Moonrise. Cassandra King

really is a treasure.” Glancing at Frank, I explain rather breathlessly. “You see, she got a new one the first of every year. We teased her because she usually kept it in the car to scribble reminders to herself while driving. Not the safest of habits, especially in Atlanta.”

      My voice catches in my throat, and Frank pats my arm awkwardly. After thanking him profusely, I excuse myself and make a dash for the ladies’ room. No doubt he’s disappointed that I didn’t hang around to talk trash with him, but I don’t want curious eyes on me when I open Rosalyn’s notepad. I pause for a moment to motion Kit to follow me. I hate to disturb her tête-à-tête with the delectable Mr. Lanier, which seems to be getting even cozier, but she’ll want to know about Frank’s discovery.

      Waiting for Kit in the elegantly appointed ladies’ room, emptied now of its usual crowd of bejeweled and perfumed ladies, I thumb through the notepad curiously. It’s as painful to see Rosalyn’s large, looping handwriting as it is to read the jottings of her day-to-day life: reminders to order tickets for the symphony or theater, to call the florist or cancel a dental appointment. Since only a dozen or so pages are filled, I’m sure this was her last notebook. Her habit was to purchase a new one after Christmas, fresh for the new year. It hits me like a punch to the stomach that this little notepad chronicles the final months of her life. She bought it the end of December, then died of injuries suffered on a cold night the first week in March. My breath catches in my throat. Could this unassuming little book answer some of the unsettling questions I’ve harbored ever since?

      Hearing the click of heels outside the ladies’ room and knowing it’s Kit, I do something that I can’t explain, even to myself. Without thinking it out, I quickly step inside the nearest stall. When the door swings open and Kit calls out my name, I flush the potty to cover the sound as I tear out the written-on pages of the notepad. After stuffing them in my little evening bag, I smooth down my dress and exit the stall, as though I hadn’t heard anyone enter. Arms crossed, Kit waits next to the lavatory looking peeved. “This better be good,” she says. “After all your scheming, I finally hook up with Mr. Lanier, and now you’re dragging me away.”

      “Oh, trust me, he’ll wait,” I scoff. “It’s probably been as long since he’s gotten any as it’s been for you.”

      “If that’s all he’s after with me, he’ll have an even longer wait,” Kit says piously, and I roll my eyes.

      “Trust me again—” I begin, but Kit waves a hand to stop me.

      “Oh, no, you don’t. I don’t want to hear the salacious details of your assignations, or I might change my mind about having dinner with him tomorrow night.”

      Just to aggravate her, I say, “Huh! If I told you the details of my evenings with Mr. Lanier, you’d jump his bones right now.”

      “Tansy—” she begins irritably, but I stop her by holding up the little notebook. Kit stares at it as if she’s seen a ghost, and I realize I should’ve warned her first. Quickly, I tell her how I came to have it, and she snatches it from my hand before I even finish my story. Her face falls in disappointment when she opens it to see nothing but empty pages.

      “Oh, Tansy,” she murmurs. “She never got a chance to use it.”

      Kit’s eyes fill, and she twirls toward the marble counter to grab a tissue from a tortoiseshell box. Despite an almost overwhelming pang of guilt, I don’t tell her what I’m keeping from her. And I have absolutely no idea why not.

      A PATIENT, AND PATIENCE

      I can’t think of a blame reason for me to be so nervous, but I know what Momma’d say if she was still here. If you don’t feel right about doing something, then you’d best stop and ask yourself how come. Could the Lord be trying to tell you to think twice?

      Well, I’ve thought not just twice but lots of times, and it keeps coming out the same way, that I’m getting myself into something I’m bound to regret. Just give it a try, Noel tells me, and if it don’t work, all you have to do is say so. But you’re gonna do fine, he always adds. He reminds me that they could hire a real nurse, but Linc won’t stand for it. Only because it’s me did he go along with the idea of hiring help. Noel’s too polite to tell me so, but I doubt Linc gave in without a fight. He probably agreed just so they’d shut up and leave him alone. Summer folks love nothing more than minding each other’s business.

      I knock again, louder this time. I can hear them inside, and know dang well they heard me the first time. “Coming!” Myna sings out, and I sigh. If I can survive my first day, the rest oughta be a piece of cake. She wasn’t supposed to be in town, but she outsmarted Noel by claiming she needed to show me the ropes. I told Noel flat out if she ended up staying longer than today then count me out, but he swore she couldn’t even if she wanted to. She’s teaching graduate classes at Bama this summer.

      The door opens a crack, and Myna peeks out like I might be an ax murderer. I swear, for somebody who’s supposed to be so smart, that woman don’t have the sense God promised a goat. First she called out “Coming!” in a friendly way, now she acts all suspicious. I just stand there and don’t even say good morning till she opens the door for me.

      She looks a sight. That’s either a white cotton robe she has on, or a sheet. Whichever, it’s big enough to wrap around her two or three times, and her bushy hair’s flying every which way. Holding a mug in her hand, she squints at me behind her little-bitty glasses. Eleven o’clock in the morning, and her just now getting up, the lazy heifer.

      I don’t see Linc, but heard his voice when I was on the porch knocking. Classical music is playing in his room behind the kitchen, so I figure Myna must’ve run him off so she can have a go at me first. Since Linc can no longer climb the stairs to the loft, the back porch was closed in to make a downstairs bedroom. Myna sent the orders, and Noel told her not to fret, he knew a good contractor who’d handle everything. First time I came to clean, I noticed that Linc had the new room to himself, and Myna’s stuff was upstairs. Then I heard her squawking like a wet hen because the expanded room wasn’t big enough for the two of them. She got on the phone and told Noel to get his ass over there, right