Weave of Absence (22 page)

A
t noon Marnie shooed me out, insisting I go buy the ingredients for the chicken Parmesan.

“Otherwise, you'll be serving him frozen pizza again,” she said. I grabbed my sweater and headed for the grocery store. I was at the poultry counter when I heard a familiar voice behind me and turned around. Nancy Cutler was about ten feet away, talking with a silver-haired lady.

“I feel so awful,” she was saying. “Poor Marnie. It isn't enough that her fiancé turned out to be a con artist, but now her flag was stolen.”

“I read about that flag. Wasn't it a family heirloom worth a small fortune?”

“Worth a
large
fortune,” Nancy said. “Thank God she hadn't also lent the library her family's collection of Paul Revere flatware. Otherwise that probably would be gone too.”

“I didn't know she had such valuable heirlooms,” the older woman said.

“Oh, yes. I hear that flatware is magnificent. It should be in a museum.”

I walked away before Nancy noticed me. The trap was set. By the end of the day, the news of Marnie's valuable collection would be all over Briar Hollow and Belmont. This meant that I had to come up with a plan sooner than I'd expected. I should be ready to put it into action tonight. I quickly got in line to check out. Minutes later, when I returned to the shop, I already had an idea of how we could go about it.

“There's no way you can sleep at your place tonight,” I told Marnie. “What we'll do is sit in the car and watch the house.”

“All night long?” she said, grimacing. “How do you propose to stay awake all that time?”

“I thought you suffered from insomnia.”

“Sure, but it's not like I don't sleep at all. It's just that I wake up around three or so and then can't get back to sleep.”

“What we need is something to let us know when somebody is going in.”

“I know,” Marnie said. “My neighbor across the street has a three-year-old. I remember her having one of those baby monitors. She doesn't use it anymore and I bet she wouldn't mind me borrowing it.” She marched over to the telephone and picked it up. “You go on upstairs and start assembling all the ingredients for your recipe. Once you have everything measured and lined up on the counter ready to start, give me a call. In the meantime, I'll call her.”

“Thanks, Marnie. You're a doll.” I planted a kiss
on her cheek and ran up to my apartment. I set my mother's recipe on the counter and lined up all the ingredients—thyme, oregano, basil, eggs, milk, garlic, olive oil, breadcrumbs, tomato sauce, grated cheese, and parsley, leaving the chicken in the refrigerator until the last minute.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Marnie. “Marnie? I'm ready to start.”

“I spoke to my neighbor as she was about to leave the house. She offered to stop by and drop off the baby monitor.”

“That's great.”

“Okay. Now, come back down. You shouldn't start preparing the recipe until about half an hour before Matthew gets there.”

Marnie's neighbor got to the door just as I did. She was a tall brunette with intelligent eyes. In the stroller she was pushing a beautiful little girl.

“Oh, my God. She looks just like you,” I said, holding the door open.

“Thanks,” she said. “Emma, say hello to Della.” The child looked away.

“She's shy,” the mother said. “I've been meaning to come in and see your shop. Here I am at last. Hi, Marnie.” She opened her bag and produced the baby monitor. “I just put in a fresh battery. It's got really good range.” She turned it on, demonstrating how it worked. “But why in the world would you need this?”

“You know me,” Marnie said. “I get up in the
middle of the night to bake and sometimes I go back to bed and don't hear the oven timer.”

“Oh. What a great idea.” The little girl grabbed her doll and threw it to the floor. “Don't do that, honey,” her mother said, picking it up.

“I'll have it back to you in a few days,” Marnie said. “Just as soon as I find the time to go shopping for one.”

“No rush. It's not like I'm likely to ever use it again.
My
oven is closed for business,” she said, patting her flat stomach. “By the way, I heard about your flag. I feel so bad for you. Thank goodness you didn't lend the library your silverware too.”

Marnie's jaw dropped. “How did you hear about my silverware?” she asked.

“Judy Mitchell told me. I think she heard it from the kid who works at Melinda's bakery.” She glanced at Emma, who was trying to climb out of her stroller. “Well, we'd better get going.” She said good-bye and left.

“You were right,” Marnie said. “It's already all over town. Let's hope Melinda decides to get it tonight. Otherwise, God only knows how long we'll have to keep the lookout.”

“You know, I realized we can't use my Jeep,” I said. “She'd recognize it right away.”

“And we can't use my car either,” she said. “We'll have to go to Belmont and rent a car.”

“Why don't you do that right now?” I opened
the cash drawer and pulled out a few bills. “You'll probably need to use your credit card, but here's some cash to cover the cost.”

“Why would you have to pay for it? It's my flag that's missing.”

“That's exactly why. Losing your flag is a high enough cost as far as I'm concerned. But I'll tell you what: you can repay me the minute you get it back.”

“Deal.” She grabbed her coat and the baby monitor. A minute later she was gone.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a sudden flurry of activity. Customers dropping by the coffee shop stopped to commiserate about Marnie's flag, her silverware, her fiancé, and to share their opinions about who the murderer and the thief might be.

“I've heard everything,” I told Marnie when she returned. “From how the police should set up roadblocks and search all the vehicles leaving town, to organizing a neighborhood watch.”

“I like our plan better,” she said, dropping the keys to the rental on the desk.

“Did anybody see you driving it?”

“No. I drove it to my place and parked it across the street, one house over. And I already set up the monitor in my bedroom. I left the radio on and went back to the car. I could hear it as clearly as if I'd been standing two feet away.” She rubbed her hands together. “We are so gonna get that bitch. The nerve of her,” she added. “Stealing my flag.”

“Why don't you let me close up?” Marnie offered at five thirty. “You go on up and get dinner
started.” She came closer. “Now, listen to me. Matthew has been showing serious signs of interest lately, so it's time you reciprocated, and I don't mean just a smile here and there. I mean flirt, for God's sake.”

“I will. I promise.”

She harrumphed. “I know what your idea of flirting is, and it's not good enough. You're going to dress sexy, right?”

“Of course. I always do when he comes for dinner.”

She nodded, as if granting me at least that. “When he shows up, kiss him.”

“What? I can't just—”

“You can and you will. You don't have to wrap yourself around him like a clinging vine, but you can give him a nice warm kiss on the mouth.”

I nodded, my eyes darting nervously as I tried to imagine myself wrapping my arms around his neck and . . . and . . . “Oh, God, what if he pushes me away?”

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at me. “There you go again, making up excuses for not following through. Are you sure you want that man?” I glared back at her. “Then, for God's sake, get him.”

“All I have to do is give him a little kiss on the mouth,” I told myself as I climbed the steps to my apartment. “That's not so difficult. And I'll pull away fast, before he can push me away.” I was being silly and I knew it. Winnie galloped up the stairs behind me and followed me to the kitchen.

All my ingredients were premeasured and lined up neatly. Marnie was right. Following the recipe was easy this way. I beat the eggs in a bowl, and chopped the herbs and garlic into the bread crumbs. Then I dipped the chicken breast into the egg mixture and dredged them in the flour. Then I fried them up in the pan for two minutes per side, placed them on a baking sheet, dropping a few tablespoons of crispy croutons and some ready-made tomato sauce on top, and finished with a generous layer of grated cheese.

I stepped back, admiring my efforts. With Marnie's instructions, I'd completed the recipe in less than half an hour. Hopefully, she was right about the kissing-Matthew part too. After checking the oven temperature, I placed the chicken inside and then put a large pot of water on to boil for the pasta. I checked the time. I still had half an hour before Matthew arrived.

“Time to make ourselves beautiful, Winnie,” I said. He looked at me as if I was a lost cause. “Come on. You can help me choose a dress.”

I settled on a short little black number that Winnie approved. I smoked up my eyes with makeup and reddened my mouth with lipstick. I checked my reflection in the mirror. This was as good as I could expect, I decided, and went to the dining room to set the table. At six thirty the phone rang.

“It's me. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to be late,” Matthew said.

“How late?”

“Eight o'clock?”

“No problem. I'll have dinner ready by the time you get here.”

“Thanks for being so understanding,” he said, and hung up.

I put the phone down. “How do you like that?” Winnie looked at me and yawned. “You couldn't care less, could you?”

I lowered the oven temperature and poured myself a glass of wine.

At eight o'clock sharp, Matthew arrived. “Wow, you look amazing,” he said, handing me a bouquet of red roses. Red roses meant passion. Matthew had brought me flowers a few times, but they were always pink or yellow, symbolizing friendship. I hoped he had chosen red on purpose.

“Oh. Roses. That's so nice of you.” I placed them in a vase. It was only after I'd set them in the center of the table and was returning to the kitchen that I realized I hadn't kissed him yet.
Damn it.

“Nice music,” he said.

“It's Andrea Bocelli.”

“Very romantic.”

“That's why I picked it,” I said.

Our eyes locked. In his, I read surprise. He took a step closer, and I did too. There was a moment's hesitation, then, all at once, I chickened out and said, “Dinner's ready.”

The lovely atmosphere gave way to an uncomfortable tension.

“Mm, mm,” he said, lightening the mood. “Smells good.”

It did smell good. But under the foil, the dish looked a bit peaked. “I suppose it's not too bad, considering it's been baking for so long.”

“It looks perfect,” he said. “If it's a bit overcooked, I won't hold it against you. It was my fault for showing up late.” He picked up the bottle of wine and followed me to the kitchen with a running commentary about his day. “I was totally wiped out from so many sleepless nights, but I still managed to put in a good day's work. I'm not too far behind schedule after all. I might be able to make my deadline—unless you decide to give me another sleepless night.” Luckily, he didn't know what I was planning to do a few hours from now.

“You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?” I said.

We dug in.

“By the way, thanks for repairing the table. It's as good as new.”

“Nothing to it. I put in a few screws, that's all.” He raised his glass. “To you.”

“To us,” I corrected, and again I saw surprise in his eyes. This time I didn't change the subject. I like to think that he would have said something equally romantic at that moment, but the telephone rang, interrupting our conversation. “I'd better get that.” I raced to the kitchen and looked at the caller display.

“What's up, Marnie?” I said, picking up. She
whispered something I couldn't quite make out. “What? You'll have to speak louder. I can't hear you.”

“I'm locked in the bathroom,” she said faintly. “And somebody's trying to break into the house. I think it's Melinda.”

I gasped. “Where is she now?”

“She's at the back door. At first she rang the doorbell. I would have answered, but I was in the washroom. I was on my way to the door when she started rattling the knob and I realized she was trying to break in. Then she walked around the side. That's when I grabbed the phone and locked myself in the bathroom. She probably thinks there's nobody home.”

“We'll be right over.” I slammed the phone down and ran back to the dining room. “Marnie's in trouble. Somebody's trying to break into her house.” Matthew had overheard and was already pulling on his jacket. In the next minute we ran down the stairs, Winston in tow, and hopped into his car.

We came to a rubber-burning stop in front of her house and were racing up her walk when Bunny Boyd came strolling around the corner of the house.

“Oh, Della,” she said, slapping a hand over her heart. “You scared me half to death!” I couldn't swear to it, but I had the impression she looked guilty. “By the way, nice dress,” she added.

“Bunny! What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I'm worried about Marnie,” she said. “I came over to make sure she's all right. I rang and rang
and there's no answer. I know she's in there because I can hear the television. I just tried the back door. I hoped it was unlocked, but no such luck.”

At that moment, the front door opened and Marnie peeked out. Bunny planted her hands on her hips. “You mean you were home? Why didn't you answer the door? My knuckles are sore from all that banging.”

“That was you? I thought you were a robber, trying to break in.” Her eyes traveled to me. “Wow. You're all dressed up.” My Briar Hollow friends weren't used to seeing me dressed city-style.