Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

Instead, a bleached blonde wearing too much makeup stepped inside and dropped a shiny purple raincoat on the foyer floor. Posing seductively in black stockings, garters, and underwear that left nothing to the imagination, she arranged her long hair so it draped over her shoulders. She looked at Bernie and said, “So which one of you is the colonel?”

“The colonel!” June cried, dismay in her voice.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong house.” I picked up her coat and held it out to her.

“No, I don’t.” She reached for the coat and withdrew a piece of paper from the pocket. “Right here. See?”

What I saw was my address and the colonel’s name.

I opened the door and pointed. “The colonel lives on the other side of the street.”

Pulling on her coat, she giggled and said, “My bad.”

After she left, June walked down the stairs and slammed the door behind the blonde. June hurried to the kitchen to look out the window and we all followed her. The blonde strutted across the street in heels that had to be five inches high. The raincoat couldn’t provide much warmth against the winter air. She must have been freezing.

“He can’t be serious. The colonel is such a proper man.” June clenched her fists.

I signaled my mom. “Since we’re all up, why don’t we go in the sunroom for a nightcap?” Mom took June’s arm and steered her away from the window. I shooed everyone else along behind them.

I could hear June saying, “She was nothing but a tart. A common tramp. The kind you pay for services.” She had that right. I was sorry the tart had awakened everyone. If it had just been Bernie and me, we could have kept the colonel’s little secret.

Bernie followed me into his sleeping quarters and pulled on his bathrobe. I handed him a bottle of sherry and another of Grand Marnier, one of Hannah’s favorite indulgences. Bernie picked out a bottle of Scotch and hauled them into the sunroom while I retrieved cut-crystal sherry glasses and colorful cordial glasses from the dining room.

I carried them on a silver tray and almost stumbled over my own feet in the hallway. Someone had turned off all the lights. I understood why when I reached the sunroom. Mom had lit candles and Dad had plugged in the lights he’d helped Mars and me install years ago. The tiny Christmas lights twinkled on the arched glass ceiling like stars.

The romantic mood didn’t comfort June, though. “I thought the colonel was a respectable man, like my dear husband. I’m overwhelmed with disgust when I contemplate what’s going on at his house this very minute.”

“We’re all surprised.” Mom handed June a glass of sherry. “It’s just as well that you found out now. You could have gone on for years not knowing the truth about him.”

“It’s so repulsive to think of him ordering that girl like a . . . a side of beef.” June tugged her lavender bathrobe closed around her neck and held it there with one hand.

“No woman wants a man like that. He’s definitely not the gentleman we all thought.” Mom settled into a love seat next to Dad. “I don’t blame you one bit for being upset.”

“What did Mars want so late?” asked Hannah.

I shot her a grateful smile for changing the subject. The sooner we distracted June, the better. And then I remembered that Natasha might be having an affair. That would distract June but not in a good way.

“He brought me a Taser.” That wasn’t a complete lie. I didn’t like misleading anyone, but this time I thought it more important to cheer up June. “For the nights when I come home late from work.”

I scored. My simple lie generated a lively discussion between Mom and June on how they could throw Mars and me together more often. Before long Craig and Hannah drifted up to bed, followed shortly by my parents and June. Daisy had stretched out in the sunroom with us, but I hadn’t seen Mochie in a while. I found him in the kitchen, sitting on the bench in the bay window looking out as a hearse drove by.

TWENTY-SIX

From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

Dear Sophie,

My mother-in-law complains that my Thanksgiving decor looks too much like Halloween. Must be those rotting pumpkins by the front door. What can I do that will please her?

—Desperate in Dumfries

Dear Desperate,