The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [140]
“Who?” Wilson said.
“They don’t know,” Caroline said. “But there are plenty of people with a reason to kill him.”
Marylou glanced over at Vic, who was gazing back at her. She couldn’t read his expression.
“It wasn’t me.” Vic ran his fingers through his stiff, windblown hair. “Although I did think about it.”
Parson struggled out of Caroline’s arms, righted herself on the floor, shook her ears, and sauntered over to curl up next to Buster, who merely opened an eye and closed it again.
“Well,” Marylou said, squeezing Wilson’s hand. “You can all stay here as long as you want. Take a little breather.”
“I should get back to work,” Vic said. “We’ll have to find a place to stay. For who knows how long. Jesus.” He ran his fingers through his hair again. “I can’t even think about it.”
“I’ll stay here for a while,” Caroline said. “Rest up before I wade back in. Just the thought of everything we’ll have to do exhausts me.” But she didn’t sound exhausted. She sounded exhilarated by the prospect of staying in Memphis. Caroline had been miserable at home, and the whole family had known it, even though they might not have realized they’d known it.
Marylou decided it was time for good news, or at least what she considered to be good news. “Wilson and I have decided to get married,” she announced.
Silence. Someone gasped.
Then, bless her heart, Suzi leaned over and hugged Marylou, planting a kiss on her forehead.
Caroline shrieked, “Dad! Are you crazy?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point.” Wilson fixed Marylou with puppy dog eyes. The goofball.
“And we’re ready now,” Marylou added. “We want to do it right away. We don’t have time to diddle around.”
“Get married at Graceland! At the chapel!” Ava said, jumping up and doing her pacing thing, the skirt of her coral dress swishing back and forth. “Please? That would be so marvelous.”
“I’ll vote for marvelous,” Wilson said. “Long as there aren’t any Elvis impersonators, except me singing ‘Mary Lou Brown’ to my bride.”
“You want to get married at Graceland?” Caroline asked with irritated disbelief. “This is insane.” She glared at Marylou. “My father has dementia. Are you prepared to take care of him? He doesn’t have money, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Marylou decided not to rise to the bait. “I’m aware of all that,” she said calmly. “We’ll take care of each other.” She sounded like a different person talking. Donna Reed, maybe. Where was the Radioactive Lady? Still there, shaking her head incredulously. Cue the birdies and the violins. Disgusting. Marylou was glad she hadn’t disappeared altogether. Take a chill pill, Nance.
The Witherspoon family sat there staring at her and Wilson, waiting for them to say more. Wilson squeezed her hand but didn’t speak, so Marylou plunged in. “I know it’s not like a young couple getting married,” she told them, “but it’s something to celebrate, don’t you think? We want you all there with us.”
“I don’t really feel like celebrating,” Otis said. “I feel bad about our house. And I feel bad for Rusty.”
“And for Angel,” Suzi added.
They were silent for a minute, all of them thinking about Rusty and Angel, trying to imagine how they must be feeling but knowing they couldn’t really know how bad it must be. The air conditioner cut off, and Marylou’s old Bakelite clock on the side table, in the corner, tick-tocked away. The room needed a good cleaning, which wasn’t surprising. That graduate student couple, who couldn’t even clean their own eyeglasses, wouldn’t have noticed dust if it had reared up and bit ’em. But it was so good to be back in her old house.
Finally Vic broke the silence. He leaned forward, clasping his big hands on his knees. “We’ll be at your wedding,” he said. So Vic did have an earnest side. Who would’ve thunk it? “It’s great you found each other,” he went on. “It’s a miracle, under the circumstances. We do need to celebrate. Congratulations, both of you.” But he didn’t sound happy. He sounded wistful