Sara absorbed this information, and then shook her head. “I’m sorry—have we met?”
The man shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, we didn’t actually meet at the party. But I saw the portrait you did at the auction—the one of Tristan. I was wondering . . . well, I was wondering if I could make you an offer on it.”
Sara frowned at him in confusion.
“I was friends with her,” he said in a halting voice. “I’m interested in having the portrait to remember her by.” He suddenly broke down with harsh sobs.
Sara looked at Lulu helplessly, and Lulu shook her head in amazement. “There, there, Mr. Holman,” said Lulu, reaching out and squeezing the man’s hand. “It was a shock, wasn’t it? What a horrible night.” And Lulu knew the full story of how rotten the night had been for him. Apparently, being rebuffed by Tristan and condemned by his wife wasn’t enough to end his infatuation. Although she’d have thought that death would have been.
As if things weren’t uncomfortable enough, the sobbing in the office caught Steffi’s attention as she was walking past the door. She peered around the side of the door and saw the man. “Loren,” she said in a startled voice.
He looked up and saw Steffi, and the expression on his face made her break down, too. In a couple of seconds, she was hugging him and crying right along with him. “Can you believe it?” she said, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Loren!”
Lulu pushed back her chair and stood up. “I think what this room needs is some food,” she declared. She vacillated a second between bringing in some comfort food like corn muffins and baked beans and something sweet. Then she remembered the double chocolate layer cake she’d baked yesterday. “It needs
chocolate
,” she clarified. And Lulu hurried out the door for cake, plates, and a pitcher of milk.
“I’ll help,” said Sara quickly, following Lulu to the kitchen.
“Do you have a better idea what’s going on in there than I do?” asked Sara as they pulled together a tray of food.
“I might know a little bit more than you do about what’s going on,” said Lulu. “I overheard something last night that I wasn’t intended to. It’s nothing too complicated—that fellow had this major crush on Tristan Pembroke, and they had an affair. Then, after she wasn’t interested in him anymore, she dumped him. Except he wouldn’t dump. And now he’s
still
interested in her, and she’s dead! He has a wife and everything, too,” said Lulu, clucking.
“And Steffi?”
Lulu shrugged. “You got me, sweetie. I’m guessing she just feels sorry for him. Maybe we’ll find out a little more once we pump them full of chocolate and cold milk.”
As they walked back in the office, Lulu heard Steffi saying, “I know you loved Mother, Loren. She was such a hard person to love because she totally resisted any signs of love or affection at all. I feel bad for you—you deserved more. And she treated you just as bad as she treated everyone else . . . and me.”
Steffi’s voice cracked a little, and Lulu quickly said with cheerful determination, “Cake, anyone? I think a little bit of chocolate will make everyone feel better, at least for a little while. Sometimes it helps to chase our sorrows down with a little sugar.” She laid down the tray on the small table.
“And y’all are going to love this cake,” said Sara staunchly. “This isn’t just an ordinary chocolate cake—it’s
double
chocolate. And it’s so moist you won’t even believe it. I had some this morning right when I came into Aunt Pat’s—started off my day with something sweet.”
The cake seemed to be working, thought Lulu. She even saw a hint of a smile on Loren’s face a couple of times as Lulu had told them all a story about something funny that had happened at the restaurant the week before.
After the cake was reduced to a few chocolaty crumbs, Sara said slowly, “Getting back to the portrait, though. Loren, you were interested in buying the portrait of Tristan as sort of a memento.” She spread her hands out helplessly. “That’s fine with me. The only thing is that I have no idea where that portrait is right now.”
Loren’s eyebrows came together to give his face an even darker expression.
“The portrait was up at the auction, which is where you saw it, I guess. Then Tristan and I ended up having an argument over it. She wasn’t a huge fan of the painting,” said Sara with a flush. “After our argument, I left. I came back later to talk to the police, and I looked around and didn’t see it. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, though,” she said quickly. “It could have been in another room. And the police had the house pretty locked down, so I wasn’t really free to look.”
“Where
should
it have been?” asked Lulu. “I know the auction was outside.”
“That big storm blew in, and people were grabbing paintings,” said Steffi. “Everyone had to rush all the paintings inside—even the ones that had already been bought. So it probably would have been with the other ones in the living room.”
“I didn’t see it,” said Sara again. “I’m sure that once the police have sorted through everything at the house that they’ll want the guests to come collect the paintings—and have me pick up anything that didn’t sell.”
Loren’s look of exhaustion returned. “Thanks. I guess I’ll wait for you to hear from the police, then. If you don’t mind giving me a call when you get the portrait back? I’d really like to talk to you about it.” He handed Sara his business card. “Could you call me at my cell number?” He pulled out a pen and circled the number.
“Loren, I’ll walk you out to the car,” said Steffi. “I was on my way out anyway.”
As the two of them walked out the restaurant’s back door, talking, Lulu sank back onto the sofa. “Mercy!” she said, grabbing the newspaper from the table beside her and fanning herself energetically. “Thank goodness that’s over. That’s more crying than I’ve seen for a long while. Of course, it was good for Steffi to cry—the poor thing. But having that cheating husband crying on top of everything? Enough!”
“I get enough drama from the twins,” agreed Sara.
“What I don’t understand,” said Lulu, “is what he’s planning to do with that portrait. I mean, that’s a good-sized canvas. Not huge, but good-sized. It’s not like he’s going to be able to hang it up in his living room or anything.”
Sara knit her brows. “Why not? It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, I have to admit, but I’d think he could put it up wherever he wanted to.”
“I forgot! You don’t even know the full story. He’s
married
, believe it or not. Certainly doesn’t
act
like he’s married, but he is. His long-suffering wife followed him out to Tristan’s party last night and caught him trying to canoodle with her in the kitchen. I think it’s Cherry’s neighbor who’s been wanting to join the Women’s League—and Tristan had been blackballing her and Cherry. Tristan wanted nothing to do with Loren, either—Steffi was right about that. I wonder if Tristan Pembroke really
was
allergic to love—and she felt that need to push back whenever someone started getting too close.”
Sara said, “You know, I hope that portrait turns up. If Loren had Tristan’s cold eyes following him around his office or wherever he’s planning on sticking that portrait, it might be enough to cure him of his infatuation for life. I don’t know if his wife will want him back, though.”
The office door swung open and Lulu’s granddaughter Ella Beth, Coco’s twin, stuck her head in, ponytail swinging. “Granny Lulu? There’s a man out in the dining room who’s asking to talk to you.”
Lulu frowned. “
Another
man needing to talk? This day is getting on the gabby side.”
Sara said slowly, “Ella Beth, did the man say what his name was?”
“I can’t remember the last name he said, but his first name was Gordon.”
Sara closed her eyes briefly as Ella Beth went back out of the office, and Lulu said, “What? Do you know who this man is, Sara?”
“I don’t
know
him, Lulu, but I think I know who he is. Ben was telling me about him yesterday, and with everything going on, I forgot to give you a heads-up.” Sara took a deep breath. “Your son is setting you up on a blind date.
Real
blind, apparently, since he didn’t even tell you that you were going to be meeting this guy.”
“
What?
” Lulu’s stomach knotted up with the horror of it all. She believed she felt sicker over this than she had over finding Tristan’s body.
“Ben thought it was the best idea ever,” said Sara with a sigh. “This fellow is supposed to be some big food blogger.”
“A
what?
”
“He has some sort of online magazine that he updates every day with pictures and recipes and people’s restaurants. A whole bunch of people read his posts, apparently. He just moved to Memphis, he’s single, he’s your age, and he likes food. I guess that was enough for Ben to think y’all would be smitten with each other.”
Lulu got up quickly and grabbed her pocketbook.
“What are you doing?” asked Sara.
“Honey, I’m getting the heck out of Dodge, that’s what! I don’t want to be going on any blind dates. Ben probably didn’t even notice if this guy is nice looking or likes women or anything. I’m going to hightail it out the back door while the getting’s good. If you could cover for me and tell him that I left early for the day—that I had a headache coming on after all the craziness last night.”
It was too late. There was a light tap on the door, and then it swung open again. Ben was there in the doorway, blocking it, thought Lulu furiously. He said in a hearty voice, “There’s someone I would absolutely love for y’all to meet. Sara and Mother, this is Gordon McDonald. He’s our special guest at Aunt Pat’s today. Mother, remember how I told you about Gordon visiting and how excited you were?” Ben gave her an innocent look, which only succeeded in making Lulu more furious with him.
Still, years of using good company manners couldn’t really be disregarded, no matter how hard she might try. “Mr. McDonald, it’s nice to meet you,” Lulu said stiffly, holding out her hand.
There was really nothing wrong with the man, thought Lulu. It was just the high-handed way that Ben had set this up that set her teeth on edge. Gordon looked like a perfectly nice man. He had a neatly trimmed white beard and white hair. He had a pleasant smile and a small tummy that spoke of years of enjoying good food. It was a shame that she was dead set not to like him.
Before she could say anything else, Ben added cheerfully, “I’ve got a wonderful red-velvet cake that Mother made this morning, Gordon. How about if I bring you out a slice?”
Gordon’s eyes widened. “You sure do believe in southern hospitality here, Ben. Sure, I’d love a piece of cake. I’ve heard a lot about red-velvet cake, but would you believe that I’ve never had any? I’ve heard that it’s traditionally a groom’s cake here in the South.”
Lulu couldn’t repress a small shudder. Oh no—was he going to be one of those pushy kinds of suitors? And—would this day ever end?
Chapter 7
The day that had started a little too early for Lulu and had involved a too-long conversation and snack with Gordon finally came to a close. Lulu drove home with a huge feeling of relief. The red-velvet cake that Ben had baked and attributed to Lulu was delicious, of course. Through the years, Ben had become an amazing cook. Lulu was worried. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and Gordon thought Lulu had been the one to make the cake, then he was probably well on his way to falling head over heels with her.
As she arrived home, Lulu blinked at seeing an older-model Volvo in her driveway, right next to Steffi’s car. Visitors? Would this day ever be over? Lulu knew that she wasn’t going to be able to resist the urge to pull out some food for her company, whoever they might be.
A tall brunette with high cheekbones and a familiar face stood up as Lulu walked through the kitchen door. “Lulu? Hi. . . . It’s Marlowe. Marlowe Walter, Tristan’s sister. Steffi’s in the bedroom, packing—I offered to let her stay at my place until everything settles down with her mom’s house.”
“So good to see you again, Marlowe! It’s been years, hasn’t it?” Lulu shook Marlowe’s hand and then said sadly, “I’m sorry about your sister. It must have been such a shock when you found out.”
Marlowe sat back down at the kitchen table. “It really was, actually. I’d gone out of town for a few days for work, and Steffi called my cell phone to give me the news. I can’t imagine Tristan allowing herself to be murdered,” said Marlowe with a short laugh. “I’d have bet on Tristan against any attacker.”
Lulu felt a little ill at ease. It had been awkward listening to Steffi and Loren mourn Tristan earlier, but somehow hearing her referred to in such a harsh tone by her sister was just as bad. She said slowly, “Tristan was a difficult person sometimes, wasn’t she?”
“You can say that again. Fortunately, though, my sister and I had worked around that difficulty. Through estrangement.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You and Tristan weren’t on speaking terms?” Lulu couldn’t imagine not talking to a member of her family. They were tripping up over each other on a daily basis.
“Not anymore. I finally got tired of being Tristan’s emotional punching bag. She was determined to mess up my life as much as she possibly could. It was a lifelong habit of hers.” Marlowe reached absently for her pocketbook beside her before dropping it back down on the floor again. “I quit smoking a month ago,” she said ruefully, “but the habit of reaching for a cigarette is still there.”
Lulu really couldn’t help herself. She was
compelled
to bring out some food, even though all she’d done all day long was put food in front of people. “You know what’s good for that? A little snack. I have some of the most delicious spinach-cheese dip—I got the recipe from one of my good friends after she made some for this party we were at . . .” and before she knew it, Lulu had pulled out plates and napkins and some melba toast and had heated up the spinach dip and put the steaming food in front of them on her red and white checkered tablecloth.