“With his shoes on?” I asked, getting a knuckle prod from both my mother and Jayne.
“Actually, no. I think his foot is hurt more than it might have been if he’d been wearing shoes. Anyway, it looked like he was trying to pull the pineapple finial off the top of the clock. I might have surprised him, because he sort of jerked back and lost his balance and fell off the chair. He would have stuck his landing if his foot hadn’t landed on a pile of old buttons lying on the ground. I’m thinking he must have hung on to that finial and pulled the clock forward so that the clock landed on his leg when they both fell.”
“Buttons?” Jayne asked from the backseat.
“Yes, ma’am. A pretty big pile. I haven’t had time to really look, but I did see a tattered string on the floor, so they might be from an antique charm string. Not sure what they’re doing on the floor, though.” He paused as if waiting for someone to offer an explanation.
The three of us glanced at one another inside the car but remained silent.
“Must have been a ghost,” he said, then laughed. “If there were such a thing. Anyway, Marc’s lucky the clock didn’t land on his head—that thing is heavy. Jack and I tried to lift it, but it wouldn’t budge. Solid mahogany is my guess. Doesn’t look like the glass broke, which is surprising, but I imagine that the inner workings will need some repair. The ones in old clocks are very delicate. I’ll be happy to recommend some experts my grandmother works with.”
The phantom sound of the cash register rang again in the back of my brain. “I’ll let you know. And you can take the rest of the day off,” I said hopefully. “I’m sure it’s all been pretty traumatic for you.”
“That’s very nice of you to offer, but I’ll keep going. I’ll keep trying to reach Mrs. Longo if you like.”
“No. Thanks, Beau, but I think I need to be the one to tell her.” I didn’t mention that I wanted to suggest calling off the baby shower since Marc was injured.
“One more thing. Do you know anything about a filming hiatus? Chelsea Gee and Jacob Reynolds just stopped by to pick up a few things, saying they were flying back to LA. Not that it’s any of my business. Just curious.”
“I have no idea. Is Jack still there? Maybe he knows.”
“Actually, he just left.”
I frowned. “Did he say when he’d return?”
There was a long pause accompanied by the feeling of my stomach sinking. “No, ma’am. I mean, Melanie. But it might be a while. He put a couple of suitcases in the trunk before he left.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that Harvey Beckner is in one of them.” I forced a laugh just so I wouldn’t cry.
“I believe Harvey’s in LA,” Beau said.
“Right.” I swallowed thickly. “I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes. See you then.”
I clicked the steering wheel button and disconnected the call, then tried twice to reach Rebecca, the call going to voice mail each time. I slammed my hands against the steering wheel in frustration.
“Are you okay, Mellie?” My mother’s soft voice was almost more than I could take.
“I’m fine. Just fine.” I pressed down the accelerator as we headed toward the East Bay exit ramp, slowing down only when I saw my mother brace her hands against the dashboard.
“What are you going to do?” Jayne asked quietly.
I took a deep breath. “I’m going to drop Mother off at her house and bring you back to mine so you can rescue Dad from the twins, who are most likely covered in dirt and in desperate need of a bath. Then I’m going to survey the damage in the parlor and try to figure out how to put the clock back on its feet so I can see how bad it is—although I’m seriously wondering if I can just leave a broken clock in my parlor and pretend it just needs winding.” I took a deep breath. “And then I’m going to start planning the most amazing and unique baby/lingerie shower this city has ever seen. I’ll think about everything else tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 28
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of waiting until the next day before the rest of my life interrupted my plans. It’s hard to keep calm and carry on when a nearly eight-foot-tall antique grandfather clock is lying prostrate on one’s parlor floor. Right next to a pile of antique buttons.
I stopped only long enough to survey the damage before running upstairs to Jack’s room, knowing what I’d see before I spotted the neatly made bed, the empty closet, and all traces of him removed. I wanted to lie down on the bed and press my face into the pillow. But that was the old Melanie. The new Melanie backed out of the room and walked calmly down the hallway, returning a moment later to shut the door.
I left Mrs. Houlihan in the parlor to fret about how the clock was ruining the antique rug and worrying about cleaning the bloodstains, and joined my father in the garden. He sat on the bench, staring at the remains of all of his hard work. His grin told me he was already planning the reconstruction in his head, eager to start over and get his hands in the dirt.
I sat down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder, narrowing my eyes to blur my vision, hoping to see what he was seeing. He clasped my hand in his, allowing them to rest on the bench between us.
“I think I’m going to start all over and redesign your garden as a classic Romantic Garden.”
“I’ve never heard of that. What are they?”
I heard the smile in his voice. “They’re also called Extravagant Liars.”
I lifted my head to look at him. “I’ve never heard of those, either. Why are they called that?”