Chapter Three
Carol and Jim
Around noon, Carol was looking into the refrigerator, assessing whether there was enough sandwich meat for two for lunch, when her phone chirped on the counter.
She closed the refrigerator and picked up the phone, opening the alert.
Words in all capital letters blared out at her:
brEAKING: CHANNEL 9’S OWN BELOVED METEOROLOGIST, FAITH RICHARDS, FOUND DEAD. COMMUNITY MOURNS.
Carol staggered backward, dropped the phone on the kitchen floor, and heard it crash. It took her a moment to gather enough air into her lungs to scream and when she did, it was long and loud.
Jim was hammering in the final nail for the fence when the yell came from the house.
It was a sound he had never heard his wife make before, piercing, anguished, clearly not just an “I stubbed my toe” yelp.
Dropping his tool, he took off running and burst through the back door into the kitchen.
Carol was standing with her hands over her face.
“Honey? What’s going on?” He was panting from the sprint across the yard.
Carol pointed at her phone on the floor, the screen cracked. “A news alert…”
Jim’s brow furrowed. News alert? What could that mean? His first thought was maybe some big international news, but why would Carol scream like that? He knelt to pick up the phone, scanning the words quickly.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “Oh my God…”
Carol started to cry and slithered down to the kitchen floor, placing her back against the stove. He joined her, and she buried her face in her husband’s chest, smelling his familiar Old Spice scent and crying harder.
“Let’s wait for more information, honey. Maybe there’s been a mistake,” Jim said softly. He only hoped it was true. Didn’t news outlets sometimes make mistakes and have to retract their statements?
Carol’s phone rang. Seeing that it was Olivia, the only person in the world Carol would have felt like talking to, Carol fought back a sob and skipped the hellos.
“Olivia, you saw the alert?” she blurted out.
“Aunt C, I’m just sick. I don’t know what to do or say.”
“Me neither.”
There was a long silence broken only by sniffles from each of them.
“Honey,” Carol said, collecting herself. “You can come over here if you want to. I’ll put on some of your favorite tea, and we have leftover cookies.”
Carol enjoyed taking on the motherly role with Olivia, especially with Evelyn tromping through Europe.
When Evelyn left she hadn’t seemed to care that Olivia would need to process her own feelings about her parents’ divorce.
Typical Evelyn, Carol thought, all about herself and her emotions, as she had been ever since they were children.
Carol had instead been the one to hug Olivia, let her vent, and offer to stay up late watching funny movies and eating ice cream together to make Olivia feel better.
“Maybe I’ll stop by later,” Olivia said softly. “I just need to go for a long walk or something. I can’t believe I just talked to Faith yesterday. Less than twenty-four hours ago we were standing in the parking lot together…”
“I know, sweetie. It’s inconceivable.”
When they hung up, Carol and Jim looked at each other and Jim wrapped his arms around her, gently rocking them both, but after a minute he felt the need to do something more proactive than just sit there, so he said, “Let’s turn on Channel 9. Maybe they’ll have an update.”
There was a small TV in the kitchen that they watched while cooking. Jim flicked it on, but Channel 9 was just running golf, the usual for midday on a Saturday. He was definitely not in the mood for that and clicked it off immediately.
“I’ll check the newspaper’s website,” he said instead.
Jim subscribed to the Detroit Free Press’s online edition and knew they often had breaking-news alerts.
Opening his laptop, he put on his reading glasses, navigated to the site, and read the top story headline aloud to Carol, who was still on the floor.
Popular meteorologist reported dead by Channel 9. The Free Press is working to confirm.
Carol let out a whimper.
“This is just like Princess Diana.” She sniffled. “Just like how I felt that day.”
Jim remembered how distraught Carol had been after Princess Diana’s death, how many months—no, really years—it had taken her to get over it, and how long he had to console her. He wasn’t anxious for a repeat.
“I wonder how she died…” Jim speculated, scrolling through the rest of the newspaper’s online front page but not finding anything else. “I guess it could have been natural causes. Maybe she had a heart attack or a stroke. A car accident. Or you don’t think she…”
“Don’t even say it,” Carol snapped. “There’s no way.”
The thought had crossed Carol’s mind too but she wouldn’t let it go there. It was simply not possible that Faith would have taken her own life.
Silence filled the kitchen. Slowly, Carol pulled herself to a standing position, holding the counter for support. She stood there for a long minute, staring at the floor.
“I think I need to go lie down,” she finally said softly. “I have a pounding headache.”
“Of course, honey. Come on, I’ll help you there.”
Jim steered her to the bedroom, getting two aspirin from the bottle in the bathroom cupboard and filling Carol’s bedside glass with water. He closed the curtains.
It felt good, childlike, to have someone tuck you in, and Carol accepted it gratefully. She smiled at Jim and watched as he pulled the door with a soft click. After popping the aspirin in her mouth and washing it down with a long drink, she curled into a fetal position and shut her eyes.
Two hours later Carol awoke, her headache somewhat better, and she came into the kitchen, where Jim was still seated at the table, peering through his reading glasses at his laptop. He looked up with a solemn expression.
“What? Did you learn something new?” she asked, and her stomach clenched.
“Honey, sit down,” he said softly.
“I don’t want to sit down. What did you learn?”
Jim sighed. “I think it’s best if you sit down.”
Warily, she lowered herself into a chair opposite of Jim and looked at him. “What?”
“Channel 9 doesn’t have anything new except that there will be a vigil tomorrow at eleven AM at a park near the station,” he said.
“But the Free Press has some new information. They said the medical examiner confirmed her death, and also that their sources tell them it was no accident. Carol, I hate to say this but she was found murdered in her car not far from the station. Sounds like strangulation.”
The words would not penetrate Carol’s brain properly. It was as if there was a wall preventing them from going in. She shook her head and said firmly, “No. That’s not true.”
“Honey…” he replied softly, reaching for her hand again. She snatched it away.
“Don’t say things like that out loud, Jim. Their sources. What does that even mean? I don’t believe the Free Press. I won’t believe anything until Channel 9 tells me.”
“Well, let’s watch the five o’clock news in a bit,” Jim said, glancing at the clock. “In the meantime, do you want to see what the other members of the Fair-Weather Friends Fan Club are saying? Don’t they have a Facebook page?”
Carol had sort of forgotten about the Facebook page. It wasn’t something she went to often, but maybe the solidarity would be good.
Jim spun his laptop around and pushed it across the table and Carol found the page.
Across the top someone had already changed the group’s cover photo to “RIP Faith,” with a photo of her smiling surrounded by flowers.
It looked like one of those photoshop or AI-generated pictures a person can make quickly. The tributes were pouring in.
“I will miss her for the rest of my life.”
“She was the kindest person. I met her at the state fair once and she told me I looked young for my age. I will never forget it.”
“I used the umbrella she gave me every time it rained and I always thought of her.”
“Faith, we love you! Who will give us the earring forecast now?”
Carol noticed that one woman named Chloe was encouraging the whole Facebook group to attend the station’s vigil the next day and to wear their “Fair-Weather earrings” as well as bright yellow shirts in a sign of unity and love for Faith. Carol decided to see if she had enough energy to attend.
As they waited for the five o’clock news to start, Carol felt compelled to add a comment of her own to the Facebook page:
You were like a dear friend, Faith, and we looked forward to your forecasts every night. We miss you already. Your loyal fans, Carol and Jim.
At 4:58, Carol and Jim moved to their easy chairs in the den and turned on Channel 9. Jim reached for her hand and Carol took it gratefully. The music started and the graphics began. The camera went to the weekend anchor, Stella, who looked red-eyed and somber.
“Good evening. We begin with tragic news about one of our own…”
Stella said police confirmed that Faith had been found in her car, parked in a remote area not far from the Channel 9 studio. Her body showed signs of trauma, and police were treating her death as a homicide.
The station’s stories turned to remembrance and community support.
There was one long piece with tributes from colleagues, then a series of interviews with tearful viewers who all seemed to be interviewed at a big downtown farmer’s market (Olivia had taught Carol and Jim that when you talk to random people like that it’s called MOS—man on the street), and a montage of Faith’s most memorable weather forecasts.
When the show finally got to normal weather with Matthew, he started with his own tribute.
“I just want to say that Faith was a role model to me. She had the biggest heart and the most creative ideas. We’re all going to miss her around here so much.”
Carol found herself wondering if Tom, the main anchor, had still gone to the Tigers game as he had told viewers the previous night or if he was at home mourning. She tried to picture what kind of house he might have—large, for sure—and if he was sitting in his living room crying.
It was only when the newscast was over that Carol realized she had not heard back from Olivia, who had said she might stop by. Carol texted her.
Hey honey, did you still want to come over for tea and cookies tonight?
There was no answer. Olivia was usually so good about texting back immediately. But maybe she was resting. Hadn’t she said she wanted to go on a long walk? Perhaps she was tired.
Carol leaned her head against the back of the La-Z-Boy and thought of her own fatigue, her brain trying to digest this horrible day, which she figured had to be one of the worst in her life.
Sure, Faith wasn’t a member of Carol’s own family, but Carol felt like she was.
After all, she was in Carol and Jim’s house way more than any family ever was.
And Carol grew even closer to Faith because of those videos Faith made.
Carol got to hear about Faith’s vacations and see her clothes and makeup.
Plus, there was just the tragedy of Faith’s young age.
She was maybe in her mid- or possibly late thirties, Carol guessed; so vibrant, so alive.
It was impossible to compute that this bright and beautiful being was not going to be on TV anymore, sharing laughs with Tom and Veronica and making the audience feel comfortable and secure with her weather knowledge.
“I’ll start dinner,” Jim offered.
Carol nodded, adding softly, “There’s some chicken breast. I was going to sauté some vegetables to go with it, maybe a potato.”
“I got it,” he said, patting her hand. “Do you want me to light one of your candles and let you rest here a bit more?”
“Yes. How about Warm Honey and Vanilla?” she said, thinking the scent would be soothing.
He crossed the room and used the long automatic lighter to get the candle going, then moved it closer to Carol by setting it, and the little dish it rested on, on the fish-shaped coffee table.
He headed to the kitchen, and she heard the refrigerator opening, things being chopped on a cutting board, the gas stove burner firing up, and the clattering of pots and pans.
Carol let the smell of the candle and sautéed carrots and onions wash over her.
It would have been a peaceful early evening if she wasn’t thinking about the murder.
Her headache lingered slightly in one temple, and she rubbed at it.
It made her nauseous to picture Faith dead in a car, strangled, and Carol just kept having the same perplexed rumination:
Who would ever hurt Faith? Faith had no enemies; everyone loved her. There wasn’t a soul on the planet who had anything against Faith Richards.