Part 24 (2/2)
”Ordinarily I don't go along with keeping bones in the closet,” Augusta said. ”But it's time to turn over a green leaf and start with a clean tablet, if you know what I mean.”
I wasn't sure, but I thought I could figure it out. ”Aren't you freezing?” I asked.
The dress she wore looked like something you might wear to a summer lawn party-a two-piece white georgette with flowing sleeves and delicate embroidered flowers. The trailing necklace winked at me in sapphire, rose, and gold. Sunset colors. And a scarf, sheer as sunlight, draped her shoulders. She s.h.i.+vered. ”You might nudge up the heat a bit.”
”Why in the world didn't you wear a wrap? You know how cold you always get.”
”I came away in such a hurry...” She leaned forward, spread her pink fingers in front of the heater.
”Oh, bos.h.!.+” I said. ”You just didn't want to hide that new dress! You did that embroidery yourself, didn't you? Augusta, you are so full of it!”
”Enough of that, Arminda!” Augusta turned her face away, but I could see she was smiling.
”Thank you for looking after Faye,” I said later at the house. ”That was you yesterday, wasn't it? How did you know where to find her?”
”Gatlin and her husband came here searching for her, so I just followed them and looked where they didn't.” Shrouded in a huge ap.r.o.n with silly chickens on it that covered her from neck to hem, Augusta concocted a trifle with layers of ladyfingers, custard, and fruit. The next day we would top it with whipped cream flavored with sherry.
”And thank you for everything else, too,” I said. I put my broccoli and onion ca.s.serole-my mother's own recipe-in the refrigerator to bake the next day.
”You're welcome, Arminda.” Augusta covered her masterpiece with plastic wrap and stood back to admire it. She began to take off her ap.r.o.n.
For some reason, I didn't want her to take it off. ”Do you think we should make the relish tray now or wait until tomorrow?” I asked.
”Why don't you make it now? Here...” She dropped the voluminous ap.r.o.n over my head, tied it behind me with a gentle tug of the sashes. The sweet fragrance of her reminded me of summer: chasing b.u.t.terflies through the gra.s.s, picking wildflowers for my mother, playing hide and seek at twilight. Happy things.
Still, I didn't like what I was thinking. ”Why are you putting this crazy thing on me? You know I don't wear ap.r.o.ns,” I said.
”There were times, Arminda Hobbs, when people had to protect their clothing; you couldn't just throw everything in the was.h.i.+ng machine. You'll do well to keep that in mind. Besides, I want you to have it.”
”But it's yours. You'll need it...”
She didn't answer.
I felt like somebody had kicked me in the stomach. ”Oh, Augusta! When?”
She pulled up a stool and poured coffee for both of us. Black for her, sweet and white for me. ”Soon now. It's time, I think, don't you?”
I wanted to say no. It would never be time. I wanted her to stay forever, but I knew she was right. Augusta had two missions: mine and one unfinished from years before. I was going to be okay. I sipped my coffee for a minute until I was able to speak.
”You've accomplished what you came for,” I told her. ”You should be pleased.”
”We've accomplished what I came for,” she said, touching my forehead with a light fingertip. accomplished what I came for,” she said, touching my forehead with a light fingertip.
”And where will you go now?”
Augusta smiled. ”As for that,” she said, ”I'll just have to wait and see.”
I smiled, too. ”I have to make a phone call,” I said, scrambling to find a number I had written down days before.
”Checking the menu with your family?” She lifted a quizzical brow.
”No, I'm calling the doctor.”
Augusta put down her cup and frowned. ”Are you not feeling well, Arminda?”
I laughed. ”I feel just fine,” I said, and left a message for Harrison Ivey inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner.
ALSO BY.
Mignon F. Ballard
AUGUSTA GOODNIGHT MYSTERIES.
An Angel to Die For
Angel at Troublesome Creek
The War in Sallie's Station
Minerva Cries Murder
Final Curtain
The Widow's Woods
Deadly Promise
Cry at Dusk Raven Rock
Aunt Matilda's Ghost
<script>