Hanging Hannah (3 page)

“Who was it?”

“I don't know. Of course, I couldn't see her very well, but I don't think it was anyone we know.”

“Could you make out
anything
about her? Features? Hair? What she was wearing?”

“No.” Louise looked at Jane searchingly. “Only that she looked pale, as if she had on a light-colored dress. I'm certain she was no hiker or camper, though I couldn't say why. Something about the way she was walking . . . What I want to know is, why would she—why would anyone—be walking in the woods at night? It must have been almost midnight.”

“I have no idea. Did you go outside to see who it was?”

“No, not right away. I just watched her. She was walking very slowly, and she kept to just inside the woods; she never came out onto the lawn. It was almost as if she was afraid to come out—I can't explain it. After a few minutes I decided I'd better go out and see who she was, so I hurried through to the kitchen and out the back door. I could still see her. I ran across the lawn and called out to her. She stopped short, as if she was afraid, and then ran deeper into the woods.” “Jane, you're still here.”

Both women jumped.

Ernie stood in the doorway. There was no telling how long he'd been there. He was smiling his big easygoing smile.

For some reason she wouldn't have been able to explain, Jane felt uneasy. “Yes,” she said, affecting lightheartedness, also without knowing why. “I'd better get going.” She led the way out of the dining room, and they joined Ernie in the foyer. “Thank you both for a lovely evening.”

“Oh, Jane,” Louise said, “you know perfectly well there was nothing lovely about it. All we did was fight.”

“Isn't that what we always do?” Jane laughed.

Louise just stood awkwardly. Her gaze darted from Jane to Ernie, then fixed on the foyer's tile floor.

“My bed is positively calling out to me,” Ernie said. He gave Jane a peck on the cheek. “Night, love, thanks for coming. See you in a couple of weeks.” They watched him climb the stairs and disappear down the upstairs hall. Jane noticed that Louise's gaze lingered on Ernie an odd moment longer than seemed natural, as if Louise were lost in some thought about him.

At that moment the front door opened and a man entered. Jane was immediately struck by how big he was—not overweight, but muscular. Easily six and a half feet tall, he had a chest like a barrel and thick arms and legs. He was also, Jane noticed, exceptionally attractive, with close-clipped black hair and a chiseled face set with bright blue eyes. He wore black-cotton slacks and, like Ernie, a polo shirt, except that this man's was black and he sure filled it out better.

Seeing Jane and Louise, he grinned amiably. “Good evening,” he said, nodded once rather shyly, and headed up the stairs.

Jane waited until he was out of earshot, then turned avid eyes on Louise. “Who was
that
?”

Louise had to laugh. “That's Mr. Vernell. Mike Vernell. Now he
is
a hiker. That's why he's here. He's been here all week, on vacation, hiking in our woods.”

“Doesn't look like he's been hiking tonight.”

“No,” Louise agreed, “I think he has friends in the area who join him for dinner. He's a very nice man.”

“Nice isn't the word for it,” said Jane, who hadn't responded to a man this way in—well, years. “
Ooh là là
Sasson! He looks like Clint Walker. Do you remember him?
The Night of the Grizzly
? He can lie on my bearskin rug any day.” She growled.

“Jane! Such talk. Clint Walker,
The Night of the Grizzly
. . . Boy, are you dating yourself.”

“At least someone is!”

“Funny. You know perfectly well that there are several nice men right here in Shady Hills who would jump at the chance to take you out.”

“Like Mark Stapleton?”

Louise said nothing. She was the one who had introduced Jane to Mark. Mark was the principal at Shady Hills High School, a man who lived with his mother (to take care of her, he'd told Jane, though when Jane had met the woman, she'd been in perfect, bouncy health). Mark had never married. A month ago he had taken Jane to dinner and a show in New York City. Jane had found him . . . prissy.

“Not for me,” she said, and gave Louise a wicked grin. “I'd rather have old Clint up there.”

Louise blushed.

Jane burst into laughter. “I'm sorry, Louise, I've shocked you terribly, haven't I? I'd better go before I do something I'll regret in the morning.” She walked to the door. “But I'm serious. If Mr. Vernell turns out to be single, he can hike on over to my house anytime he wants! Oh—I'll call you to work out the party details. Thanks again.”

Before Louise could respond, Jane closed the door, crossed the wide porch filled with white wicker furniture and hung with baskets of begonias and petunias, and went down the steps to her car, parked on the wide circle of gravel in front of the inn.

It was a lovely night, the air fragrant with pine and lilac and honeysuckle. She drove down the long drive and onto Plunkett Lane, which wound through the woods to the village.

She thought about Mr. Vernell and felt an old stirring deep within her. Perhaps silly old Bertha was right. Perhaps love was, indeed, the answer.

And a deep sadness washed over her, for thoughts of love brought thoughts of Kenneth. Of course love was the answer. She'd
had
the answer, but one day it had simply disappeared.

What she needed to do, she realized, was to learn again how to ask the
question
.

“Jane, can you help me with these rocks?” Ginny scrambled around the long picnic table, placing rocks from the supply of them in her arms at each corner of the table and at intervals along the sides. “This wind is fierce!”

She was right—the wind was strong, and without the rocks the tablecloth would have blown away. But it was a glorious day nonetheless, a perfect Sunday afternoon in May. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless china blue sky, birds sang in the woods surrounding the inn's backyard, and the air carried that scent of honeysuckle Jane had picked up leaving the Defarge Club meeting Tuesday night.

Suddenly the wind rose, flapping the edges of the canvas awning that shaded the patio. The tablecloth lifted at the edges, as if it would fly away.

“You know,” Jane said, grabbing some rocks from Ginny and placing them between the ones already there, “they make special clips to hold tablecloths down. They have them at Kmart. This rock thing is what my
mother
did.”

“I like the old-fashioned way,” Ginny said defensively, though she was smiling as if she knew Jane was right.

“Me too,” Louise chimed in, emerging from the inn with a tray of brightly colored napkins and plastic cups, plates, and forks. “It's more fun this way. Like ants at a picnic.”

Jane shrugged. She gazed far across the lawn at Nick and his friends, who were playing a game Nick had made up called Star Wars tag. Nick shouted, “Obi!” and tore across the lawn, squealing with laughter. The dozen or so other boys and girls bolted after him.

“Aren't they sweet?” Ginny was watching them wistfully. Jane and Louise exchanged a silent, sympathetic look.

Louise worked her way around the table, setting down plates. “I'll leave the napkins in a pile over here,” she said.

“Yes, under a rock,” Ginny said, and plunked one down on the pile.

The door of the inn opened again and Doris appeared, barely visible behind a stack of pizza boxes.

“Doris!” Jane ran to her. “Let me help you with those.” She relieved the older woman of half the boxes and set them down at one end of the table.

“Such a fuss,” Doris said in her deep brisk voice, and set her boxes on top of Jane's. Doris, who was seventy-two, hated being treated like an old person. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the table. “Now what?”

“Nothing, really, for the moment,” Louise said. “The children are having a wonderful time. How about some lemonade for us?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ginny said.

“Me too,” Doris said, sitting on a bench of the picnic table.

Ernie rounded the corner of the inn. “Did I hear ‘lemonade'?” he asked brightly.

Louise's smile vanished. “I'll get it, dear.” She was all business now. “And I'd better make sure the cake is ready. Twelve candles, right, Jane? Ten years, one for good luck, and one to grow on—that's how we've always done it.”

“That sounds perfect,” Jane said, and felt a rush of warmth for Louise, truly a good friend. Jane wondered why Louise seemed troubled about Ernie. Perhaps they were in the midst of some squabble.

Ernie dropped his ample form into an Adirondack chair near the door and smiled at the children, who were now piling all over Nick and screaming, “Darth! Darth!”

“I want to be a kid again,” Ernie said dreamily. “Things were so simple then.”

“Hello, all!” Penny appeared from around the side of the inn, carrying an enormous box wrapped in vivid Looney Tunes paper. She set the box at the corner of the patio.

“Penny,” Jane said, “what on earth—?”

“You said Nick liked
Star Wars
. This is Boba Fett's spaceship, or whatever it's called.”

“That's much too extravagant,” Jane said.

“Like I said,” Ernie called from across the patio, “things were simpler when I was a kid.”

They all smiled.

“Penny,” Jane said, “where are Alan and Rebecca?”

Penny looked down at the patio, her hair falling to each side of her face. “Alan . . . had some chores to do. He's sorry he couldn't make it.”

Ginny and Jane exchanged a knowing look. Poor Penny was constantly making excuses for Alan.

“Then he's watching Rebecca?” Ginny asked.

“No, she's in the car. I'm going to get her now.” Penny turned and walked back around the inn toward the front drive.

Ginny shrugged and came over to Jane. “Do I
really
want to get married and have children?”

“Yes, Ginny, you do. Not all men are like Alan.”

“I guess you're right,” Ginny said.

At that moment Nick ran up to Jane. His face was red and sweaty, and he was breathing hard. His shorts were covered with grass stains. “Mom, I'm hungry. Are we eating soon?” He eyed the stack of pizza boxes.

“Soon, honey. It would be rude to eat before everyone's here.”

“Who's not here?”

“Daniel and Laura. And also Rhoda. I'm sure they'll be here any minute.”

“I know!” Ginny said. “Let's have the scavenger hunt now.”

“But that takes a long time,” Nick whined, “and we're hungry.”

“We can call a time-out when Daniel and Laura and Rhoda get here,” Ginny said.

Nick thought for a moment. “Okay. How does this scavenger hunt work?”

Ginny grabbed her bag from the edge of the patio and peered into it, finally bringing out several stacks of cards held together with rubber bands. “First we separate into teams. I just happen to have a list of who's on what team.” From her bag she whipped out a list of the children's names grouped into teams of four.

“So efficient!” Jane commented.

“It's the waitress in me.” Ginny winked. “Kids!” she hollered. “Over here, please!”

She met them in the middle of the lawn and began explaining the scavenger hunt. How sweet their faces were as they listened in rapt attention, Jane thought.

“Coming through!”

Jane turned. Rhoda rounded the corner of the inn, arms full of cardboard boxes. “Hi, all,” she said brightly. “My arms are numb. I'd better get this ice cream into the freezer. Where's Louise?”

Ernie got up. “She's inside, Rhoda. I'll stick that in the freezer for you. Thanks,” he said, relieving her of the boxes, and he disappeared inside.

Rhoda, looking smashing in a culotte set, came over to Jane. “Hi, hon. Read any good books lately?”

Jane smiled. “No.” She looked Rhoda up and down. “Pretty snazzy for a kids' party.”

“I,” Rhoda announced proudly, “have a date.”

Penny, who had been fussing with the napkin pile, stopped and stared at Rhoda.

Doris sat up straight. “Way to go, girl.”

“Yes, Rhoda, how wonderful,” Jane said. “May I ask who?”

“You may,” Rhoda said, beaming. “His name is Adam and I met him at an antique store in Chester.”

“He works in a store?” Doris asked flatly.

“No, Doris,” Rhoda said, rolling her eyes, “he was
looking
, like me.” She smiled and wiggled her perfectly tweezed brows meaningfully. “He's terrific. This isn't our first date.”

“Way to
go
,” Doris repeated.

Somehow even Ginny in the middle of the lawn heard this, and suddenly turned toward Rhoda with a bright smile. “That's fantastic, Rhoda!” She turned back to the kids. “Now everybody got it? Ready . . . set . . . GO!”

“Thanks,” Rhoda said to everyone, looking quite pleased with herself. “I'm meeting him for a movie and dinner later.”

“Wonderful,” Jane murmured. To her own surprise, she felt a pang of envy. Rhoda's divorce wasn't even final and she was already snagging terrific men in antique shops. Jane wondered if maybe she ought to develop an interest in that area.

“What's wonderful?” Daniel, dapper in a blue-and-white seersucker jacket over navy slacks and polo shirt, appeared bearing a small wrapped gift under his arm.

“My date,” Rhoda said, coming up to Daniel and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Good to see you.” She looked him up and down. “Damn, you're cute. If you're ever available, don't you forget old Rhoda!”

Jane looked at the easily embarrassed Daniel to see if this had flustered him, but he took Rhoda's comment with good grace.

“Where's Laura—your fiancée?” Jane asked, shooting a pointed look at Rhoda, who gave her a mischievous grin.

“She went in the front,” Daniel said. “Needed to use the ladies'. Now,” he said, producing a small camera from his jacket pocket, “before I forget, let's get shots of us for that convention you got us roped into.”

“Wonderful think-of-everything Daniel,” Jane said. “I forgot all about it.”

“I knew that,” Daniel said cheerfully, looking around. “How about right over here, in front of Louise's azaleas?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jane said, feeling a flutter of nervousness in her stomach at the thought of the RAT convention and wishing he hadn't brought it up. She positioned herself in front of the vivid mass of fuchsia flowers while Daniel took her picture; then they traded places and she took his.

“Good, that's done,” Jane said. “Thank you, Daniel.”

At that moment Ernie emerged from the inn. He looked preoccupied, and suddenly put on a smile as he stepped out onto the patio.

Behind him came Laura, smiling innocently. “Hello, hello.” She looked summer stylish in a short lavender dress and a matching wide-brimmed hat that sat at a perfect angle on her light brown hair and complemented her pretty heart-shaped face.

“Love it,” Rhoda said, eyeing the hat.

“Thanks,” Laura said. “I thought it might be too—”

But before she could finish, the wind picked up her hat and carried it high into the air. “Oh, my!” she cried.

Daniel darted off to fetch it, but before he had reached the middle of the lawn he stopped short because a long shrill cry tore the air, and as it did a flurry of small black birds rose from the edge of the woods into the sky.

For the briefest moment Jane, in the confusion, thought the piercing shriek came from the birds. Then she realized, with a sharp intake of breath and a painful pounding of her heart, that the high-pitched sound was the terrified scream of a child.

And that that child was Nick.