Safari Stew - ebook

Michael caught me as I slumped to the floor. “Doll, what’s wrong?”

Michael and I had been having a perfectly normal conversation about the murder of a woman in my new home when the telephone rang. My eldest son, Ian, announced that his private investigator had spotted Barclay, his stepfather and my long lost husband, in SouthAfrica.

“Mom?” I heard Ian’s voice in the distance. “Mom, can you hear me?”

I struggled to stand upright as Michael continued to keep a grip around my waist. “Where is he?” I looked about as if expecting Ian to be right here in the bedroom of my new house.

“You dropped the phone. Hold on, I’ll pick it up.” Michael let go of me long enough to retrieve it from the floor. He held the handset to his ear. “Who is this?” he demanded. “She’s right here. You’ve upset her. What did you say? She nearly fainted. You’ve found Barclay? After all this time?”

The way he held the phone, I couldn’t hear a word Ian said. “I’m Michael. I believe we met last year when you came down for a visit with your family. Doll and I have been friends for a long time, even before Barclay disappeared. In fact your mother only recently agreed to marry me.”

As he spoke he led me to the bed, where I took a tentative seat on the edge of the bare mattress. This was the last of the old furniture in the house to be removed before I had my things delivered from storage. I waved my hand at Michael, indicating I wanted thephone.

He passed it over. Ian was finishing a remark about me remarrying. “Ian! I’m here now. Listen to me. Your news is a shock.”

“Mother, how can you get married when you told me you’d wait forever for Barclay to return?”

“I had a moment of weakness.” I offered Michael a faint smile. “Michael is strong and kind and funny and handsome.” I shrugged as if Ian could see me. Barclay had been like a father to my boys since Ian was ten and the others eight and six.

“And Barclay wasn’t?” I detected a note of criticism in Ian’s voice.

“Barclay was…is different.”

Michael pinched his lips and nodded.

“We were all happy for you when you married him, Mom, because we knew he made you happy after Dad died. What’s this joker like?”

“I already told you. He’s tall and handsome.” Michael rolled his eyes.

“And three years younger than me,” I added. “He keeps fit and has a lovely boat.”

“Is he one of the clowns who worked with you protecting that baby prince with your friends at KeeganBay?”

“Would you please stop using such disparaging language about Michael? He could become your next stepfather. Now.” I paused for a deep breath, not sure what I wanted to hear from Ian. “Tell me more about your investigator and Barclay. I somehow thought you’d given up.”

“His name is Reeves. He has people all over the world searching. I sent photos to you a couple of weeks ago. Haven’t you been watching your email?”

Watching my email? “No. There are some things I haven’t told you. All my furniture is in storage because I bought a house, and I injured my ankle at a garage sale, and someone was murdered in the house, and the police suspected me for a while.” I dumped out the whole story, hoping he’d miss some of the bits andpieces.

“It never occurred to you your sons would want to know that you were hurt, that you bought a house and… What happened to your house in KeeganBay?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been taking these pain killers and probably forgot to tell you a lot of things.”

“Wait a minute, did you say murder? What murder, and why did they suspect you?”

“It’s over, Ian. My friends in our Blenders Club have been helping me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You might like to know the house has a lovely pool.”

Thoughts raced helter-skelter as I considered Barclay’s return into my life. His possible reappearance would certainly end my brief engagement in a hurry.

Thank goodness I didn’t letMaggie and Violet, my Keegan Bay Park friends, talk me into donating his clothing to Goodwill. I’d have to share a bed again and cook regular meals for two. I’d have to do that when I married Michael anyway. Oh, Lord, I nearly became a bigamist.

“Why can’t you act your age? You were nicely settled in Keegan Bay with the other senior citizens. You could be playing bridge instead of running around hurting yourself.”

How dare he! Once again in need of a composing breath, I drew one in, then exhaled. Michael stood by, an amused expression on his face, his lips twitching at the edges. He knew my sons had issues with my lifestyle. They wanted me to be “Granny” to their children and have no other focus in my life.

“I do not play bridge. I am barely seventy years old and have too much living left to do. Bridge playing is not included on my Bucket List.” I paused to draw yet another deep breath. “Michael and I are spending a lot of time together doing things we love. Now, tell me about Barclay. What about the pictures? Where were they taken, and do you believe it is Barclay?”

“I do. It appears he is lecturing at a college in Johannesburg under an assumed name.”

“Johannesburg? As in South Africa?”

“That’s correct. A private investigator with the unlikely name of Chipper Masterson found him. I’ve given Reeves a bonus, and as soon as you confirm it’s Barclay, I promised himmore.”

Barclay was the kind of person who could lecture on nearly any topic at any university in the world. “I don’t understand why he would be lecturing in Africa. Why didn’t he let me know he was alive?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. Maybe he hit his head when he fell off that boat in the Galapagos.”

While I spoke with my son, Michael had moved to the glass doors. His hands clasped behind his back, he faced the pool. My heart and mind skittered between him and the phoneconversation.

“Do you want me to fly down to escort you? I can manage the fare if you don’t have enough money.”

My sons believed me destitute for some reason. Maybe because I never told them how the prince’s mother compensated all of us Blenders. When I die, they will be happily surprised with what I’ll leave behind. At my age, I’ll never be able to spend all the money.

“No, thank you, dear. I’m sure Michael and some of the others would be willing to take a trip with me.”

I hoped what I said was true. The Blenders were a loyal bunch. They stood by me during all the trauma when I sold my manufactured home in Keegan Bay Park and bought this house. “Send me the details on your private investigator, and we’ll arrange to meet him over there as soon as we can.”

“I can be there in two days. I just have to make some arrangements at work, and my travel papers are up-to-date so I can go with you to SouthAfrica.”

“Ian, I appreciate all you’ve done to find Barclay. Now it’s time for me to take over. Send me the information and give my love to Audrey and the boys. Please tell your brothers what’s going on so they don’t worry.”

I ended the call and remained sitting on the bed, the phone forgotten while I considered the possibility of seeing Barclay again. Would he be the same? Would he want me in his life? Why did he never contact me? Tears slid down my face and dripped onto my hands.

After a few minutes, Michael cleared his throat. I’d nearly forgotten he was here.

“We need to talk, Doll.”

Forcing a laugh, I agreed with him. “This day has been so bizarre. Shall we go out to eat? We can talk and make plans.”

He didn’t answer, just held out his hand to help me to my feet. Before leaving, he secured all the doors, including shutting the secret entrance to a safe room in the bathroom—a surprise bonus in my new house.

He remained silent as he drove us in his Jeep to an upscale restaurant in the center of Daytona. Though the maître d’ raised his eyebrows briefly at our casual attire, he did seat us in an out of the way corner on the upper level rather than in the more famous and select wine cellar.

The spot suited me just fine. I wasn’t up to being observed by strangers in my current condition—red eyes and faded sundress. I was caught up in picturing Barclay teaching in a university in South Africa, of all places.

Michael buried his face behind the oversized menu.

“You’ve been remarkably quiet.” My witty comment to begin theconversation.

“Just thinking.” His even wittier reply.

“You know I need to go to South Africa,” I added.

“I know.”

The voices of other diners diminished as I studied Michael’s face. I had never seen him so serious. If I had just met him, I’d describe him as dark and brooding.

The wine steward came for our order. I asked for a pinot noir; Michael ordered the same. We decided on a bottle.

My mind continued to race with possibilities. At this rate, I’d wear it out before I reached any conclusions. “Do you think it’s true?”

“What?”

“That Barclay’s alive?” I said.

“For your sake, I suppose I’d like to believe it. I don’t know what to think. For a while there, I believed you and I were going to have a life together. Remember, ‘around the world’?”

My lips compressed as I reflected on his words. Then I grinned. “We can start with South Africa.”

He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water then smiled at me. “You’re right. We can still continue with part of our plan. I’ll travel with you to South Africa. If Barclay’s there,” he paused to shrug, “I’ll carry on by myself. If he’s not…”

“I’ll have your shoulder to cry on.” At that moment I wanted to reach across the table and stroke his cheek, but a natural reticence to public displays of affection stopped me.

“You would.” He had no problem with such displays. He took my left hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Want the filet mignon? You know it’s your favorite.”

The abrupt change of subject sent all thoughts of Barclay and travel aside, and I buried my nose in the incredible menu. In the end, I did order the filet mignon with porcini mushroom cooked in wine, after first having sliced Parma prosciutto with fresh melon and pear. Michael chose the salmon.

While enjoying the delicate flavors of the dinner, my mind wandered around the idea of traveling to South Africa. By the time we came to dessert, I had formed aplan.

“Let’s have coffee. Do you think we could share the tiramisu? I’m full, but I can’t resist it.” I sat back, relaxed after the wonderful meal and the time to regroup.

“Tiramisu, it is.” He signaled our waiter and ordered.

“What if we all go to South Africa?” I suggested.

“All who?”

“The Blenders, at least those in our group who are down here. The Snowbirds will have to miss out. We can make a holiday out of it. I know they’d love to continue on with you if circumstances leave me in Johannesburg.” I liked my idea and hoped he wouldtoo.

His brow knit. He lowered his head, and the tips of his ears turned red as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

I’d just hurt him with suggesting I’d suddenly dump him for Barclay, a man who appeared to have no compunction about abandoning me these past five years.

Michael’s eyes met mine. “Some of them aren’t fit for such a long trip, you realize,” he said, ignoring my hurtful statement.

“Larry and Al would jump at the invitation. I’ll bet Maggie and Justine would as well.”

“Those four possibly. What would you do with them once you arrived? They can’t just sit in a hotel and wait for you to decide what’s next.”

“Of course not. Before we go, we’ll get together and plan day trips from the city until I know for sure about Barclay. After that, maybe we can go on a safari throughout the continent. At least to all the countries safe to travelin.”

“You’re talking an awful lot of money, Doll.”

“We have an awful lot of money. None of us will have enough time to spend all we received from Moira Robbins for saving her princeling son.”

“You’re right there. I’m still having trouble with being one of the owners of Keegan Bay and not needing my military pension check any longer.” He gazed over my shoulder, as if remembering something. “In fact, I arranged a scheduled payment to help the wounded and disabled veterans. I was fortunate to come out of Vietnam unscathed, unlike so many othermen.”

That was one more part of him I respected. He had a collection of medals because of injuries and bravery in action while in Vietnam. If he believed himself unscathed, that only added another point in his favor. No question that if I didn’t love him fully, I truly admiredhim.

“Well, then,” he said as he raised his coffee cup. “The Blenders go to Africa.”

I smiled and held mine up as well. “Sounds like the title of a book.”