Midsummer night. A beautiful time to die.
Chapter Fifteen
The best way to getinto an old folks’ home is to be old folks. We were a few years shy of needing assistance with our living, so we knew at least one of us was going to have to age up by a decade to get in the door.
“Not it,” Natalie hollered. “Mary Alice and I suffered enough in our incontinence pants on that ship.”
I looked at her over the top of my glasses. “Natalie, if you are not incontinent, then why in the name of all that is holy and good were you wearing the pants?”
“They pad out your butt,” she explained, twitching her ass from side to side. “Nothing else gives you quite that lumpy look.”
Mary Alice raised her hand. “They make slimmer versions now, but I’d like to point out that I did not, in fact, wear the pants.”
“You should have,” Natalie told her. “They make a nicecushion when you’re sitting on a hard chair. Prevents hemorrhoids.”
“I shall make a note of that,” Mary Alice said solemnly. “But Natalie is right. We had to wear all the old-lady gear last time. We are definitely not it this time.”
I looked at Helen and she shrugged. “I’ll do it.”
“Really?” I was surprised. I’d seen enough social media posts to know that #ageisjustanumber and #sixtyissexy. To be older and stylish meant turbans, crimson lipstick, velvet caftans—everything from Elton John sunglasses to Chinese parasols heavy with fringe. Anything to make you stand out in vivid Technicolor. And Helen had always been the best dressed of us all. Over the years she’d traded her Bobbie Brooks and Oscar de la Renta for more daring pieces. In the last photo she’d sent she’d been wearing a pink boiler suit and turquoise Chuck Taylors because she’d been repainting a stone wall at Benscombe. Her hair had been tied up in an Hermès scarf, and I knew she’d have been wearing her signature Chanel perfume. But the point of disguising yourself as an elderly woman is blending in, nothing but bifocal lenses and elastic waists, and you couldn’t smell like anything more alluring than Bengay.
It seemed like a stretch for her, but she lifted her chin and smiled. “Yes,” she said, nodding to Mary Alice. “I’ll sit in a wheelchair and make Mary Alice push me around as my private secretary.”
“Sold,” Mary Alice said. She twisted her lavish blond hair into a tight knot and perched her glasses on the end of her nose. “How’s this?”
“Sexy as shit,” Akiko told her. “Hot librarian suits you.”
Mary Alice grinned at her wife as Natalie spoke up. “I can be the devoted niece who comes with to make sure you are getting the best care.”
Helen arched a plucked brow at her. “I think sister-in-law would be more believable than niece.”
“Bitch,” Natalie said, pulling a face. But there wasn’t any heat in it, and I was just glad the roles had been assigned without drama. Nat turned to me. “And what exactly will you be doing?”
“Driver,” I said succinctly. “I’ll poke around as much as I can when I’m ‘looking for the bathroom,’ ” I added, making obnoxious air quotes with my fingers.
Taverner spoke up. “I’d make a more convincing chauffeur.”
“That’s sexist,” Natalie countered.
“No, it’s expected,” he replied. “More men are professional drivers. I would be less remarkable in the role than Billie.”
I held up a hand. “You’re both right. Taverner, you would be less noticeable, but the reason for that is sexist, so Natalie scores there. But your points are also moot since Taverner isn’t going.”
He rolled his neck slowly. “Pardon me?”
“You’re not going. Neither is Akiko,” I said, spearing her with a look. Minka didn’t even glance up from her phone.
Akiko held up her hands. “No arguments here. The view is nice and the food is good. The cats and I will hold down the fort.”
“Good,” I said, pushing back from the table.
Taverner pushed back too and I stopped him. “We are not fighting about this. You are in a safe house because of me. I’m not going to endanger you further.”
“Endanger me?” A note of humor threaded through his voice. “The only thing in danger of getting killed here is my sourdough starter. Billie, you’re overreacting.”
“Maybe. But it’s my call, not yours.”
We squared off, facing each other with our arms folded over our chests in identical postures.