below, let me see if youâre all rightâ¦â
The Wakefields disappeared down the stairs. Toadie uttered an indecipherable exclamation, threw up her hands, and stomped off. Zoe giggled while the cousins returned to their tasks. Renie scrubbed the durable one-inch tiles on the counters. Judith swept the linoleum, then wiped it down with a damp rag. Cantankerous voices were raised in the living room: Aunt Vivvie emitted a wail; Trixieâs laughter verged on hysteria; Derekâs low voice rumbled with warning; Jill drowned them out with a few chords from Chopin. More faintly, a soft thud emanated from somewhere in the house.
âPoor Pop,â Zoe remarked, eating the last roll. âIâll bet he fainted. He can be really ineffectual sometimes.â
Judith didnât comment, but Renie made a face. âDoes he ever do anything around here?â she asked.
Zoe had propped herself up on a kitchen stool. âOh, sure, he does what he has to. Handyman stuff. Errands. Driving to doctor and dentist appointments for the old coot a couple of times a year.â She stuck out one long, slim leg and admired its shapeliness. âPopâs not stoned all the time. He usually smokes only before and after meals. Oh, and in the evening.â
That covered most of Weedâs waking hours, as far as Judith could tell. If Weedâs self-induced euphoria could indeed be considered a state of consciousness. Master and servant were well suited. Neither was in sharp focus.
âWho,â Renie asked, stuffing the last of Judithâs plastic containers into the cardboard box, âhired your parents?â
Zoe tugged at her earlobe. âMrs. Major, I guess. Rosie, Booâs wife. I was a baby at the time. Dunlop had servants, but they were as old as he was. They died, too, all about the same time. Boo didnât want to bother getting new staff, but Mrs. Major must have convinced him. She usually did.â
Judith nodded. âRosie Major was a forceful woman. She could be a nag, but I always thought she was the most agreeable of the three Lott sisters.â
With a languid toss of her head, Zoe sniffed. âIsnât that like choosing your favorite disease? Those women are all awful, if you ask me.â
The cousins didnât argue. Haste was imperative if they were to beat the falling temperature. There were few leftovers, except for the wine. Judith had the feeling that if she hadnât kept the cases in the kitchen, they, too, would have disappeared along with all of the food. Aunt Toadie probably had a secret cache. Judith wouldnât put it past her to return the unopened bottles to the liquor store.
Flushed and fanning herself with her hand, Mrs. Wakefield returned. Zoe expressed mild interest in her fatherâs welfare.
âDid he get burned or does he know the difference?â Zoe seemed inured to Weedâs mishaps.
Mrs. Wakefield cupped a hand around her ear. âWhat? Oh, heâs okay, except for a couple of places on his face. I fixed him up with some ointment. Maybe thatâll teach him not to peek into a pressure cooker.â
âTheyâre dangerous,â Renie declared, closing up one of the boxes. âMy motherâs blew a hole in the ceiling once.â
Judith gave Renie a sidelong look. âThatâs because your dad put a cherry bomb in it. He didnât like pressure cookers, either.â
âHe didnât like chokecherry jam, which was what Mom was making,â Renie replied. âI didnât blame him, but nowadays itâs sold as a delicacy up at Falstaffâsââ
Another loud noise jolted the four women. âNow what?â Mrs. Wakefield sighed. âI put what was left of the beets in a kettle.â
Zoe swiveled on the stool. âWhat about Pop?â
âI put what was left of him to bed.â The housekeeper peered out through the dining room and into the entry hall. âJill and that