Jewelweed (56 page)

“Just a minute,” she said.

“Come out here right now,” said Amy.

Dart opened the door.

Amy's face was white, her lips tight. “Come with me.” She turned rigidly and walked away. Dart followed her out to the SUV. Amy got behind the wheel and started the engine. “Get in,” she said, and Dart sat beside her in front.

“Where are we going?” asked Dart after ten minutes.

“Don't talk to me. I'm angry, I'm scared, and I'm trying not to cry.”

An hour and a half later, south of Madison, Amy pulled off the interstate, drove along a county road, and turned up a long drive between overhanging trees. They stopped in front of an enormous stone house with a side yard as spacious and evenly maintained as a nine-hole golf course. A bronze sculpture of a nude dancer rested on a brick patio between a tennis court and a five-car garage. Amy shut off the engine.

“This is where Frieda and Harold Rampton live,” she said. “She's the woman you stole the necklace from.”

“How do you know?”

“Buck called some people. The police are involved and a reward has been offered.”

Amy took the necklace out of her purse and handed it to Dart.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because you're giving it back.”

“I can't do that,” said Dart, her eyes wide, moist, frightened.

“Yes you can.”

“Are the police here? What will she do when I give it to her?”

“I guess you'll find out.”

Dart opened the car door, then turned back to Amy.

“I can't do this.”

“You have to.”

“Will you come with me?”

“All right,” said Amy, getting out.

They walked to the front door and Amy pushed the plastic button.

A woman in a light blue work dress opened the door.

“Can I talk to Frieda Rampton?” asked Dart.

“Come in,” said the young woman. They stepped into a beige-tiled entryway.

“Wait here.” She gestured toward a couple of chairs next to the bay window.

Neither Dart nor Amy sat down.

After several minutes a thin, casually dressed woman approached from a long hallway to the left. She was wearing a crisp white sleeveless blouse, white shorts, and flip-flops. Her legs, as Dart remembered, seemed longer than the rest of her, slender and reedlike.

“Hello,” she said in a formal manner. “I'm sorry, do I know you?”

“My name is Danielle Workhouse,” said Dart, stepping forward with the jewelry hanging from her right hand. “We met at a party and I took your necklace.”

Frieda looked at her for a moment, and then a flash of recognition bolted across her face. She took the necklace and held it for a moment as her expression filled with dark anger. Without warning, she struck at Dart with her open hand.

Instinctively, Dart stepped back, escaping the blow. Then she stepped forward again and closed her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Go ahead, hit me.”

Frieda drew her hand back, but before her arm lashed out again the darkness in her face had receded. She took a deep breath. “I can't do it now,” she complained. “You shouldn't have ducked the first time.”

“I'm sorry,” said Dart, opening her eyes.

“Are you her bodyguard?” Frieda asked Amy.

“I'm Amy Roebuck, and I'm her friend.”

Frieda turned back to Dart. “Why did you take my great-aunt's necklace?”

“I didn't want to leave and I was just standing there and—”

“Tell me the truth,” snapped Frieda.

“I wanted to keep something beautiful from that night,” said Dart. “I didn't know it was worth that much. I'm sorry.”

“I liked you,” said Frieda. “We had a good time together.”

“I liked you too,” said Dart. “You will never know how much fun I had that night. But there are no excuses. I took your necklace.”

“I'm calling the police right now,” said Frieda, walking over to where a cordless phone rested on a table. “They know how to deal with people like you.”

“Go ahead,” said Dart.

Before she finished dialing, Frieda hung up and walked back to Dart and Amy.

“I remember now who you are,” she said to Amy. “You and your husband own a construction company outside Grange.”

“That's right,” said Amy.

“You're a big gal,” said Frieda. “Almost statuesque.”

“I've heard that before,” said Amy, smiling.

“How did you become friends with her?”

“It just happened.”

“And you don't care if your friend is a thief?”

“I care very much, Frieda. That's why I'm here.”

Frieda turned back to Dart. “She made you come, didn't she?”

Dart nodded.

“Have you been in trouble before?”

Dart nodded again.

“How long ago?”

“A year or two.”

“What did you do?”

“Took a battery out of a new Escalade.”

“Why'd you do it?”

“The owner, he owed me.”

“Is that the only other time?”

“Twice before.”

“What happened?”

“I broke a guy's leg to keep him from hurting my son.”

“It's not easy to break a man's leg.”

“It wasn't that hard. I had a piece of angle iron.”

“And before that?”

“I stole a cart of groceries.”

“A big cart?”

“Big enough for a month.”

“Do you just do everything you want?”

“No.”

Frieda looked down at the necklace again, spread it open, inspected it carefully, and put it in the pocket of her white shorts.

“I have to admit, I'm glad to have it back.” She went to the door, opened it, and stood waiting for them to leave.

“Aren't you going to call the police?” asked Dart.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I'm just not going to. You're not the only one who can do what she wants.”

“But the police are already involved.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind. Thanks for bringing her, Amy,” she said, and held out her hand.

“You're welcome,” said Amy, pressing Frieda's hand inside both of hers.

Outside, Dart turned around. “You really do dance better than anyone I ever knew,” she said.

Frieda smiled, then stepped toward her and slapped Dart smartly across the face.

Dart and Amy got back in the SUV and drove off.

“That really hurt,” said Dart, rubbing her cheek.

“It sounded like it,” said Amy.

“Do you think it will leave a mark?”

“Probably not.”

“Nobody ever did anything like that for me.”

“Slapped you?”

“No, stood up for me the way you did. Never.”

“You're welcome.”

Forty miles later, Amy asked Dart if her face still hurt.

“Is it red?”

“I'm afraid so. Look for yourself; there's a mirror above the visor.”

“No thanks,” said Dart, and a mile later added, “My sister always wanted to look at her marks after she got beat. She'd check on them several times a day. I never wanted to see mine.”

“Dart,” said Amy, “that's very distressing.”

“I know it. But that's just how we lived. We didn't think much about it. We had to hide the bruises and burns from the teachers and social workers, of course.”

“No child should have to live like that.”

“I never told anyone about it. I remember it all the time, but I've never told anyone.”

“I can understand that.”

“Really?”

“Of course I can.”

Ten miles later, Dart's face stopped hurting. As the sting receded, a buoyant sensation followed. Her whole body felt light.

“Why did you go in with me?” she asked. “Why did you do it, Amy?”

“I'm your friend.”

“I never really had one of those,” said Dart. “I had my sister, but never a friend.”

“I didn't either,” said Amy.

“That's hard to believe. Your family had money.”

“I was always two sizes too big, and all my time was taken up being a sister, daughter, and granddaughter. The happiest day of my childhood came when I finally graduated and got out of that wretched school.”

After several more miles, they got off the interstate and drove along the edge of Wisconsin Dells.

“Are you still going to fire me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you still going to make Ivan and me leave?”

“I never said anything about you leaving.”

“You didn't say it, but you meant it. You were really mad. Your face got white and you looked like you hated me.”

“I was worried for all of us. But I never said anything about you leaving. I do, however, remember asking if you liked working for us. And you said, ‘That's just stupid.'”

“I didn't mean it. That was only because I thought you wouldn't want us anymore. Do you still want us to leave?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Then say it, please. Say you want me to stay.”

“Dart, stop it.”

“I can't help it. If this big old fancy car of yours didn't have a top I think I'd float right out. I can't remember ever feeling this way before, not for a long time, at least, like the world actually likes me. I mean, Frieda could've called the police. I thought she would. I knew she would. I was sure of it.”

“I'm glad your face stopped hurting,” said Amy.

“Then you don't want us to leave?”

“If you ask me that again you're fired.”

They looked at each other. “I knew it,” said Dart.

Then they both started laughing, and Amy had to pull into a parking lot to keep from ramming into someone. When they stopped laughing, they got embarrassed and started in all over again. Then Dart noticed that the tavern they were parked next to was one she'd been in several years ago. It had a marble bar, leather seats, and booths that made you feel like nobody could see you.

“Let's get something to eat,” said Dart. “I'm starving.”

They went inside, sat in a booth, and ordered tuna fish sandwiches. Dart added two Bloody Marys to the order, with extra vodka and lemon.

“I haven't had anything to drink since I got pregnant with Kevin,” said Amy.

“Nothing?”

“Wally is a recovering alcoholic, so we never have liquor around the house. Buck never liked to drink to begin with. I always thought it made me act too silly.”

“Come on.”

After an hour, the sandwiches were gone and they were still talking and laughing, exploring the new freedom between them. Dart asked Amy if she had gone out with many men.

“Not many,” she said. “I was always a foot taller than my dates, sometimes more.”

“That shouldn't be a problem, but I imagine you thought it was.”

“The second happiest day of my life was when Buck and I got engaged and I could finally stop dating. How about you?”

“I was only with one guy, really. Then he got sent to prison.”

“You mean Blake Bookchester?”

“That's him.”

“Dart, you said you'd never met him.”

“I know, but one thing you have to understand is that there are two of me.”

Amy took a drink and set her glass back down on the napkin.

“The normal me is afraid all the time. She's suspicious and thinks the worst of everyone. She lies to keep bad things from happening, and to keep Ivan from knowing things she's afraid might harm him. The past bleeds right into her and makes her think thoughts that frighten her even more. Whenever she imagines that things will get better, a voice snicker-smackers inside her, mocking her for thinking such a thing. And then there's the me that's sitting here now, ready for whatever comes next, seeing everything that's happened and knowing it doesn't have to mean anything about me now. They're both the same person, but in some ways they aren't, and you have to understand that.”

“So you knew Blake Bookchester?”