Миранда Джеймс - Bless Her Dead Little Heart

When they were near enough, Dickce gestured to the door, and Mrs. Thurmond barely nodded before she disappeared into the bathroom.

Dickce turned and walked back toward the front of the house. As she approached the others, she heard Rosabelle tell her son, “You might as well stay. I’m sure An’gel and Dickce have a lot of questions for you.” Rosabelle headed for the stairs. “I’m going back to my room to try and get in a little nap before dinner.”

Dickce stopped in her tracks and stared aghast at her sister. Had Rosabelle really just invited her son and daughter-in-law to stay with her and An’gel? Surely An’gel would put her foot down now and throw them all out of the house. Dickce couldn’t wait to see it.

Wade Thurmond gazed at his prospective hostess. “That would be mighty kind of you, Miss Ducote. What with the expense of flying here and the rental car, well, I’m kinda tapped out.”

An’gel glanced at Dickce, her expression enigmatic. Dickce knew her sister could occasionally be unpredictable, and she figured this was going to be one of those times.

“My sister and I will be happy to put you up for a few days,” An’gel said. Dickce thought her sister’s tone sounded anything but welcoming, despite her words.

Thurmond didn’t appear to notice. A relieved smile crossed his face. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll go get our bags and be right back. Is it okay if I leave the car where it is?”

An’gel nodded.

Dickce waited until Thurmond reached the car before she poked her sister’s arm. “What on earth are you doing, letting them stay here? Why don’t you throw them all out?”

“Stop hissing at me, Sister.” An’gel smiled grimly. “That was my first impulse, but then I thought it might be better to have them here where we can watch them. I know Rosabelle is prone to overdramatize herself, but I think for once she’s telling us the truth. She’s frightened, and we can’t simply ignore a plea for help.” She paused for a breath. “I’d never forgive myself if I sent them packing and Rosabelle ended up dead at the hands of a family member.”

An’gel was in one of her noblesse oblige moods, and Dickce knew better than to argue with her. Besides, she had the sinking feeling that her sibling was right. Rosabelle did seem afraid. “If you say so,” she muttered. Maybe all that time she and An’gel had spent reading Nancy Drew in their younger years would finally pay off.

“Excuse me.” Marla Thurmond spoke from behind Dickce. “I see Wade’s got our bags, so I guess you’re going to put us up here. I hope the room is clean, because I have terrible allergies.”

Dickce felt like slapping her for such rudeness. She eyed Mrs. Thurmond and decided that a woman with a face like a petulant bulldog simply didn’t know any better.

An’gel stared at Mrs. Thurmond. “What a horrible burden for you.” She paused. “If you find you need medication, I’m sure the pharmacy in town will be happy to help you.”

Dickce smothered a giggle at Mrs. Thurmond’s uncertain expression. The woman obviously didn’t know how to interpret An’gel’s reply.

Wade Thurmond clumped onto the veranda, weighed down by a bag strapped over one shoulder, a large suitcase in each hand, and a smaller bag tucked under one arm.

When Marla Thurmond made no move to assist her husband, Dickce offered to take the smaller bag.

“This way.” An’gel headed for the stairs, and Marla Thurmond with her short, stubby legs hurried to keep pace with her hostess. Dickce and Wade Thurmond followed more slowly. Dickce wondered which room An’gel would allot to the Thurmonds. Rosabelle already occupied the most spacious one, and of the two remaining, the room on the third floor—really part of the attic—was barely large enough to accommodate a double bed, dresser, and one chair. An’gel was just ornery enough to put the Thurmonds in that one, Dickce knew, and she was tickled when An’gel marched across the landing on the second floor and headed up the attic stairs.

An’gel opened the bedroom door and stepped aside to allow the Thurmonds to enter, then she and Dickce stood in the doorway. Thurmond dropped the bags—on a rug, Dickce was happy to note, and not on the bare hardwood floor. She stepped in to set her burden down beside them while Mrs. Thurmond stared around the small room, sniffing loudly.

“It smells okay, but why did you put us all the way up here?” Marla Thurmond glared at An’gel.

“I thought you might prefer to have your own bathroom.” An’gel gestured toward a door near the dresser. “Otherwise you would have to share one downstairs.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” Wade Thurmond glanced at his wife. “Don’t you think so, honey?”

“It will do,” Marla replied.

“I hope you will be comfortable here, Mrs. Thurmond,” An’gel said, her tone mild.

“Not Thurmond.” The woman stared hard at An’gel. “I don’t use my married name because of my career. My name is Stephens.”

“I will endeavor to remember that, Ms. Stephens.” An’gel turned to leave. “If you need anything, please let either my sister or me know.” She departed.

Dickce lingered a moment, her curiosity piqued. “What is your profession, if you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Stephens?”

“Personnel management or human relations, whatever you want to call it.”

Dickce wanted to laugh at the thought of this rude, clueless woman working in human relations. How did she manage to keep a job with her lack of manners?

“I see, how interesting,” Dickce said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go check on preparations for dinner. We’ll be dining at seven thirty.”

Dickce pulled the door shut behind her before either of the couple could engage her in further conversation. She headed down the stairs and was halfway to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

Again.

CHAPTER 4

“I did not just hear the doorbell,” Dickce muttered as she neared the kitchen. “But if I did, it’s An’gel’s turn to answer it.”

“Are you talking to yourself again?” An’gel’s tart tone stopped her sister three steps into the room.

“I do enjoy intelligent conversation,” Dickce said, “so I suppose I must have been.” She crossed her arms and stared at her sister.

Diesel sat at An’gel’s feet, too entranced by the piece of chicken breast his hostess held to pay attention to the new arrival. He chirped and extended a paw to tap An’gel’s hand.

“The poor boy has been hiding in here,” An’gel said as she tore off another bite and dropped it for the cat. Diesel snapped it up before it could hit the floor. “I thought he deserved a treat. I certainly can’t blame him for wanting to hide from our visitors.”

“If I hide in here, will you feed me, too?” Dickce giggled. “Maybe Diesel and I will move into the kitchen until they’re gone.”

Diesel batted at An’gel’s hand again, for she was obviously too slow in dispensing his treat. An’gel gazed down at him, her expression stern. “Now, would a true gentleman behave that way?”

The cat warbled and tapped An’gel’s foot with his paw.

“I think he just apologized,” Dickce said, trying hard not to laugh.

“I’ll take it as such.” An’gel brandished another bite of chicken. “This is it.”

Diesel waited silently, and after a moment An’gel gave him the last piece. He made it disappear almost immediately and then began to purr.

An’gel moved to the sink to wash her hands. As she rinsed them, she said, “Didn’t I hear the doorbell?”

Dickce nodded as a second soft peal of chimes reached them. “I decided it was your turn to answer it.”

“Honestly, Sister.” An’gel shook her head. She finished drying her hands and dropped the cloth on the counter. “One would think you were ten years old sometimes instead of almost eighty.” She headed out of the kitchen as Clementine emerged from the back porch.