Town in a Lobster Stew

Twenty-Six

Twelve minutes later she wheeled into the driveway at Maggie’s house and pulled the Jeep to a stop. Maggie was outside on the front steps waiting for her, dressed in stonewashed jeans and a persimmon-colored cardigan with a navy blue anchor appliqué over the lower left pocket. The air had cooled as the sun set, and the breeze off the ocean tousled her already windswept dark brown hair.

Candy jumped out of the Jeep, leaving the door open behind her. “What happened?” she asked as she and Maggie walked toward each other.

Maggie’s face was hard with concern. “She pulled a fast one on me. The old goat stole my keys right off the counter and took the car. She was all bundled up. She told me she was going for a walk.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I guess she needed to be somewhere.”

Candy looked around, up and down the street, as if hoping Wilma Mae would suddenly drive up. “Do you have any idea where she went?”

Maggie nodded. “I’ve got a couple of ideas. You?”

“Same.” She pointed toward the Jeep. “Hop in. We’ll find her.”

As Maggie climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door, Candy gave her a sideways look. “Where’ve you been? You look like you got caught in a hurricane.”

“I’ve been frantic, out looking for Wilma Mae. It’s getting windy out there.”

“And chilly too.”

As she backed out of the driveway and headed toward town, Candy checked the sky. Here in this part of Maine, at this time of year, so far east in the time zone, the sun rose early, at around five A.M., and set relatively early in the evening, at around eight fifteen P.M. They still had a few hours of light left until dusk, but a bank of thickening clouds coming in from the southeast was beginning to filter the sun’s warmth and light, cooling the air and stealing the brightness from the late afternoon. Candy had put on a long-sleeved shirt when she’d left the house to meet Cinnamon Girl, but her jacket was still on a hook by the back kitchen door. She shivered as she reached for the Jeep’s heater, turning the fan on low to warm them.

“How has she been?” Candy asked as she drove.

“Eerily peaceful. It’s as if she’s completely forgotten about Mr. Sedley’s murder. She’s been chatting all day about all sorts of inconsequential stuff but never mentions him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s completely forgotten about him.”

“She’s probably just having a hard time dealing with it.”

Maggie tried to arrange her hair, brushing it back and forth with her hand in an effort to tame it. “That’s my guess. I was getting worried about her. So when she said she was going for a walk, I thought it sounded like a good idea.”

“Guess it wasn’t all fun and games for you two, huh?”

Maggie sighed wistfully. “No. And I was so looking forward to our pillow fight tonight.”

They drove through the light at the Coastal Loop and soon turned right onto Rose Hip Lane. At the second house from the end on the right, she turned into the empty driveway at Wilma Mae’s house. Police tape still crisscrossed the front door, and the place looked dark inside.

They both climbed out as soon as Candy shut off the engine, and they walked into the front yard. They stood looking up at the house, studying the windows.

“You see anyone?” Candy asked after a few moments.

“No. My car’s not here either. Should we check inside?”

Candy shook her head. “I doubt she would’ve gone in. It’d be too traumatic for her. I’ll check the garage to see if your car’s there, but my guess is she’s not here.”

“Where then?”

“I don’t know. Let’s cruise down Ocean Avenue and then head out on the Loop and see if we spot her.”

Twenty minutes later, they still hadn’t found Wilma Mae, and Candy was beginning to worry. Then Maggie had a thought. “You know, tomorrow’s Memorial Day.”

Candy gave her a look. “Yeah? And?”

“Do you suppose Mr. Wendell was in the military?”

Candy gave her a smile. “Good idea, Watson. Let’s check it out. By the way, have I told you about Cinnamon Girl?”

Maggie twisted in her seat. “No. But do tell. I love a good story.”

“Then this one will blow your socks off.” As they drove out the Loop, Candy proceeded to tell her best friend about the meeting at the Pruitt Opera House with Wanda, and about her conversation with Ben.

She’d just about finished, and Maggie was listening rapturously, as they drove through the gate at Stone Hill Cemetery.

Suddenly they both grew quiet. Neither of them had been here since the previous summer, when they’d laid Susan Jane Vincent to rest. The memories of that day, and the harrowing week before it, came back to them both. But Maggie broke the spell fairly quickly as she pointed into the dimming light and said, “There’s my car.”

It was parked along one of the dirt roads that wound through the hilly cemetery, which occupied a windswept bluff overlooking the English River. Candy angled toward the car, creeping slowly ahead as they scanned the landscape for any sign of Wilma Mae.

They both spotted her at about the same time, standing at a grave site off to the left, in the shadows of a tall pine tree. “There she is,” Candy said.

She pulled the Jeep to a stop behind Maggie’s car, and they both climbed out. The wind was fiercer out here, on open land along the river, tossing their hair and pulling at their clothes. Candy wrapped her arms tightly around herself while Maggie lowered her head, and together they trudged up the slope toward Wilma Mae.

She must have heard them as they approached, for she turned her head slightly their direction. She held a small bouquet of flowers in her hands and stood silently as they walked up to her.

“Wilma Mae, here you are. We were worried about you,” Maggie said.

“We’ve been looking all over town,” Candy added. “We were afraid you’d gotten yourself lost.”

“Oh no, dear, I’m not lost,” said Wilma Mae softly. “I’ve been here the whole time. It’s Sunday afternoon. I always come out to visit my Milton on Sunday afternoons. It’s a tradition with us. He was expecting me.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Candy said. “We just wish you would have told us where you were going.”

“Oh, I know I should have,” said Wilma Mae with a soft clucking of her tongue, “and I am sorry for stealing your car, Maggie. I hope you’re not too mad at me. But I just wanted a few minutes alone with him.”

Maggie patted the elderly woman on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Wilma Mae, I’m not mad. I understand completely.”

“It’s just,” Wilma Mae continued, her chest welling, “well, things are changing, aren’t they? You see, even though Milton left me all those years ago, I’ve always had Mr. Sedley to keep me company. That made it easier for me, you know? Having someone like him around to talk to was, well, it was wonderful. Just wonderful. And I don’t know if I ever told him that — how special he was to me. And now that he’s gone too...” her voice trailed off. “Well, I feel so alone now.”

She leaned forward and placed the flowers on her husband’s grave. “Now I guess I’ll have two graves to visit on Sunday afternoons, won’t I?”

Candy and Maggie stood at her side as the wind calmed and Wilma Mae cried.