By the time an apparently not-overly-concerned Clay arrives on the scene, it’s almost noon. At Emily’s insistence a number of them are loitering around the main house’s lobby, in front of Grace’s counter, which affords a tremendous view via its giant bubble of a display window. They readily spot his battered red pickup pulling into the drive, at which point Emily flies out the door, leaving all conversation floating in the air behind her. Most of the others, such as Kay, Jeremy, Grace, and Lenny, instinctively trail in her wake.
Before the rest of them reach the vehicle, Emily’s at the driver side window, rambling and gesturing wildly with her hands. His window down and engine running, mouth full of chewing tobacco, Clay nods along until she’s finished. Something that can only be described as hillbilly heavy metal emanates at ear shattering volume from his stereo, yet he seems able to hear her just fine.
He bends his neck to spit around her. Wipes his mouth on the shoulder of his hunting jacket and tells Emily, “I’ll find her,” before turning around and peeling out, exiting the way he came.
Denise had shut off her friend tracking connections, even, leaving not much else for them to do but wait to hear word from Clay. Emily almost volunteered to ride along, until a mental image seized her, of awkward silences stretching for hours as the two of them patrolled this forested region. Either that or even more awkward attempts at sustaining conversation the entire time. Then she had a request for Jeremy on the tip of her tongue, that he climb aboard as co-pilot instead, before recalling that she’s still mad at him, and anyway he would surely protest on the grounds that Denise wanted to get lost, and furthermore that he’d agreed with her that it was a good idea.
Actually, she’s not even sure why Jeremy continues to hang around. Whatever the case, as soon as Clay is gone, after the five of them wordlessly watch and hear his muffler gurgle away down the road, Jeremy says something about heading into the swamp to take pictures for that librarian down in Stokely. She never got around to even asking him what he was doing this morning, and doesn’t feel like it now. Lenny does inquire about joining him, asks if there’s a lot of hiking involved, before deciding it sounds too strenuous and that he’s better of catching up on work around here.
As he saunters off toward the barn, these three females huddle and debate what comes next. The day has taken an exceptionally gloomy turn, though it’s the kind of heavy cloud cover that manages to be dark without portending rain. A wicked wind has also kicked up seemingly out of nowhere, bringing with it a fierce chill that forecasts winter. Grace is the only one dressed properly for this, in her charcoal pea coat and toboggan, yet is also the first to observe how cold it’s gotten. Emily has her mind on other things, or rather one other thing, and mentions precisely what this is: she’s thinking about striking off on foot, in the direction Denise went.
“No. No,” Kay tells her. “Forget it. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Why the hell not? It beats sitting around here, waiting for the worst to happen.”
“Why the worst? You don’t know that. Maybe she was right, maybe it is good idea. I mean, what happened? I thought you were all gung-ho about this place.”
Grace continues saying nothing, just offering her delicate, unsure, red lipsticked smile at whoever is talking, back and forth. Hands in coat pockets, green eyes faintly glinting behind her retro, secretarial 1960s kitten glasses. Emily meanwhile nods her head in vigorous, rapid fire fashion in response to Kay, “and I still am. That’s the whole point. I want to find her and bring her back here. Because I don’t think it’s safe out there. She shouldn’t leave.”
“Okay, well, I guess we’re on the same page, more or less. But you don’t need to go anywhere. The last thing we need is two separate missing people situations to worry ourselves silly over. I mean, I guess we did just send Clay off by his lonesome, but…”
“Eh, I’m not worried about him,” Emily says.
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Does he even count? Just kidding. But anyway, I mean, a bunch of weird shit’s gone down, nobody knows what the fuck’s happening, I feel like hell, Kathy’s still a basket case…”
Grace finally speaks up, squeaking out, with a pained expression, “aw, poor Kathy! I adore Kathy! But I’m certain that’s true of everyone. Where is she right now, anyway…?”Grace concludes by partially turning, to peer up at the main house.
Kay glances over at her and says, “I’m not sure, actually. She was up in the workshop earlier, trying to work on some stuff. But couldn’t really concentrate on that, so then I know she walked back to Tom’s classroom or studio or whatever to start going through some stuff.”
“Last I saw of her she was just kind of arranging things in that front classroom, her own stuff. Maybe getting ready for the next tour?” Emily says.
“Is there gonna be a next tour?” Kay wonders, as both she and Emily look over at Grace.
“Yes. I’m not sure what happened last week. That was weird. I sure hope it isn’t bad publicity or whatever about, you know, some of these unfortunate incidents we’ve had. That would be a real shame.”
“So as far as you know…?” Emily asks.
Grace eagerly nods, hands in pockets still, collar turned up now against the cold. “As far as I know, yes, I haven’t heard anything to the contrary. Of course, Harry is a little hard to get a hold of at times, but in a way I think that’s a good sign. It means he trusts us to handle things ourselves.”
“Well I mean he did put Liam in charge, anyway,” Kay points out, “I don’t know why everyone’s so obsessed with how much Harry Kidwell is or isn’t around. He’s a busy man, people, I’m sure he’s got shit all over the place to attend to.”
“Yeah, I think we’ll ride out this rough patch – and then it’ll be back to business as usual!” Grace enthuses.
“I think so too,” Kay says.
Emily mumbles in agreement, as the three of them begin walking toward the main house. Yet what she was really dwelling upon in that moment, also lost to her, in this hysteria over Denise, was the realization that her best friend really isn’t looking so well. Kay did mention feeling like hell, so maybe it’s a bug of some sort. It could be a trick of the light, too, but as they stood here, Emily couldn’t help but notice the tremendous, bruise colored bags sagging underneath Kay’s eyes. There’s also something going on with that jaw, which she can’t put her finger on. But of course, what it really means is that she’s going to have to touch up that section of the mural yet again.
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