The Memory of All That - Nancy Smith Gibson Page 0,18
room. It’s so sunny and comfortable, not like some rooms in the house.”
“You do complain a lot about the house.”
“Well, this room is nice, so are the library and sunroom at the end of this hall. Surely I spent a lot of time in them. Do we sit in here to watch TV or listen to music?”
“No. You listen to music on your iPod.”
“Oh.”
He looked thoughtful. “Come to think of it, wherever you were, you must have left your purse and your iPod. You had them when you went missing and didn’t when you came back.”
“I had a purse over my arm. I looked in it to try to find something with my name and address on it.”
“You have a lot of purses. You always have a billfold and makeup wherever you go. And your cell phone, of course. There wasn’t much in the one you came home with.”
“I know.”
He stood up. “Let’s go out for lunch. Mrs. Grady has already fed Mrs. Tucker and Jonathan. Go upstairs and get a coat.”
She scrambled to her feet. “Are jeans good enough, or do I need to change?”
“Jeans are fine. Just get a coat. It’s cold out.”
When Marnie returned to the foyer, David was waiting for her. Without a word, he went through the dining room and turned into the east hall. Marnie followed, slightly miffed that he didn’t speak but obviously expected her to keep up. She reckoned his dismissive attitude toward her might be part of the trouble between them.
When they reached the door he had disappeared through earlier, she saw it led to a large garage. A silver BMW and a red Mustang were parked in two of the spaces. Marnie presumed Ruth parked her car in the empty spot. David had started for the driver’s side of the BMW when he noticed she was still standing in the doorway. He corrected his direction and opened the passenger door for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she slid onto the soft leather seat. She breathed in the aroma of new leather as he slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It roared to life, and he backed out onto what appeared to be a courtyard.
As they drove, Marnie noticed the houses she had walked by a week earlier. When they reached Main Street, David turned right, taking them on a new route.
I must have driven this way before, she thought.
“Anything look familiar?” he asked, just as she was thinking it didn’t.
“No, nothing.”
They went around a square with a courthouse in the middle. On the far side, David pointed out a shop. “That’s Nicole’s, your favorite place to shop. You buy something there at least once a week.”
“That’s where the receipt in my pocket was from, the one with the address on it.”
He nodded. “Yes, I know. I would have thought you’d remember it.”
“Well, if I can’t remember you and Jonathan and the house I live in, I doubt I’d remember a dress shop.”
He shrugged and guided the car away from the town square, down a street filled with businesses that changed character as they progressed. Quaint antique shops, clothing stores, boutiques, and flower shops evolved into auto parts stores, pawnshops, and thrift stores. After another mile, he pulled into a parking lot. A gaudy neon sign proclaimed the place to be the Roadhouse Café. Other neon signs advertising various brands of beer plastered the exterior walls. It looked fairly disreputable, and Marnie wondered why he brought her there.
They entered the large room, and they were assailed with the smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer. She looked around at the dark-paneled walls, covered with posters and signs advertising beer, rodeos, and wrestling matches. A jukebox on the far wall was playing a twangy country song as a waitress in short shorts and a tight tee shirt approached them.
“Well, look who the cat drug in!”
“Hello, Jolene,” David responded.
“Sit anywhere you like, hon. No one much here middle of the afternoon.”
David directed Marnie to a booth on the back wall, well away from the other customers.
“How you been, Marnie? You look kinda peaked.”
“Um, I’ve had the flu,” she said. “Chills and fever.” She didn’t know how else answer, since she certainly wasn’t going to get into a conversation about her memory loss with a waitress in a beer joint, even if she did know her name.
“It’s sure goin’ ‘round bad. Can I get you folks some beers?”
David looked at Marnie and raised his eyebrows in question.