Again there was a silence, and when Emily eventually spoke, her voice had dropped to the conspiratorial level that signaled the sort of bad news she loved best. “You mean you haven’t heard? Their little girl died last night. They say it was crib death …” She let the words hang, clearly indicating that she was sure there was more to the story than that Then her voice brightened, and Lucy suddenly realized why she had never really liked Emily Harris. “But I’m sure nothing’s wrong,” Emily said. “Jason wasn’t at school today, of course, and Randy probably decided to play hookey with him. Geordié’s one it more than once,” she lied. “All boys do it, especially in spring. I’ll bet he’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“I suppose so,” Lucy said without conviction. She decided she had had quite enough of Emily Harris. “Thanks, Emily. Sorry to bother you.”
“No bother at all,” Emily Harris replied. “Let me know when you find him, all right? Otherwise I’ll worry.”
Sure you will, Lucy thought angrily. And you’ll be on the phone all night, spreading the latest news too. She hung up, then sipped the tea that Margaret Willis had placed in front of her, and told the older woman what she had just heard.
“Oh, dear,” Margaret murmured. “Well, I suppose you’d better call Mrs. Montgomery, hadn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Low replied unhappily. “Oh, I know I should, but what good would it do? Randy couldn’t possibly be there, not today. And what would I say to her? Do I tell her I’m sorry her daughter died, but has she happened to see my son? Margaret, I can’t I just can’t.”
“Then I will,” Margaret said, reaching for the phone book. But before she had found the Montgomerys’ number, Lucy suddenly hit the table with her fist.
“His father!” she exclaimed. “Damn it, that’s what happened. Jim took Randy.” Once more she picked up the phone, and began dialing furiously, her eyes, filled with worry only a moment ago, now glittering with anger. “That bastard,” she rasped through clenched teeth as she listened to her ex-husband’s telephone ring on with that strange, impossible tone that seems to occur only when no one is going to answer. Finally, she pressed the button to disconnect the call and dialed the emergency number that was taped to the phone. “I want to report a kidnaping,” she said, her voice level.
Ten minutes later die sank back in her chair and tiredly closed her eyes. She could feel Margaret Willis’s burning curiosity permeating the kitchen. Even though she knew it would be all over the neighborhood by this evening, she had to talk.
“They said they can’t do anything,” she began, her voice reflecting the frustration she was feeling. “They said they can’t even list him as missing yet, and they said if his father took him, it’s a civil matter, and I should talk to a lawyer instead of the police.”
“But what do they expect you to do?”
“Wait They told me to wait, and try to get hold of Jim, Then, if Randy isn’t back by morning, and I can’t get hold of Jim, I should call them back.” She shook her head helplessly. “How can I do that, Margaret? How can I just sit here and wait?”
“Well do it together,” Margaret Willis said firmly, standing up and beginning to clear the breakfast dishes off the table. “Well clean up the kitchen and fix supper, and then we’ll start cleaning the house.”
“But it’s clean—” Lucy started to protest, but the elderly woman waved a gentle finger at her.
“Then it will be cleaner. No such thing as too clean, Lucy, and I’ve always found that cleaning house makes the time pass faster. So we’ll clean all night if we have to.” Then she smiled affectionately. “But I bet we won’t have to,” she added. “I’ll bet the little rascal will show up in an hour or two, tired, hungry, and dirty. Then we’ll feed him and send him to bed. How’s that sound?”
To Lucy it sounded horrible, but she knew she would give in to Margaret Willis. It was either that or sit alone, watching the clock tick off the endless minutes while improbable fantasies transformed themselves into frightening realities in the far reaches of her imagination. She would, she knew, go mad with worry if she had to wait alone. Better to fill the time and the emptiness with Margaret’s relentless cheerfulness than to try to