Just a short one this time. But if you want me to keep writing quickly, do keep the feedback coming, please! (It helps.)
Chapter 25:
Amoretto's was a fifteen-minute drive from the Ocean Front house. Max took it a little more sedately than usual: he didn't want any more encounters with moose. Sabrina was uncomfortably aware at first that they had left Tyler alone in the house, but she felt her mood expanding with every mile. By the time they reached the restaurant, she was quite relaxed. Mariana would be home by now. Everything would be perfectly all right.
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Betty turned her battered old Pontiac into Ocean Front Drive, and then, a minute or two later, into the Maxwells' driveway. Mariana thanked her for the ride and got out. Cat followed, clutching her book. She was wearing an extra coat of Noah's that Donna had insisted she take. The model he'd made her was safely stowed in one of the pockets.
Betty waited until Mariana had unlocked the side door and gone inside with Cat before leaving. She was glancing in the rear-view mirror under the street light at the corner of Ocean Front Drive and Captain's Lane when a spot of pink draped over the back seat caught her eye: Cat's scarf. She turned around and drove back. When she got out of the car she heard a high-pitched screaming sound issuing from the house. It sounded like every smoke detector in the world going off at once.
Betty hurried to the side door where Mariana had gone in and knocked on it loudly. No one answered. After a moment's hesitation, she tried the knob. It was unlocked. She flung the door open. A strong smell of smoke met her, but the air in the mudroom and the kitchen beyond looked clear enough, and whatever was burning wasn't visible. She stepped inside, calling Mariana's name.
Cat came running.
"The house is full of smoke!" she cried. "I don't know where the Maxwells are; they don't come when we call. My mother's looking for Tyler."
"I'll help," Betty said at once. "You run to the neighbors' and call 911."
"I just did." Cat was holding her mother's phone.
"Get out, child! I'll help your mother look for the baby."
Cat shook her head. "We've all got to look. There might not be time."
Betty was already moving through the kitchen.
"Go outside now, Cathy," she said, but just then Mariana came through a door at the other end of the room with Tyler in her arms.
"Oh, Betty," she cried. "I don't know where the Maxwells are. I tried to go upstairs to find them, but the hall up there was full of smoke, and I think I saw flames. I found Tyler in our bedroom, sitting in the middle of the floor, all by himself." Her voice caught, and she started to cough.
Betty ran into the front hallway to see for herself. The smoke there was thick and choking. Above her she could hear the fire moving through the house.
She set her face grimly, and turned back to Mariana.
"We can't reach them. Only a fireman could get through that. We've got to leave."
Mariana's eyes were wide with horror.
"But-"
"Mariana, look." Betty pointed up the stairs, which were tall and dramatic, with a turn halfway up. In the big mirror on the landing, red and orange flames were dancing.
"Ave Maria," Mariana breathed, and crossed herself over Tyler's bulk. Betty put a hand on her arm, and half-led, half-pulled her back to the kitchen. It was empty.
"Where is Catalina?" Mariana cried.
"Outside," Betty said, and pulled Mariana through the door.
But there was no sign of Cat in the driveway or the car.
"Catalina! Catalina!" Mariana screamed. "My baby! My baby!"
She pushed Tyler into Betty's arms, and ran back towards the house.
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The maitre-d' showed Sabrina and Max to a white-clothed table surrounded by plush red chairs, and brought them the menus and-a touch that Sabrina always appreciated there-a complimentary glass each of the house wine. Sabrina sat back in her chair and sipped it gratefully as she studied the menu.
She never let herself eat much, so she was always hungry-a fact that might have had something to do with her nervousness and difficulty controlling her temper. She and her friends all believed ardently that the only way to stay thin was not only to eat as little as possible, but to make sure every bite they did allow past their lips was something really worth eating, by which they meant that the vinaigrette on their salads should be made with only the finest white truffle oil, and their oysters and caviar have only the best "merroir."
L'Auberge Chez Gagnon was, by everyone's estimate, the best restaurant along that stretch of Maine coast, but Amoretto's was a fine second choice. After a perfectly terrible day, Sabrina felt that she was being properly looked after at last.
She was just trying to decide which of the succulent-sounding entrées would have the fewest calories, and how she should ask the chef to alter it to make sure she wasn't taking in any lactose or gluten, when Max's phone buzzed.
"Oh, do turn that thing off," she pleaded. Their meals were always being interrupted by his phone.
"I thought I had," he said, and turned it off without looking at it. He was hungry too. Neither of them had eaten very much of the food Betty had doused so liberally with salt that afternoon.
They enjoyed their meal. At the end of it, Sabrina went to the ladies' room and Max finally checked his messages.
A moment later he was throwing open the door with the improbably feminine cupid on it and yelling past the startled older woman who was just emerging from one of the stalls, "Sabrina! Get out here now! The security company's texted me-the house is on fire!"
Sabrina dropped her $62,000 diamond-studded Guerlain lipstick case on the floor, and never even noticed. Max threw his wallet at the startled maitre-d' as they rushed, white-faced and coatless, out the door.
To be cont'd. . . .