Carrie hit the road early on Thanksgiving Day, figuring there would be serious northbound holiday traffic. She wanted to get this distasteful errand over with. She brought along a book to read in the coffee shop because she knew she'd get to Persuasion with hours to spare.
She shook her head, merging onto the highway. It was beyond her why Riley and his crowd decided to hold a fund-raiser on Thanksgiving Day, a day that was supposed to be sacred, spent in the company of family and cherished friends. It pissed her off to no end that she'd had to leave Kenneth behind in Charleston, especially since his parents had extended an invitation to join their family for dinner.
Carrie sighed. Kenneth was gorgeous and brilliant. Not like Riley, of course, but in his own way. He was a financial analyst. He'd grown up in Morgantown and gone to Ohio State. He played squash and racquetball, and he dressed tastefully. His kissing needed just the teensiest bit of work, but Carrie was up to the challenge. And he had nice eyes. Kind of plain, really, not the knock-me-on-my-ass kind of eyes like Riley had, but /nice/.
She was aware that she'd have to stay more than a hundred feet from Riley at all times, just as the protection order said. She would not speak to him or Kat. She would show up at this stupid event, bid for Matt, rub her leg against him or do something equally distasteful for everyone to see, and then she was out of there. That would have to satisfy Madeline's taste for revenge because that was all she was getting. As far as the money went, Carrie had set a five-hundred-dollar limit for herself. She absolutely, positively would not go a penny higher.
She'd decided that once the legislature was back from holiday recess, she'd undo the clinic-funding mess. The last few weeks had been filled with soul-searching, and she realized that withholding the clinic money had been a mean-spirited thing to do. Carrie had breathed life into the project by calling in every political favor owed to her. She wanted Riley to adore her. Be in awe of her. She wanted him to propose to her, and it had worked. How embarrassing it had been to go back to the same people a couple years later and beg them to make the money go away! She did not even want to think about how humiliated she'd be returning yet again, wanting the funding restored. The whole town would think she was nuts.
Carrie shivered. She dreaded going back to Persuasion, because the last time she was there was for her encounter with the foul Virgil Cavanaugh, closely followed by being slapped with the protective order. It was pretty obvious that her meeting with Virgil had been a harbinger of disaster, a blatant signal to Carrie that she was on the wrong path and needed to clean up her act. If it weren't for the fact that she was driving, Carrie would've closed her eyes right then and taken a moment to connect to the positive energy flow of the universe.
No matter how much she cranked the heat, she just couldn't seem to get warm.
Kat greeted the day happier than she'd ever been in her life. Today was going to be the kind of Thanksgiving she'd dreamed about since she was a little girldelicious food on the table and a bounty of forgiveness, honesty, and love in the hearts of those gathered together. She had much to be thankful for.
The first thing she did that morning was call Riley.
Happy Thanksgiving, a groggy voice answered.
I love you, Riley Bohland.
Mmmm, he replied, still half-asleep.
I wanted those to be the first words I said today.
That's really sweet, Scout. She heard him roll over in bed.
Are the young lovebirds still asleep? she asked.
It's not even seven yet, so I'd say it's likely.
Kat opened the drapes in her bedroom, and looked out over the quaint scene of Laurel Lane in the morning. She hoped that in each of those houses there would be peace today.
I'm sorry for waking you, but I'm just so excited! Kat padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. I'm going to begin all the turkey prep work and start some of the side dishes.
Riley chuckled. You really are enjoying this, aren't you?
It's my home and my family and my chance to do things differently, so, yes, I'm enjoying this.
I love you, Kat. Do you know how much I love you?
A lot?
You got that right. Now, would you mind if I go back to sleep?
She giggled. Of course not. Be here around noon, OK? Please don't forget the six extra chairs.
We'll bring 'em in the truck. Bye, sweetie.
Kat spent the next several hours in glorious solitude, puttering around her kitchen, drinking coffee and listening to her music as loud as she wanted. With Aidan and Nola both here in Persuasion today, she didn't feel the slightest internal pull east toward Baltimore. And once Phyllis' donation made her part of the clinic forever, she'd be here in Persuasion, too, in spirit.
Cliff had called about ten o'clock last night to let Kat know that he, Barbara, and the grandkids were checked into Cherry Hill. He told Kat how much he was looking forward to the visit. Jeff and his partner, Richard, arrived earlier yesterday evening, and Jeff couldn't stop raving about Cherry Hillhe thought it was absolutely charming.
Jeff sounded cheerful, but Kat had gotten to know him since the Caymans, so she was able to detect the hint of melancholy in his voice. He was in Persuasion because his own family in Vermont had reacted coolly to his coming out and told him they were uncomfortable having Richard for the holidays. When Kat invited Richard and Jeff, he had leaped at the offer.
She looked forward to seeing him again.
By ten, Kat had everything under control and had showered and dressed.
She'd chosen her outfit with the newspaper photos in mind, selecting a subdued eggplant turtleneck and a pair of black dress slacks. Nola arrived by ten-thirty, bringing a huge pan of lasagna in case there wasn't enough turkey to go around.
For the next hour or so Nola and Kat put the finishing touches on the table, including setting out the floral centerpiece she'd whipped together using asters, gerberas, mums, cranberries, and sprigs of dried wheat. Nola made a fire, opened the blinds, and ran the vacuum. When they were done, the two of them stood in the dining room and pronounced that it was good.
Martha Stewart can kiss my fat Italian ass, Nola said.
Kat draped her arm around Nola. I told youyou are /not/ fat.
Who cares? Whatever I got, Matt likes it.
After admiring their handiwork for a few more moments, Kat studied her friend and, in all seriousness, asked, Are you enjoying life in Persuasion, Nola?
She looked at Kat like she was insane. I've never been with a man who treats me as good as Matt does. It's an adorable town. My job is mellow and my boss is decent. Nola looked pensive for a moment, then said, It's sad in a wayI'm thirty-seven years old and I don't think I ever really knew what being happy felt like until now.
I know what you mean, Kat said.
Nola smiled thoughtfully. Do you remember the night you found out your mom had died, and we were back in your room at Cherry Hill?
Kat nodded.
Do you remember what I said about how you came back here for revenge, but you might come away with something even better?
Kat laughed. My God, you really did say that, didn't you? She gave her friend a squeeze. How'd you get to be so wise?
Nola shook her head. It can only be one thingafter all those years in front of the TV, I guess I've finally earned my D.O. degree.
What's that?
Doctor of Oprah, hon.
The marrow of his leg bones ached. Sharp pains shot through his shoulders and back. His neck seemed to be stuck in one position. And he couldn't remember what month it was or the last time he'd bathed or slept. But the beautythe beauty he'd createdmade all the discomfort meaningless.
How many weeks had this taken him? He had no idea. All he knew was that he'd never worked with such sharp focus or sense of purpose in all his life. It was as if he'd been resting up all these years, putting out worthless junk in order to eat while every aspect of his body and soul prepared itself for this singular masterwork.
It would be called /Woman, Thou Art a WhoreItalian Carrara marble, by V.
L. Cavanaugh, 2007/.
He wept. He let his fingers play on the perfection of each of those female faces. He fancied doing an entire series of such sculptures.
Perhaps each would focus on just a single female body part. It was sheer genius, but who was he kidding? The tightness in his chest was intensifying. He didn't remember when he'd last taken any of his medicines. He knew where he'd stashed the revolver, and thought maybe he should hasten the inevitable. He was dying.
And unless he went out with a bang, nobody would even notice he was dead. Nobody would give a fuck.
Cliff, Barbara, and the grandkidsErin and Stephaniewere the first to arrive. Kat was overjoyed to see Cliff and hugged him with all her might.
How's my sunshine? he asked. Everything OK with you?
Oh, absolutely, Cliff. I'm great.
The slightest look of confusion crossed his face.
I am, Uncle Cliff. I am incredibly happy. She hugged him again before she chatted with Barbara and got the girls situated with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. Matt came in next, and Nola did the introductions with the Turners. Aidan, Rachel, and Riley came right at noon, with six chairs and one large hound, and Rachel did her best not to appear overwhelmed by Cliff's loud and gregarious voice. Jeff showed up with Richard a few minutes later, his arms filled with wine and flowers.
Kat! He hugged her quickly before he introduced Richard, and Kat saw the pride and love in Jeff's face when he did so.
Soon, everyone was comfortable with wine or some other drink and the house was rocking with laughter and conversation. Riley snuck up behind Kat as she stood at the kitchen counter, and he slid his arms around her waist and put his warm lips on the side of her neck.
This is fabulous, he said, whispering in her ear. And you are beautiful.
Kat leaned back into Riley's solid body and closed her eyes. She wanted to feel all of it, all at once, if only for a second. She wanted to let the completeness of the moment imprint itself on her spirit so that she could carry it with her, always.
This made no sense whatsoever. Carrie had done a drive-by at the clinic and the place was deserted, not a bit of preparation in place. Thinking maybe she'd gotten the time wrong, she drove into town. The coffee shop was closed. Every business on Main Street was empty and locked. Even the Sunoco was dark. There was nobody out, anywhere, except for the occasional lonely college kid whose ride home hadn't materialized.
Madeline had talked up this day like it was going to be second only to the Second Coming.
Carrie began to get a very bad feeling about this.
She drove back to the clinic. She parked in the utterly vacant lot and walked to the glass double doors in front, the spike heels of her boots echoing in the emptiness. She read the flyer. The damn thing was /tomorrow/, not today! She was going to kill Madeline!
Carrie took hold of both the door handles and shook until the entrance rattled. She screamed out her fury until her throat hurt. She stopped only because she tripped the security alarm.
She ran to her car and drove off. She had just wasted four hours of her life in holiday traffic! She could have gone to Kenneth's family's dinner! She was stuck in Persuasion for Thanksgiving and she had nowhere to go, nowhere to stay! What kind of cruel joke was this?
Carrie called Madeline at the B and B. Then Carrie tried her cell. She didn't answer that, either, so Carrie drove over to Cherry Hill, only to find the parking lot full. She had to drive about a block away down a side street before she found a spot.
She stormed down the sidewalk, painfully aware of the food aromas wafting from every single little house on the streetroasting turkey, gravy, stuffing, potatoes, pumpkin pie…
She'd eaten one rectangle of shredded wheat and a half cup of skim milk for breakast, and that was six hours ago. She was so hungry it felt like her stomach had given up waiting for food and had just started digesting itself. From one of the houses she heard raucous laughter.
She was going to strangle Madeline with her bare hands.
By two in the afternoon, Matt had made it back from a false alarm at the clinic, everyone was seated, and all the food was served. Riley said gracea simple prayer of thanks for fellowship and possibilitiesand then each person around the table named one thing they were thankful for.
No school for a week, Stephanie said.
Ice cream, Erin said.
Family, Barbara said.
The fact that God's hand is in all things, Cliff said.
My mom and dad, Aidan said.
Open minds, Rachel said.
Nola, Matt said.
Matt, Nola said.
I like what Rachel said, Richard said.
New friends, Jeff said.
Love, Riley said.
Forgiveness, Kat said.
Let's eat! Matt said. And they did.
Virgil's chest hurt. He called Rita, but she didn't answer. What day was it? Wasn't some sort of holiday coming up? He couldn't remember. He went into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. The TV was on and there was some sort of parade. Then he remembered it was Thanksgiving.
Carrie walked right on through the front door of Cherry Hill. It wasn't locked. She clicked her way down the hallway, past rooms Madeline had given pompous names such as the parlor and the library. Carrie came to a halt at the entrance to the dining room.
Every seat at every table was taken, and guests were lined up like pigs at the trough trying to get to the buffet. She scanned the room for Madeline but didn't see her.
Excuse me, Carrie said, pushing her way through the line to get to the kitchen door.
I think that's employees only, an old man told her.
I'm an employee, Carrie said, slamming her hand against the swinging door.
In that case I should probably tell you we're low on yams.
Madeline was sitting at her kitchen table, wolfing down what looked like half a key lime pie. She stared up at Carrie like she was coming face-to-face with an alien.
What in the world are you doing here? she asked, wiping crumbs off her chin.
Does it give you some sort of perverse thrill or something, screwing with my life like this?
Madeline looked around the kitchen, like there might be someone else with whom Carrie was conversing. Huh?
Look, I'm sorry I was less than honest with you, all right? But you're fucking with my peace of mind now, and I won't stand for it.
Madeline wiped her mouth on a napkin. What are you even doing here today? The fund-raiser's tomorrow!
Ha! Funny. I am here because you told me the fund-raiser was /today/, you fat, dateless innkeeper!
Madeline stood up from the table, throwing down her napkin like it was a gauntlet. I never told you it was today, you bulimic bitch!
You did so tell me it was today!
I did /not/!
The kitchen door opened. It was the old man. We're waiting on those yams, he said.
Madeline scurried around the kitchen. Coming! She ran out to the dining room. While she was gone, Carrie hooked her finger and dragged it through the top of the key lime pie and ate the stuff right off her finger.
Madeline came back. Look, I'm kind of busy right now. So, if you don't mind…?
Mind what? Carrie asked.
Leaving.
Carrie huffed in disbelief. And go where? Nothing's open in this ridiculous town! It's Thanksgiving Day! I don't have anywhere to go!
Then go home and come back tomorrow.
No! I… well, no! I'm not driving all the way back to Charleston tonight, then back up tomorrow, and back down again tomorrow night! That would be an entire day of my life completely wasted!
Madeline shrugged. Then go get a hotel room somewhere.
I'll take my usual suite here.
Oh yeah? Madeline stopped what she was doing and stared at Carrie.
You'll be rooming with Mr. and Mrs. Cliff Turner of Cumberland, Maryland, and their two lovely granddaughters. Let me get you a key.
Carrie felt like she was cracking into tiny pieces. Many people might see this mix-up as a minor inconvenience, but on top of everything else she'd been through in the last few months, it was too much.
Then just forget it, she told Madeline, sick of the whole business, sick of her whole life. She was tearing up. You go ahead and e-mail anyone you want. Tell everyone that I make myself puke a few times a dayI don't think it will cause the state government to come to a screeching halt. I just don't care anymore. I was going to quit anyway. She turned to leave.
Madeline sounded just as tired. OK. Great. Whatever.
Carrie was about to exit the swinging door when her empty stomach twisted in on itself. How much is the Thanksgiving buffet? she asked.
Everything is fabulous, Jeff told Kat. You've done an incredible job.
Heads nodded all around while the forks kept moving. Kat beamed.
Sunshine?
She turned to her uncle, who was seated at her left elbow. Ready for more turkey? she asked him. As soon as she said the words, she saw that something was wrong. In fact, she'd been so busy that she hadn't admitted that something had been a little off all day. Cliff was acting worried. He seemed uncomfortable when he talked to her, which was not like him. Kat glanced at Barbara and saw the same discomfort in her expression.
Kat's heart fell to her stomach. Is something wrong?
It was probably the cadence of her voice, so unlike the laughter and lively conversation that had filled the house all day, but as soon as she asked her question, everything came to a standstill.
Cliff looked around the table, horrified. I… uh, it can wait, I guess.
Oh, Lord, Barbara mumbled.
Kat looked back and forth between them. Would somebody please tell me what's going on?
Barbara gestured to Cliff. I told you to wait until the end of the day if she didn't bring it up, but no, you had to say something right in the middle of dinner.
Cliff looked guilty.
What? Kat put her napkin in her lap and waited. Is it something about the charitable gift?
Cliff shook his head in the negative, dragging the tines of his fork across his gravy, making a serpentine design. Finally his eyes met Kat's. Did you look in all the boxes Rita gave you?
Kat was about to answer when a powerfully charged current of dread passed through her. It took her a few seconds to ask the most pressing question, which was, How the hell do you know Rita?
Cliff looked to his wife. She nodded for him to continue.
Did you open the boxes?
A couple of them, yes. Why?
Cliff began to grind his teeth.
Oh, Lord, Cliff! Barbara sighed. Kat, honey, I guess you didn't find anything in the boxes that you'd like to discuss with Cliff, would that be accurate to say?
Kat was baffled. She looked at Riley and he shrugged.
She put her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. What are you talking about? How do you know about my mother and her boxes? Or Rita?
Or that Rita gave me the boxes? Kat's heart began to beat wildly.
Where are they, Kat? Cliff asked in a calm voice.
On the attic stairs. But you're not answering me! Tears began to well in her eyes. Why aren't you answering me? What's going on?
Cliff looked pained. What did you find in the boxes you did open?
Kat had a feeling her hard-won peace was about to be blown to hell.
Books, an old coat, a charm bracelet, art projects.
Cliff frowned. But there was a box you never opened at all?
Kat swallowed hard, nodding.
Cliff said to Aidan, Do you think you could go find that one and bring it on down here?
Aidan's mouth was pulled tight and he flashed his eyes at Kat in disappointment. I thought you said there weren't any more secrets, Mom.
There aren't! she yelled.
Well, that's not entirely true, Cliff said. How about you go get that box, son?
Aidan left the table. Nola stared at Kat with giant eyes. Matt buttered a roll. Rachel sat straight and stayed quiet. Barbara looked sad. Jeff and Richard were huddled together, whispering. The kids looked bored.
Riley put his hand on Kat's shoulder in a protective gesture. I think you better explain what this is all about, Cliff, he said.
Cliff nodded, the seriousness etched in his kind face. Everything she needs to know is inside that box.
Virgil staggered around the kitchen, the lack of sleep and the physical demands of the last few weeks finally catching up with him. He found a box of saltines in the cabinet and ate a few. There was a vanilla pudding cup on the shelf, so he ate that, too, but had to use a dirty spoon because Rita hadn't been over to clean in ages. Then he poured himself a jigger of vodka and slugged it.
He knew where he was headed next, and it pained him. It really did. He'd hoped that that working on the sculpture would soothe the urge. It hadn't. His body was dying, but the urge was alive, and it swirled through him, driving him on, making him suffer. He remembered how it would go, back in the day, how, when he'd feel this unholy desire for Katharine, he'd just take it out on BettyAnn. It was always pure relief, damn near rapture, and when he was done, the world was back in balance and the fire would mellow to a glow.
But Kat had come back to rub his face in it. She knew what she was doing. She knew how parading in front of him had always tortured him.
The time had come. He had no choice but to extinguish the source of his misery, once and for all.
He walked out to the studio, noticing with a kind of removed curiosity that his feet were scraping the ground, that he couldn't lift them up and place them down the normal way. Just another sign that the end was near, he supposed.
He put his hand in the bottom drawer of the worktable, reached beneath a stack of worthless sketches, and got the handgun. Sad to say, but the day he'd bought this gun over at the pawnshop in Bowden, he'd been a vital man, still handsome, still able to get the ladies when the need arose. Now, he was just an old man, sick, and so very tired of all of it.
Virgil stuck the gun in his pants pocket and set out for Laurel Lane. At this pace, it was going to take a while.