Vivian’s smug self-righteousness about no longer eavesdropping lasted for a whole week. Then she rationalized that she could be more compassionate to her fellow Woosterites if she knew what was going on in their lives.

Chapter 46

Edward Dalton had never been a man of too many words, but his son’s surprise visit over Valentine’s Day weekend had sent him into a long spell of troubled silence. It’d been four weeks since the near-attack on Charlotte and the attempted break-in, and Edward had spent every waking moment in the shed out back, in the basement, at work, or at the lodge. Vivian wondered if he was speaking to anyone outside the house, or if his vocal cords had just shriveled right up from lack of use. When Charlotte asked him questions, he’d answer with a shake of his head, or by placing a hand on her shoulder or a kiss on the top of her head.

Vivian had enjoyed having the upper hand for that brief time she’d had it, what with Edward being a lying bigamist and her being the unsuspecting wife (mistress!). But the little drop-in from Eddie Junior had messed things up. Now Vivian wasn’t sure where to direct her lingering anger, which had lost a lot of steam with Edward’s sudden silence.

Vivian had asked if he wanted to come with them to Grandma Kurtz’s ninetieth birthday party, and he hadn’t responded. She kept talking to him, in spite of his muteness, because she knew the silence had to break sometime and he’d say something eventually. Wouldn’t he? Of course he would. Wouldn’t he? She didn’t know. It dawned on her that she didn’t know Edward like she’d thought she did. She felt like she’d been smacked diagonally by life, like in Looney Tunes where the smack froze the cartoon character into a sideways, flattened-out position. Vivian felt like she was now limping around all off-kilter, and maybe veering a little bit off the Road to Good.

Grandma Kurtz’s house was packed with relatives, from the crotchety ninety-year-old matriarch herself all the way down to the youngest, messiest great-grandchild, one of Cousin George’s kids. Vivian brought Charlotte, who wanted to see her great-grandmother and spend some time with her own cousins. Vivian didn’t really want to spend time with anyone, after being the humiliated center of attention of the family last month. But she wouldn’t let her bruised ego keep her from making an appearance. Fine, thank you! It was a momentous occasion, after all. Ninety years, sakes alive. And you just never knew; maybe the old bag had some money she’d leave them in her will. Grandma McGinty had been her favorite grandma. Grandma Kurtz had just been a pain in the neck. But, happy birthday, old lady!

The living room and adjacent parlor were packed to the gills with Kurtzes and the people they’d married, and Vivian had somehow ended up standing next to Vera while their Uncle David was making a speech. She hadn’t spoken to Vera since she’d called her a spoiled brat and an ungrateful bitch, and Vivian didn’t suppose she should expect an apology anytime soon. No, instead, right while Uncle David was talking about Grandma Kurtz’s long, incredible life (Vivian wanted to know what was so “incredible” about living on a farm and having too many kids), Vera had the nerve to grab Vivian’s right hand. Vivian felt Vera’s fingers fumbling around the claddagh ring, before she grasped it and yanked down, making a clumsy attempt at being playful, but really trying to pull it right off Vivian’s finger.