I know what their tests show, Ginger said. But its my body and after two kids and seventeen years of marriage, I think I /know/ my body.
Bea shook her head. Fine. This wont take but a minute, Granny Garrison.
She perched the glasses on the bridge of her nose again and went to town on the keyboard. She angled the computer monitor so everyone could see.
Roxie started reading out loud.?Richard Luis Rousseau, D.O.B. October 24, 1973, Newport, Rhode Island. Her eyes scanned down. Graduated from a prep school in Connecticut, business degree from Yale. Whats CPSI of Berkeley, California?
Bea was happy to answer. According to the secretary of states office, CPSI is Celestial Pet Superstores, Incorporated, and Richard Rousseau is listed as the principal.
This guy owns the Celestial Pet stores? Roxie looked impressed. Well, that would explain why he had a driver, I guess.
Isnt that where Josie won the grooming contest? Ginger asked.
Bea nodded.
So /thats/ how they met. Ginger squinted and nodded slowly, piecing it all together.
Yeah, thats Romeo, all right, Roxie said, pointing to the Yale senior portrait displayed on the computer screen. Hes improved with age.
Bea turned the monitor back toward herself. Ill go over the highlightsor lowlightsof our mans biography. Bea cleared her throat. This guy has a couple drug arrests under his belt, including a six-week stay in a Milwaukee jail, and a big ole juicy attempted vehicular homicide charge from 2002.
Jesus! Roxie said. Did it go to trial for homicide? Did he cop a plea?
Bea shook her head. Nocharges were dropped. Just like the drug charges he faced as a nineteen-year-old and then again in Thailand about eight years later. His daddy owned a huge import/export company, made tons of money, and had friends in high and low places. So little Ricky got to forgo the whole pesky justice-system thing.
Gingers eyes went wide. His dad was in the Mafia?
Bea looked over the tops of her spectacles. You watch too much HBO, she said. But, Bea went on, heres the most awful part. In the vehicular homicide incident, this Rousseau guy apparently got wasted at a party and took a girl on a motorcycle ride. They crashed, and the girl went into a coma and she stayed there for seven years!
Ginger brought a hand to her mouth.
She died just a few weeks ago, Bea added. The newspaper coverage was pretty scant, but the girls fathera guy named Bennett Cummingsripped Rousseau a new one right on the front page of the /New York Times/. Take a look.
She turned the monitor so they could read the headline:
RHODE ISLAND MOTORCYCLE TRAGEDY LINKS TWO NEWPORT DYNASTIES
Its a pretty wild storyseems the Rousseaus and the Cummingses were yacht-club types and had known each other forever. The accident basically ruined everyones lives. Rousseau was in the hospital for months. His father died of a stroke while Rick was in rehab. The girl withered away to nothing in a nursing home.
Ginger blinked back tears. God, thats just awful.
Roxie jolted straight up in her chair. And this is the guy whos dating our Josie?
Bea pulled her mouth tight, as if she were going to cry as well. Thats him.
Weve got to warn her! Ginger stood up. This is terrible! This guys worse than that pothead, whats-his-name!
Wayne? Roxie offered.
Ginger shook her head.
Billy? Randy? Spike?
Thats him, she said. So what do we do now?
Bea leaned back in her office chair. Do you guys know where Josie is this weekend?
Roxie and Ginger looked to each other and shook their heads. Ginger sat back down, deflated.
God, I feel awful, Roxie said, dropping her head. Ive been so caught up in my own drama that I havent even called her. Maybe shes at her parents?
Bea shook her head. I called them.
Ginger was aghast. You did?
Bea nodded. Then I called her sister, Beth, and after delivering her version of /Can This Marriage Be Saved?/ she finally got around to telling me she had no idea where Josie was.
I would just die if anything happened to her, Roxie said. Did you try her cell?
Bea rolled her eyes. Of course I did. Shes not picking up.
The three women sat in silence for a moment.
You know, I think I really need to say something at this juncture. Roxie looked at her friends. This Rick Rousseau dude was a lowlife, I got that. But that was seven years ago. Maybe hes changed. Maybe he really regrets what happened and has straightened up. He seemed like a very nice guy the other night in front of her apartment.
Ginger nodded. Hes a corporate CEO now, after all.
Bea winced. News flashlowlife and corporate CEO are not mutually exclusive occupations.
Well, sure, Ginger acknowledged. But nobodys said what were supposed to do with all this information. Do we act on it? Do we warn Josie? Do we wait and see what happens? What?
I think it all boils down to how we see Josie, Roxie offered. If we think shes going into this relationship fully informed and with a level headand that shes capable of taking care of herselfthen we should back off and let her handle it.
They all stared at each other.
Theres always the back-door approach, Bea said, a sparkle in her eye.
Ginger shook her head. Ive got a real bad feeling about this.
I havent said anything yet! Bea protested.
Yeah, but youre going to, and I dont think Im going to like it.
Just hear me out, Ginger. You too, Roxie. Bea leaned forward in her chair and rested her elbows on her knees. She looked like a womans basketball coach dispensing orders in a sideline huddle.
Lets say we bypass Josie and go right to the source of the problemRick Rousseau himself. Lets say we approach himin a nonconfrontational way, of courseand tell him were on to him, that we know who he is and what hes done.
Roxie frowned. Id hate to see what you consider nonconfrontational, Bea.
Maybe we could all go for drinks? Or even dinner? Ginger sounded markedly more enthusiastic.
Oh, right, Roxie said, laughing. We just introduce ourselves as Josies psychotically nosy coworkers and tell him we want to interrogate him to see if hes worthy of our friend. Now thats an offer any man would jump at!
Bea looked up from her crouch, smiling. This is a first, ladies! I do believe were all on the same page.
For a woman whod had precious little sleep the night before, Josie was damn near perky all day Saturday. It was probably the newness of everythingthe staggering beauty of the ranch, the way Rick looked at her and touched her, Rosas food. Honestly, the womans homemade cinnamon rolls made Josie see the face of God, and her chicken enchiladas with mole were nearly as sensual as Ricks bedtime story. Josie decided that before she left on Sunday evening, shed ask Rosa if she had a recipe for eggplant Parmesan.
She and Rick spent the entire day walking and talking their way through the ranch, taking breaks only for lunch and an afternoon snack of lemonade and Rosas fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies. Within the first five minutes of her tour, Josie knew the word ranch didnt do justice to the place. The word conjured up images of the old TV show /Dallas/a flat, brown, fenced-in world with big, bleached horns of Texas Longhorns mounted over the fireplace. Ricks place was the Garden of Eden in comparison.
He showed her everything. The tour of the main house began right after breakfast, sixteen rooms on two floors that managed to combine history with modern comfort. All of the guest rooms featured antiques, though none were as spectacular as those in Ricks suite. He told Josie whythose furnishings once belonged to Madame Toulouse herself.
We have a lot to live up to in that bed, Rick said, with a laugh.
The great room on the first floor featured several worn leather couches grouped around a huge stone fireplace. The walls were decorated with bits of the ranchs historyframed pages from Madames diary of household purchases, early sepia-hued photographs of men with handlebar mustaches standing with their horses and carts in front of the house. There were also dozens of oil paintings from Sonomas most respected painters. Josie was particularly intrigued by a painting of two lovers, sneaking a kiss in a vineyard at dusk. Something about the tenderness in the mans embrace made her sigh.