Read Online Sleight of Hand by Kate Wilhelm - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Wilhelm
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
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than they're in?"
"Later," Barbara said. "Put on a brave face for them, buck them up, do whatever you have to. I'll pick you up at four-thirty and you can let go then. Okay?"
Adele Wykoph had a perennial New Year's resolution: this year she would lose ten to fifteen pounds. Her doctor had advised twenty, but she had decided that was being fanatical. She was a large woman, comfortable, comforting and, at the same time, decisive and very capable at keeping the center operating efficiently and seeing to it that her clients were well served. She usually wore long skirts and over blouses that reached her hips. Hers was an impressive figure.
That late afternoon she looked tired and despondent. "It's the pits," she said by way of greeting when she got into Barbara's car, and then not another word until they were seated in Sweet Waters Restaurant, by a broad window overlooking the Willamette River. No river sound reached them through the glass.
"Gin and tonic," Adele said to the waiter who had appeared instantly. Barbara ordered coffee. She would have wine with dinner, she added.
They both gazed at the silently rushing river until the drinks were served and the waiter departed. Then Barbara said softly, "Tell me about Connie." She understood that this was the long path to what she really wanted to talk about —Jay Wilkins
—but it was a path that had to be taken. They would get to him.
Adele began slowly but soon her words were tumbling out haphazardly in a discursive ramble. Later Barbara would sort it out and form a narrative with a beginning, middle and end; at the moment she simply listened attentively.
Adele had met Connie and David Laramie soon after they arrived in Eugene with their infant son. David had assumed his uncle's duties at the radio station when his uncle retired. As soon as the child, Steven, was in day care Connie started doing volunteer work that included time spent at Adele's women's center. Her gentle smile, a vivacious personality and a charming Southern accent captivated everyone she worked with.
Now and then Adele's voice broke. She paused to gaze at the river. Tears filled her eyes, overflowed, and she talked on. She finished her drink and Barbara held up the glass for another. Adele was oblivious.
They had a fairy-tale marriage, Adele said. Inseparable. They adored each other, and they both worshiped their son.
Then the accident happened.
She turned to gaze at the river, longer this time, and when she spoke again, her voice was lower, duller. "She had a cold and they decided it would be best if she didn't go skiing that weekend. David wanted to postpone the trip altogether, but she insisted that he and Steve had been looking forward to it too much, they should go on without her.
"They were hit by a truck and David and Steve were both killed." Adele stopped and drank deeply. "She died, too," she said after a moment. "A living death. She was stunned and disbelieving, then paralyzed by shock, grief and guilt. She blamed herself for urging them to go. She became a zombie."
Her sister came to help her, but after a month she had to go home to her own family.
Friends had tried to help. They took turns visiting her, taking meals, sitting with her, but she didn't respond to anything they said, and sometimes didn't seem to notice them at all.
"She wanted to die," Adele said. "Then the housekeeper got in touch with her lawyer and told him bills were piling up, she had not been paid for three months, and something had to be done. He got in touch with her family and her brother came to stay for a few weeks. He got her accounts straightened out, made arrangements for automatic payments and he tried hard to get her to go back to Virginia with him. She refused to leave her house.
"I talked to him," Adele said. "He said there were papers she had to sign, and she never even glanced at them, never read them. He said sign here, and she signed. That alarmed him. Then Jay entered the picture."
Barbara
"Later," Barbara said. "Put on a brave face for them, buck them up, do whatever you have to. I'll pick you up at four-thirty and you can let go then. Okay?"
Adele Wykoph had a perennial New Year's resolution: this year she would lose ten to fifteen pounds. Her doctor had advised twenty, but she had decided that was being fanatical. She was a large woman, comfortable, comforting and, at the same time, decisive and very capable at keeping the center operating efficiently and seeing to it that her clients were well served. She usually wore long skirts and over blouses that reached her hips. Hers was an impressive figure.
That late afternoon she looked tired and despondent. "It's the pits," she said by way of greeting when she got into Barbara's car, and then not another word until they were seated in Sweet Waters Restaurant, by a broad window overlooking the Willamette River. No river sound reached them through the glass.
"Gin and tonic," Adele said to the waiter who had appeared instantly. Barbara ordered coffee. She would have wine with dinner, she added.
They both gazed at the silently rushing river until the drinks were served and the waiter departed. Then Barbara said softly, "Tell me about Connie." She understood that this was the long path to what she really wanted to talk about —Jay Wilkins
—but it was a path that had to be taken. They would get to him.
Adele began slowly but soon her words were tumbling out haphazardly in a discursive ramble. Later Barbara would sort it out and form a narrative with a beginning, middle and end; at the moment she simply listened attentively.
Adele had met Connie and David Laramie soon after they arrived in Eugene with their infant son. David had assumed his uncle's duties at the radio station when his uncle retired. As soon as the child, Steven, was in day care Connie started doing volunteer work that included time spent at Adele's women's center. Her gentle smile, a vivacious personality and a charming Southern accent captivated everyone she worked with.
Now and then Adele's voice broke. She paused to gaze at the river. Tears filled her eyes, overflowed, and she talked on. She finished her drink and Barbara held up the glass for another. Adele was oblivious.
They had a fairy-tale marriage, Adele said. Inseparable. They adored each other, and they both worshiped their son.
Then the accident happened.
She turned to gaze at the river, longer this time, and when she spoke again, her voice was lower, duller. "She had a cold and they decided it would be best if she didn't go skiing that weekend. David wanted to postpone the trip altogether, but she insisted that he and Steve had been looking forward to it too much, they should go on without her.
"They were hit by a truck and David and Steve were both killed." Adele stopped and drank deeply. "She died, too," she said after a moment. "A living death. She was stunned and disbelieving, then paralyzed by shock, grief and guilt. She blamed herself for urging them to go. She became a zombie."
Her sister came to help her, but after a month she had to go home to her own family.
Friends had tried to help. They took turns visiting her, taking meals, sitting with her, but she didn't respond to anything they said, and sometimes didn't seem to notice them at all.
"She wanted to die," Adele said. "Then the housekeeper got in touch with her lawyer and told him bills were piling up, she had not been paid for three months, and something had to be done. He got in touch with her family and her brother came to stay for a few weeks. He got her accounts straightened out, made arrangements for automatic payments and he tried hard to get her to go back to Virginia with him. She refused to leave her house.
"I talked to him," Adele said. "He said there were papers she had to sign, and she never even glanced at them, never read them. He said sign here, and she signed. That alarmed him. Then Jay entered the picture."
Barbara
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