Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(100)

Possibly Kelly couldn’t get Lance Arthur to go along with this plan. Or maybe they gave the maid weekends off. This seemed likelier to me than there being no maid.

Finally I heard the familiar thwock-thwock of tennis balls being struck with racquets, and realized the family was in the backyard. The forecaster had not turned out to be wrong about the weather. The sun had burned off the morning fog, and was now causing me to boil beneath the black cashmere cardigan I’d thrown over the tank top I’d paired with jeans. Since it seemed clear my fiancé and I were on the outs—or something—I’d dressed for comfort rather than unleashing sexy inner demons. I even had on my second-best—and only—pair of butt-kicking boots.

I found Kelly on the court enjoying an energetic game of doubles with her new husband. Up close, and dressed in tennis whites, Lance Arthur Walters looked better than he had in photos on the Internet. He actually looked sort of nice, for a bald, red-faced, middle-aged billionaire. When he noticed me, he halted the game—Kelly had seen me first, but made a point of pretending not to—and came rushing over, using a towel to wipe off some of his copious sweat.

“Hello,” Lance Arthur beamed, his right hand outstretched. “You must be the teacher I’ve heard so much about recently from Becca.”

Kelly trotted along behind him, her long blond ponytail swinging. She was not sweating at all. She wasn’t even glowing.

“She’s not a teacher,” Kelly said sourly.

“Suze Simon.” I shook Becca’s father’s hand. “I work in the administrative offices at the Mission Academy. Kelly and I were both in the same class there, actually.”

Lance Arthur turned around to regard his young, pretty wife in surprise. “Were you? You never told me that, darling. Then you ought to have Susan over for Pilates, with your other friend. What’s her name? Oh, yes, Debbie.”

“Debbie is my sister-in-law,” I said.

Lance Arthur nearly keeled over in shock. “Sister-in-law? No! You don’t say! Kelly, why have I never met Susan before? Debbie’s her sister-in-law! Why, this is such a coincidence. And Becca speaks so highly of Susan.”

Kelly stared at me with daggers in her eyes. “I didn’t know Susan was such a fan of Pilates.”

“Oh,” I said, beginning to enjoy myself. “I love Pilates. I do it every day.”

“Every day!” Lance Arthur had steered us toward a matching outdoor chair and table set on the side of the court that was shaded by a bright yellow sunbrella, beneath which someone—the absent maid?—had set a pitcher of freshly made lemonade and several glasses. He poured a glass for me, then one for Kelly and himself. “How tremendous. You must come take a class in our private studio, Susan. It’s really state-of-the-art, and we have a top-notch instructor, just top-notch. Debbie and Kelly simply adore Craig, don’t you, Kelly?”

Kelly flopped down onto one of the yellow-cushioned sun loungers and said, “Oh, we do.”

I bet Debbie and Kelly adored Craig. I bet Craig adored Kelly, too, especially during the long weeks at a stretch that Lance Arthur was out of town on business.

“I might do that,” I said. “Thanks so much for the invitation.” The lemonade tasted amazing, not too tart, and not too sweet. There were real strawberries floating in it, too. Nothing but class for Lance Arthur. “Listen, I didn’t mean to interrupt your game. I really came here to check on Becca. I’m sure Kelly told you, Mr. Walters, that—”

“Oh, please call me Arthur! Any friend of Kelly’s is a friend of mine, Susan.”

“Right, Arthur. Well, as I’m sure Kelly’s told you, Becca had a little problem at school the other day, and I just wanted to follow up after Father Dominic’s unfortunate visit to see how she’s doing.”

“Wasn’t that a terrible thing?” Walters pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table, looking concerned. But mostly I think he was resting from the trouncing Kelly had been giving him on the court. He was still sweating profusely, especially around the man-boob area. “When Kelly told me, I was just shocked. I hope he got the flowers we sent, and the check, too.”

So he’d meant Father Dominic’s “accident,” not what had happened to Becca.

“Yes, it was terrible,” I said. I didn’t join him at the table. I wanted to spend as little time in Kelly’s presence as possible. “But I was actually referring to Becca—”

“But what about Becca?” Lance looked from my face to Kelly’s. Kelly’s was unreadable, as she’d slipped on a pair of large designer sunglasses with gold frames and reflective lenses and picked up a fashion magazine from a nearby outdoor coffee table. To my amusement, she’d begun flipping through it, bored from the conversation. “I thought Becca was doing better. No one mentioned a word to me!”

“Becca is doing better,” I assured him. I wanted to snatch the magazine from Kelly’s hands and hit her with it, but settled for saying, “I only wanted to make you aware that it’s come to my attention that Becca may have been more affected by the death of a childhood friend than she let on. I believe she and Becca used to take riding lessons at Sacred Trinity?”

Lance Arthur Walters, to his credit, knew exactly whom I was talking about.

“Yes, of course. Lucia Martinez. That’s the little girl who fell off her horse and died.” He looked at Kelly. “She was in Becca’s first-grade class. What a tragic accident. I know you would have been quite young when it happened, but you might have read about it in the papers, Kelly.”