The Groaning Board

an
accident and she lived for a year with an elderly neighbor. That’s who called
me about her. There were no other relatives. I’m not good with kids, but I was
the good guy—I took her in.”
    “So you dropped everything and went
out there to get her. That was very nice.”
    “To be honest, I didn’t have the
time. I told the elderly neighbor to pack her up and put her on a plane, which
she did. Medford is a small town. Before Ellen got here, I was worried about
her adapting to city life. I needn’t have. It was as if she’d always lived
here.”
    “But you didn’t get along?” Micklynn
fixed Wetzon with an et tu stare, and Wetzon held up her hands. “Sorry.
hs what I do. Slip right into it, unaware.” She set her empty gla^ down and
tried to get up. “It’s late. I’d better go.” The already busy room spun with
flying objects; the floor dipped-“Don’t go.” Micklynn reached out and held her
arm-“This has been great. I miss Sheila a lot and you—, “Remind you of her?”
The question fell just short ofbitter.
    Micklynn looked quizzical for a
moment. “Not at all, Leslie. You’re nothing at all like Sheila, except that
youre both good people.”
    Standing now, Wetzon said, “Thanks,
Micklynn.” She looked around for her purse and briefcase. At least the room had
stopped tilting.
    Micklynn struggled to her feet and
gathered up the two empty wine bottles. Good Lord, how much had they drunk? A
third bottle stood half empty on the busy coffee table.
    Two unhappy people... no, Leslie
Wetzon was not going to deal with her ruptured relationship by becoming a wino.
I am not unhappy, she told herself. It was time to move on.
    “It’s a cross to live with someone
everyone thinks is perfect, don’t you think?” Micklynn stood in her kitchen
holding the empty bottles.
    “It’s not easy living with anybody—”
Wetzon hooked her bag over her shoulder. “But Ellen is just a young girl with
no family except you. Maybe counseling...” What in hell was she talking about?
How had she gotten to this point, doing social work without a license?
    “No, you don’t understand. Nobody
does. Everyone said: Such a lovely child. So pretty, so blond, so brilliant.
Perfect in every way. Except... they had no idea.” Micklynn smiled a sly smile
as if they—she and Wetzon—had become coconspirators.
    Wetzon felt a sense of dread. Get
out of here. Something horrible is going to happen. It came like a
premonition.
    Thanks for the wonderful dinner,” she
said. “And the good company.”
    “I’m sorry, Leslie.” Tears gushed
down Micklynn’s cheeks. Her wet eyes looked dazed. “Don’t desert me too. Please
be my friend.” She was holding on to the wine bottles for dear life. “I need a
friend, now, especially.”
    “I am your friend, Micklynn.”
    “Everyone thinks I’m the bad one
because I threw her out. And no one understands...” Micklynn stopped, horrified,
as if she’d suddenly remembered something.
    Wetzon thrust her briefcase under her
arm. “What is it, Micklynn?”
    Micklynn sank to the floor, legs
akimbo. The bottles slipped from her arms and rolled around her. “Soon enough,”
she mumbled. Her head lolled.
    Kneeling, Wetzon lifted Micklynn’s
head and looked into her eyes. She was all right, only drunk and drooling
slightly.
    Micklynn gave her a bleary,
self-satisfied smile, and said clearly, “A.T. will rue the day.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

     
     
     
    “Didn’t I tell
you Micklynn Devora is strange?” Smith said after Wetzon described her
evening. Smith flipped through her messages, actually rested on one, then
reverted to her old self and tossed them all into her wastebasket. Which one
had made her pause, Wetzon wondered, eyeing the wastebasket. “A.T. is the
talent in that partnership. And furthermore, anyone could see that pretty child
was being abused.“
    “Things aren’t always what they seem,
Smith,” Wetzon said sharply. She was feeling she’d betrayed Micklynn somehow.
And she had a splitting vino headache.
    “Ellen is at the top of her class at Colton and she’s not a nerd. She’s also on the tennis team. She’s perfect—”
    “I suppose the Tarot revealed all of
this?”
    “Humpf,” Smith said. “A.T. and I have
had a few tetes-il-tetes. We are really on the same wavelength. The Groaning
board is going public, by the way.”
    “Is it really? Who told you?”
    “A.T., of course, and she swore me to
secrecy.”
    “Which is why you’re telling