Part 34 (1/2)

She decided to wait a while before meeting Tootie for the first time. So Meghan, Erin, and I went to see Erin's new great-grandma a couple days after the craziness in my workroom. Ambrose had already told her the whole story, and I'd called to warn her that we were coming.

When we arrived, Ann gave us a cheerful wave I found encouraging. In her room, the bed was made, and Tootie, dressed in deep-red rayon slacks and matching silk tunic, stood gripping the silver-headed cane.

Erin, sober and polite, explained to Tootie exactly who she was. Her grandmother listened with attentive seriousness, and they agreed to spend some time catching up on family history. Then Erin asked if we could go out into the garden we could see from Tootie's window. The sun shone bright and warm out there, and for a moment I thought of the perfect fall weather on the day of Walter's death.

Tootie agreed and even acquiesced to using a wheelchair. Meghan pushed and I trailed behind, while Erin, loosening up after her initial apprehension about having a new grandmother, walked backwards in front of the chair, chattering away. I could tell that Tootie adored her already.

They were discussing what Erin should call her. In their increasingly lightening tones, it sounded like ”Nana Tootie” was the favored candidate.

FORTY-ONE.

THE DOORBELL RANG, AND I got up from where I'd been attempting to write copy for a flyer about Winding Road Bath Products for our upcoming booths. Barr Ambrose stood on the front porch, grinning at me like a fool. And, G.o.d help me, I grinned right back.

I stepped back so he could enter the house. He gave me a quick up and down perusal, no doubt because of the white bodysuit I wore. The sandwich boards depicting the chocolate wafers of an Oreo cookie leaned against the wall, but I wasn't going to put them on until the trick-or-treaters started arriving. It was too hard to sit down in the thing, so for now I was just cream filling.

But he didn't comment, just walked past me and went into the kitchen. Sat at the kitchen table like he belonged there. I found it didn't bother me a bit.

”Coffee?”

”Got any tea?”

”What kind of a cowboy drinks tea?”

”The kind that doesn't like coffee much.”

”You know, they might drum you out of the ranks of the roughand-ready club for talk like that.”

”Might” He paused, and his expression became serious. ”How are you?”

”Not bad. Actually, better than that. Oolong?” He shook his head, pointed at the Earl Grey on the counter.

I rolled my eyes. ”I'm so glad that whole mess with Grace and d.i.c.k is over. And knowing how and why Walter died. At least as much as we can know. I mean, I hate that he died by accident, well, sort of by accident, you know what I mean, but just knowing, you know, not having to wonder and worry-it's great. So. I'm doing great”

He laughed.

”What?”

”You sorta bubble.”

”Bubble?”

”Barr!” Erin came barreling into the room, gave the startled man a big hug, and bounced into a chair. ”Hi! What're you doing here?”

”Well, I-” he began.

But Meghan walked in then, dressed as an umpire. ”Hi, Barr. Don't mind us. Erin and I are eating early so we can get going on the trick-or-treating as soon as it's good and dark. Got a lot of houses to hit.”

She might be strict about some things, including Erin's consumption of candy, but Meghan loved Halloween. Plus, her response to the resolution of the mystery surrounding Walter's death bordered on giddy. Tonight she was ready to rock and roll on the treat aspect of the evening. I, on the other hand, got to stay home and parcel out goodies for the ghosts and goblins-actually I suspected they would be more along the lines of Harry Potter-who came tramping to our door. I'd planned to pop corn and indulge in Laurie R. King's newest mystery between rings of the doorbell.

Then Barr had called, and I ended up inviting him over. Or he invited himself. Actually, I'm not sure how it happened, but here he was. Ms. King, move over.

I watched Meghan as she heated soup on the stove for her and Erin's early dinner. I'd been worried about her reaction to d.i.c.k's slime-ball behavior. He hadn't stood up against his vile mother when it came to his own daughter, and given that, Meghan was ready to believe the worst about him.

Meghan was kicking around the idea of trying to adjust their custody agreement, even more uneasy than before about his ability to take care of Erin, even for a couple of days at a time. But since asking for her help, d.i.c.k wasn't calling, wasn't making a peep. He hadn't shown up to get Erin last weekend, either. Meghan had heard from a mutual friend that he'd said something about how much Cadyville sucked and how he wanted to move back to California. I think she was hoping he'd do so as soon as he was allowed to leave the state.

As for Erin herself, she seemed to be on an even keel. Somehow the kid was able to accept things, not fight against them, and not expect them to be different. The rest of us, the grownups at least, tended to rail against the inevitable with remarkable regularity. She coasted along in the present like a little Zen monk with a wicked sense of humor. Her dad was a creep? Yeah, well.. .what about it?

Then I remembered her sitting on the sofa, acting like she was reading The Wolves of Willoughby Chase but feeling lower than slug snot because d.i.c.k had brought her home early. Maybe her aplomb wasn't quite so seamless. Maybe Meghan and I should be keeping a close eye on the little one for cracks and broken places.

”So, what's your costume going to be?” Ambrose asked Erin.

Her mouth full of the cheese and crackers her mom had put in front of her, Erin pointed to her chest. She was wearing a knockoff Seattle Mariners jersey with a big 51 on the front.

”You're going as a baseball player?”

She chewed and nodded emphatically, pointing at her chest again.

”You're going as Ichiro.”

Her head bobbed in the affirmative.

Ambrose sat back. ”Cool”

Erin swallowed. ”I'm gonna slick my hair down, and I've got these cool shades just like his. And I've got a bat and a ball and a glove and stuff.”

”Sounds like a lot to carry,” Ambrose said. ”Good thing your mom'll be along.”

Meghan grinned. ”I may have to charge a percentage for hauling around all that candy.”

”Oh right, Mom. Like you won't eat half of it, anyway.”

Meghan waggled her eyebrows at her daughter, and they both giggled.

”Do you play baseball?” Ambrose asked.

”No. I suck at sports,” Erin said. ”But I like to watch.”

”Erin,” Meghan said.