Little Girls(6)
“All right,” Laurie said. She shared a look with her husband then . . . and wondered if he could decipher the clutter of emotions behind her eyes. Not that she could decipher them herself. She was weak, tired, troubled, overwhelmed. There was a darkness here in this house, she knew—something cold and widespread, like black water gradually filling up behind the walls—and she thought it might have been the residual ghost of her parents’ divorce and Laurie’s subsequent extraction from this place. Extraction, she thought, summoning the image of a diseased tooth being liberated from purpling gums. That’s good.
Laurie followed Dora into the kitchen. It was a spacious room with brick walls and stainless-steel appliances. A small circular table stood before a bay window that looked out on the backyard and the moldy green fence that separated the property from the house next door. There were plenty of windows and the room was generously bright.
“You lived here as a child?” Dora said. She led Laurie over to the stovetop.
“I did, yes.”
“It’s a gas range. The appliances are in fair working order, though I can’t be certain how old they are. You’ve cooked on a gas range before?”
“We have a gas range back home.”
“Let me show you, anyway,” said Dora. She turned the knob and let the burner tick until a blue flame ignited. The smell of gas rose up to greet them. Dora turned the stove off and moved to the refrigerator. She opened the refrigerator door. It was stocked, but not obnoxiously so. Laurie could see many of the items within hadn’t yet been opened, and it occurred to her that either Dora or Felix Lorton had recently gone to the supermarket in anticipation of their arrival. “You’ll find it is stocked with milk, cheese, bread, juices, and plenty of condiments. There are frozen meats and poultry in the freezer as well, Mrs. Genarro, and the pantry is sufficiently stocked with cereals, pastas, and canned goods. I didn’t bother getting any fruits or vegetables or other perishables from the market, as they tend to go bad quickly in the summer if not eaten right away. I wasn’t sure how long you folks planned to stay.”
“I’m not sure we know yet, either.”
“It’s understandable,” Dora intoned, sounding just then like her brother. Next, Dora led her over to the dishwasher. “Standard functions, quite easy to use. There is detergent beneath the sink.”
Beyond the curved bay windows, Laurie saw Ted and Susan galloping across the green lawn. They raced along the fence and up the lawn’s slight incline to where the trees grew denser and wild blackberry bushes and honeysuckle exploded like fireworks from the ground. The tree limbs that overhung the fence waved sleepily in the breeze, throwing moving shadows against the mossy pickets.
“There’s a list of emergency numbers beside the telephone,” Dora went on. “For your convenience I’ve included the number for Mr. Brashear’s lawyer, a Mr. Cushing, I believe, though I presume you already have his contact information.”
“Yes, but thank you.”
“I’ve left my home number for you as well, in the event you have any further need of me.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.” It seemed all she was capable of saying to the woman. Also, it occurred to Laurie that Dora Lorton hadn’t looked at her a single time since they’d entered the kitchen. “Have you been working here the whole time, since I called the care service?”
“Yes. It had just been me for a while, until Mr. Brashear’s condition worsened and we had to bring on more help. I was assisted by a younger woman named Ms. Larosche. Do you know of her?”
“No, I don’t. I mean, I was aware the service had added a second caretaker because of the need for twenty-four-hour care, but I’d never spoken to her.”
“Nor will you need to. She only worked nights. I handled the household chores. Any questions you might have can be answered by me.”
“And Felix, your brother? He had been helping out around here, too?”
At last, Dora’s eyes ticked up in Laurie’s direction. “That’s just been recently.”
“Did my father get terribly out of hand? I haven’t heard the extent of it. I mean, given the way things ended, I could only imagine what it must have been like.”
“You’ve spoken with Mr. Claiborne?”
“Yes,” said Laurie. Mr. Claiborne was the managing director of Mid-Atlantic Homecare Services. Their conversations on the phone had been strained but polite. The last call she had received from him had been to inform her that her father had killed himself. While he had offered his sympathy, Laurie could tell Mr. Claiborne’s primary concern was toward any potential lawsuit his company might be facing in the wake of such tragedy. Laurie had assured him she would take no legal action against him or his employees. “He explained the situation as best he could,” Laurie continued. “Nonetheless, Ms. Lorton, I feel I owe you some sense of gratitude for looking after my father.”
“It was my job.”
“I just wanted to thank you. And Ms. Larosche, too.”
“What’s done is done.” As if to brush away crumbs, Dora swept a hand across the Formica countertop, though Laurie hadn’t seen anything there. “Come along and I’ll show you the rest,” said Dora.
Chapter 2