Part 16 (1/2)
The next day, I left work early to meet Lydia Barton, the woman who had been Barbara Kenwood's best friend. When I'd called ahead to set up the appointment, I could tell this woman wasn't thrilled to talk to me, but perhaps out of deference to Marie Kenwood, she invited me to her home.
Lydia Barton was a realtor, and by the looks of it, a successful one. Her home in the Denver Country Club had the requisite Mercedes, license plate RLTR, in the driveway.
She came to the door in a business suit, every bottle-black hair in place. She wore an expensive gold watch on her wrist and several diamonds on her fingers, though none in the matrimonial place. Her bifocal gla.s.ses hung from a chain around her neck.
She hated to be called Mrs. Barton. The name reminded her of a husband who had left her some years ago for a younger woman. Her only daughter, Janine, who was Destiny's age, lived in San Francisco with a woman electrician who was her ”best friend.” All of this, and much more, Lydia Barton told me before we had a chance to sit down.
It was going to be a long afternoon, I thought, as I struggled to listen to Lydia Barton's high pitched, fast-paced monologue.
The tape recorder made things even worse. When I asked permission to record our conversation, she immediately gave it, then performed as if she were on stage.
”Barb Kenwood was a lovely woman, just lovely, and Pete, he was always the gentleman, always the gentleman. Tragic, their story's so tragic. Struck down in the prime of their lives, the very prime.”
At this rate, with her repeating everything, we'd need two days for the interview.
I checked my impatience and asked, ”How well did you know the Kenwoods?”
”Barb and I were like sisters. She was such a dear friend.”
”You met when you moved in next door to the Kenwoods, isn't that right?”
”Oh, that Marie, she must have told you everything. What a dear woman. Isn't she a dear?”
”She's a peach,” I said without a trace of sarcasm, I swear it. G.o.d help me, I was starting to adopt Lydia's lingo.
”She's such a lovely woman. No one loved Destiny more than she. Or loved Pete more either. She was devastated by the loss. We all were, of course, but she suffered the most. Pete was her whole life. She'd lost her husband to cancer the year before, you know,” she said conspiratorially.
”Yes,” I said, trying to look sufficiently sympathetic. ”Are you and Mrs. Kenwood close now?”
”Oh, no! She won't allow it. We were before the accident. d.i.c.k and I a” d.i.c.k's my ex-husband a” we always invited her to our backyard barbecues, our little gatherings. She'd return the courtesy by inviting us to her house for cards. She plays a mean hand of poker for a lady. Me, I never particularly cared for the game, but I'd go along with the gang.”
”I'll bet she's a good poker player,” I said.
”She intimidated you, didn't she?” Lydia asked, smiling almost spitefully, as if she knew everything about my first meeting with Destiny's grandmother.
”A little, at first,” I admitted sheepishly.
”She's like that. I was scared to death of her when I met her. Fortunately, she softened up quite a bit after Destiny came along. Destiny brought out something in her. She adored that child, simply adored her.”
”So you lost touch with Mrs. Kenwood after Barbara and Peter died?”
”Oh, no, nothing like that. We've always been in touch. Every Christmas and every Easter, we send one another cards. We just haven't seen each other in twenty-five years.”
”Why not?”
”That's how she wanted it, and I respected her wishes. After Barb and Pete died, she took it so hard. I stopped over to see her, to try to offer her my condolences, but she'd have no part of it. I couldn't utter their names in front of her, or Destiny's either. Once, when I stopped in to see her, Janine, my little girl, was with me. Marie couldn't even look at poor Janine. That was after she'd lost Destiny, too. I could tell my visits were hard on her, so I quit stopping by her house and she never called. Not until last week, that is.”
”Were Mrs. Kenwood and Barbara close?”
She laughed.
”Not exactly. She didn't like Barb at first. No one was good enough for her Pete. Then, when she found out Barb's family thought Pete wasn't good enough for their daughter, that really rankled her. Barb used to tell me stories about how cold she was at first, but bless her heart, Barb wore her down with kindness. She had a way with people, Barb did. She was the sweetest person you could hope to meet. The day d.i.c.k and I moved in, Barb and Pete came over to welcome us to the neighborhood, and darned if she wasn't carrying a ca.s.serole. d.i.c.k thought it was corny, but I was touched by the gesture. They were such a cute couple, so in love. d.i.c.k made fun of how lovey-dovey they were together.”
”Were Peter and your husband good friends.”
”If you mean did they lend each other tools and share an occasional beer on the patio like all men do, then yes. If you mean were they best friends, no. d.i.c.k was too obnoxious for a cultured man like Pete.”
She reached into the crystal candy dish in front of her, picked up a mint, and delicately put it on her tongue. She pa.s.sed the dish to me but I declined.
As she sucked on the mint, a pensive frown crossed her face.
”Pete was a quiet man who kept to himself. He was quite enchanting when you could get him to talk, but he was extremely shy. He and Barb complemented each other in that way, because she was so outgoing, such a ball of fire. My husband was loud and cra.s.s. He drank too much and said things he shouldn't have. Pete loved chess and the symphony. d.i.c.k loved football and himself.”
”Hmm,” was all I said, though I was tempted to ask if she wished she'd married Peter instead of d.i.c.k. Clearly, the remnants of a strong crush were still there, all these years later.
'The two of them only did things together when Barb and I dragged them along. They put up with each other, but I wouldn't call them friends.”
”What did the four of you do together?”
”Before the girls came along, we played pinochle every Friday night. Pete and I were partners and, if I do say so myself, we made a pretty good team. d.i.c.k and I started out as partners, but we fought too much. Pete had more patience with me.”
”Did you see much of the Kenwoods after the girls were born?”
”Not as couples, but Barb and I became closer. The girls changed our lives, that's for sure. We saw each other almost every day. We'd talk about formulas and diapers and clothes. I dare say I couldn't have made it through those first months of motherhood without Barb. She was a saint, truly a saint.”
”You both stayed home to raise the girls?”
”Yes, and it almost drove us crazy.” She laughed. ”Barb had been a nurse, and she missed her job at the hospital and her friends. I'd worked as a secretary for d.i.c.k's construction company, so I was glad for the change. Never work for your husband,” she advised.
”Don't worry,” I said, smiling.
”Being mothers was quite an adjustment for both of us.”
”Were Destiny and Janine good friends?”
She rolled her eyes and smiled fondly.
'They were inseparable. d.i.c.k said they were like twins. He used to kid Pete that he was Destiny's real father. I personally found his humor to be in very poor taste, but that was d.i.c.k. The girls even developed their own language,” she added proudly.
”You're kidding!” I was impressed.
”Before they started talking to any of us, they were talking to themselves, in a language none of us could understand. Barb and I thought they were geniuses. Sometimes, for kicks, we'd put them in Barb's living room and hide behind the couch and watch them play. We were spying on them when Destiny spoke her first real word. And you know what that was?” she asked, her voice bursting with pride.
I wanted to guess ”Janine” but didn't. I shook my head.
” 'Nene.' That was her first word. She never did learn to say Janine.”
”What was Janine's first word?” I asked, hoping it would be some derivative of Destiny. No such luck.
”Mama.”