“Yeah, Mom.” I gestured at her with my wine glass. “That’s my job.”

  Dad frowned at me, causing Mom to laugh. She reached over and touched his cheek. “Stop worrying, love bug. We’re just going to clean out some closets and box up some books. I promise. Nothing more.”

  Dad didn’t respond, but I knew he didn’t believe that anymore than I did.

  “Is Byron expecting you?” he asked finally.

  “Yes. I told him we’d be there.”

  He was pensive as he sliced off a bite of pork tenderloin and dredged it in Mom’s groovy gravy before popping it into his mouth. “I wonder if Byron knew Elaine would be there today. Why else would he come home in the middle of the afternoon?”

  “That’s what I was wondering, too,” I said.

  “He shouldn’t be going in to work at all,” Mom protested, helping herself to more homegrown green beans and adding an extra spoonful to my plate as well. “His wife just died a few days ago, so it’s perfectly natural that he’d take some time off.”

  I speared a green bean. “Can’t someone cover for him at the winery?”

  “Of course,” Dad said. After all, he was the boss at the commune winery. “His job is important, but not so critical that we can’t function without him for a few weeks.”

  “He’s probably going to work to keep himself busy,” I said, reaching for the small end piece of pork tenderloin. “When’s the funeral?”

  “No body, no funeral,” Dad said bluntly. “But Robson will have a memorial service Thursday night.”

  I grimaced. “What happened to Wanda’s body?”

  “She’s still with the medical examiner,” Mom said quietly. “Waiting for an autopsy.”

  “Oh.” Sometimes I was a little slow on the uptake. “Right. Because it was a suicide.”

  It was some kind of law that an autopsy was required when someone died from something other than natural causes. Suicide was not considered a natural cause.

  “Yes,” Dad said. “And Byron can’t do anything to speed that process along.”

  “No, I suppose not,” I said, cringing at the thought of having to wait for a loved one’s body to be autopsied.

  “Poor Byron,” Mom said.

  I nodded in agreement, then remembered his greeting to Elaine. “Although he seems to be holding up pretty well.”

  Mom bit back a smile, no doubt recalling the same thing. “Eat your green beans.”

  “I am. They’re delicious.” I forked a few more beans and shoved them into my mouth. After a minute, I said, “Has everyone else in the community rallied around Byron like you have, Mom? I can’t imagine he’d want to spend too much time alone right now.”

  Dad reached for more garlic mashed potatoes. “Joe and Jeri Spaulding are handling all the details for Wanda’s burial and service.”

  “They’re so good at stuff like that,” Mom added.

  I smiled. Joe and Jeri were like our honorary aunt and uncle and I’d known them my entire life. They had been with the commune as long as Mom and Dad and before that, the four of them had all been best Deadhead friends.

  “That was nice of them to take over,” I said.

  “Byron needed the help,” Dad said. “He’s been walking around in a fog all week. I can’t blame him.”

  “No,” Mom murmured.

  “I would be in a fog, too.” I frowned at the thought of losing someone so close to me. It would be unbearable. I looked at Mom. “I’m glad you asked me to help you with Wanda’s stuff.”

  “I’m happy you could do it,” Mom said. She smiled at me, but it faded quickly. “I’m just so confused about Byron and Elaine.”

  “He wasn’t in any fog while he was kissing her.” I took a bite of meat and spent a few seconds enjoying the flavors of Mom’s special sauce she’d made for the pork tenderloin. Dad had once called it groovy gravy and the name had stuck. Garlic, soy sauce, Dijon mustard, a squeeze of fresh orange juice, rosemary, ginger, and a splash of red wine. While Dad had grilled the meat, Mom had cooked the ingredients down until the whole thing was exquisitely rich and yummy.

  Finished with my meal, I relaxed in my chair. “We should work out a strategy for getting the lowdown from Elaine at lunch on Wednesday.”

  Mom’s left eyebrow hitched up. Okay, maybe I hadn’t been formally invited, but still.

  Dad glanced at me. “You’re having lunch with Elaine?”

  “I assumed I was coming along.” I laughed and looked at Mom. “Am I?”

  “Of course you are.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Otherwise, you’d badger me relentlessly.”

  “You know me so well,” I said with a smirk.

  After dinner, I drove up the mountain to visit my best friend, Robin, who had been living with my brother, Austin, for the past few months. I had met Robin the first day my family moved to Dharma over twentysomething years ago. We’d been instant friends ever since.

  Before moving back to Dharma, Robin lived in the Noe Valley district of San Francisco, not far from my loft in SOMA, and we saw each other all the time. But recently, during a murder investigation that hit too close to home for all of us, Austin realized how much he loved Robin. He’d asked her to move in with him and she had taken him up on it. So while I missed my best pal in the city, I was excited at the possibility of having her as a sister-in-law someday soon.

  The winding road to my brother’s house finally ended in a cul-de-sac at the top of a hill overlooking the grapevines of Dharma. It was still light out and I took a moment to appreciate how beautiful the view was up here.

  After the initial hugs and kisses, we sat around the bar that separated Austin’s kitchen from the large, open living room. Austin poured me a glass of wine and we all caught up on the latest news. Then my intelligent brother left the room so I could gossip and chat with my BFF for a while.

  “So I guess you’re happy,” I said in a mock pouting tone.

  Robin laughed. “You could say that. Austin’s more than halfway finished building my sculpting studio, and he just decided yesterday that we might as well add on two more bedrooms and a bathroom while he’s at it.”

  “Oh, my God, your cheeks are bright pink,” I said, then lowered my voice. “Did he ask you to . . .”

  Her smile was so radiant, it almost hurt to look at her. Within seconds, tears were spilling down my cheeks. I jumped up from the bar stool and looked around in a panic.

  “Tissues are on the sink,” she said, laughing.

  “Oh, my God.” I grabbed a handful and pressed them to my eyes, then blew my nose. Then I pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh, my God, I’m so happy for you.”

  “I’m happy, too. I can’t believe it.” She laughed and cried along with me. “We’re keeping it quiet for now because I know your mom will go insane with the news. We just want to keep a low profile until everything’s worked out.”

  “What’s to work out?” I asked.

  Some of her smile diminished. “My mom.”

  My smile faded, too. Robin had plenty of issues with her mother, who hadn’t exactly won any Mother of the Year awards while Robin was growing up. In fact, she was currently spending quality time talking to the federal authorities. But back in the day when her mother had been playing the world traveler, Robin had practically lived at my house. Not that I was complaining about it. We’d had a slumber party every night for years.

  “Okay, say no more,” I said. “But when you’re ready to tell my parents, be prepared for the party of the century.”

  “I know,” she said, her smile returning full force. “We’re both dying to tell them.”

  “They’re going to be thrilled.” I gave her another hug and sat down again. I filled her in on the situation at Wanda’s house, then told her about my book-repair class at the town library.

  “Is the class filled up yet?” she asked. “I want to go.”

  “Call them tomorrow. I’m sure there’s plenty of room. It’s just a book-repair class.”

  “Not if you’re teaching it. You’re legendary around here. Didn’t you know that?”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “I’m not kidding. Ever since you solved Abraham’s murder, people have been talking about you. In a good way, I mean.”

  “You’re very funny.”

  She shrugged. “I try to tell them what a bizarre chick you are, but they don’t want to hear it. You’re their local hero.”

  I laughed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  I glanced at my watch and reluctantly stood again. “I’d better get going. I don’t want Mom and Dad to worry about me driving at night.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night at the library.”

  “Really? You’ll come?”

  “Of course. And I promise not to make fun of you.”

  “Thank you. I like to maintain a false air of competence in front of my students.”

  As I grabbed my purse, Austin magically reappeared. I tugged him into a hug and he laughed.

  “You told her, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I told her,” Robin said, hugging us both. “She’s my best buddy.”

  More tears threatened to fall, so I rushed through the good-byes. Once I was in my car, I allowed them to fall freely, which made the ride home a little treacherous. But I didn’t care. I was so happy for my best friend and my brother.

  Once I was parked in front of my parents’ house, I wiped my face and dried my eyes completely. After all, if my mother got the slightest whiff of what an emotional wreck I was, she would grill me mercilessly. And since it was well-established that I was the world’s worst liar, she would guess Robin and Austin’s secret in a heartbeat.

  After breakfast the next morning, Mom and I drove back to Wanda’s house. Luckily, she and my father had gone to bed by the time I got home last night, so Robin’s happy secret was still safe.

  We parked the car in front of the Frawley home just as Byron stepped out from behind the front gate. He was dressed in sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt and he looked good for an older guy, although the skin around his eyes was a little saggy. It made me wonder if he was getting any sleep at all. Had seeing Elaine yesterday kept him awake all night?

  “Thanks again for your help, Becky,” he said, and gave Mom a kiss on the cheek. Then he turned and looked back at the house. “I’m not sure I could face it all by myself.”

  “You shouldn’t have to,” Mom said, clearly forgiving him for his strange behavior yesterday. “That’s what friends are for.”

  He shook his head, apparently humbled by her words. “I swear there’s a special place in heaven for friends like you.”

  “You’re a sweetie pie,” she said, smiling up at him.

  A muscle tightened on his neck and he gritted his teeth. “Look, about yesterday, I should explain that—”

  “There’s no need to say anything,” Mom said, holding up both hands to stop him.

  “But I don’t want you to think—”

  “I’m just happy you’re no longer fighting with anyone in Wanda’s family.”

  “I’m happy, too,” he admitted, and a sheen of moisture appeared in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re a good man,” she said fiercely as she gripped his arm.

  His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled heavily. “I don’t know about that. I feel a little ridiculous going to the gym while you’re here doing all this work.”

  Mom smiled. “The workout will do you good.”

  He grinned and patted his stomach. “In more ways than one, is that what you’re saying?”

  We all laughed and Mom swatted his arm lightly. “You get out of here and enjoy your workout.”

  “I will.”

  “Will you be back soon?” I asked.

  “A couple of hours, I guess.” He heaved the gym bag strap onto his shoulder. “See you later.”

  “You have a good day,” I said, and Mom waved.

  As Byron got into his car and drove off, we pushed through the gate and walked into the garden. Mom opened the front door, then pulled a fat stick of white sage from her pocket. “Today I’ve come prepared. After you pack up some more books, we’re going to have a cleansing ritual.”

  “Okay,” I said, and rubbed my hands together. “And then we’ll explore the house.”

  “That was some wild fun,” I said an hour later, as Mom finished what she called her Happy House Purification Chant.

  “I think it worked.” She continued waving the smoldering sage in the air. Mom had decided that, even though Wanda’s house was kept spotlessly tidy, there had to be some psychic pockets of unhappiness and grief throughout. Why else would Wanda have committed suicide?

  “I’ve really improved on this chant,” she said. “I think I’ll bring a drum next time so we can dance along.”

  “Can’t wait for that, and I’m sure Wanda would appreciate it.” I glanced around, then pointed toward the hall. “I think it’s time to check out more of her world.”

  “It couldn’t hurt to cleanse some sorrow from the rest of the rooms,” she said, and led the way, still waving the sage stick around as she moved forward.

  The first room down the hall appeared to be a guest bedroom, but it was furnished as ornately as Napoleon’s suite in the Louvre museum. Golden tapestries hung from the walls and sparkling raw silk streamers flounced from the bedposts up to a gleaming gold chandelier hanging over the bed.

  “Nice touch,” I said, staring up at what should have been a gaudy train wreck. But once again, thanks to Wanda’s clever artistry, the entire room had an old world sophistication about it.

  Mom strolled around the small yet lavishly appointed space, waving her sage back and forth. Then we walked out and shut the door behind us.

  The next door opened to reveal a spotlessly clean, nice-sized bathroom with a tub and shower combination. The towels were a masculine brown and the bathrobe hanging on the door hook was a man’s. It was warm still, and I could see steam condensed on the windows. Was this Byron’s bathroom?

  I pushed open the last door at the end of the hall and walked into a large room that had been set up as a home office. The walls were paneled in a warm, rich wood and the lighting fixtures were elegant brushed copper. A mahogany desk and executive chair filled one side of the room. Next to the desk was a matching table that held an efficient-looking printer and fax machine.

  The other side of the wide room was taken up by a comfortable, dark leather couch with a coffee table that held a small, tasteful stack of art books. Against the far wall was an entertainment unit with stereo equipment and a television. I was surprised to see a small refrigerator and microwave oven on a lower shelf, as well.

  There were bookshelves, and unlike in the front room, the books here were neatly shelved in alphabetical order. Beneath the scent of the sage that Mom still carried were the lingering aromas of leather and wood and a hint of lemon polish.

  Beyond the desk, a wide bay window looked out onto a patch of lush green lawn and a manicured herb garden. A sundial on a pedestal sat in the middle, surrounded by bushes of rosemary and sage. Three birch trees had been planted outside the window and the late morning sun cast a dappled shadow through the leaves and into the room. Against the far wall were more colorful flowers surrounding a neatly manicured and thriving vegetable garden.

  More of Wanda’s horticultural artistry.

  “This is so nice,” Mom said, gazing around.

  “This is where Byron lives,” I murmured, and pointed to a side door leading outside. “I wonder if he usually comes and goes through that door so he doesn’t have to deal with the fussiness of the living room.”

  “Or his wife?” Mom asked, sounding forlorn.

  “I don’t know.”

  Mom sighed. “That is so depressing. I hope they didn’t lead completely separate lives.”

  “I hope not, but it sort of looks that way,” I said quietly, knowing my empathetic mother was hurting for her friends. I quickly nudged her out of the room. “Are you ready to go upstairs?”

  She frowned, then nodded decisively. “Let’s do it.”

  I saluted her. “Right there with you, Mambo.”

  A few minutes later, we stood at the first doorway off the stairs. It was another office, but this one was much more cluttered. Despite the clutter, there seemed to be some organization to the room. Two computers on opposite sides of the desk were surrounded by lots of files and stacks of paper and more books. But, praise Buddha, these books were all neatly arranged on bookshelves.

  I stepped into the room and walked over to look. With a grin, I turned to Mom. “These are all books by her sisters.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet,” Mom said, and joined me in front of the bookshelves. “I didn’t realize they’d written so many.”

  “A lot of them are the same books translated into different languages.” I pulled a hardcover from the shelf. “This is a large print edition of one of Marjorie’s memoirs.”

  We didn’t spend much time in that room because it seemed to be filled with healthy vibes. Still, Mom waved her sage around, just for good measure.

  We walked down the hall to the open double doors that led into the master bedroom. It was a large, comfortable space. There was no overcrowding of furniture here, no overly fussy antiques. Instead, a California king-sized bed dominated the space with a modern blond wood headboard that matched two large dressers and a wide mirror. A comfy looking upholstered loveseat and chair filled a cheery corner space beneath two picture windows. The entire room was sedately decorated in pale blues, whites and browns.

  We walked around the room in silence as Mom waved more sage, its mellow scent wafting into the air.

  “I don’t get it,” I finally said. “It’s so normal in here.”

  “I refused to sleep with Louis the Sixteenth,” Byron said from the doorway.

  Mom shrieked and I admit I might have leapt a few feet in the air, but who could blame us?

  “Honestly, Byron!” Mom cried. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  “Where the hell did you come from?” I asked, my voice squeaking from the shock. I caught my breath and added, “Sorry. We were a little preoccupied. We didn’t hear you coming upstairs.”

 

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