Page 10
CHAPTER 10
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
—William Shakespeare, As You Like It Act 2, Scene 7
WHITNEY
It was half past nine when I put Irving Finster’s files away, retrieved my copy of A Dark Day for Justice from my toolbox, and curled up on the couch with Sawdust, Copernicus, and Galileo to dig into the novel. I opened the book at the dedication page. To my wife Rosie—I can’t imagine my life without you. I wondered if Irving couldn’t imagine his after life without her, either. Could that be why he’d purportedly taken her out, too?
The book hooked me from the opening line: Agent Spencer, for betraying your country, you are hereby sentenced to death by lethal injection. Whoa! It was easy to see why the book had been a bestseller. Finster’s writing style was spare but effective, with unexpected twists and turns that tied my emotions up in knots. The story kept me on the edge of my seat until Collin arrived home a few minutes after midnight.
He placed his briefcase on the floor just inside the door and tugged off his tie. He gave me a sincere, if tired, smile. “I didn’t expect you to wait up for me, but it’s sweet that you did.”
Not wanting to burst his bubble, I didn’t admit it was Finster’s story I’d stayed up for, not my husband. I placed the book on the end table and stood. “Can I get you a beer? Something to eat?”
“No, thanks. I just want a hot shower and a warm bed.”
I couldn’t help with the former, but I could certainly warm up the bed for him. “I’ll plump your pillow.”
His brows rose and a grin played about his lips. “Is that a euphemism?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “Go take your shower.”
Leaving Collin to catch up on his sleep, I slipped out of bed early Saturday morning so I could finish A Dark Day for Justice . That ending! My gosh! I’d never seen it coming.
I was tempted to start on Finster’s second novel, but there wasn’t time. Instead, I cleaned myself up, left a note for my still-snoozing husband, and headed out. As arranged, Carole Brown met up with Buck and me in the parking lot at Ridgetop Prep so that she could look over the set pieces from The Music Man .
She ran a hand over the top of the improvised train car. “This train is still in excellent shape. I’m not surprised. Dwight Nabors—the head of maintenance I told you about? He was super handy and helped us out a lot. He showed the set builders how to design and assemble sturdy pieces that wouldn’t fall apart during a show.”
“So, you’ll take this stuff off our hands?” Buck asked, giving her a broad grin and waggling his brows.
Carole laughed. “I will.”
We measured the pieces to determine how much room they’d take up when packed close together, and Carole called a public storage business in Nashville to arrange for a unit large enough to hold them. We loaded the set onto the flatbed trailer attached to Buck’s van, drove to the storage unit, and carefully arranged them inside the bay.
When we finished, Carole held out four tickets to her theater camp’s performance of Fiddler on the Roof that evening. “Take these as my thanks to you.”
“Wonderful!” We gladly accepted the tickets. If the rehearsal I’d interrupted the day before was any indication, we were in for a real treat.
Uncle Roger and Aunt Nancy had agreed to babysit Mari so that Buck, Colette, Collin, and I could attend the show. My aunt and uncle took advantage of every opportunity to spend time with their precious grandbaby. I’d bet my parents would do the same if they were blessed with a grandchild. Collin’s parents, too.
We went out for Italian food beforehand, as always sharing bites of our meals for each other to sample.
Buck wasn’t a fan of my gnocchi. His lip curled up in disgust. “That stuff tastes like raw dough. Too mushy.”
I, on the other hand, thought Collin’s mushroom and garlic noodles were scrumptious. When he wasn’t looking, I reached over and snuck another forkful from his plate. He whipped his head around. “I saw that.”
I swallowed quickly and feigned innocence. “Saw what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A grin played about his lips. “Your garlic breath gives you away.”
He had me there. “Touch é . I suppose that’s what I get for marrying a detective.”
Colette and Buck had finished their meals in record time. I eyed their plates as I scooped up another mouthful of gnocchi. “You two must have been starved.”
“It’s not that,” Colette said. “It’s just that Mari always needs something. We’ve learned to do everything twice as fast as we used to. Rushing has become a habit.”
Buck concurred. “She’s an easy baby, but it takes a lot of time to feed and dress and clean up after another person. Sometimes I wonder what we used to do with all our free time.”
“I know what you did with your free time,” I teased. “It’s precisely how you two became parents.”
Collin chuckled, but then his expression became more serious. “But it’s fun, too, right? Being a parent?”
“The most fun we’ve ever had,” Buck replied without hesitation.
Colette nodded in agreement. “You think your cats are entertaining and loveable? Wait until you have a baby. It’s all that times a thousand.”
As much as I adored my furry little guy, I could hardly imagine feeling an even deeper love. “I won’t tell Sawdust you said that. He’d never forgive you.”
Colette smiled. “You know he would. He’s the sweetest cat who ever lived.”
She wasn’t wrong. I caught Collin watching me, his expression thoughtful, and I had to wonder if he was thinking the same thing I was. That maybe we should start thinking about having a baby, too.
Colette must have sensed our silent communication. She didn’t beat around the bush. “You two should start trying to make a baby. Mari would love to have a playmate around her age. What are you waiting for?”
I exchanged a glance with Collin before looking back at Colette. “We haven’t even been married a year.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “What’s that matter? You’re fully grown adults and can make up your own rules. Besides, dates are arbitrary. Time is just a human construct.”
Though it sounded like metaphysical mumbo jumbo, she had a point. Still, I couldn’t imagine dealing with both morning sickness and the renovation of the headmaster’s house. I wouldn’t be able to climb ladders or lift heavy building materials. It probably wasn’t safe to paint while pregnant, either. Wood stain gave off a noxious odor, too. The fumes might harm the baby. “I can’t even think about a baby until Buck and I finish renovating the Victorian.”
Collin dipped his head slightly in what I took to be agreement.
Colette turned to Buck. “Y’all need to get moving on that house ASAP.”
He raised his glass to his wife. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hold on.” I raised a palm in a stop motion. “I don’t want to do any further work at the house until I’m certain the rehab wouldn’t disturb any evidence.”
Colette frowned, skeptical. “You really think there’s any as-yet-undiscovered clues just waiting to be found?”
“Probably not,” I conceded, “but I did find that hidden bullet hole in the wall.” It had been a fluke, and might not even be relevant, but who could say there wouldn’t be a lucky break? I didn’t want to take that chance.
Though Collin had been similarly skeptical before, he had my back now. “Whitney’s got an impressive track record when it comes to her armchair investigations. Besides, law enforcement regularly relies on tips from the public when it comes to solving crimes. I trust her judgment. If she thinks the rehab should be postponed, then it should be postponed.”
A grin played around Buck’s lips. “Sure you’re not just afraid of diapers and late-night feedings?”
Collin chuckled. “There’s that, too.”
We topped off the meal with some coffee before heading over to see Carole’s theater troupe perform Fiddler on the Roof .
The audience had already filled the first few rows, but we were able to nab seats in the center about halfway back. The play was fabulous, the actors executing their roles and songs perfectly. The bottle dance went off without a hitch, too, not a single bottle falling from the actors’ heads to the floor. Their ability to balance a tall glass bottle on their heads was truly awe-inspiring. When the play concluded, everyone in the audience rose to their feet, clapping and cheering. If ever a company of actors had earned a standing ovation, it was this group tonight.
The young actors came out, joined hands, and took a bow, all of them beaming with pride. Of course, they couldn’t have done it without their fabulous instructor. The girl who played Golde presented Carole with a huge bouquet of white lilies as a thank-you. The last thing I saw as the curtains swung shut was Carole’s broad smile, shining as bright as the spotlight.