fashion. She looked tired and more wrinkled than usual. The makeup she’d applied barely hid her worry lines. No surprise there after everything she’d been through.
Dressing up like this suddenly made her sad. It reminded her how starved she was for love and affection. She wanted to feel desired again. She wanted her husband to cherish her and think her the most beautiful and wondrous creature on the planet. Sadly, Ray hadn’t looked at her like that in years. Was it her fault? Had she been a bad wife and not made her husband happy? She didn’t think so, but now, looking at herself in the mirror, she decided that maybe she should have been more attentive to the way she looked.
A wave of guilt passed through her. Her appearance at this fund-raiser seemed so trivial and stupid considering all that had happened lately. But she knew she had to attend. The key was to compartmentalize her emotions and stay focused.
Try to keep everything together, Isla.
She moved to the living room and clicked on the TV, hoping to catch the latest news before she left for the party. The house seemed unusually quiet now, with her father and Katie holed up in their rooms. Raisin had gone over to Tim Simpson’s house to hang out. Not only were the Simpsons members of their church, but Gayle was also a registered nurse and could care for Raisin in the event of an emergency. Now all she needed was for Ray’s mother to show up. Her close relationship with Esther Eaves seemed the best part of her marriage to Ray.
The news rehashed the discovery of human remains, as well as the painful ordeal of the missing kids. There’d been no definitive ID of the body found in the old boat shed. Standing so as not to wrinkle her dress, she clicked off the flat-screen, which Ray had received in “trade” for some vague business deal. More like shady, she thought, although she could never quite prove it. Everyone loved the fifty-inch screen, but she thought it way too big for their small living room.
The doorbell rang, which she thought unusual. Esther typically barged in without notice, making a racket, and then talked nonstop about every little thing she’d done recently. She opened the door and saw a smallish man with an unkempt gray beard and a stack of flyers in hand. He looked familiar, for some reason.
“Hi, Isla,” the man said. His eyes looked grim behind round tortoiseshell spectacles, and he appeared uncomfortable in her presence—and in his own skin.
“Can I help you?” She saw a police cruiser coming up the driveway.
“Bob Oden.” He handed her a flyer.
“Hi, Bob.” Now she recognized him. One of the Odens. The family had suffered a bitter loss when their business property was foreclosed on by the bank a few years ago.
“Hope you’ll vote for Don Hansen for town council. He’s a strong supporter of Prop Six.”
She glanced at the political flyer in her hand.
“You’re familiar with Prop Six, right? Ten percent added tax on all properties over five hundred thousand dollars?” Oden said.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with it. I didn’t know Don was running for council.”
“Well, he is, and we’d be very fortunate to have him representing us. Make these rich folks pay their fair share.”
“Gotcha, Bob. Thanks.” She started to close the door.
“Can we count on your vote this fall, Isla?”
“Oh, I’ll be voting, all right,” she said.
“Good, because our schools need all the help they can get. Did you know that our opponents are having a fund-raiser tonight for their candidate? Some Ivy-educated know-it-all. We can’t let them screw us.”
“Right, Bob. Thanks.” She saw Karl get out of the cruiser.
“By the way, I’m sorry to hear about your daughter. How’s she doing?”
“Much better now. Thanks for asking.” Would this guy ever leave?
“How’s Ray doing?”
“Ray’s Ray, you know?”
“Great guy. Tell him Bob Oden said hello,” Oden said. “You look real nice. Going somewhere special tonight?”
“Meeting some friends.”
“Have fun. And please don’t forget to vote yes on Prop Six this November.”
She watched him wobble down the steps. Oden nodded to the cop as they passed, but Karl’s face remained expressionless.
“Hey,” he said, making his way up the stairs.
“Hey, you.”
“Mind if I come in?”
“Sure, but make it quick. I’m leaving as soon as Ray’s mother arrives.”
“Good old Esther Eaves. She was my second-grade teacher.”
“The woman’s a ball of nervous energy, but I love her to death.”