on the other end of the phone, Charlotte rushed in to fill the gap. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think a little spoiling will hurt her,” she offered.
“Oh, Charlotte, that’s what I truly miss about you. You always seemed to understand and know just the right thing to say. If it wasn’t for Daisy being such a jewel, I’d try to steal you back from Marian in a heartbeat.”
“I take it that Daisy is still with you then.”
“Yes—yes, she is, and I can never thank you enough for recommending her. In fact, in a roundabout way, she’s the reason I’m calling Marian. Daisy told me she’d heard that Marian is handling the Devilier apartments. Daisy knew that I’ve been looking for something to use as a guest residence for out-of-town friends during Mardi Gras and the Jazz Fest. Since those apartments are just down the block from me, they would be a perfect location. Is Marian in?”
Charlotte glanced up and was surprised to see Marian standing in the doorway. How long had she been standing there? Charlotte wondered. How long had she been listening and watching? And why the strange look, a seething look of bitterness that was totally out of character?
Charlotte shifted uneasily, and though she averted her gaze, she couldn’t shake the image of Marian’s expression or the uncomfortable feeling it gave her.
Chapter Four
“Hold on a moment, Katherine, and I’ll see if she can take your call.”
“Thanks, Charlotte,” Katherine replied, “and it’s been really nice talking to you again.”
“Same here,” Charlotte answered. Muffling the receiver against her chest, she glanced over at Marian again. “It’s Katherine Bergeron,” she told her softly. “She wants to talk about leasing one of the Devilier apartments.”
Several moments passed in which Charlotte feared that Marian was going to refuse the call. Finally, as if gathering her strength, Marian took a deep breath, and letting it out in a heavy sigh, she stepped over to the desk and took the receiver from Charlotte.
As Marian greeted Katherine, she was all business, her tone brisk as she paced back and forth in front of the desk.
Still puzzled by Marian’s initial reaction to the call since, according to Katherine, she and Marian were such good friends, Charlotte took her time gathering her supplies. Normally, she didn’t make a habit of eavesdropping on her clients, but Marian’s strange, erratic behavior worried her.
“No, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our appointment,” Charlotte heard Marian say. “Aaron is sick,” she explained. “Just a stomach virus, I think, but I’m taking him to the doctor later this afternoon, and I expect to be tied up most of the weekend. If you want to, however, you could still look at the apartments on your own. B.J. should be home soon, and I’ll leave an extra set of keys with him. One thing though,” she added. “Right now the apartments aren’t very presentable. They’re a mess—construction and all of that. But if you wait until Sunday afternoon, they should be cleaned up by then.”
Still puzzled but satisfied that Marian was handling things okay and not wanting to seem too obvious about eavesdropping, Charlotte chose that moment to slip out of the room. After loading her vacuum cleaner and supplies into her van, she returned to the office to let Marian know she was leaving.
She found Marian seated at the desk, her head slumped forward.
“Ah, excuse me, but I wanted to let you know that I’m leaving now.”
Marian slowly raised her head, and when she faced Charlotte and nodded, there was a glazed look of despair about her.
Charlotte stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
The younger woman gave a one-shouldered shrug that reminded Charlotte of Aaron’s earlier gesture.
“Oh, Marian, what’s wrong?” she asked, growing more concerned.
“It’s just—I—” Marian shook her head. “Ever since Bill died, it’s been a strain to even talk to Katherine. It takes everything I have to be civil. Katherine still insists on holding on to the fantasy that Bill was the one who quit working for Drew, that he resigned in order to start his own company. And she refuses to even acknowledge that the real reason Bill left the agency was that Drew out-and-out fired him. After it happened, things were never the same again between us, any of us.”
When Bitsy had first told Charlotte about Drew’s and Bill’s relationship, Charlotte had ignored the information as simply gossip. But now it seemed as if the old lady had been right all along. It also explained Marian’s initial reaction to Katherine’s call.
“It didn’t use to be that way,” Marian continued in a sad, longing voice. “There was a time when the three of us—Bill, Drew, and I—were inseparable. Then, when Drew married Katherine, we grew even closer…for a while. But that was a long time ago…an eternity.”
Charlotte squeezed Marian’s shoulder. “I wonder, have you ever considered that maybe Katherine truly doesn’t realize what really happened, that Drew fired Bill? Maybe she only knows what her husband told her,” she offered by way of explanation.
Marian simply stared at Charlotte. “Oh, I’ve considered it all right. At first. I even tried to set her straight about it. But ever since Drew’s plane went down, she’s been different. She only hears what she wants to hear, and she absolutely refuses to listen to anything negative about him. In her eyes, he was a saint.” Marian laughed, a bitter sound without humor. “But I knew him long before he married Katherine. And I know what he’s—what he was capable of. Drew Bergeron was no saint by any stretch of the imagination. But, hey—” Marian suddenly brightened, albeit assuming a facade that Charlotte recognized for what it was, a cover-up for her embarrassment. “I’m sure you have better things to do than to listen to my boring past.”
Charlotte smiled gently. “Any time you need someone to talk to, my middle name is discretion.” Then, to save Marian further embarrassment, Charlotte changed the subject. “I do have to get going though, but good luck with Aaron—I hope he feels better soon—and I’ll see you on Monday.”
After retrieving her purse from the kitchen, Charlotte stopped by Aaron’s room on her way out to say good-bye. But the little boy was curled up on his bed, fast asleep.
The sleep of the angels, she thought. All little children looked like angels while they slept. How many times had she stood just inside her own little boy’s bedroom and simply watched him sleep? Not enough, she decided as a heavy feeling settled in her chest. And her son was no longer a little boy but a grown man.
Unbidden, a quote from Agatha Christie popped into her mind. One doesn’t recognize in one’s life the really important moments—not until it’s too late. No truer words had ever been spoken, Charlotte decided as the heaviness in her chest grew. If only she’d known then what she knew now, if she’d realized how fast the years would go by, just how soon she’d be facing her sixtieth birthday, wouldn’t she have savored those moments a lot more?
Easing out of the room, Charlotte felt a tear slide down her cheek. Maybe she would have, she thought as she slowly made her way down the hall. At least she hoped she would have.
Outside, the afternoon sky was clouding over, giving the day a dreary cast that only seemed to deepen Charlotte’s melancholy mood. As she trudged slowly down the narrow sidewalk to the van, it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. The temptation to simply go home and crawl into bed was strong. But she still had her hair appointment, and as she’d told Marian, she still had one more chore to do, one last walk-through at the old Devilier house, all before she could call it a day.
Charlotte glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she just might have enough time to do the walk-through before it got dark.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled the van keys out of her apron pocket, but just as she unlocked the door, a battered old truck pulled up behind the van.
Recognizing