Kristin Ashe: A Safe Place To Sleep Part 16

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."

Of course. I should have known.

"It must have been hard on Janine when Destiny left?"

"It was terribly hard on her, poor thing. Every day for month s, she asked if she could go to Destiny's house to play. Every day, I had to explain to her that Barb and Pete were gone and Destiny was with her new family. Twice, I called the church to see if we could go see Destiny a" for both the girls' sake. I wanted to show Janine that Destiny was all right and I'm sure a visit from us would have done Destiny a world of good, a world of good. Both times, those nasty nuns flatly turned me down. Try explaining that to a four-year-old."

"Did you see Destiny at all after the accident?"

"Only once. Marie let her come over one night to say good-bye to Janine. That was their last night together. Of course, we both knew it, but neither one of us could bring ourselves to tell them. I think they sensed it, though. They played 'house' all night long, like they always did, but when I looked in on them later when they were sleeping, I knew they knew. They were lying side by side in Janine's bed, holding hands. The sight of them made me burst into tears. I'd lost my best friend, and my little girl was losing hers. We never saw Destiny again, and Janine never had another best friend a" until recently. She lives with her friend now, and I'm glad for her. After Destiny, she never showed much interest in having friends."

"Can you tell me what Destiny was like as a little girl?"

"Oh, she was a feisty one. She had her father's brains and her mother's drive. She was always asking questions, questions there were rarely answers to. She drove Barb crazy with all her questions, and Barb, G.o.d love her, patiently answered them all. I would have swatted her a few times, but Barb never did."

"When would you have done that?"

'The time she ate breakfast in her birthday suit, for one."

"You're kidding!" I laughed.

"I'm not! One morning after she'd spent the night here, I called the girls down for breakfast. Barb was here a" she'd come over for coffee. Well, that Destiny, darned if she didn't come downstairs naked. I tell you, she had absolutely nothing on, and she announced she was ready for breakfast. Barb told her she'd have to go upstairs and get dressed first, but that ornery Destiny hopped up on a chair and refused to budge. She was going to eat breakfast just like that, thank you, ma'am."

Lydia paused to m.u.f.fle a fake chuckle.

"Well, Barb was already running late for an appointment so she didn't have time to argue with her, plus she was laughing too hard. Janine, never one to be outdone, took her clothes off and joined her. I left my robe on, Barb left her dress on, and the four of us ate breakfast. The girls couldn't have been more than two-and-a-half years old then. After we were done eating, Destiny obediently put her clothes on, and Barb told me she never again ate naked. I don't know what got into her, but there was no stopping her when she got an idea into her head. It was a waste of time to even try to change her mind."

"It sounds like Barbara was a good mother."

"The best! She was wonderful. She loved to teach her things. She'd explain them to her step by step, and she had to. Destiny wouldn't rest until she had the answers. This may sound odd, but I think Barb appreciated Destiny more than most mothers appreciate their children. She was their gift. They thought they'd never be able to have children, and then Destiny came into their lives. That's why they chose that name. It was Barb's idea to call her Destiny because she thought she was so special. And she was. I missed seeing her grow up. What is she like now, can you tell me?"

I started to tell her about the grown-up Destiny Greaves when the phone rang. Lydia Barton got up to answer it.

While she was gone, I took the liberty of looking around the room. Inside a very large green lacquer entertainment center, I saw the latest in electronics and some family photos. I made a beeline for the pictures.

It seemed like there were hundreds, all of them of the same person, who I could only surmise was Janine. She'd been an adorable baby, a very cute kid, and she wasn't a bad looking woman. Her newborn picture showed a full head of dark hair. Her first school picture showed that same thick hair bobbed and bowed. Now, I noted with approval, she had a short cut that accented her strong facial features and dark complexion. In one picture, she and another woman, the "best friend" I guessed, were standing quite close. Just as I suspected!

From the other room, I could hear bits and pieces of Lydia's conversation. If I understood correctly, Lydia was about to lose a very large deal because the clients were developing buyer's remorse. When she came back into the room, she apologized for having to cut our time short and said she had an emergency.

She showed me to the door, and almost as an afterthought, said, "What a tragic life Destiny's had, losing two mothers at such a young age."

"I'm sure you were as much a mother to her as Barbara was."

"Not me. Destiny's other mother a" her real mother," she corrected me.

"But Liz Greaves isn't dead," I protested. "True, they don't have a close relations.h.i.+p, but she hasn't lost her."

"Not the Greaves woman," she said impatiently. "Her real mother, the young woman who put her up for adoption."

I stopped dead in my tracks on the threshold. I felt like someone had hit me in the stomach.

"What woman? I'm not following you," I said, although I was beginning to suspect a horrible twist to Destiny's life story.

"Marie Kenwood didn't tell you?" she asked, panicked by her own admission.

"Tell me what?"

"I really must be going. Thanks for stopping by...." she said hurriedly and started to close the door.

I gently blocked the closing door with my hand, hoping she wouldn't slam it.

"Tell me what, Mrs. Barton?"

"I thought you knew, or I wouldn't have said anything."

"Knew what?" I was beginning to get exasperated.

Seeing that I wasn't going away any time soon and that as each second ticked by, she was risking the loss of her precious commission, she let out a heavy sigh and told me the astounding truth.

"I thought you knew Destiny was adopted."

I did and I didn't.

"By Barbara and Peter?"

"Yes. They couldn't have children of their own and they adopted Destiny."

"How old was she when they got her?"

"Two or three days old, maybe a week," she said, clearly not wanting to answer my questions.

"Do you know anything about the mother who gave her up?"

"No, except Barb told me she almost didn't give the baby up," she said as she looked at her Cartier wrist.w.a.tch. "Excuse me, but I really must be going."

"Could I call you later?"

"I wish you wouldn't. I shouldn't have said anything. All of this was a long time ago, a very long time ago," she said, closing the door another inch.

"Please, for Destiny's sake? She might want to see Janine."

"I don't think that would be a good idea. My daughter was very hurt when Destiny left."

"So was Destiny. She still is."

"All right. The next time I talk to Janine, I'll tell her you stopped by. She's a grown woman, she can make her own decisions. But I really must run now."

With that, she shut the door tightly.