Three Bedrooms, One Corpse - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,33
if you’re a few minutes late?” I asked him softly when he kissed me good-bye at my townhouse door.
“They won’t say anything,” he told me. “I’m the top dog.”
* * *
For the first time in a long time, I was going to skip church. I staggered up the stairs and stripped off all my clothes, pulled a nightgown over my head, and after turning off the bell of the phone, crawled in bed to rest. I began to think, and with an effort turned off the trickle of thought like a hand tightening a faucet. I was sore, exhausted, and intoxicated, and soon I was also asleep.
My mother called at eleven, as soon as she got home from church. The Episcopalians in Lawrenceton had a nine-thirty service, because Aubrey went to another, smaller church forty miles away to hold another service directly after the Lawrenceton one. I was drowsing in bed, trying to think of what to do with the remainder of the day, persuading myself not to call Martin. I felt so calm and limp that I thought I might slide out of bed and ooze across the carpet to the closet. I barely heard the downstairs phone ringing.
“Hello, Aurora,” Mother said briskly. “We missed you at church. What have you been doing today?”
I smiled blissfully at the ceiling and said, “Nothing in particular.”
“I called to find out about the annual realtors’ banquet,” she said. “Would you and Aubrey like to come? It’s for families, too, you know, and you might enjoy it, since you know everyone.” Mother tried to get me there every year, and the last year I’d broken down and gone. The annual realtors’ banquet was one of those strange events no one can possibly like but everyone must attend. It was a local custom that had begun fifteen years before when a realtor (who has since left town) decided it would be a good thing if all the town professionals and their guests met once a year and drank a lot of cocktails and ate a heavy meal, and afterwards sat in a stupor listening to a speaker.
“Isn’t the timing a little bad this year?” I was thinking of Tonia Lee.
“Well, yes, but we’ve made the reservations and selected the menu and everyone’s kept that night free for months. So we might as well go through with it. Shall I put you and Aubrey down? This is the final tally of guests. I’ll be glad when Franklin’s in charge of this next year.” Each agency in Lawrenceton took the task in turn.
“He’ll leave most of the arrangements to Terry Sternholtz, the same way you left them to Patty,” I said.
“At least it won’t be our agency that looks inefficient if anything goes wrong.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong. You know how efficient Patty is.”
“Lord, yes.” My mother sighed. “I sense you’re putting me off, Aurora.”
“Yes, actually I am. I just wanted to sort of tell you something .. .”
“‘Sort of?”
“I’m trying to glide into this.”
“Glide. Quickly.”
“I’m not dating Aubrey anymore.”
An intake of breath from Mother’s end.
“I’m really just... I think . .. I’m seeing Martin. Bartell.”
Long silence. Finally Mother said, “Were there any bad feelings, Aurora? Do John and I need to skip church for the next couple of weeks? Aubrey was a little somber today, maybe, but not so much that I thought anything about it until I talked to you.”
“No bad feelings.”
“All right. I’ll have to hear the whole story from you sometime.”
“Sure. Yes, well, Martin and I will come, I think . . . maybe.” I had a sudden attack of insecurity. “It’s next Saturday night, right?”
“Right. And Tonia Lee will be buried Tuesday. Donnie called today. The church service is at”—Mother checked her notes—“Flaming Sword of God Bible Church,” she finished in an arid voice.
“Golly. That’s out on the highway, isn’t it?”
“Yes, right by Pine Needle Trailer Park.” Mother’s voice could have dried out the Sahara.
“What time?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Aurora. You’re okay? About this change in beaus?”
“Yes. So is Aubrey. So is Martin.”
“All right, then. See you Tuesday morning, if not before. I think Eileen mentioned she had some more properties to show you this afternoon; she should be calling you soon.”
“Okay. See you.”
I took a quick shower, pulled on a green-, rust-, and brown-striped sweater, the matching rust-colored pants, and my brown boots. A glance outside had shown that the day had not brightened, but remained resolutely cold, windy, and wet.
Downstairs I found my answering-machine light was blinking. I’d been