She nodded happily.“It was on afterMASHin some markets.Really did well.I was on a few episodes as a young runaway who’d followed her older brother to his remote job and developed appendicitis.”
“Ah, appendicitis...must’ve been sweeps week?”
She laughed as Belinda set our orders down in front of us, raising a meaningful brow at me until I held out my card for her to take back to the register and run .“Appendicitis, pneumonia brought on by going out with wet hair, the ever-popular broken bone that’s miraculously healed by the next episode...Tropes are tropes for a reason.The whole babysitting story came about because Gerald Senior brought little Gerry to the set one day and he was just in a right state, being a brat.Junior, that is,” she giggled, shaking her head.“Didnotwant to be there.I’d grown up with four younger brothers so I knew a trick or two!Managed to get him to stop having a hissy fit and settle down for a few minutes.That endeared me to Senior, apparently, and next thing you know, I’m a series regular onLate Night At the Airport Cafe.”
“So the babysitting story—”
“Just made good copy,” she shrugged.“Gerald—our Gerald—was about eleven or twelve then and I was barely twenty, so it’s not like he was a baby in arms.Senior was already grooming him to take over the family business and I really don’t think Gerald wanted to do it,” she added, a note of bemusement in her tone.“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it before the other day but...I don’t think Gerald enjoyed being a producer at all.It was always sohardfor him.Not the schmoozing and glad-handing part.Theworkof it.I thought he'd much rather everything just work on its own and he take the credit.”Her smile flickered before coming back in full, false force.
Uh...How do I respond to that?“Um.”
She smiled, patting my hand.“Sorry.That’s just strange, isn’t it?Dumping that on you.My mind is all over the place this week.Worse than usual,” she added with a small, forced laugh.“When we left for Augusta, Gerald wasfine.Just a few hours later and he’s...he’s...”
It was my turn to act sympathetic.I made the appropriate noises, offered her another napkin when she started to cry and nodded again when she brandished the hankie.Finally, she sniffed and took a sip of her tea.“Oh, thatisgood.I don’t think I’ve ever had Lady Grey before.In all honesty, I haven’t been much of a tea drinker, not since my mother died back in sixty-one.She drank gallons of the stuff.Stewed it, though.Could never stand the taste and after she passed, I never made myself a cup.”She paused for another sip.“Maybe I’ve been missing out.”
“So did you just pop into the shop to say hi then?”I asked, unable to stop the sass from coming out.“Since you’re not a tea kind of person...”
Ms.Sommers stared at me for a long moment, her expression sharp and amused before she smoothed it away into her usual, sunshiny self.“Gwen had texted me about those awful pap shots just before I saw you sitting here.I was on my way past to go meet her and saw you in the window, thought I’d stop in to tell you...Well, to commiserate I suppose.And to thank you for finding Gerald.”
“Thank me?”
She fumbled her tea, a small splash of it hitting the back of her hand.“Oh, the thought of him just being in that boat alone until we came back,” she fretted, tears welling.“No one would’ve thought to look for him and, well...”She sniffed wetly.“We may have butted heads but thethoughtof that is just so much!We haven’t been as close as we used to be, not for years now, but we weren’t strangers.And him just drinking alone like that.Oh, I wish he’d let us know things were hard!”
Two glasses.Spilled scotch.Shouting voices...Damn it, don’t do this, Damien...“He wasn’t alone,” I said slowly, cautiously.“He’d had someone over before I got there.I thought it was one of you two, really, you or Ms.Terhune.The people in the boat next door heard people, um, talking on board before I stopped by.”
Ms.Sommers face was frozen in something like shock, eyes suddenly dry.“I’m sorry.What?”
“The authorities are still sure it’s an accident,” I rushed to add, “but he wasn’t drinking alone.He had company earlier.Before me.”
Mechanically, she took another sip of her tea, staring at the sidewalk through the plate glass window.“Well then.I’m...glad is the wrong word.Relieved, I suppose.Relieved he wasn’t drowning sorrows on his own.”
But he was fighting with someone.Or someone was fighting with him.“At least.”
“And don’tyougo feeling guilty, Damien!Even if you’d shown up a bit earlier, there was nothing you could’ve done,” she said suddenly, eyes bright as she dabbed them with that hankie.“I don’t want you thinking that!”
“I...I wasn’t?”
“Good!”She reached out and patted my hand, her palm weirdly moist in a way that made me think lotion rather than sweat or tears.Ick.“Good boy.”
The sharp jangle of the bell and a waft of street smells mingling with the smell of mentholated tobacco jerked my attention away from the icky touch.Gwendolyn Terhune, manicure fresh and expression sour, stood in the open doorway.
“There’s no smoking indoors,” Belinda said sternly, peering over the rim of her lensless glasses.
Ms.Terhune stared at her for a long moment, then glanced at the half-smoked cigarette between her own fingers.“I’m not indoors, darling.I just have the door open.”
“No smoking indoors,” Belinda repeated, holding out an empty to go cup and shaking it in Ms.Terhune’s direction.
Ms.Sommers muttered something under her breath, sinking in on herself just a little as Ms.Terhune’s smile finally bloomed, sharp and not at all kind.“Of course, darling.”She took a long, lung-punishing drag from the cigarette and flicked it out into the street.
“No littering,” Belinda chimed.“That’ll get you a hundred dollar fine.”
“Belinda,” I cut in, standing abruptly.“It’s fine.Don’t worry about it.”
Belinda’s incredulous stare was no match for the wattage of Ms.Terhune’s beaming smile.“Damien, dear boy!Are you stalking me?I feel like you might be!”
“I stopped in for tea,” I said.No one in here cared that I really stumbled in to have a crisis.“Maybe you’re stalking me?”
Ms.Terhune guffawed.Ms.Sommers tittered politely, folding and refolding her hankie as she darted a fretful glance between me and Ms.Terhune.“That’d be the day,” Ms.Terhune said, her famously throaty voice grating in its volume.“Besides, I don’t think you need another stalker in your life, if those pictures are anything to go by.”
