Part 28 (1/2)

31.

Ingrid Bennett answered the door wearing a long, teal-blue velour bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers. Dylan's face broke into a grin at the sight of her. ”Hey, Grandma,” he cried, wrapping her in a bear hug.

Ingrid put her arms around him, patting the leather jacket he wore with both hands, as if she wasn't quite sure he was real. ”h.e.l.lo, sweetheart. I was so glad to hear you were back at home. Did you sleep well in your own bed last night?” she asked, pulling back to look worriedly into his eyes with a searching gaze.

Keely and Dylan exchanged a glance. ”I had a little trouble sleeping at first,” he said. ”But I'm okay,” he said. ”Mom says you're the one who's sick.”

Ingrid looked up at Keely, who was standing behind her son on the doorstep. ”I'm doing better,” she said faintly. ”Come in. Let me get you something to eat.”

”I don't want anything to eat, Grandma,” said Dylan firmly. ”I just came here to see you.”

”That's right,” said Keely, bustling in, with Abby in her arms.”Ingrid, you should get back in bed, where you belong.”

”I can sit up for a while,” Ingrid insisted. ”It's so good to see you,” she said to Dylan. ”Does it hurt?” she asked, indicating the bandage on his neck.

”Not too much,” said Dylan.

Ingrid crept over to her favorite chair and seated herself gingerly. She sighed and gazed at Dylan, her sad eyes glistening. ”You scared me half to death, you know.”

”I'm sorry, Grandma,” he mumbled.

”How's the bland diet going?” Keely asked. ”Is it helping?” She set Abby down and pulled out the bucket of toys from the hall closet. Abby dove into it contentedly.

Ingrid shrugged. ”It helps,” she said. ”That and the liquid the doctor gave me. Although I hate the taste of that stuff. It's like drinking liquid chalk. I have to go for x-rays again in two weeks, but I can feel that it's getting better. But I haven't got anything good to offer you. You should have told me you were coming.”

”That's exactly why we didn't tell you,” said Keely. ”We knew you'd be up cleaning and cooking things when you ought to be in bed.”

”I do get tired,” Ingrid admitted.

”Come on, Grandma. Let me help you back to your room,” said Dylan.

Ingrid looked at him in disbelief. ”What are you talking about? Miss your visit? I wouldn't dream of it.”

”You won't miss my visit,” said Dylan. ”I thought I'd stay over tonight. So I can keep an eye on you.”

”Oh, honey, no,” said Ingrid, alarmed. ”Nothing is ready. The sewing room is a mess. The daybed isn't even made up. You should have called me.”

”Right,” said Dylan. ”So you could get sick all over again by lifting mattresses and going to the grocery store.”

”I'll fix up the sewing room,” said Keely, ”if you want him to stay, that is.”

Ingrid's eyes gleamed. ”If I want him . . .” she scoffed.

”And I'm going to cook,” said Keely. ”I'll run to the store and get you some supplies. I would have done it sooner, but . . .”

”Don't worry, honey, I know,” said Ingrid, and Keely felt herself blus.h.i.+ng at the unfamiliar endearment from her former mother-in-law.

”First, let me get in there,” Keely said, ”and make up the daybed.” She turned and pointed at Ingrid, who had started to rise from her chair. ”Sit. I know where everything is.”

Ingrid sighed and sat back down. Dylan settled himself beside heron the floor and leaned his forehead against her robed knees. She reached out a hand and rested it on his newly shaved head. Keely's heart ached at the sight of them, both suffering, each one looking to the other for solace.

Keely walked down the hall to the sewing room and flipped on the light. The room was in a state of disarray, as if Ingrid had been interrupted and called away in the middle of a major project. As she straightened up the bolts of fabric and piles of recipes, she kept glancing at the computer on the corner desk.

At first, she had protested about Dylan's plan. But he insisted that he had figured it all out. Ingrid still used his father's old computer. Keely had offered it to her when they moved back here because Mark had brand-new equipment and they didn't really need Richard's outmoded model. But it was possible that a file with Richard's suicide note was still contained in the computer. Once Ingrid was asleep and he was alone in the guest room, Dylan intended to search for it. Keely realized that her son understood computers in a way she never could. He took after his father. If the letter was still in there, he would be the one who was able to find it.

”I'll stay up all night,” he said, ”if I have to.”

Keely had protested that he needed his sleep.

”I need this more,” he had said.

She knew that what he said was true. One thing they agreed on-that it would only be upsetting and horrifying to Ingrid to know what he was trying to do. That's why they didn't plan to tell her.

Keely could hear the murmur of their voices in the living room, punctuated by Abby's merry mumblings. She hated to be deceptive, but it was the only way she was going to find out. Dylan could remember only that the note said Richard and a friend had caused a death, about which Richard felt terribly guilty. Richard and Mark had known each other for years. Everyone in town had told her what great friends they had been. And yet, she never remembered Richard mentioning Mark during their courts.h.i.+p and their marriage. Something had come between them. She had always a.s.sumed that it was time and distance. Mark never indicated anything else. But what if it was more than that?And what if it had something to do with Mark's death? If there was a connection, she had to know.

Keely tucked the corners of the sheets under the daybed mattress and stuffed the pillowcase with a down pillow. Dylan wanted to do something to help. She had the feeling that if he managed to find that note, it would do him more good than any amount of rest. Taking a deep breath, she went back down the hall to the living room.

”All right,” she said cheerfully. ”I'm off to the grocery store to get some food for dinner. What else do you need? How about some soup? Or some pudding? I'll make you some pudding, shall I?”

Ingrid smiled, her face more peaceful than Keely had seen it in a long time. ”That sounds good,” she agreed. The presence of Dylan was a balm for Ingrid's spirit.

”Get me some Ring Dings,” said Dylan.

”Ring Dings!” Keely protested.

Ingrid laughed indulgently.

”All right,” said Keely. ”Consider it done.”

She made her foray out to the grocery store, although it was difficult to concentrate on her shopping. When she returned, Dylan and Ingrid were seated together on the sofa, ruminating over their cards in a serious game of gin rummy, while Abby was watching a cartoon on TV.

Keely went into the kitchen to start supper, and, as she negotiated the unfamiliar cabinets, she made a quick phone call to Tarantino's. To her relief, Gina answered the phone. Keely identified herself in a low voice and asked about Wade.

”I don't know where he is,” Gina said. ”He never came back.”

”He didn't call to say he wasn't coming back?” Keely asked.

”Nope,” said Gina. ”Nothin'. We found the delivery car, with the keys in it, parked in the mall here.”

”Do you think you could give me his home phone and address? It's really important that I reach him,” Keely said.

”I'm not supposed to,” said Gina. There was a brief silence. ”Ah, what the h.e.l.l. He'd have a lot of nerve complainin'.”