Page 128 of Summers at the Saint
Shannon was staring at the Eddings family portrait, her expression one of pure poison.
“How can you stand to look at them, knowing who and what they are?”
“I didn’t know then. The painting was hanging in the house when we moved in, and I didn’t want to hurt Helen’s feelings by taking it down.”
Shannon gestured at the heavy furniture and ornate window treatments. “All this funeral-parlor-looking stuff? None of it looks like you. So, how come you kept all of it? Not like you couldn’t afford to buy something else.”
“Family heirlooms,” Traci said, knowing how lame it sounded. “Helen picked out all this stuff.”
“She’s dead,” Shannon said bluntly. “They’re all dead now, except for that bastard Ric.”
Traci tried to look at the painting, to see what Shannon was seeing, and her stomach turned. She took the portrait down and set it on the floor, facing the wall.
“Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ve got some iced tea. Unless you want something stronger?”
“I don’t drink. Remember?”
Traci didn’t trust herself to drink now. She was afraid if she started, she might not stop. They sat at the table with their glasses of iced tea, each waiting for the other to speak first.
When she couldn’t take another second of the silence, Traci blurted out the question that had been on her mind since Andy Plankenhorn’s bombshell had landed. “Does Livvy know?”
“Not yet. I needed to see you first.”
“It’s a lot,” Traci said. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Shannon plucked the lemon slice from the rim of her glass and squeezed it into the tea.
“I wanted to tell you, you know. Not at first. I was still pissed at you. But later, after Livvy was born, I needed you to see how beautiful she was. And my mom, well, you know how she was. She loved Livvy instantly, but she was ashamed that her daughter was ‘an unwed mother.’ Can you believe people still talked like that?”
“Don’t be too hard on your mom. She was a sweet lady. Just… old-fashioned.”
“And set in her ways,” Shannon agreed. “I warn you, I haven’t talked about this to anyone since I met with Mr. Plankenhorn, twenty-one years ago. I might, kinda, choke up.”
“I’ve got time. And plenty of tissues,” Traci said.
“It was maybe a week before Hudson drowned. Mr. Eddings, that’s what I thought of him as back then, left a note in my locker and asked me to meet with him, at his house. He hinted it was about a promotion. More money.”
Shannon rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know now that it was a stupid thing to do, but at the time, it didn’t occur to me to ask why at his house, and not at the office. I went straight there from work, on a Friday night. I was still wearing my lifeguard swimsuit, with just a pair of gym shorts over it. I was shocked when the old man answered the door. I guess I expected, like, a butler or something. He was in this sort of bathrobe thing. Said he’d just gotten out of the pool. He showed me into his office. I was kinda starstruck by the house, you know?”
“Yeah. That mansion was amazing. I had the same reaction the first time Hoke took me home to meet his parents,” Traci said.
“So, we’re in his office and he asks me if I want a drink. I was nineteen! I thought it was cool that I was day drinking with the boss. He actually fixed me a martini. I’d never had anything stronger than beer or the watered-down margaritas we got at Pour Willy’s, and yeah, it went right to my head. I didn’t realize, at first, how much he’d drunk before I got there.”
“Oh God. I think I know where this is headed,” Traci said.
“If only I had,” Shannon said bitterly. “He tells me he’s been watching me at the pool, thinks my personality would be great inconvention sales. It’d mean a lot more money, travel. I wassobroke. My car needed a new transmission. And travel? Hell yeah. The farthest I’d ever been from home was Disney World for our senior class trip. It sounded like a dream job.
“He’s slamming back the martinis, and now I’m starting to get a little nervous,” Shannon continued. “Especially after he insists I call him by his first name instead of ‘Mr. Eddings.’”
She stopped and sipped her iced tea. “And he tells me that for this new job, I have to look the part. I’ll need to wear really chic, classy clothes.”
Her hands were shaking so badly the ice cubes rattled in the glass. “Oh God, oh God. This is the part…”
Shannon started to cry. Traci handed her a box of tissues. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, but Shannon shook her head violently, crying and hiccupping at the same time.
When she could catch her breath she resumed her narrative. “He had a dress he wanted me to try on. It was silk, and it still had the price tag on it, like, four hundred bucks. I’d never owned anything that nice. I went into the bathroom that was attached to his office, and as I was undressing, the door opens. It was him. I just froze.”
Traci reached across and grabbed her friend’s hands and squeezed.
