“I sensed strained relationships when I met them earlier this evening,” Lydia said.
“I don’t know Daniel’s kids,” Barbara said, “but I’ve always found him to be warm and generous.”
“He certainly has a good relationship with Polly,” Lydia said. “She and her family adore him.”
Catherine grimaced. “The other two are examples of ‘small children, small problems; big children, big problems.’ Daniel’s fed up with bailing Arnold out of one business failure after another. And Denise goes into drug rehab like other women go to a spa.”
“Poor Daniel,” Lydia murmured. Their food appeared and conversation died away as they concentrated on their meal.
Lydia finished most of her salmon, then got up to go to the ladies’ room. There was one close by, opposite the kitchen, which she used during the week. She tried to open the door, but found it was locked. Damn Len, the general manager of Carrington House, and his overdeveloped sense of security! She’d have to trek down to the ladies’ room near the front entrance of the mansion.
She passed the room where they’d had the cocktail hour earlier. This section of the mansion was dimly lit. Another one of Len’s economical ideas! She’d give him a piece of her mind on Monday morning, reminding him that a lawsuit brought on by a broken leg or a dislocated hip was costlier than a few dozen light bulbs.
Lydia walked slowly down the corridor, keeping close to the wall so she wouldn’t trip. She was about to turn into the narrow passageway that led to the ladies’ room when angry voices spilled across the front entrance hall. She paused before peering into the cloakroom, where earlier Daniel’s guests had left their presents on a table. Arnold was speaking at what appeared to be a family conclave.
“…we made a point of arriving early enough to stop by the house and talk to Dad. This stationery store is a moneymaker. It’s in an excellent location, and the only reason the guy’s selling is his wife’s sick and they have to move to Arizona. But did Dad listen? I barely got three words out, when he said he didn’t have the money to subsidize another business venture!”
Denise chortled as she pointed her cigarette at her brother. “What do you expect? This is the third handout you’re asking for this year.”
“Thanks, Denise. I can always count on you for support. The one member of this family who’s never earned a cent in her life.”
Madge, Arnold’s wife, said softly, “We needed the money to pay my medical bills. And to help Robert and Andrea with a down payment on their new home.”
“Don’t waste your breath explaining, Madge,” Arnold told his wife. “We all know Dad never spent two minutes with Denise or me when we were growing up. He was too busy making his millions. And why shouldn’t I ask him for a loan? I’m his only son, for God’s sake. He should have faith in me!”
“Arnold, stop whining,” Polly said. “This is Dad’s birthday party, not group therapy.”
Denise let out a derisive laugh. “You’ve nothing to complain about because you’ve always been Daddy’s little girl. Lucky Polly! He discovered the joy of fatherhood when you were born.”
Arnold said, “Let’s not dwell on the past, Denise. We’re here to talk about the way Dad’s changed. How he’s suddenly gone cheap. All because he’s marrying that gold digger, Evelyn.”
“When you’re right, you’re right,” Denise said. “And we can thank Madge for introducing them.”
Lydia refused to listen to another word of this dreadful conversation. In the ladies’ room, she shut the door behind her and welcomed the silence. When she walked back to the dining room a few minutes later, the cloakroom was empty.
Curious now about Daniel’s older children, she decided to find out what she could from Daniel’s friends. Her chance came just before dessert was being served when she found herself alone at the table with Allen, who had toasted Daniel earlier, and his wife, Rosalie. She scooted over to the seat next to Rosalie, a pleasant, plump woman in her mid-seventies.
“You’ve both known Daniel for many years now,” she said to open the conversation.
Allen needed no prompting. He rested his hand on the back of his wife’s chair and leaned toward Lydia so she could hear him over the cha-cha music.
“Rosalie and I’ve known him for half a century now.”
Rosalie smiled, revealing a dimple in her cheek. “Al and Danny met working in a shoe store in Queens. Al and I were newlyweds. Freda and Danny had been married for five years and were considering having kids.” She laughed. “None of us made much money in those days, so our idea of a good time was to see a movie then stop for an ice cream sundae.”
Lydia nodded. “Sounds like good memories to me. And you’ve been friends ever since?”
Rosalie glanced at her husband, as though seeking his approval to continue. When he shrugged, she said, “Then Danny got his big break and we lost track of them for ten years or so.”
Lydia’s pulse raced. “What kind of break? Did someone leave him money?”
Allen laughed. “It might as well have been an inheritance. An old friend included Danny in a business deal. One thing led to another, and a few years later he was taking over failing businesses and turning them around.”
“For their new owners, that is,” Rosalie said with some asperity.
“Come on, Rosalie, that’s business,” Allen said.
A longstanding argument between them, Lydia thought. “What was Freda like?”
“Nice. A homebody,” Rosalie answered. “Al and I moved out to Long Island, and I ran into her in the supermarket. Turned out she and Danny had moved, too, but into a home in Brookville twice the size of our small ranch. But they stayed the same down-to-earth people.”
“It sounds like you resumed your friendship with them,” Lydia said.
She’d made her comment without giving it much thought, and was surprised by the quick exchange of guilty glances between husband and wife.
“We sure did!” Allen said, a bit too loudly. “Especially since we lived in the same school district. Our kids are a year or so younger than Arnold and Denise. They were friendly with them in elementary school, but afterward they grew apart.”
Lydia could easily see why. Neither Arnold nor Denise was appealing. She lowered her voice. “I got the impression they’re not very close to Daniel.”
“No surprise there,” Rosalie said. “Daniel was hardly home when they were growing up. He left all the child rearing to Freda.”
Allen eyed his wife meaningfully. “Be fair, Rosalie. She did her share of turning them against him.”
“That was after…that incident.”
Read “affair.” Aloud, Lydia said, “But he seems to have a wonderful relationship with Polly.”
“Yes, Polly.” Rosalie smiled. “She was the only child living at home when Daniel and Freda made a concerted effort to strengthen their marriage. It seemed to have worked. Daniel made it his business to spend more time with his wife and daughter. Things were going well until Freda, poor thing, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She died two years later. She never had much luck.”
Allen leaned back in his chair as he considered his thoughts. “Danny hasn’t had it easy, either, and I’m damn glad he met Evelyn.” When he saw his wife about to protest, he held up a palm. “I know, I know. He’s an ace at making money, still plays a mean game of tennis, and his health was excellent until that bout of congestive heart failure last year. But he’s prone to depression. Something from his childhood always bothered him.”
Lydia’s pulse quickened. “Did he ever say what it was?”
Allen shook his head. “Nope. Never did.”
The music had stopped and the others were returning to the table. Lydia said it was nice chatting and moved back to her seat.
The party broke up shortly after that. Lydia and her friends joined the group milling around Evelyn and Daniel to say their good-byes.
“Great party,” she said, hugging each of them in turn.
“That’s my girl!” Daniel enthused, kissing his fiancée’s cheek.
While Evelyn related an anecdote to Barbara and the Liebermans, Lydia grabbed her chance to have a word alone with Daniel. She moved closer to him so no one could hear them.
“Did you resolve your moral dilemma—the one you talked to me about?”
His eyes took on a steely expression in a face set in stone. When he answered, his tone was icy. “I’ve put it out of my mind, and fervently wish you’d do the same.”
She’d succeeded in angering him, which wasn’t her intent. Chastened, she followed Barbara into the cloakroom and slipped into her jacket. Tonight had not been the time or place to bring up an unpleasant topic. Still, Lydia thought, if that was an indication of how Daniel could react to someone who had his best interests at heart, maybe it wasn’t surprising that two of his children had issues with their father.
Chapter Five
Sunday morning, Lydia walked over to the clubhouse to swim laps. Home again, she treated herself to a brunch of blueberry pancakes and yogurt, then decided to pay some bills before picking up Barbara and heading for a library book sale in a nearby town. Afterward, if they felt like it, they’d take in a foreign film and have a light dinner out. This was what widows did—planned excursions with their single friends. There was nothing wrong with it. She enjoyed Barbara’s company, her humorous comments and witty observations. She simply missed being with a man.
Reggie jumped onto the desk. She stroked his red flank absently as she wrote out a check for her electric bill. How could one person—okay, one person and a cat—run up such a large bill? She’d call PSEG Monday morning and have them explain exactly how they’d arrived at this inflated figure.
The sound of a siren sent Lydia leaping to her feet. Now what? She rushed to the front door and looked about, hoping another of her neighbors wasn’t being rushed off to the emergency room. Her heart gave a jolt when she spotted an ambulance double-parked in front of Evelyn and Daniel’s house. The van and car in the driveway prevented it from getting any closer. She stepped outside in time to see two EMTs bringing a patient out through the front door. Lydia gasped. It was Daniel, his eyes closed, his skin pale and moist with sweat.
Polly dashed out of the house, followed by her husband and daughters.
“What happened?” Lydia asked as she caught up with Polly climbing into a car.
Polly shook her head. “We don’t know. Dad said he was in pain. He suddenly collapsed.”
Car doors slammed and they drove off. Arnold and his family piled into the van and followed after them. Denise and Bennett paused to light cigarettes then walked toward the red Corvette taking up two spots in front of the house. It figures, Lydia thought—both the make of the car and the way it was parked. Denise said something to her son then stepped into the street to speak to a man at the wheel of a black Honda. When he stuck his head out of the window, Lydia caught sight of his impressive mustache. It had to be Stefano. What was he doing here on a Sunday?
One of the EMTs helped Evelyn into the back of the ambulance and closed the doors. A moment later they were gone, the sound of the siren fading as the ambulance raced to the hospital.
Lydia forced herself to wait half an hour to allow for traveling time and the admissions procedure, and then she called the ER at Brookhaven, the hospital closest to Twin Lakes. The first few calls got her nowhere. On the third try, she said she was a relative and was told to wait a minute. There were various sounds—calls over the PA system, nurses chatting. Then someone answered the phone and, in a pleasant male voice, asked who she was. Lydia lied and said she was Daniel’s niece, and very concerned about his condition. The young man, no doubt a doctor, told her, his tone kind and respectful, that he was very sorry but the patient, Mr. Korman, had expired.
“You mean he’s dead?” Lydia shouted, incredulous. “What happened?”
“We’re not certain. Most likely a coronary, from the way his family members described his pains.”
“Will there be an autopsy?” Lydia demanded. “Daniel, I mean Uncle Daniel, was a very healthy man for his age.”
“A coronary can strike anyone at any age,” the doctor replied. “And who is this I’m speaking to?”
Lydia hung up, trembling with sorrow and rage and a sense of dread that made her want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head.
*
Daniel was buried on Monday afternoon. Lydia drove Barbara and two other women to the funeral home for the service, and then joined the caravan of cars to the cemetery. Lydia’s heart went out Evelyn, who, beset by grief and exhaustion, looked even more petite buoyed up by her daughter and son-in-law. Gayle and Roger had flown up from Atlanta to offer their support. They stood on either side of Evelyn as she waited her turn, behind Daniel’s family members, to cast a shovelful of dirt onto the coffin.
Lydia, worried that Evelyn might not be up to the task, moved closer in case her assistance might be needed. She watched nervously as Bennett handed Evelyn the shovel. Just then, Arnold strode over to the small group gathered on the verge of the grave, and thrust an angry red face close to Evelyn’s.
“My father would still be alive if not for your damn party!”
Evelyn moaned and would have crumpled to the ground if her children and Lydia hadn’t broken her fall. The two women led her to a nearby bench while Evelyn’s son-in-law went after Arnold, who had walked off, oblivious to the effects of his words.
Roger spun the older man around. “How dare you insult Evelyn like that, after all she’s gone through?”
“All she’s gone through!” Arnold echoed in disbelief. “It’s my father who’s dead, remember?”
“Such filial devotion,” Roger said sarcastically. “The way I heard it, you only came around to beg for money. And now you’ll have some, won’t you?”
Arnold let out a roar and threw himself onto Roger. Roger punched him in the stomach, and he sank to the ground, looking as if he was about to cry. Arnold’s son and son-in-law led him away.
A hush fell over the mourners.
“I see it’s true when they say funerals bring out the worst in some people,” Barbara murmured.
“That was Danny—a life filled with saps and beautiful women,” a male voice behind them commented.