The Sassy Belles

Located on the right and to the far back of the main property was Arthur’s new BBQ place. It had its own entryway down from the main road and would eventually be a takeout BBQ spot for pickup. He was busy working on it much of the time to get it ready for football season and the tailgating orders that came with it. The Moonwinx was what he called it and he planned to just serve good, sweet Southern BBQ. The whole plantation was regal and lovely and had been Vivi’s home her whole life, and her father’s place before her, going back for generations.

Harry got out and opened the back door of the car to help Vivi out. We all walked up the four gray-painted steps of the porch.

A note from Arthur was waiting on the door. G’nite, Miss Vivi. Hope you had fun visitin’ with your Mama. Tomorrow I think we should get those hydrangea bushes lookin’ good. Arthur.

Exhausted, Vivi went directly upstairs and into the large master suite, and I followed her up to say good-night. She had taken the room over after her 71-year-old mother went to the Center. Vivi had had the suite redone in her favorite colors and fabrics, and the bedroom was spectacular, covered in periwinkle silk and taffeta. Drapes fell into a pale blue puddle on the wood floor, framing the old floor-to-ceiling windows. The night air drifted in through the open windows and the fragrance of roses and honeysuckle blanketed the room. I gave her a hug, but didn’t say a thing. We didn’t need words right now, just the knowledge that we were there for each other was enough.

Back downstairs, Harry was waiting in the hallway, the moonlight bouncing off his glasses. “Let’s go,” he said, and leaned over and kissed my cheek.

His face was rough with evening whiskers, and I was shocked at the closeness. He had let me in for a brief moment and I wanted to stay there, pressed up against him a little longer, feeling his skin and smelling his end-of-the-day cologne. He pressed his hand into mine and we turned and left the house. He held on to me as if he would lose his way in the darkness if he let go. We stopped at the bottom of the porch and Harry pulled me into him and said, “Blake, I need to talk to you.”

I remembered it was our anniversary, but I could tell he was not thinking of that. I pulled away from him. I knew this tone and I didn’t like it.

“What is it, Harry?”

“I don’t know…I just have a strange feeling.”

“About what?”

“About Lewis,” he said.

We sat down on the step, moonlight drenching the hydrangea bushes that bloomed on either side, framing the entrance. The humid night air kissed my skin and I took a deep breath. Lightning bugs dotted the darkness. I remembered Vivi and me as children, chasing the glowing amber fireflies every late spring evening when I spent the night there. We call them lightning bugs down South. They go hand in hand with sultry warm Southern nights when the damp humidity descends, the sun sets and the twilight sparkles with the flying magical insects. We’d catch them in old Mason jars and bring them inside and sit in the dark, telling ghost stories around the glowing jar, then we’d let them go. I listened to Harry but lingered in the safe memory of my childhood for another minute.

“I don’t think that was Lewis tonight, do you?” he asked.

I said no and asked him what he was thinking. He was rubbing his fingers through his hair and saying he didn’t know, but he just knew something was not quite right.

“It’s just not clicking,” he said.

“Harry, we’re both tired and we haven’t eaten. This day has been about as crazy as it could possibly be. Let’s just put this to bed for tonight, okay?” I was so exhausted all I could think of was a long, hot bath and my down-filled comforter. But Harry needed to talk and so he did.

“I don’t think that was Lewis,” he said.

“I know, honey, that’s what Vivi said.”

“I know, Blake…but that’s just it. If that’s not Lewis, then where the hell is he?”

Harry did not look exhausted like me. He looked wide awake. He had that look in his eye that he always had when he was pursuing a case.

“Harry, what are you thinking?” I asked. “That Lewis isn’t dead?” I waited for a response but Harry was in another place in his head now. I could see it.

He looked straight up into my eyes. “Dead men don’t just up and walk away. Lewis isn’t dead, Blake. I know him and this is typical Lewis. He’s done so many things in the past and then come running to me for a bailout. I’m sick of saving his ass. Not this time. He’s up to something again. I’m sure of it. Somebody must know where he is. And I’m gonna find out who.”

6

The next morning, a ringing woke me from the depths of sleep. It was one of those heavy slumbers that, when you wake, it takes you a few seconds to realize where you are and what’s going on, and the night before is still clinging to you and leaving its essence in all the wrong places. The tired was still stinging all over.

It took another second for me to figure out that the ringing was the phone and not the alarm clock. With my eyes still closed, I moved to reach across Harry and answer when I realized that he wasn’t there.

The digital clocked glowed 6:47 a.m. in the dim morning light.

“Blake?” It was Vivi.

“Vivi? Hi, honey.”

“I am just crazy.” She thought I needed a phone call to confirm this? She continued, “Oh, my God. I am so sorry about last night.” An apology bathed in embarrassment. “I was so tired I don’t even remember getting up the stairs.”

“Don’t you worry, it was a long day for all of us. Are you okay this morning?”

“Oh, yeah, honey, I’m always okay…you know, just nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs, that’s all. I don’t know what to do next. Just pacing everywhere…waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. Any word?”

I was still on my stomach with the phone tucked under me, pushed into my pillow, eyes still closed.

“No word yet. I’m going to get up and I’ll meet you at Mother’s at eight-thirty. Okay?”

“Is Harry there?” she asked.

“No, he must’ve left early.”

“Oh…do you think there might be some news?”

“He would let us know right away if there was. Try not to worry. I’ll see you in a few.”

We hung up and I lay there, clutching the phone to my chest and breathing in the morning air. I tried to exhale, pushing away the events that were about to play out.

I turned over in my bed and stared at the double crown molding. I loved this old house. It was built in the 1800s. You know…one of those huge old Southern homes with the sweeping, wraparound front porch. The ceiling fans turned in slow motion all the time. I never turned them off. Slow-turning ceiling fans were so inviting. To me they meant someone was home, cooking something, the down pillows were all fluffed and waiting for you to rest your weary head, iced tea and fresh chocolate cake were waiting somewhere in the kitchen. The fans welcomed me home every night, even if the house was empty. Somehow I believed they made the place feel full, awake and alive.

Harry and I bought this house five years ago as a gift to each other. It was for our fifth anniversary. We had lived in a little town house near the campus up until then. We both loved this house from the minute we found it that evening in November. It needed a little love, but it felt like home the second we walked in the door. Harry and I didn’t say a word to each other…just a glance and we knew. We could love this house into our home. Of course we walked the whole house, holding hands, almost giddy with the rush of the future and all it held tingling between us.

There was a sweeping, curved front staircase, a wide and airy front hall, two large parlors on each side, creaking wood floors and brick fireplaces in nearly every room creating a fairy-tale ambience that I had never felt anywhere before. Sleeping many nights with the dance of the firelight on the walls was a comfort that is indescribable.

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