Fed up

was going to be a quick run-through rather than an elaborate, formal affair. My dad, with the best of intentions, had promised to grill dinner. It was remotely possible that he’d fulfill his promise without charring everything.
    I spoke with pins clamped between my lips. “And I want you to try to keep Kitty from driving you insane. Where is she, by the way?”
    “I'm trying to keep my distance from her, so I sent her off to Faneuil Hall to do the tourist thing. And there’s enough shopping down there to keep her occupied. Who knows? Maybe she’ll find another smoked sausage basket for me.”
    “I’m so sorry about that, Ade.” I moved to the front of her dress and continued pinning, doing my best to keep the hemline straight.
    “I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should be used to my mother by now. But it does hurt. I’m pregnant and getting married, and I need my mother. Or, rather, I need a less insane mother. Kitty is never going to be who I want her to be, so there’s no use trying to change her. I don’t have the energy for it anyhow. Bless your parents for taking such good care of me. And you, too, of course.” Ade looked down at me and smiled.
    “I’d do anything for you. You know that.” I smiled back. When I left, Ade was running her dress through the sewing machine. Although she seemed to have relaxed a little bit, I was reluctant to go. But I had to get home to meet Robin and return her cell phone. I still hadn’t thought of a way to ask her whether she’d known Leo before the filming without accusing her of rigging the show and also, of course, without revealing that I’d explored her cell phone. Once I got home, I hurriedly scanned through her phone again in search of recently dialed or received calls. Everything had been erased; there were no call records. The absence meant nothing. I routinely erased all of my own calls.
    Following the directions I’d given her, Robin knocked at my back door, which opened to a wooden fire escape that doubled as a miniature patio. “Hello?” She cupped her hand over her forehead and peered through the window.
    I opened the door. “Hey, Robin. I bet you’ll be glad to get your phone back. Come on in.”
    “Sorry about this. I can’t believe I left my phone at your parents’ place. It’s been driving me crazy not to have it.”
    “Here, grab a seat. Pardon the clothes everywhere. My mom gave me a ton of stuff to donate to a home for women in transition. It’s a temporary place for homeless women to stay while they’re trying to find jobs and housing. My mom gave me some great stuff that could be worn on interviews.” I’d spread everything out on the couch. Feeling embarrassed about the mess, I started folding the outfits and putting them neatly in bags.
    Robin’s eyes lit up. “That’s a wonderful idea. You know, Leo could probably use some help in clearing out Francie’s belongings. I’m sure that the last thing he feels like doing is going through all of her clothes. Maybe he’d want to donate them to this women’s place.”
    “You’ve been in touch with Leo?” I asked casually. “Obviously I called him to offer my condolences. 1 guess there isn’t going to be a funeral. He said maybe a memorial service later. I’ll give you his number.” Robin took a scrap of paper from her purse and jotted down Leo’s home number. “I’m sure he’d appreciate some help. Sort of a grisly process, I’d think, going through your dead wife’s clothing.” Robin grimaced.
    “I’ll definitely give him a call. Thank you.”
    It distressed me to realize that poor Francie was going to disappear. No funeral? And nothing more than the possibility of a memorial service? In no time, I thought, it will be as if Francie had never existed. But the possibility of going through Francie’s clothing did offer the hope of learning something—anything!—about her murder.
    As soon as Robin left, I called Leo, who picked up after a few rings. His voice sounded raspy and weak.
    As I explained why I was calling, I felt grateful for my social work training. “I’m sorry if this is premature on my part, but I’ve done some volunteering at a shelter that helps homeless women to find jobs. Do you think that Francie would have liked the idea of donating her clothing? I just thought I could be of some help to you. Maybe you’re not ready, though. ”
    “You know what? I do like that idea. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do around the house.