The Guest List (3 page)

Harriet really was beautiful, with a model’s thin body that wore clothes to perfection. He was homely by comparison, with his thinning sandy hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Unlike Donovan, who was thirty-five—eight years his senior—and an in-your-face person. John had always been laid-back, easy-going, never confrontational. How often he’d wished he was more like Donovan. Then again, if he was like Donovan, they probably wouldn’t be friends.

“I suppose you’re going to be in a snit for the next week or so over me not taking Abby to the play,” Harriet said. “Get over it, John. I hate taking that child anywhere. People stare. They talk behind your back. It isn’t good for Abby, and it certainly isn’t good for Mallory. Mallory is
normal
in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Her eyes flashed, and he could see her lips moving, but the only thing he could hear were the words he’d been practicing in his head. “I’m leaving you, Harriet, and I’m taking Abby with me,” he blurted, startling himself. For Abby’s sake and his, he forced himself to make a quick recovery. “I’ll be out of here in less than two weeks. After that, you can do whatever you want.”

Harriet looked incredulous. “What did you say?”

“What part of
I’m leaving you
didn’t you hear?” he asked in a tone he’d never had the courage to use with her before. “I’m leaving, moving out. I no longer want to be married to you. I’m divorcing you.” There, he’d said it, and it felt good. Damn good.

Harriet threw her head back and laughed. “We’ll just see about that. There will be no divorce in this family.” Her voice was so cold it could have frozen ice cream.

John stood his ground. “That’s what you think. And when a judge hears how you’ve neglected and mistreated Abby, there won’t be any contest about who gets custody of her. I’ll have so many witnesses testify on my behalf, your hair will turn gray.” He swept his arm in front of him. “You can have this house along with the mortgage payments. You can have both cars with both car payments. You can have all the maxed-out credit cards. In short, Harriet, you are going to have to get off that skinny, regal ass of yours,” John said, parroting Donovan’s words, “and get a job to support yourself and your fairy princess of a daughter.”

Harriet waved her beautifully manicured hand in dismissal. “This is absurd, John. We’ve had our ups and downs, but things haven’t been
that
bad.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “This is that bastard Donovan’s doing, isn’t it?”

John felt his insides return to normal. “This has nothing to do with Donovan. I’ve been thinking about divorce for a long time.”

“Stop talking like a lunatic, John. This is all because of that crazy Donovan. My sister must have been insane to marry him. He was happy when she died so he could collect her insurance. He preys on women. I’ve seen the parade of women who go in and out of his house. He has a different one for every day of the week. If he was a woman, I’d call him a slut.”

“He doesn’t have a very high opinion of you either, Harriet.”

“So you want a divorce,” she said, walking away from him. “You’ll have to pay alimony and child support, you know.”

“We’ll let the judge decide what’s right.” Now that he’d gotten past telling her, he felt more confident.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get even with me for not taking Abby to the play. We’ve been down this road before, and I have no intention of traveling it again. It’s late. You have to get up early to go to work.”

“There’s no work tomorrow, Harriet. The site is waterlogged.” He picked up the stack of bills he’d been sorting through earlier and jammed them into her hands. “You might as well take these because I’m not paying them. They are now officially all yours.”

John saw naked fear in his wife’s eyes and knew he finally had her attention. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He waited for what Donovan said would come next. It came sooner than he expected.

“Be reasonable, John. Let me get you a cup of hot chocolate and let’s sit down and talk about what’s troubling you.”

“No thanks, Harriet. I’m not in the mood for hot chocolate or any other food or drink.”

Harriet unbuttoned the first two buttons of her robe. “All right then. Let’s just go to bed, John. It’s so much easier to talk in a relaxed atmosphere.”

“Relaxed atmosphere? You mean seductive atmosphere, don’t you? I don’t think so, Harriet. Whatever feeling I had for you died a long time ago.” He straightened his shoulders. “This is the way it is now, Harriet. I’m leaving you. That’s the bottom line, so you better start getting used to it.”

“You’re just going to throw it all away? Just like that!”

It was his turn to laugh. “Throw what away? We don’t have anything to throw away. All we have are bills,” he said, flipping the paper edges with his finger.

“Go to hell, John Evans!” Harriet shouted, as her high-heeled
mules slapped the tile floor in her haste to get out of the kitchen.

“Right again, Donovan,” John said, his fist shooting in the air.

Donovan Mitchell stared across the yard. “John, John, why did you marry that bitch? I tried to warn you. Now look where it’s gotten us.”

He was glad he had said it to himself when he saw his curious but good-hearted neighbor looking at him over the bushes. “Lovely morning, isn’t it, Mrs. Lascaris?” he called.

“Indeed it is,” she replied before she went back into the house. “I only wish that kid would stop working on his car.”

Ninety minutes later, at 11:45, Donovan Mitchell strode down the concourse of Newark Airport. He hoped he was doing the right thing in accepting the new job. He felt so good it had to be right. He thought about Carol as he handed his ticket over to the flight attendant. He wondered if she would mind giving up her teaching job and joining him in the South. Did he have the right to ask her to join him without giving her a commitment? Probably not. He liked her, even cared for her, but he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe he would be better able to make up his mind after this trip, when his mind was clearer.

Donovan buckled his seat belt. In a way he felt guilty. He shouldn’t be taking up Carol’s time if he didn’t plan on marrying her. He should cut her loose and let her find someone who would love her the way she deserved to be loved. Was he willing to do that? Once his seat companion was buckled in, he leaned back and made himself comfortable. Closing his eyes, he brought Carol to the forefront of his mind. She was tall, just a few inches shorter than he, with wonderful, warm, laughing brown eyes, an infectious smile, and a great body. She had a great sense of humor and liked to experiment in bed. She could cook up a gourmet meal in no time and give Heloise
some housekeeping hints. She was a giver all the way around, and she loved kids and animals. She’d taken to Abby right away and Abby to her. She was everything he’d ever thought he wanted in a woman so what was his problem?

Maybe John had inadvertently hit on it when he said Carol was perfect for him. His first thought had been that she was too perfect. He shook his head, putting it out of his mind. Nobody was perfect. Everybody had flaws. Even Carol. Though, admittedly, he had yet to find one.

Maybe a new environment would do the trick. Once he was away from all the memories of Emma, their stillborn child, the house, and Harriet, he’d be able to get his old life back. The life he’d had before he met the Lambert sisters.

As he dozed off for the ninety-minute flight to Charleston, Donovan Mitchell wished he had a fairy princess who would wave her wand and make him feel better.

Construction-site coffee has to be the worst coffee in the world,
Donovan thought as he sipped from the Styrofoam cup. His gaze swept the work crew over the rim of the plastic cup. He itched to pick up a hammer, but fought the urge.

“So, Donovan, are you in or not?” Steve Franklin asked as he rolled up a set of plans. He opened the trailer door and stepped outside, signaling Donovan to follow him. “As you can see, we have almost perfect weather.”

“What do you do when hurricanes come along?”

“Inside work. That way we never miss a day. It’s all in the way you schedule, but then you know that.” Steve handed the plans to his foreman, then took Donovan’s elbow and walked him toward a pile of lumber. “We’ve got contracts up the kazoo and more on the way. You can build your own crew and bring anyone aboard you want. I’ll give you the whole Sun Blossom development in Seabrook. It’s yours to run with no interference from me. Oh, I almost forgot, you get your own coffeemaker.”

Donovan didn’t need to think about it. He’d known he was going to accept the moment he set foot on South Carolina soil. He liked this cousin of his even though he’d only seen him every five years or so at family reunions. Steve was honest, ethical, hardworking, and didn’t cut corners. He built quality housing at affordable prices, and his reputation was sterling. “The coffeemaker cinches it. I’m in,” Donovan said, extending his hand.

“So when can you start?”

“A week or so. First, I’ll have to find a place to live. That shouldn’t take but a few days at the most. For now, a rental will do. I told you about John and his little girl. Three bedrooms are important. A couple of bathrooms, too. Little girls like to take bubble baths.”

Steve pushed his hard hat farther back on his head. “Tell me about it,” he said, grinning. “I have four girls.”

Donovan rolled his eyes. “As soon as I rent a house, I’ll head home, find a realtor for my house there, pack my stuff, and come back here. So … yeah, I think we’re looking at a week on the outside.”

Steve nodded.

“Were you serious about my own crew because if you were, I have four guys besides John I’d like to bring down.”

“The more the merrier. If we ever get caught up, maybe you can build my house on Edisto.”

“Sounds good to me.” Donovan glanced down and checked his watch. Five o’clock. “Okay then, if there’s nothing else, I’m outta here. I’ll check in with you when I get back to Jersey. Thanks for the offer, Steve. It came in at just the right time.”

“Hey, Steve!” a voice bellowed from the site trailer. “There’s a phone call for Donovan Mitchell.”

“Go get it, buddy,” Steve said, slapping Donovan on the back.

Donovan seemed surprised. “I can’t even imagine who
would be calling me here,” he said, then loped toward the site trailer. “Mitchell here,” he barked into the phone.

“Donovan. It’s Carol.”

He turned around to face the open door. “Carol, what’s wrong? You sound funny. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Donovan. But—Listen, there’s no way to tell you this except to blurt it right out.”

“Jesus, you aren’t going to tell me my house burned down, are you?”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that. I just heard it on the news when I was going to the cleaners. Harriet and John are dead.”

He held the phone in front of him and stared at the handset, then put it back to his ear. “Have you been drinking, Carol?”

“Donovan, listen to me. As soon as I heard, I drove over to John’s house. The police were swarming the place. Evidently Mallory and Abby had been playing at a friend’s house, and when they got home, Mallory went upstairs to find her mother but couldn’t wake her up. She ran crying to your neighbor, Mrs. Lascaris, and she checked it out, then called the police. They found John downstairs, sitting at his desk. He was dead, too. I’m calling from Mrs. Lascaris’s house now.”

Donovan sat down in the closest chair. “Jesus Christ. How? How’d they die? What happened? Was it carbon monoxide poisoning?”

“Nobody seems to know yet, or if they do, they aren’t saying. I think you need to get back here just as soon as you can. I’ll pick you up at the airport if you call me and give me your flight information.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he said automatically. “I’ll head back to the hotel right now. I’ll call you from there about the flight.” He paused. “Carol—The girls—Are they okay?”

“They’re right here with Mrs. Lascaris and me. They have no idea what’s going on, but they’re confused and scared.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “Take them to my house, Carol. I’m the closest relative those girls have, so the authorities
shouldn’t give you any trouble about taking charge. If you need to, mention my hefty donations to the Police Benevolent Association. John would—” His voice broke. “John would want me to take his kids.” He paused, took a deep breath, and stood up. “I’ll call the police myself from the hotel. I don’t believe this. John dead. What do you think, Carol?”

“I don’t know what to think. We’ll have to wait to see what the police and coroner have to say. I’m so sorry, Donovan. I know John was like a brother to you.”

“John was more than that. He was my best friend. Look, I have to get out of here, Carol. I’ll call you with the flight info.”

Sweat dripped down Donovan’s face. At least he thought it was sweat. He knuckled his eyes, then glared at the man who’d called him to the phone before he stomped his way from the trailer to the rental car parked at the entrance to the building site.

Donovan got into the car, turned on the ignition, and let the engine idle for a few minutes. His thoughts turned to Abby and Mallory. What would happen to them? he wondered. Would the courts want to put them in foster homes? “Over my goddamn dead body!”

Rain beat down on the green-canvas tent. Donovan tried to listen to the minister’s words. He heard phrases like pillars of the community, caring individuals, and loving parents. He couldn’t help but wonder where the stoic-looking minister had gotten his information. Or did he have a generic script that he went by? Did he ever deviate from the flattering words? Donovan did his best to remember what the minister had said the day he buried Emma and their stillborn child, but he couldn’t remember a single word.

He looked around, astonished at the turnout. All the guys from the construction company were there, probably because it was raining and there was no work. Everybody liked John,
but Donovan knew in his heart the crew wouldn’t be there but for the rain. How strange they all looked in their suits and white shirts and ties. He probably looked strange to them, too.

“Ashes to ashes …”

Donovan cringed. Carol reached for his hand and squeezed it. Carol had been a rock these past three days, taking care of him, the girls, and handling all the funeral arrangements. He didn’t know what he would have done without her.

It was almost over. He had to hang on. He couldn’t lose it with everyone watching. What he wanted more than anything was to run like hell and not look back. He clenched his jaw as he led the small procession past the two bronze Springfield caskets and dropped a single rose on top of each. Mallory followed behind him, but when it came time for her to put her roses on the caskets, she refused to part with them.

“Put them on the caskets, Mallory, like everybody else,” Donovan said between his teeth. He wanted to smack her. She must have sensed his anger because she screwed up her face into the prelude to a tantrum.

Carol stepped between them. “I’ll take care of this, Donovan,” she said, pointedly, then bent down to Mallory’s level. He didn’t hear what she said, but whatever it was, it worked because next thing he knew Mallory was putting her flowers with everyone else’s.

“What’s in the boxes, Uncle Donovan?” Abby asked as she laid her roses on top of the caskets.

It only just occurred to him that he hadn’t done a very good job of explaining things to her, to either of the girls for that matter.
Way to go,
Mitchell,
he thought.

Abby tugged on the hem of his suit jacket. “What’s in the boxes?”

“Ashes,” he blurted as he grappled for the right answer. That’s what the minister had said. Ashes to ashes … But it didn’t make any sense. The bones remained intact for hundreds
of years before they turned to—
Not even ashes,
he thought.
Dust. The bones turned to dust.

“Dust to dust …”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there staring at the caskets, but when he looked up, all the mourners were heading back to their cars.

Holding Mallory’s hand, Carol joined him and put her free arm through his. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

“No, I can’t do this,” he said suddenly. “I can’t put John in the ground. It’s … John didn’t want to be buried. He wanted to be cremated. I just now remembered.” He gave Abby over to Carol and ran to find the funeral director. Rain sluiced over him. Within seconds he was drenched to the skin. “Wait!” he shouted. “I changed my mind. I want to have …” He forced himself to calm down. “I’ve decided to have the bodies cremated instead of buried. I don’t care what it costs, just tack it on to the bill.”

“Twenty-one straight days of rain,” Carol said as she climbed into Donovan’s car. “I’m sick of it.”

“It’s sunny in South Carolina. I saw it on the news this morning,” Donovan said inanely, water dripping down his face. He wiped it away, then reached for Abby and set her on the seat beside him.

“How long do you think the reception will last?”

“An hour or so. Everyone will have a little something to eat and drink, they’ll say nice things about John and Harriet, then leave. I don’t expect more than a dozen people to show up. Everything is ready. We really don’t have to do anything but circulate,” Carol said. “Then, when everybody is gone, we’re going to talk about why you did what you just did.”

Donovan nodded. He could tell Carol didn’t approve of his sudden change in plans. Probably because of the added expense.
To hell with the expense,
he thought.

He looked in the rear view mirror at Mallory. She looked lost, forlorn. In spite of what she’d done at the gravesite, he felt as sorry for her as he did for Abby.

“We’re going to drop the girls off at the Barkers’ house,” Carol said a moment later. “Mrs. Lascaris is sick. The Barkers’ daughter, Marie, is going to watch them until … until it’s time to … to bring them back. Oh, and don’t forget, you still have to talk to Harriet’s aunt and fill her in on the details.”

“Until you told me you found her name in Harriet’s address book, I didn’t even know she had an aunt. Emma never mentioned her to me, and neither did John.”

“She sounded elderly but sharp. I think she said she was eighty-six. She wanted to know how much insurance there was and if she’s mentioned in the will. She said she doesn’t want … any responsibility.”

“When can we go home?” Mallory whined.

“We don’t have a home anymore,” Abby informed her sister. “Isn’t that right, Uncle Donovan? We’re going to live with you now, aren’t we?” Abby said, throwing herself sideways against Donovan.

“I want to go home,” Mallory whined again. “All my stuff is there. I want my stuff.”

Carol glanced behind her. “We have to wait for the police to tell us we can get your things from the house, Mallory. I’m sorry, honey, but there’s nothing we can do until then.”

“I’ll share the toys I have at Uncle Donovan’s,” Abby generously offered.

“I don’t want
your
toys! I want
mine.
They’re way better than yours.”

“Mallory!” Donovan said in a stern voice. “That’s enough of that. You girls are going to have to get used to sharing for a while.”

“I don’t want to share with Abby.”

“Oh. yes you will, young lady, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. You will both be responsible for making
your own bed, putting your clothes in the hamper, and picking up your toys. That’s the way it’s going to be. Crying and whining will not make me change my mind,” Donovan said in his new parental voice.

“Mama always made my bed and picked up my clothes and toys,” Mallory said, starting to cry.

Donovan didn’t want to hurt Mallory more than she was already hurting, so he chose his words carefully. “I know, honey. But your mama is in heaven now with your daddy. Abby will show you how to do it. Abby makes her own bed when she sleeps over.” Donovan glanced at Carol and saw her staring at him in a way that said, “this is not going to be easy.”

“Mama said I was a princess and princesses don’t do chores.”

Donovan didn’t know what to say to that. Mallory was a brat, but this wasn’t the time to discipline her. “We’ll talk about it later, all right?” he said, tight-lipped. His hold on Abby was fierce. The rest of the drive to the Barkers’ was made in silence, as Donovan squirmed in his soaking-wet clothes.

“I feel so sorry for those girls, Donovan,” Carol said after the girls had gotten out of the car. “What in the world are you going to do?”

“John’s will appointed me executor of the estate and the girls’ legal guardian in the event of both his and Harriet’s deaths, so I’ve had my attorney petition the court for custody. He seems pretty sure no one will contest it. I’m afraid Harriet’s aunt won’t see a penny. What money is left after the bills are paid and the house is sold will go into a trust for the girls.” Donovan took Carol’s hand and squeezed it. “Later on, after the girls have adjusted, I’d like to look into adopting them. I don’t even know if the courts would consider a bachelor, unless, of course, I wasn’t a bachelor, but a stable, married man.” He drew a long breath. “You want to get married, Carol, and make me a stable, married man?” He intended to spring the big question on her later, after the reception and before the girls
came back, but instead, the words had just popped out of his mouth.

“If you’re looking for a stand-in mother and housekeeper, you’ve got the wrong girl, Donovan Mitchell,” Carol said, dashing his hopes. Then her expression changed, and a warm, loving smile lit her face. “However,” she lowered her voice a few octaves, “if you’re looking for a loving wife and a helpmate who’ll nurse you through the flu and rub your feet, I’m at the top of the list. If the kids are part of the deal, that’s okay. I love Abby. I honestly don’t know if I can learn to love Mallory. She’s a spoiled, willful little girl. I’d like to think with love and discipline we could change her, but …” She shook her head.