I closed the door for
Privacy but Dad only wanted
To speak to Verne. He was
WAY more interested in talking to a man
He’d never met than listening to
His own kid! Go ahead. IGNORE the Virgin.
The virgin is used to it!
At least I was allowed
To listen in.
Verne said Mirabel had just pulled a “Mirabel.”
“Wedding’s off, I take it?” asked my Dad.
He sounded relieved!
“Not because of anything I’ve done or said,”
Verne assured. “She just can’t seem to cope.”
Handed back the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Take the first train home,”
My Dad directed.
“Dad, it’s only Saturday!”
“You can’t stay alone
In some young man’s apartment.
Doesn’t look good.”
“Who’s looking?” I demanded. “Besides, he’s staying
at The Stanhope,” I winked at Verne.
“I’m sorry, no! Must I put your mother on?
You know she’ll back me up.”
“At least let me call the Lowthers.
Maybe they’re in town.”
Longtime family friends. He subsided.
Muttering.
“Parents are so awful,” I proclaimed out loud once
Severing connections.
“They think I’m a baby.”
“They want you to never age”
And Verne smiled wickedly at his private
Epsteinian joke.
I found the Lowthers’ number and got only voicemail –
Should have figured that would happen!
They were at the Cold Spring country house of course!
I enunciated clearly, “This is Richenda Marshott
with an emergency question. Please call me back as soon
As you get this at 715-527-1313.”
This granted me another day at least
I thought till
Someone might check in.
If I spoke to any member of the family –
even barf-inducing Sierra – I could fend off Dad
For the entire weekend.
Verne looked hungrily at my phone.
“What question will you ask?”
“Why, if they’ve heard from Mirabel of course.”
Dropped it in my pocket. High-waist jeans
Have deep, deep pockets.
“I’m going to the Day-Spa,”
I said, allowing him to bail.
But of course he said,
“I’m coming too.”
Chapter 12 – Derek
Bioceutically Renewed was so far east
It was almost in the water. At the door, a
Sweet-faced Asian lady
Expressed almost comic dismay.
“Customers privacy sacrosanct! You understand.
Sacrosanct.” But
Just when I would have recommended
Verne get more friendly
He went haughty.
“We’re talking about a missing person!”
He barked. “This is a police case!”
She was not to be caught.
“Are you police?”
“He’s the fiancé.” Reaching out to touch her arm was
Too naïve! She shrank away.
Verne swelled, his importance
Throbbing. “I’d like to see
The manager!”
We filled the tiny waiting room.
The employee backed away, alarmed,
Scurrying, hastily diminishing
In size. I imagined that was their secret to dispense –
Clients requesting “to be smaller”
Turned into mice. I hissed at Verne.
“What if she calls the police on US?”
He waved this away, airily.
“Flunkies never do. A British title paves the path
To everything.” How I wished
This wasn’t true. The frosty-eyed manager
Was neither young nor Asian,
But when I introduced, “This is Lord Verne,
Mirabel’s fiancé and I’m her sister”
Her expression changed most notably.
How in our democracy could Verne be right?
“Have you told the police?”
“They’ll get involved after the waiting period,” Verne said
Smoothly. Far too smoothly. How many
Wives had disappeared on him before?
“We think she’s under duress. We’re trying
To act fast.” I begged;
“We just want to find her! She carries
Valuables. She could be in danger.”
Verne’s eyes raked me over,
While he fluttered his lips
Disgustedly, as if to say –
“And she left me with this THING!”
Instead of instant ejection
We made it to the inner sanctum, an
Unromantic room where filing cabinets loomed
Over wooden chairs. Ms. “Operations Manager”
Consulted her computer.
“She signed up for our Wedding Package
But only made the first appointment. That was
Days ago. I understood – er – her fiancé
Was…someone different altogether.”
Verne paled and lost his breath.
Fell into a punitively twisted chair.
It was up to me to ask the questions.
“Short, fat, bald?”
“That’s the one.” The woman panicked
At her own audacity.
“Tells us what we need to know.”
Verne was gasping like a fish
And he was not a good color.
I thought he might stroke out.
“Contact numbers?”
“Contrary to policy. I’m sorry.
Her voice was cold, but her eyes were warm.
“May I get you a water?”
“Please,” said Verne. “Bottled, if possible.”
The moment she was out the door I raced
To the computer. “Last appointment was three days ago!”
I took a screenshot with my phone.
Ms. Harvey returned with a bottle of chilled water
which Verne accepted. I was rescued
By the ringing of my phone.
“I’ve got to take this.”
Stepping into the hall.
I heard a deep masculine voice.
“Hi. This is Derek Lowther. Is that
Richenda?” Derek Lowther? Last time I saw him he was a
Particularly nightmarish twelve year old jerk.
(I was a cool eleven year old sophisticate.)
This was NOT the person I’d hoped to speak to. I
Pushed out through the anteroom and into
The pale winter sunshine, playing
For time. “Yes,”
I told Derek unwillingly, “it’s me.”
“So what’s the emergency question?”
“Have you heard from Mirabel?”
He was genuinely astonished.
“Has ANBODY heard from Mirabel?
I certainly haven’t. I’m at the apartment.
Do you mean, did she call here?”
“Maybe you could find out
If your parents have heard anything?”
“They’re on retreat in Sri Lanka. You can assume
The answer’s No. What’s the hurry?”
“Mirabel is missing.”
A beat of silence. I could hear his struggle to be polite.
“Wasn’t Mirabel ALWAYS missing?”
“This time’s exceptional. She came back.
She was getting married.
Then she disappeared. Again.”
I have to admit it did not sound like an emergency.
Impossible to explain anything to this guy!
Hadn’t seen him in 3 years and already
I was angry at him.
Alysse Aallyn 