Chapter Eighteen #3
“I don’t…what am I doing here?” Meredith looked around in bewilderment as though only now becoming aware of his surroundings.
He ran a hand over his face and looked so distraught that David started to reach out toward him—to do what, exactly, he was not certain, beyond attempting to offer some measure of comfort.
But in his fractional hesitation, Meredith turned away and ducked down to take Bianca into his arms, and David lost his chance.
“Well,” he said, “let’s head back, shall we?”
Though Meredith cradled the Chihuahua to him as they started back up the hill, that awful blankness threatened to take over again.
To stave it off, David asked the first thing that came to mind: “They’re twins, aren’t they? Your mother and Lisl.”
“Oh. Yes. Runs in the family.”
“Not you and Florian, though.”
“No, no. God, could you imagine?” Meredith shook his head. “He’s three years older, then Genevieve, then me.”
Talking seemed to be helping; perhaps giving him some other task to focus on would keep him grounded.
“Why don’t we clean up the kitchen a bit?” suggested David. He’d led them toward the front side of the house, but peeked around the corner toward the back deck. “It looks as if Adalynn’s just about finished with the gifts.”
Back in the kitchen, Meredith set about washing the dishes that had accumulated in the sink while David consolidated the unused fruit and pastries into a few discarded shopping bags and kept up a steady stream of inconsequential remarks.
“By the way,” he inquired, “did you ever take those drawings to Steve Corner for the auction?”
Meredith’s face fell as he dried a paring knife. “Oh! No,” he said in dismay. “I forgot. I’m s-sorry, David.”
“No, no, that’s quite all right. Perhaps once everyone’s gone, we’ll take them into town and then stop in somewhere for a drink. Goodness knows I could use one myself after all this.”
When Meredith only rinsed a plate with a pensive expression, David pressed on, “We could go to the Rat Cellar, if you like. Who’s playing tonight?”
“The Ultraviolence Committee,” said Meredith, now scrubbing the cutting board, “but that’s—” He broke off as Lisl came through the open doorway, faltering as she navigated the threshold.
With a scrabble of claws on hardwood, Bianca rose to her feet and emerged from beneath the kitchen table, giving a tiny grumble at the disturbance.
Lisl wavered, and then her contemptuous gaze settled on Bianca. “I ought to rip those goddamn rhinestones right off the little rat.”
“You st-st-st—keep away from my dog,” said Meredith, but in the time it took him to drop the dish sponge and turn off the tap, Lisl was already leaning down to make a grab for Bianca. The Chihuahua backed away, growling.
“Don’t you growl at me or I’ll kick you into next week.”
In the blink of an eye, Meredith stepped between Lisl and Bianca, holding out an arresting hand. “Don’t.”
Disoriented at the sudden movement, Lisl stumbled back a step and clutched at the edge of the table. Her cheeks took on a deeper flush. “Don’t you put your hands on me.”
“I’m n-not, I’m only—”
“I don’t care how high and mighty you think you are just because you ran off to school and England and God knows where else, you’re not too grown for me to still give you a good smack when you deserve it. It’s what your parents should’ve done a sight more often, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” said Meredith, and smiled his broken-glass smile once more. “You’re p-probably right.”
David didn’t know which was worse, that sharp unnerving smile or the lifeless stare.
There flashed into his mind a sudden image of Meredith as a child, in the care of these people he’d met today.
It wasn’t a happy picture, and David had the desperate, absurd wish that he could have been around then to do something, anything at all.
He edged toward the two of them, keeping a wary eye on Lisl, and picked up Bianca just in case. Though there was no love lost between him and the Chihuahua, she still ranked far above Lisl in his book.
“I’ve had about enough of your smart mouth.” Lisl swayed slightly, and her pointing finger jabbed Meredith in the chest. “You know, it’s your mother I feel bad for. She thinks it’s her fault you turned out to be a queer.”
“Mrs. Zwiebelbauer.” David only just managed to keep his tone one step this side of civil. He ought to have gone with his first instinct and thrown her out straightaway, repercussions be damned. How dare she come here, into their house, and behave in such a fashion? “I think that’s quite enough.”
Before Lisl could turn her ire upon David, Genevieve stepped inside. “Mom! There you are.” This time, there was no mistaking the silent apology written on her face. “Come on, you’re riding home with Aunt Lotte, aren’t you? She’s waiting on you.”
With one last sneer at them both, Lisl allowed herself to be led outside.
Meredith slumped into the nearest chair and pushed up his sleeves, scrubbing his knuckles over both forearms. This time, it was impossible to deny that his skin was covered in hives.
Bianca kicked against David’s chest in protest, and he started to return her to the floor, then, on second thought, set her gingerly in Meredith’s lap. David pulled aside the curtain; outside, the last few guests bid Adalynn farewell as the bridesmaids cleared the tables.
“Meredith—”
“Don’t. It d-doesn’t matter. She’s drunk.”
“I didn’t realize they were serving alcohol.”
“Oh, they weren’t, but that don’t make any difference.” At David’s questioning look, Meredith elaborated, “It’s an open s-secret at this point, Auntie Lisl is s-s-seldom without a flask of Kirschwasser.”
“Not that awful cherry brandy you keep up in the cupboard? Of all the things to—would you leave off with that?” David interrupted himself as Meredith continued to scratch miserably at his inflamed skin.
“You’ll have yourself bleeding in a moment, and we’re out of salve until we next see Mrs. Jupiter. ”
“I’m s-sorry.”
“You needn’t be sorry.”
“No,” said Meredith, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“You needn’t be sorry for that, either.”
The faraway look had begun to creep back into his eyes, and David caught hold of his wrist as he absently began scratching again. “Isn’t there anything that’ll help with that?”
“What?” Meredith shook himself out of the fog. “Oh, it usually goes away on its own, but I think I’ve got some allergy pills upst-st-st—in my room.”
In the gentlest tone he could manage, David suggested, “Why don’t you go take one, and while you’re up there, you can get those drawings together for me, all right?
And Bianca can help, of course.” At this point, it was simply damage control to keep them both out of harm’s way until everyone had departed, and if anyone took issue, David would answer for it.
As Meredith started up the stairs with Bianca at his heels, David called, “And, Meri? Take your time.”
Alone in the kitchen, David took a deep breath. After the events of the past hour, he was not at all sure whether he could consider the bridal shower a success, or whether he hadn’t, in fact, made things worse for himself than they would’ve been if he’d stayed out of it altogether.
He was not sure how much that mattered to him any longer.
—
Outside, the final guests had taken their leave.
As Genevieve helped Adalynn stow the last of the gifts in the trunk of her late-model hybrid sedan, two trucks pulled into the driveway—Florian’s, followed by that of the taciturn Jayceon.
The two women shared a final embrace before Genevieve climbed into her own SUV and drove off, and Florian took her place at his fiancée’s side.
David caught just the tail end of their conversation as he approached.
“—kidding me? She couldn’t have sprung for something better than a freaking blender with the kind of money she has?”
“It’s the thought that counts, Florian,” said Adalynn. “Besides, we do need a blender.”
“If you ask me—” Florian broke off. “No, okay. You’re right, honey. Me and Jay are gonna grab these chairs now, okay?” He kissed her on the cheek, then started toward the deck, nodding to David as he passed by.
After offering her profuse thanks once more, Adalynn departed, and David assisted the other two men in loading the furniture into their trucks.
Florian slammed his tailgate into place. “I gotta hand it to you, you must have the patience of a saint.”
“Oh, not at all,” David assured him. “Hosting was no bother, and really Genevieve handled most of the work.”
“I didn’t mean the party,” said Florian as he lit a cigarette, “although I do appreciate that, believe me. I was talking about putting up with—” He tilted his head in the direction of the house.
David’s stomach simmered with a mixture of guilt and resentment.
Even if he would have agreed with the sentiment not long ago, it was a different thing entirely to hear it from someone else.
Truth be told, he was beginning to dislike Florian, and he was going to make him say it straight-out, Cartier or no Cartier. “What do you mean?”
Florian took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Listen, Dave, you’re a nice enough guy, but let’s not beat around the bush. My brother is kind of a retard.”
“Excuse me?” David had expected something unkind or distasteful, yes, but that was going much too far. “I’m sorry, but that’s—that’s—” He was too astounded to formulate a reply.
“Sorry if my choice of words isn’t PC enough for you,” said Florian with a wave of his cigarette, and his voice held a trace of that same mocking tone he’d directed at Meredith that morning.
“Sugarcoat it all you want with some fancy psychology bullshit if that makes you feel better, but that’s what it comes down to, and me and you both know it. ”
All decency dictated that such a remark must not be allowed to stand, yet David could envision the disastrous personal consequences of telling off Maitland Cartier’s son-in-law.
As he wrestled with his indecision, Florian clapped him on the shoulder.
“Anyhow, I’ve got to be going. See you around, Dave. ”
At last David stood alone outside Midnight Cottage and walked slowly around the house to inspect the damage.
Physically, there was almost none. Genevieve and the bridesmaids had cleaned up thoroughly.
The only indications an event had taken place were the lightest tire tracks in the grass and a few last bits of shredded chicken among the rhododendrons.
And, at one edge of the driveway, a discarded flower crown, wilted and trodden into the dirt.
David stared down at it for a long time.
—
When he returned to the living room, Meredith had ventured out to peer over the railing of the upstairs landing.
“They’ve gone,” said David.
Wordlessly, Meredith came down the stairs and presented David with a folder of drawings.
“Meredith,” said David. He ought to say something more, but his throat had gone dry, and every word out of his mouth that day had only made things worse.
The situation called for a delicate touch that David lacked.
Eventually, he managed, “Come on, then. Let’s take these down to the Corner Store, and then we’ll go out someplace, wherever you like. ”
“I think,” said Meredith quietly, “maybe I hadn’t better go. You can take them.”
“But they’re your drawings,” David protested. “Why in the world not?”
Eyes downcast, Meredith hugged himself, and when David thought he wouldn’t answer at all, he looked up at him, wearing a hurt, bewildered expression like a lost child. “David? Do I embarrass you?”
Any other time, he would have replied, Only every waking moment, but these were no ordinary circumstances. Meredith really meant it, and to David’s own surprise, he found himself furious.
“Of course you don’t,” he said briskly. “And if anyone has told you so, they haven’t the least idea what they’re talking about. Now, go and put your dress back on. We’re going out.”