My Mother the Groupie

"So you want to marry my daughter?"

Bernard Morton looked at the woman sitting on his 12-foot raw silk beige sectional and tried to imagine if she was how Mindy would look in 25 years. He certainly hoped not. His future mother-in-law, Betsy Cooper, wore her hair long and loose, obviously eschewed makeup and reminded him a little bit of Cher or Katharine Ross but not at all how they looked in their prime. Well, what did it matter? If Mindy aged poorly he'd just divorce her and get a younger model. "Yes, Betsy," he replied, "I do want to marry your daughter."

"Why? She's nice looking and has a good figure but she's not too bright." Betsy tapped her forehead. "She majored in mass communication, for Pete's sake. There's no money in that!"

"Really?" Bernard turned to gaze at Mindy who was perched on the far end of the section from her mother and reminded him of a bird that was about to take flight. "I never knew you majored in mass communication."

"You never asked," Mindy responded.

"I didn't even know you went to college."

"Oh, yes. Mindy went to college and so did her sister Sandi but Sandi was the smart one. Sandi got a degree in philosophy and then she went on to get her master's and PhD. Sandi is set for life. She's a tenured professor at a community college that had the number one cross country team in schools under 5000 students three years ago." Betsy sniffed the air. "Do I smell cat? Do you have a cat? I can't abide cats! They shed and walk on counters--"

"He doesn't have a cat, Mom," Mindy assured her.

Betsy looked around the room suspiciously. "Well, I smell something peculiar."

"Sandi has the personality of a toad," Mindy remarked to no one in particular.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your other daughter," Bernard said politely.

"You can meet her at the wedding provided you invite us and provided that I can fit it into my schedule."

"Your schedule?"

"Yes." Betsy pulled a calendar out of her large purse and Mindy suddenly leaned forward.

"Mom, I thought you gave all that nonsense up years ago!"

"Since when is it nonsense to follow your dream?" Betsy demanded. "Oh, yes, let's see. The next few months are busy for me but I should have a free weekend in the fall. Can you put off the wedding until then?"

"What is it that you do on all these weekends?"

"She's a groupie," Mindy explained.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She follow teen idols from her youth around the country," Mindy explained, looking pained. "Peter Noone from Herman's Hermits, David Cassidy, Donny Osmond. Mom, haven't you given that up? David Cassidy is never going to ask you to marry him!"

"You never know," Betsy said smugly. "I look pretty good for my age."

"I'm sure he's already married."

"You've never heard of divorce? Besides, I'm not only interested in David Cassidy. Mickey Dolenz is looking very good too these days. You know, I've saved every single issue of Tiger Beat that I ever bought."

"Along with everything else you ever bought," Mindy retorted.

Bernard shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he'd proposed to Mindy too quickly. Surely there had to be other women in Schuyler Square who didn't come with so much emotional baggage...and a loony mother to boot. It might also be a good idea if he learned a little more about Mindy's background. He couldn't imagine what kind of mind would want to go into journalism. "Let's go eat," he suggested. "Mindy and I aren't in any rush to set a wedding date, are we?"

Mindy turned and glared at him. "Maybe you aren't, Bernard, but I'm ready right now."

Schuyler Square Day 121 A Long Way Down

Frozen at the window, Veronica stared down at Jim Waterston's lifeless body. Behind her, Peter seemed to be coming out of whatever otherworldly state he was in. Veronica watched as the people in the living room rushed outside. In the distance came the sound of sirens and she knew that in another moment or two the Schuyler Square police department would arrive. Wearily, she turned and looked at Peter. "Are you all right?"

Peter shook his head sharply as if he was shaking away cobwebs. "I saw Mary Austin after Jim left. I saw her body lying in front of the fireplace. Jim Waterston killed her and I knew about it all these years but I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I remember?"

Veronica sat down shakily on an old rocking chair and wished that she was any other place in the world. "I don't know, Peter. The mind is a funny thing."

"But I liked Mary. She was always nice to me. I should have remembered what happened to her."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Veronica assured him. "It's all over now."

Peter sat down too. "I feel like I've been asleep for the past twenty years."

Veronica couldn't help but laugh. "Believe me, you haven't been asleep. You have a pregnant wife and an irate mistress. Do you remember that?"

Slowly nodding his head, the mist that had been in his eyes for months began to lift. "I guess I should do something about both of those situations."

They could hear the sound of someone climbing the attic steps, breathing harder with each stair. A moment later Chelsea hurried into the room, her rounded body still moving for a second after she'd come to a halt. "Peter! Oh, thank God you're all right! For a moment I thought that was you who fell out the window." She walked as quickly as she could over to her husband and wrapped her arms around him.

Peter hesitated for a split second before embracing Chelsea tightly. "I'm fine," he told her. "Everything's fine."

Feeling like she was intruding, Veronica got to her feet and began to sidle toward the door. Everything was going to be all right for Peter and Chelsea. She had the feeling that the person Peter Van Husen had been for the past few months had been some kind of imposter and now the real Peter, the decent police officer Peter, was going to return and just in time for his wife.

Veronica was suddenly exhausted. Ever since she'd returned to Schuyler Square she felt like it had been one drama after another. Ron, Chelsea, Mavis, Peter, Tiffany, Tom.

Maybe things will settle down now. Maybe no one will get murdered and there won't be any rumors about ghosts breaking things in the middle of the night. Maybe we can all get down to the business of normal, everyday life.

But in Schuyler Square, Veronica wasn't sure if normal, everyday life was possible.

Schuyler Square Day 114 Peter's Still Puzzled

“Why can’t I remember? What’s wrong with me?” Peter Van buried his face in his pillow as he tried to shut out the early morning sounds of birds chirping outside the window. It was a cheerful sound and Peter didn't want to be cheered up. He was more in the mood to hear chain saws buzzing and guillotines dropping. Everything seemed to be going south lately—his relationship with Mavis, his relationship with Chelsea, his job, these weird memories he was having about Mary Austin. Frankly, it was scaring the stuffing out of him but he didn’t know what to do about it. Life shouldn’t be so hard. He should be able to make a decision between his pregnant wife and his mistress and stick with it. He should be able to remember what happened at Mary Austin’s house all those years ago and get over it. He should be able to decide between sausage and pepperoni on his pizza without feeling like he was going to have a major nervous breakdown.

Maybe he was going through a mid-life crisis. All the signs certainly pointed to one. Dissolving marriage, the start of a paunch, and an intense desire to buy a foreign car that he couldn’t afford.

Well, so what if you are going through a mid-life crisis? That doesn’t make any of this easier to take!

What Peter needed to do was divorce Chelsea, marry Mavis and retire. Bing, bang, boom—end of crisis. The only flies in his ointment were that Chelsea didn’t seem to keen on giving him a divorce nor did Mavis seem to be all that enamored with the thought of marrying him. And if she wouldn’t marry him, then there was no way he could retire or get the hot red sports car he had his eye on.

“All right, first things first. If I can’t straighten out my love life then the least I can do is search my memory bank for what the heck happened at Mary Austin’s house when I was 15.”

Maybe he could talk to Artie Elliott down at the station. Artie was an amateur hypnotist who was sometimes used by the police to help people remember details when they witnessed a crime. Artie could put him into a trance, take him back twenty years and voila! Peter would be cured or at least he’d know what was happening inside his head.

Feeling better, Peter pulled himself out of the king sized bed he shared with Mavis and got ready for work. Maybe Artie would have time to talk to him over their lunch break. Maybe then he’d be able to go over to Mary Austin’s house and find whatever it was that he left there. Maybe then he’d finally be able to sleep through the entire night without waking up in a cold sweat.

Peter hoped so. He was too young and had too much going for him to be such a basket case. Besides, once he figured out what happened to Mary then he’d be able to concentrate on getting Mavis to fall in love with him again.

Schuyler Square Day 62 Mavis Gets an Offer

"So I talked to Chelsea and we worked things out."

Mavis looked at the large duffel bag sitting at Peter's feet. "And?" she asked, her eyes still on the bag. Peter had come to the house uninvited and unannounced but Mavis was swiftly putting two and two together: he thought he could move in. With her. Into Schuyler Manor.

Oh, my. Now what was she supposed to do? Mavis adored Peter, she really did, but that was when they were shacked up at the Hilton or that horrid little motel on the south edge of town. Would she still adore him if he was living with her full-time? Besides, Ron had just died. It was more than a tad tacky to move a boyfriend in so soon after losing one's spouse, even if said spouse had been bopping a waitress when he kicked the bucket. "Worked things out," she repeated. "And that means?"

"I've left her," Peter said simply. "For you."

Yikes. Mavis had never had anyone leave his wife for her and she had to admit that it was flattering. Peter was so handsome, like a young Robert Redford. Well, an approaching middle-age Robert Redford but let's face it, those were his best years. Especially in The Way We Were. And The Sting. Three Days of the Condor--


Focus Mavis silently ordered herself. This was no time for a rehash of Robert Redford's Greatest Hits. "I don't quite know what to say--this is all so sudden, Peter."

"Not for me," Peter declared. "Besides, even though we now know that Ron wasn't murdered, we can't forget that you were kidnapped. Someone in Schuyler Square doesn't like you, Mavis."

A lot of people in Schuyler Square didn't like her but it wasn't the time to point that fact out. "I'm sure that was just a lame attempt to extort money from us," Mavis told him.

"Maybe, maybe not. My point is that you need someone around to take care of you. I'd like to be that someone."

In spite of some serious doubts, Mavis was touched. Ron had never wanted to take care of her and now she had this handsome, buff, sexy man willing to watch her back 24/7. Mavis didn't see how she could say no.

What about Tyler? And Tiffany? And everyone I know? What will they say if I let Peter move in?
Nothing good. "I think I need to think about this."

Peter looked disappointed. "I was kind of hoping we could get this settled right now."

She could see that. She could see that Peter thought he could ring her doorbell, march into her house and install himself in her bedroom as her lover/bodyguard in about the amount of time it took to toast a bagel. "There is my son Tyler and my niece to consider."

"Consider what?" Tyler asked from the door. He entered the room and sat down next to Mavis, arms crossed defiantly. "What's he doing here?" he questioned as he glared at Peter.

Mavis sighed. It just didn't seem like the right time to ask Tyler to meet his new maybe future step-daddy.

Schuyler Square Day 58 Peter's Worried

What a nightmare. What a complete, freaking nightmare. Of course, if Peter was honest with himself--something he'd been avoiding for the past few months--his life had become a freaking nightmare ever since he'd stupidly gotten involved with Mavis Schuyler. Now with Ron dead, Peter didn't know what was going to happen next but he had a sinking feeling that Mavis was going to dig her talons into him even deeper.

"So who do you think did Schuyler in?" Jim Waterson asked. Peter was in the break room at the station, exhausted from the night behind him but reluctant to go home. He knew that Chelsea would be waiting up for him with a million questions to fire at him before he was all the way through the front door. Questions he either couldn't answer or didn't want to.

"No clue," Peter replied.

Jim looked at him shrewdly. Jim had been on the force longer than Peter and little got past him. "Probably the wife. She's in line to become even wealthier than she is now."

"Possibly," Peter replied. He could feel pools of sweat forming under his arms. They were going to charge him extra cleaning fees when he returned his tux but the thought that Jim knew about Peter and Mavis was making him sick. It wasn't like they'd been all that discreet and if anyone thought about it for more than a minute or two,  Peter made just as likely a suspect as Mavis did.

"Of course," Jim added, "rumor has it that Mavis had a boyfriend on the side. It's possible that either her boyfriend took care of Ron or the boyfriend's wife did." Jim shot Peter a penetrating glance. "If the boyfriend was married, that is."

Damn. Jim knew. And if Jim knew, more people in Schuyler Square knew too. Peter's only hope was to play dumb. "I need to go home," he said, getting to his feet. "It's been a long night."

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "You should get home and talk to your wife. I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about. Say hi to Chelsea for me. Tell her she looked very...nice tonight. Very festive."

Jim didn't add that Chelsea also looked very desperate but Peter sensed that he wanted to. He decided that he'd never really liked Jim. The guy was a know-it-all and a detective wannabe in a one horse town. Not a good combination. "I'll do that."

"And Peter," Jim said when Peter was almost out the break room door, "get a good night's sleep yourself. You look like you've been through the wringer. Almost like--forget it."

"Almost like what?" Peter asked. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, really. Just that it was almost like you were then when Ron Schuyler bought the frm."

Schuyler Square Day 55 Mindy, Kirk and Poor, Poor Chelsea

"What is the matter with you?" Kirk hissed at Mindy after they left his mother and Tom Hartman in the country club's parking lot.

"What do you mean?" Mindy asked. Mentally she was working on her lead. Double murder--twenty years apart! Did whoever kill Mary Austin also slay Ron Schuyler? Was ex-lover involved? Who is Ron's Love Child? Mindy frowned. She wanted her lead to be catchy but not too kitschy. More USA Today than National Enquirer. Then again, she always heard back in J school that the Enquirer paid big bucks. Mindy made up her mind. She was going for the bucks.

"I mean why did you have to tell my mother about your loony tunes idea that whoever murdered Mary Austin might have killed Ron Schuyler? That's just stupid."

"I never said that," Mindy denied.

"You said they might be connected. How else could they be connected?"

"Well, I certainly don't know. I'm a journalist, not a detective. I don't see what you're getting all defensive about anyway, Kirk. Honestly, you're acting like you think your own mother killed Ron."

"Who also happens to be my own father," Kirk reminded her.

Mindy sighed. "Damn. I am something of an insensitive oaf, aren't I? I'm sorry, Kirk. I see a juicy story and my common sense flies out the window. I'll apologize to your mother."

"That would be nice," Kirk snapped. "I'd also appreciate it if you'd drop this double murder crap. It's just sensationalist garbage."

"No," Mindy corrected, "it's journalism."

"What's the difference?"

"Ouch. I'm going to forgive you for that, Kirk, because your dad was just murdered but please remember that I take my career very seriously." So seriously that Mindy knew if she had to choose between her live-in boyfriend's oh-so-tender feelings and the possibility of a shot of getting a position at a real newspaper, it was  going to be bye-bye-love all the way. Boyfriends could be found anywhere. Careers in journalism not so much.

Chelsea Van Husen didn't know what to do. She know what she should do--go home, take a hot bath and forget this day ever happened--but she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Should she drive down to the police station and pick up her husband? Should she go through the drive through at McDonald's and drown her sorrow in Big Mac's? Should she stop by the Schuyler's and offer her condolences to Mavis? Ha! It would be a frosty day in hell when that happened. If anyone should be offering condolences, Mavis should be crawling on her hands and knees to say "Sawry!" to Chelsea.

The country club's ballroom was slowly emptying and as she watched the other couples depart, heads dropped and voices low as they discussed the untimely but not exactly unwelcome demise of Ron Schuyler, Chelsea wished more than anything that she was one half of one of those couples. She wanted to be going home with Peter instead of sitting at the country club all alone, her hair done up like a rooster in shock therapy, her new shapewear so tight that she felt like she was wearing an all-body tourniquet. This plain sucked.

And it was all Mavis Schuyler's fault. If Mavis hadn't chased Chelsea's husband then Chelsea wouldn't be in this pickle. And Ron Schuyler wouldn't be dead.

Schuyler Square Day 51 Tyler Schuyler

"And that's my sister Breanna. She lives up north with her husband. And that's my brother Aaron. He lives in Iowa but he's coming home next week for Grandma's birthday party. She's going to be 81."

Tyler Schuyler stared at the large gilt framed photographed that dominated the small foyer of Jenny Sanderson's house. Jenny was Tyler's date for the Policemen's Retirement Ball, a fact his mother wasn't too thrilled by. Jenny's dad worked as a maintenance man at Schuyler Industries and her mom was a nurse's aide at Schuyler Square's sole retirement home. Needless to say, the Sanderson family didn't quite make the grade as far as Mavis was concerned. "Who's that?" Tyler asked, pointing at the fourth figure in the photograph.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "That would be my other sister, Natasha. She's the black sheep of the family."

"What did she do?"

Jenny lowered her voice. "She's a Republican. She only visits on major holidays and birthdays which is probably good thing. The last time she was here Daddy snapped at her and called her selfish. Natasha was so upset that she left before we had our dessert."

Tyler shook his head while envy surged through him. There really were normal families out there. There were families who spent holidays and birthdays together and who considered having differing political views to be a big deal. He could only imagine what Jenny would think of the members of his family--his father who drank scotch with his cornflakes and sometimes on his cornflakes, his mother who might be fooling around with another man and who might not be, his brother who had basically abandoned the family, Tiffany, his cousin who solved all of her problems with a bag of corn chips and then there was himself, Tyler Arthur Schuyler, 24-years old and clueless about what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. How he'd love to have a family like Jenny's. Maybe then he wouldn't be so lost.

"Are you ready?" Jenny asked. "I can't wait to go. I've never been to the country club before."

"It's really no big deal," Tyler assured her.

"That's easy for you to say. You've been going there your entire life. Believe me, it's a big deal for me. Thank you for inviting me."

Jenny was so sweet. That was why Tyler liked her. It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous too with blonde hair, green eyes and a fantastic body. It would be nice to marry someone like Jenny. Then he'd get to go to all of her family events too.

"Are you kids leaving?" Jenny's father came into the hall. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and popping open a beer. Tyler knew his mother would call Jenny's dad "low brow" but Tyler liked him. Mr. Sanderson actually looked at him when he spoke to him, unlike his own dad.

"We're just about to leave," Jenny said.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," Mr. Sanderson said. "And you look nice too, Tyler."

Tyler's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He'd wait until they were in the car to look at it. One of his many pet peeves was people who were always looking at their cell phones in the middle of conversations. Tiffany did that all the time. Come to think of it, his whole family had been doing it the last time they had dinner together. He couldn't imagine the Sandersons ever texting at the table.

Tyler checked his phone five minutes later. That was odd. It was from Tiffany. Why would she text him? As far as he knew, she had barricaded herself in her bedroom with the entire collection of Sex in the City and a large pizza from Dominoes. Well, whatever Tiffany wanted it could wait until he got home. He was on a date, for crying out loud. The first date he'd been on in ages and he wanted it to be perfect. Besides, knowing Tiffany she probably wanted him to spy on her mother and Officer Van Husen again. She could forget that. Tiffany didn't seem to be able to grasp that his mom and dad's marriage was perfectly OK and was going to last until death did they part.

Tyler just didn't realize that death had already done that.

Schuyler Square Day 46 The Policeman's Retirement Ball Goes On

Tom didn't seem exactly shocked by her revelation. "I didn't surprise you, did I?"

Tom shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "I suppose I figured out that Kirk was Ron's son a long time ago. What did surprise me is that you were ever involved with someone like Ron. You're so...nice and he's such a--"

"Jerk?" Veronica suggested.

"For lack of a more colorful adjective," Tom agreed. "It's none of my business, but how did it happen?"

Veronica shrugged. "What can I say? I was young and stupid and he was older and manipulative. Believe it or not, I thought I loved him."

Tom was too polite to agree totally with her. "Like you said, you were young. So what are you going to do now? Are you hoping the two of them well develop some kind of relationship? You probably already know that Ron has never been nominated to be Father of the Year. He's always pretty much ignored his other kids and it shows. The older one turned out just like him and the younger one is afraid of his own shadow.”

Veronica made a face. “To tell you the truth I don't know what I want now. At first I was all about revenge. I had lost my job in Minneapolis, Kirk was writing a novel and not bringing in a regular salary, we were about to lose our house and it dawned on me that perhaps Kirk’s dad should be kicking in some money after all these years. But then I came back here and Ron found me a job and a place to live and was fairly decent about it all. I must still be stupid because that seemed like enough to me.”

“You’re not stupid and don't forget the house he's renting to you was never a hot commodity on the market. There was a murder committed there."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"A murder that Ron might have had something to do with."

"Why are you saying that? What do you have against Ron?"

"Plenty on a business level but on a personal level it sounds like you might still be in love with Ron Schuyler. That bothers me because I think I'm falling in love with you too.”

“Are we having fun?” Chelsea Van Husen joined them, bouncing into their conversation like a giant rubber ball. Veronica smiled at her friend, trying not to look shocked as she took in Chelsea’s outrageous outfit and even more outrageous hair color. Poor Chelsea. She was trying so hard to get her husband’s attention that it was almost painful to watch. “It’s a fabulous party, isn’t it? Peter and Mavis did a wonderful job. Have you seen Mavis tonight? She looks stunning! Everyone looks stunning—the men, the women—even the bus boys look stunning!”

Chelsea was babbling, something Veronica had never heard her do. Chelsea was usually the epitome of calm and collected. There was an odd look in her eyes too—she was so fired up that she seemed close to manic. “Would you like to get something to eat, Chelsea? Or have some champagne?”

“Oh, no—I’ve got to find Peter. I have to tell him something—it's very important--I'll see you two later—“

Chelsea vanished into the crowd. “What’s the matter with her?” Tom asked. “She’s acting higher than a kite.”

“She probably feels like a fool since everyone in town knows about her husband and Mavis Schuyler.” Veronica cringed. “Just like everyone knows about me and Ron and our son.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Tom suggested. “Let the past go. You can’t change it. Focus on your future instead--”

A scream interrupted him as a woman wearing a white catering outfit suddenly ran into the crowded ballroom. She stopped in front of the band and began waving her arms frantically. “There’s a dead body in the kitchen!” she screamed. “Somebody do something!”

Schuyler Square Day 31 Tyler Reports Mavis Missing

Tyler should have called instead of showing up at the Schuyler Square Police Department in person. He realized his mistake about three seconds into walking through the front door and being confronted by a policewoman who was approximately the same size as a Sherman tank. She reminded him somewhat unfortunately of his first grade teacher, Mrs. Welsch, who had intimidated him so much that Tyler spent most of the year going home at lunch time to change into dry pants.

"May I help you?" the policewoman growled at him.

Forcing himself to man up, after all he was there to report that his mother was missing, not some penny ante crime spree, Tyler walked to the desk where the woman sat hulking. Up close the resemblance to Mrs. Welsch was uncanny. Tyler swallowed. It was Mrs. Welsch! "Mrs. Welsch! What are you doing here? When did you stop teaching?"

Mrs. Welsch squinted at Tyler through her bifocals. "Is that you? Tyler Schuyler? Well! You're all grown up now!" She shook her head and chuckled. "I guess everyone grows up sooner or later. You don't have much of a choice, do you?"

Tyler wasn't sure, but that sounded like an insult. Mrs. Welsch had always been on the sarcastic side, always making kids redo their finger paintings because they weren't up to her artistic standards. It was a good thing the woman got out of teaching. Working with hardened criminals was really much more up her alley. "I'm here to report a missing person."

Mrs. Welsch raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I joke about a thing like that?"

"It's just that we don't get all that many missing people in Schuyler Square. The people who are MIA usually want to be that way, if you know what I mean."

"Not really," Tyler admitted.

"I mean they leave Schuyler Square of their own free will," Mrs. Welsch said in the same overly patient tone that Tyler still had nightmares about. She spoke slowly and clearly. "They choose to leave, Tyler. I'm sure that whomever you are reporting as missing also chose to leave. Who is it?"

"My mother."

Now both of Mrs. Welsch's eyebrows shot up. "Your mother is missing? Mavis Schuyler?"

"Yes."

"How long has she been gone?"

"No one's seen her since yesterday."

"What time yesterday?"

Tyler had to think about that one. The last time he'd seen his mother had been around lunchtime. Tiffany claimed she hadn't seen her aunt all day, Brad didn't either and of course his father hadn't seen his wife since getting out of bed the day before. It made Tyler sad to think that he had been the last one to see his mother and he also seemed to be the only one who cared that she was gone. "Around noon."

Mrs. Welsch sighed. "OK, it's been over twenty-four hours so I guess she does qualify as a missing person--barely. No one's heard from her? No messages, phone calls, nothing?"

Tyler shook his head. "Nothing. That's why I'm here. It isn't like her to vanish."

"Any chance she ran off with someone? I know that isn't something a child would like to think about his mother, but do you suppose she might have a boyfriend on the side?"

"No!" Tyler said quickly, pushing all thoughts of Peter Van Husen out of his head. There was no way his mother would leave would Officer Van Husen, even if something was going on between the two of them.

"All right, all right, calm down. We have to ask. I'm going to hook you up with an officer who will take a more detailed report. It will be just a moment, Tyler. Go have a seat."

Obediently, Tyler walked to a wooden bench and sat down, feeling like Mrs. Welsch was going to tell him it was snack time at any second. Mrs. Welsch mumbled into the phone. After hanging it up, she looked at Tyler again. For the first time ever, he thought he saw a small flicker of sympathy behind her tan eyes. "I'm sure your mom is all right, Tyler."

Tyler wasn't so sure if scary Mrs. Welsch was feeling sorry for him. Uncomfortably, he shuffled his feet across the tiled floor in lieu of a response. He wanted to get out of the police station in the worst kind of way.

"Tyler Schuyler?" a deep voice asked. "How can I help you?"

Tyler looked up and gulped. The officer who was offering his assistance was none other than Peter Van  Husen.

Schuyler Square Day 18 Ron Isn't Feeling Too Well

Ron Schuyler was pretty sure that he was aging faster than the average man in his fifties ought to be aging, which struck him as totally unfair. What was the point in being rich if it couldn’t guarantee him at the very least a healthy, stress-free middle age? But that didn’t seem to be in the cards for Ron, especially since the arrival of Veronica Channing in Schuyler Square. And now her son.

Correction: their son.

The pain in Ron’s stomach increased. It was probably an ulcer but he was in no mood to have it checked out and hear from the family doctor how he needed to go on cholesterol meds or start exercising more or have major surgery. He had enough on his mind without hearing that now his body was falling apart too.

Ron glanced at his desk calendar. Veronica had been back in town for a little over a month. She’d returned right before Lynnette died. Ron had never been too big on omens or signs but even he had to admit that Veronica's arrival and Lynnette's departure seemed to be too coincidental for comfort. Ron and his sister had never been close but having Lynnette die so suddenly shocked him. Lynnette's demise underscored the fact that he could--would--die someday too. Ron had chosen to deny his own mortality for so long that he really didn't appreciate being reminded of it so bluntly.


Then there was Kirk Channing coming to town. No wonder his stomach hurt. It was all too much for Ron to take and although he was fairly certain that no one else had figured out that the tall, good-looking Kirk was his son, it was playing hell with his nerves. It didn’t help that his niece was living with them too. Not that he saw all that much of Tiffany—other than when he went into the kitchen where the girl had apparently taken up permanent residence—but it still annoyed him to have an extra person around. He felt like his nerves were fraying faster than a cheap pair of Madras shorts and he didn’t like the sensation. Not one bit. Ron was used to being in control. 


Then there were the dreams he'd been having about Veronica, dreams that all too clearly reminded him of what the two of them had shared in bed. Veronica had been a fantastic lover, far warmer and more giving than Mavis had ever been. Knowing Veronica was back in town was making Ron wonder if he should try and rekindle those long ago flames.


Dear God, was he nuts? What was he thinking? Those flames would devour him now. He wasn't a kid any longer. If he managed to start things up with Veronica again and Mavis found out he had no doubts that his wife would destroy both of them

“Ron?” Mavis appeared in the doorway, startling him. “Are you ready?”

Ron squinted at his wife. “Ready for what?” Mavis appeared to be dressed for an evening out. She was wearing a long black skirt and a wildly patterned blouse in shades of red and pink and orange that made him feel slightly sick to his stomach plus all her heavy duty jewelry that she only wore when she went to the Schuyler Square Country Club or to a coronation.

“The fundraising dinner at the club,” Mavis reminded him.

“What are you raising money for now?” Ron asked irritably. He'd love to see the books on the money Mavis and her crew raised. He had the feeling that the charities they were supposedly supporting saw precious little of it.

“Ron, I told you already. For the policeman’s retirement dance that I’m helping organize.”

Vaguely, Ron remembered Mavis blathering about some dance that she was organizing but, like with most of the things his wife blathered about, he had only half listened. “I don’t want to go out tonight. You go without me.”

Steeling himself for an argument—You have to come with me, Ron! You promised—this is important to me—we always go to fundraisers together—Ron was pleasantly surprised when Mavis didn’t bat a false eyelash at him. “All right,” she said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“You aren’t going to try and change my mind?”

The smile Mavis gave him was ingenuous. “Why would I want to do that, darling? I can see you have a lot on your mind. I’ll see you later.”

His wife leaned down to kiss him on the top of his head. “You’re wearing different perfume,” he said, surprised. Mavis had been wearing Joy for as long as he could remember.

“It’s called The Bolt of Lightening. Do you like it?”

“Sure,” Ron said. Actually the scent made him feel a little uneasy but that might have been more the name than the smell since he felt like he might get struck with lightening at any moment. “Have a good time.”

Mavis vanished without another word but the smell of her new perfume lingered in the den for awhile, making Ron even more uneasy. Somewhat was up with Mavis, too. Was it possible that she knew about Veronica and Kirk? If she did, why hadn’t she said anything yet? Mavis had never been known for either her patience or her compassion, although Ron sort of doubted many wives would be all that compassionate when they found out about a 27-year old love child.

It was probably all his imagination. Mavis was the same Mavis she’d been since he married her. He was acting paranoid because he knew that sooner or later everything was going to come out, hit the fan and there he’d sit, covered with his past indiscretions.

It was not something Ron was looking forward to.

Schuyler Square Day Five - Mavis and the Policeman

Mavis Schuyler took a tentative sip from her coffee. She had added two ice cubes along with a sneaky, enormous shot  of brandy so the resulting mixture was lukewarm and pleasantly potent. Good. She needed potent. Ron would be home in an hour or so and after thirty years of marriage, Mavis knew that she was a much more agreeable wife if she had at least one drink inside of her before dealing with her husband.

Making a face, Mavis put Ron out of her head. Really, they should go ahead and get a divorce but she knew he’d never let her go. Not because Ron was still madly in love with her. Oh, no. Mavis knew that her husband had never been madly in love with her or anyone else. Ron was in love with her money, just as she’d been in love with his. There was something to be said about the cold comfort millions of dollars offered a person on dark and lonely nights.

The front doorbell rang and Mavis waited for Rosanne to answer it. Silence. Mavis took another sip of coffee. The doorbell chimed again. No Rosanne. Where was that woman? Honestly, what were they paying her for if she wasn’t around to do something as fundamental as answer the front door and then announce to Mavis who was requesting an audience with her?

The doorbell rang again. “Rosanne!” Mavis shouted and then she remembered. Rosanne was at the Farmer’s Market buying organically grown veggies for their dinner. Rosanne was into all that health food nonsense. Mavis personally believed that the more preservatives a food had, the better. If it worked on Twinkies, then wouldn't it make sense that it would work on her too? With an annoyed grunt, Mavis pulled her thin frame up from the linen covered couch and stomped toward the hallway.

She pulled open the front door before whoever was on the other side could press to the bell once again. Mavis still had the remains of the previous night’s hangover sliding back and forth behind her eyes and the last thing she needed was to hear the tinny chimes of their doorbell over and over and over. Pursing her lips tightly, she steeled herself to snarl at their visitor and send him or her packing.

“Yes?” she snapped but the word seemed to shrivel up on her tongue like a sun-dried raisin. Standing on the front steps in a dark blue uniform was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her entire life. Six feet or so with broad, broad shoulders, a tapering waist, blond hair and navy blue eyes, he was positively stunning. “Yes?” Mavis said again only this time her voice came out as purr instead of a snarl.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Peter Van Husen with the Schuyler Square P.D.”

“Yes?” Mavis said for the third time in two minutes. He was probably looking for a donation of some kind. Mavis didn’t really care why he was there. Looking into Peter Van Husen’s incredible blue eyes was the best thing that had happened to her all day long.

“Are you Mavis Schuyler?”

“Yes, I am.” Mavis wished desperately that she was wearing something sexier than leggings and a silk tunic. Then again, leggings made her thighs look smaller and the soft rose tunic was extremely flattering.  “Is there something I can do for you, officer?” Mavis could think of at least a hundred things she’d like to do for this gorgeous man.

Peter Van Husen cleared his throat. His eyes met hers and held them for one long, intense moment. “I have a proposition for you, Mrs. Schuyler.”