more ashen than he’d looked outside, even in view of Lisbet. Telling her parents must have been awful. I couldn’t even imagine the horror of being on the other end of the phone.
Richard and Rebecca flanked David and Mrs. Vincent on the main couch. Tricia and Cassady sat, arms interlocked, on
a loveseat. I got up and wandered, not because I didn’t have anyone to huddle with, but because I couldn’t stop thinking about the detectives out by the pool. I had actually learned my lesson, having been down this path once before, about how dangerous it could be to get involved in a murder investigation. Still, I couldn’t help but speculate about what the detectives were thinking, who they were suspecting, what was going to happen next.
Nelson offered a brandy to Richard. It seemed to trigger a thought in Richard. “We will get Grandmother’s emeralds back, won’t we?”
“Richard,” his mother said with frigid warning.
Nelson held a brandy out to Rebecca and she bolted unsteadily to her feet. “I don’t want anything to drink.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nelson replied quietly and moved on.
“I don’t want anything to drink ever again,” Rebecca continued. “Look where drinking gets you.”
Richard stood and put a consoling and/or restraining arm around her shoulders. “Take it easy,” he told her, indicating his father and aunt on the phone.
“How can I, when Lisbet’s dead?”
“Thanks, that helps,” David moaned.
“Stop it. Both of you,” Mrs. Vincent commanded in crisp, frosted tones.
Richard stood next to Rebecca. “We’re all overwrought and looking for a convenient target for our anger and grief. It’s not going to happen. It wouldn’t be fair to Lisbet to let it happen. We have to accept this pain and still manage to be human to each other. That’s a tall order, but if we all work in the same direction, it’s feasible. And I don’t know how else any of us are going to get through this.”
The trouble with people who have a way with words is that their moments of true eloquence are hard to distinguish
from their moments of crafted doublespeak and so most of what they say is suspect. But I’ll give Richard credit: I knew he’d been working campaigns with his dad since high school and I still believed he meant every word he said.
Understandably, David was not so easily swayed. “Rally the troops somewhere else, you pompous bastard.”
Mr. Vincent slammed the phone down. For a moment, it seemed he was upset with whomever had been on the other end of his conversation, but it quickly became apparent that he’d heard his sons beginning theirs. “Shut up.”
“Hear that, Rebecca?” David said with a sneer.
Rebecca’s face, already flushed with emotion, went florid with anger. “I’m sharing an epiphany. I’m evolving.”
“No,” David pressed, “you’re assuming someone cares what you think.”
Richard’s civility began to shred. “No one’s going to blame you for acting like a prick, David, but don’t feel obligated.”
David opened his mouth to respond, but Mrs. Vincent put her hand on his knee. It was a light touch, barely flattening the crease in his trousers, but the effect on David was akin to a stun gun. “Grow up or get out,” she said quietly.
Get a family together, especially in times of stress, and the seams are going to show. Tricia was turning a shade of white I haven’t even seen in stationery collections. Richard and David clammed up immediately. Even Rebecca dropped back down onto the sofa, eyes welling with tears. Mr. and Mrs. Vincent looked at the floor.
Only Aunt Cynthia continued on, instructing the party on the other end of the phone to do exactly as she demanded. She seemed certain she would get her way, no doubt based on years of experience. Her composure was remarkable. I wasn’t sure if I was envious or repulsed.
I stole a look at Cassady, who was silent in the face of so much repressed emotion. She frowned at me, but I didn’t know
Richard and Rebecca flanked David and Mrs. Vincent on the main couch. Tricia and Cassady sat, arms interlocked, on
a loveseat. I got up and wandered, not because I didn’t have anyone to huddle with, but because I couldn’t stop thinking about the detectives out by the pool. I had actually learned my lesson, having been down this path once before, about how dangerous it could be to get involved in a murder investigation. Still, I couldn’t help but speculate about what the detectives were thinking, who they were suspecting, what was going to happen next.
Nelson offered a brandy to Richard. It seemed to trigger a thought in Richard. “We will get Grandmother’s emeralds back, won’t we?”
“Richard,” his mother said with frigid warning.
Nelson held a brandy out to Rebecca and she bolted unsteadily to her feet. “I don’t want anything to drink.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nelson replied quietly and moved on.
“I don’t want anything to drink ever again,” Rebecca continued. “Look where drinking gets you.”
Richard stood and put a consoling and/or restraining arm around her shoulders. “Take it easy,” he told her, indicating his father and aunt on the phone.
“How can I, when Lisbet’s dead?”
“Thanks, that helps,” David moaned.
“Stop it. Both of you,” Mrs. Vincent commanded in crisp, frosted tones.
Richard stood next to Rebecca. “We’re all overwrought and looking for a convenient target for our anger and grief. It’s not going to happen. It wouldn’t be fair to Lisbet to let it happen. We have to accept this pain and still manage to be human to each other. That’s a tall order, but if we all work in the same direction, it’s feasible. And I don’t know how else any of us are going to get through this.”
The trouble with people who have a way with words is that their moments of true eloquence are hard to distinguish
from their moments of crafted doublespeak and so most of what they say is suspect. But I’ll give Richard credit: I knew he’d been working campaigns with his dad since high school and I still believed he meant every word he said.
Understandably, David was not so easily swayed. “Rally the troops somewhere else, you pompous bastard.”
Mr. Vincent slammed the phone down. For a moment, it seemed he was upset with whomever had been on the other end of his conversation, but it quickly became apparent that he’d heard his sons beginning theirs. “Shut up.”
“Hear that, Rebecca?” David said with a sneer.
Rebecca’s face, already flushed with emotion, went florid with anger. “I’m sharing an epiphany. I’m evolving.”
“No,” David pressed, “you’re assuming someone cares what you think.”
Richard’s civility began to shred. “No one’s going to blame you for acting like a prick, David, but don’t feel obligated.”
David opened his mouth to respond, but Mrs. Vincent put her hand on his knee. It was a light touch, barely flattening the crease in his trousers, but the effect on David was akin to a stun gun. “Grow up or get out,” she said quietly.
Get a family together, especially in times of stress, and the seams are going to show. Tricia was turning a shade of white I haven’t even seen in stationery collections. Richard and David clammed up immediately. Even Rebecca dropped back down onto the sofa, eyes welling with tears. Mr. and Mrs. Vincent looked at the floor.
Only Aunt Cynthia continued on, instructing the party on the other end of the phone to do exactly as she demanded. She seemed certain she would get her way, no doubt based on years of experience. Her composure was remarkable. I wasn’t sure if I was envious or repulsed.
I stole a look at Cassady, who was silent in the face of so much repressed emotion. She frowned at me, but I didn’t know
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