Blue Dahlia Read Free Page B

scatter them on the lake. He’d proposed to her on the lake, in a rented boat on a summer afternoon.
    She wore black for the service, a widow of thirty-one, with two young boys and a mortgage, and a heart so broken she wondered if she would feel pieces of it piercing her soul for the rest of her life.
    She kept her children close, and made appointments with a grief counselor for all of them.
    Details. She could handle the details. As long as there was something to do, something definite, she could hold on. She could be strong.
    Friends came, with their sympathy and covered dishes and teary eyes. She was grateful to them more for the distraction than the condolences. There was no condolence for her.
    Her father and his wife flew up from Memphis, and them she leaned on. She let Jolene, her father’s wife, fuss over her, and soothe and cuddle the children, while her own mother complained about having to be in the same room as that woman.
    When the service was over, after the friends drifted away, after she clung to her father and Jolene before their flight home, she made herself take off the black dress.
    She shoved it into a bag to send to a shelter. She never wanted to see it again.
    Her mother stayed. Stella had asked her to stay a few days. Surely under such circumstances she was entitled to her mother. Whatever friction was, and always had been, between them was nothing compared with death.
    When she went into the kitchen, her mother was brewing coffee. Stella was so grateful not to have to think of such a minor task, she crossed over and kissed Carla’s cheek.
    “Thanks. I’m so sick of tea.”
    “Every time I turned around that woman was making more damn tea.”
    “She was trying to help, and I’m not sure I could’ve handled coffee until now.”
    Carla turned. She was a slim woman with short blond hair. Over the years, she’d battled time with regular trips to the surgeon. Nips, tucks, lifts, injections had wiped away some of the years. And left her looking whittled and hard, Stella thought.
    She might pass for forty, but she’d never look happy about it.
    “You always take up for her.”
    “I’m not taking up for Jolene, Mom.” Wearily, Stella sat. No more details, she realized. No more something that has to be done.
    How would she get through the night?
    “I don’t see why I had to tolerate her.”
    “I’m sorry you were uncomfortable. But she was very kind. She and Dad have been married for, what, twenty-five years or so now. You ought to be used to it.”
    “I don’t like having her in my face, her and that twangy voice. Trailer trash.”
    Stella opened her mouth, closed it again. Jolene hadn’t come from a trailer park and was certainly not trash. But what good would it do to say so? Or to remind her mother that she’d been the one who’d wanted a divorce, the one to leave the marriage. Just as it wouldn’t do any good to point out that Carla had been married twice since.
    “Well, she’s gone now.”
    “Good riddance.”
    Stella took a deep breath. No arguments, she thought, as her stomach clenched and unclenched like a fist. Too tired to argue.
    “The kids are sleeping. They’re just worn out. Tomorrow ... we’ll just deal with tomorrow. I guess that’s the way it’s going to be.” She let her head fall back, closed her eyes. “I keep thinking this is a horrible dream, and I’ll wake up any second. Kevin will be here. I don’t ... I can’t imagine life without him. I can’t stand to imagine it.”
    The tears started again. “Mom, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    “Had insurance, didn’t he?”
    Stella blinked, stared as Carla set a cup of coffee in front of her. “What?”
    “Life insurance. He was covered?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “You ought to talk to a lawyer about suing the airline. Better start thinking of practicalities.” She sat with her own coffee. “It’s what you’re best at, anyway.”
    “Mom”—she spoke slowly as if translating a strange