Free The Alpine Legacy by Mary Daheim Page B

assessment. “I can't help it, even with Crystal dead, I can't stop hating her for what she's done to me. She was a vile human being.”
    “Arrogant, yes,” Vida conceded. “Opinionated and mean-minded. While I'm the first to not excuse people for troubles they bring on themselves, I must admit that Crystal's life wasn't smooth. One wonders where she went wrong.”
    “That's what she said about me,” I sneered. “Remember her editorial week before last?”
    “‘Where did Emma Lord go wrong?' Or some such idiocy.” Vida sat back in the chair at my kitchen table. “Yes, yes, I remember it. So silly. What did you think of April?”
    “Poles apart from her sister,” I said, reaching for theteapot. “A decent woman. Her grief seemed rather superficial, though.”
    “Exactly.” Vida's eyes brightened. “Shocked, yes. But not devastated. Perhaps not even surprised. Don't you find that curious?”
    I considered the question. “Not really. Crystal hadn't lived here for twenty-odd years. I'm assuming the sisters had grown apart. And didn't you say that Crystal gave April a bad time when they were kids? Siblings don't have to like each other.”
    “Very true,” Vida agreed. “Still, I would have expected April to say something about how she wished she might have prevented her sister's suicide. You know—'If only I'd listened, ‘ or some other such useless babble.”
    “Maybe she'd already said that to Mel before we arrived,” I suggested, stirring sugar into my tea.
    “Perhaps,” Vida allowed. “No doubt Mel grunted, an indecipherable sound that would bring no comfort to April.”
    “She's used to it, I imagine.”
    Vida took a last sip from her mug and stood up. “You've had enough tea. We must go see Carla and Omar.”
    I'd almost forgotten about the Talliaferros. On this trip, we drove to the hospital in Vida's Buick. As usual, she rubbernecked for the entire five blocks to Pine Street.
    “Richie Magruder shouldn't take his grandchildren sledding down Fourth. Very dangerous. It's Seventh that's been closed just for that purpose.” “Why on earth is Veda Kay MacAvoy pushing that grocery cart uphill in the snow? So silly, considering her varicose veins.” “Oh, good heavens! Here comes Durwood!”
    Vida slammed on the brakes as Durwood Parker, the worst driver in Alpine, plowed through the intersection on a red tractor. As was customary, he didn't look to rightor left, but stared straight ahead through glasses so thick they could have stopped bullets.
    “Where did that old fool get that tractor?” Vida demanded, wrestling with the steering wheel. “The Parkers don't own a farm. They have a perfectly nice house in town, though I can't say much about their garden. Dur-wood's useless, and Dot has no sense of color. One year, all her annuals were white.”
    “Since Durwood had his license yanked, maybe he got the tractor so he could still get around town,” I suggested as Vida finally managed to move the car forward.
    “Perhaps.” Vida's expression was prunelike in its disapproval. “It shouldn't be legal.”
    “It's an item for ‘Scene, ‘ though,” I said, referring to Vida's gossipy front-page column that chronicled Alpine's minutiae.
    “Yes,” she agreed. “It's that until he runs over someone, and then it becomes news.”
    We parked on the street by the hospital, though it wasn't easy to find the curb. The sun was still out, but the temperature remained below freezing. The only melting I'd detected was on some of the utility poles and the eaves of buildings with east-west exposures.
    Omar Talliaferro was the only newborn in the nursery. He was still red and wrinkled. His black hair stood up like a whisk broom. Although he wasn't crying, he refused to open his eyes while Vida and I inspected him through the window.
    “Homely,” Vida murmured. “Most babies are. Roger was one of the exceptions. So handsome, right from the start.”
    Since Roger had evolved into something like the shape