also a date—1990.”
Judith nodded. “I see that now. The guest who stayed there ahead of you was an Episcopal priest from New Jersey attending a church conference. I don’t recall if he wore a wedding ring. His last name was Dobbs. Wrong initials.”
“Maybe,” Libby suggested, “the ring has been there for some time.”
Judith shook her head. “I doubt it. A lost wedding ring—at least that’s what it looks like—isn’t something you’d forget.”
Libby’s thin lips curved slightly. “It is if you want to forget the person wearing the matching band.”
“Uh…that’s so.” Judith had already noticed the oval garnet ring on Libby’s left hand. Maybe it had replaced a wedding band that evoked unhappy memories. “Thanks for finding this. I’ll do some research to figure out who may have lost it.”
Libby smiled. “Good luck.” She walked into the dining room. Judith put the ring in the pocket of her tan slacks before opening the guest register to check the most recent occupants of room two. It was not only the smallest of Hillside Manor’s six rooms, but had a single bed. She searched all the way back to October 1, but found no one with the initials RK or JG. Stumped, she returned to the dining room just as Kristin entered bearing two big platters.
“Omelets,” she announced with a big smile, setting the dishes on the table instead of the sideboard. “This one,” she continued, pointing to her left, “is shrimp and mushrooms. Traditional, tasty. The other is hardier as well as healthier. Chopped raisins and nuts. Try it with some of the powdered sugar that’s in the small green bowl.” She nodded toward the sideboard. “Enjoy!”
Judith smiled at her guests in passing as she followed Kristin into the kitchen. “You didn’t need to make the omelets. We have ample food for everyone now that all the guests are seated. By the way, where did you get the nuts?”
“In the pantry,” Kristin replied. “Isn’t that where you keep them?”
“Usually,” Judith said. “I don’t cook with them except during the holidays. Aunt Renie is allergic to all kinds of nuts, especially peanuts.”
“Peanuts aren’t nuts,” Kristin said. “They’re legumes.”
Judith agreed. “She’s allergic to both. It’s peanuts that can be lethal.”
“That’s awful,” Kristin declared. “How can she not eat nuts and be healthy? Couldn’t she be desensitized?”
“She’d never risk it. Renie’s always lived with the allergy. She prefers being unhealthy—and undead,” Judith said, trying not to sound annoyed. But the attempt failed. Kristin suddenly looked offended. Judith quickly put a hand on her daughter-in-law’s arm.
“I really appreciate your help. Now that everyone’s been served, we can close the kitchen.”
Kristin still looked prickly. “Aren’t all of your rooms full?”
“Yes, but—” Judith stopped. “Oh, drat! I forgot about the Zs.”
“The Zs?”
“A couple showed up last night and I put them in room three. Their last name is unpronounceable. Maybe they went out to breakfast.” Judith started for the back stairs. “I’ll ask Phyliss. She’ll know if they’re still in their room.”
“Phyliss needs to mind her manners,” Kristin said. “Doesn’t she understand that you’re the employer and she’s the employee?”
Judith turned around. “She insists she works only for God. I’m strictly in the middle. Phyliss has her ways, but it’s best not to rile her.”
Kristin was standing between the hall and the kitchen, her hands braced against the doorjambs. With her Valkyrie-like appearance, she reminded Judith of Samson holding up the pillars of the temple. If, she thought fleetingly, Kristin removed her hands, would the whole house fall down?
“Insubordination is unacceptable,” Kristin said. “It erodes self-esteem.”
Judith tried to keep her temper in check. “Phyliss has worked for me from the get-go. We have an unspoken understanding. She puts up with my shortcomings and I shrug off her Bible-thumping. She’s a fine worker, loyal and never shirking. As for self-esteem, at my age, I don’t dwell on it.”
Kristin moved out of the doorway and took a few steps into the hallway. The house did not fall down. “That’s unwise. Age isn’t a factor. I hate mentioning it, but there are times when you seem to be…” Her forehead wrinkled as she struggled to find the right word.
Judith braced herself against the wall by the stairs. “Yes?” Kristin took a deep breath. “You’ve become a doormat. There. I’ve said it.” She smiled wryly. “You let people run right over you, including Joe, Gee-Gee, Aunt Renie, and even Mike. That’s why you should reflect on your lack of self-esteem. It’ll get worse with time. Society shuns older people, ignoring their wisdom