.

What could be more wonderful than somebody glad to see you?

He told everybody in the office that his dad was coming for lunch, and everybody wanted to meet him and had restaurant suggestions. His dad was a handsome, fit former athlete, and when he arrived, it went perfectly, because he was a people person and knew his sports and said all the right things.
Reeve was proud of his father, and of his colleagues, and then they got in Reeve’s car and Reeve looked straight ahead, careful to have no eye contact.

He drove to the restaurant he’d chosen and parked in the shade, so the car wouldn’t be so stifling when they came out. He didn’t think he could eat, which would be a new experience. His dad touched his shoulder. “Let’s just sit here and talk before we go in, son.”

Reeve nodded. He didn’t want to let his father down. But Janie came first.

“I’m here on assignment,” said his father quietly.

Reeve stared through the windshield at fat green mounds of tropical grasses.

“I didn’t accept the assignment,” said his dad.

Reeve risked a glance. His father looked very emotional. Reeve couldn’t tell what the emotion was.

Dad handed him a check. “This is what we spent on Lizzie’s wedding, and it’s what we gave Todd when he got married, and it’s what we will give Megan when she gets married.”

Reeve stared at the check.
“You spent that much money on Lizzie’s wedding?”

“Yup. Tough old attorney Liz wanted the splashiest, most expensive wedding on earth.”

“I guess so! Dad, I know Mom wants you to bribe me out of marrying Janie, and this is more money than I could ever save up. But—”

“It’s not a bribe to stop you, Reeve. It’s a boost to start you. I’ve always been impressed by Janie, but now I’m really impressed. She’s not getting married to have a wedding gown
and a reception. She’s getting married to have you. My son. No, this is a precelebration check. For you to spend as you choose.”

Reeve mentally divided it up. I can buy Janie a ring! She can pick out furniture. I can pay off my car! And even take a honeymoon. Well, if we ever find a weekend I’m not working. “Dad,” he said.

“Yeah, don’t get mushy on me. I hope this is the kind of place that serves bacon burgers and onion rings. Your mother doesn’t let me have grease or salt. I’m counting on you to give me a one-meal vacation from the rules.”

Janie had taken the train up to Connecticut and spent the night, sleeping on the foldout sofa at the Harbor. Miranda did not want to come wedding gown shopping. Her excuse was, she couldn’t leave Frank for so much time. “Mom, the whole point of assisted living is that they assist. The Harbor is packed with aides who will make sure Frank is fine.”

“I don’t feel up to it, honey.”

“Oh, Mom, I know it’s hard to share being mother of the bride, but you are the mother of the bride, and the bride wants you to have some of the fun! This will be fun. You need fun! How much fun are you having here at the Harbor?”

Miranda ended up laughing.

But the next day, Janie had to deal with Reeve’s mother. Mrs. Shields picked up Janie and Miranda early in the morning and the three of them set out for New Jersey. Mrs. Shields had had two weddings in her family—Lizzie’s earthshaking production and Todd’s wedding out West, in which Mrs.
Shields’s only participation had been to show up. Happily, her fourth child, Megan, was also making wedding noises. And none too soon, Mrs. Shields felt, since Megan was well into her thirties. Megan, of course, had allotted a year for planning.

Mrs. Shields listed ways in which Janie and Reeve might rethink their own plans.

“What about your college degree?” cried Mrs. Shields. “What about money?”

“I think we can be proud of how mature and sensible our children are,” said Miranda. “Reeve and Janie will make a fine couple and if they struggle financially, didn’t we all, when we were young? As for college, Janie has promised that she will transfer to a college in Charlotte. There seem to be several in the area.”

“But if Janie doesn’t work,” cried Mrs. Shields, “how will they live? Reeve hardly earns a thing!”

“That’s their problem, though,” said Miranda. “Our problem is to decide what we wear to the wedding.”

“And Charlotte!” said Mrs. Shields in tones of disgust. “Who even knew there
was
a town called Charlotte? When Reeve settles down, I’m sure it will be near home.”

Janie began to see why Reeve liked Charlotte as much as he did. It was definitely a test of her own maturity to drive with her future mother-in-law.

They crossed the George Washington Bridge. Janie texted her sister.
Long drive.

Traffic?
Jodie wrote back.

No,
texted Janie.
The company.

Kathleen had called her a “kidnapette,” which sounded like a variety of cheerleader.

The kidnapette grows up, thought Janie, and she giggled to herself.

Jodie could not comprehend the choices Janie made.

Janie actually wanted two mothers, one future mother-in-law, and a sister to go with her to the bridal mall to choose her wedding gown

When it was time for Jodie to choose a gown, she’d go alone. Nobody was horning in on her decisions.

The Shields and Johnson families had lived next door to each other for years, and whenever Jodie visited the Johnsons, Reeve came over. But Jodie had never met Mrs. Shields.

Three more exits,
Janie texted.
I’m going crazy.

Just wait till you’re in some shiny little dressing room where four women want you to pick a different gown. See how sane you’ll be at the end of that, thought Jodie.

Miranda Johnson had been a wonderful hostess whenever the Spring kids visited. It was the most awkward possible situation, and yet it hadn’t been awkward. Mr. Johnson had been a doll. Whenever Jodie caught herself having a great time up there, she used to pout a little and stomp off.

Her brother Brian never exhibited the ambivalence that swept Jodie whenever she was at the Johnsons’. He just enjoyed himself. Brendan had only gone once or twice, having zero interest in missing sisters. Stephen went, but always remained careful and contained.

Inside a family of seven, thought Jodie, are seven completely different lives. You would expect more overlap.

“Are you ready?” yelled her mother, who had been pacing all morning.

“I’m ready!” Jodie yelled back.

They drove to the bridal mall.

Jodie had never been in such a place. An amazing number of wedding gowns were packed in, row after row, aisle after aisle. One side of the immense display room had bridesmaids’ gowns in a remarkable variety of colors, styles, and necklines.

Jodie had just come from a place where there were no choices. If there were stores in Haiti packed full, Jodie had not found them. If there were closets jammed with stuff, Jodie had not seen them. She had been embarrassed by the excess in her two suitcases.

She walked slowly along the rainbow of bridesmaid dresses. Salmon pink, lime green, turquoise, neon yellow. Good colors for beach towels. But a wedding?

Janie sent her a final text. They were in the parking lot.

Three women came through big glass doors and onto the soft pale carpeting. The stout, heavily made-up woman wearing a flower-splashed sweater had to be Reeve’s mother. But who was the small, bent, frail creature on Janie’s arm? Was there some great-great-grandmother Jodie hadn’t even heard of?

No.

That old person was elegant Miranda Johnson.

Life could do this to a person’s body?

What, then, could life do to a soul?

• • •

The onion rings were perfect. The Shields men were into their second pile of napkins and feeling good. Since none of their women were around, they exchanged pleasing belches.

“Dad?” said Reeve. “Instead of showing you around before you catch your plane home, can you go shopping with me?”

“You know how to shop?”

“No, and I plan on Janie doing all shopping necessary for our entire lives. But one thing I have to buy on my own. Rings. Which I can afford now, thanks to you. But how do I know what to get? I drive past a jewelry store on the way to work. I would never go in without an escort. Help me pick out an engagement ring and a wedding ring.”

“What do I know? Wait till you get to New Jersey, take Janie to a jewelry store there, and she’ll pick them out.”

“No, she’s into romance. She’ll want me to kneel down and surprise her and all.”

“Okay, I’ll come. Might as well spread the blame for the wrong choice in rings.”

Kathleen could not believe it. “You don’t want to bother with the third Hannah? You’re giving up? That’s like climbing a mountain and stopping below the peak.”

“Okay, okay,” said Stephen.

They got on their bikes.

The third possible was tougher to locate. They couldn’t find the house number. They finally discovered a tiny alley where one house opened sideways, so its address was for a road it didn’t face.

It was a funny little place, shadowed and ugly. A porch without a rail tilted ominously. You couldn’t put a chair there; you’d slide off. But trash—you could put that on the porch just fine.

Stephen wove through the trash bags and then had to talk through the door because the woman wouldn’t open it.

Kathleen didn’t think anybody around here ought to open a door to strangers. Didn’t mean the occupant was Hannah and worried about the police.

“We’re looking for somebody,” Stephen called. “She might be you. Can I show you a photograph?”

“No,” said the woman.

The crack under the front door was large enough to admit major insects. Stephen slid his little wallet picture of Hannah under the door.

Well, that was stupid, thought Kathleen. If she is Hannah, Stephen just screwed up. She’ll never answer the door, and furthermore, she’ll leave town the split second we walk away.

But they heard the sound of locks being undone and a chain being loosened, and there stood a woman, grinning. She was not Caucasian.

If Stephen and Kathleen needed proof that all the research had been done via computer, here it was.

“Siddown,” said the woman. “I’m bored. Sicka TV. Tell me what’s up.”

They sat on the sagging top step, their backs to the row of bulging plastic bags. Kathleen, who always wore her backpack, took out energy bars to share while Stephen gave the woman the short version of his little sister’s kidnapping.

“Funny thing,” said the woman. “I remember that milk carton story. It was—what? Five, six years ago? The girl recognized her own picture? They don’t do that anymore—put pictures of missing kids on milk cartons. I’m not sure kids still drink milk. They’re all about juice boxes these days.”