episode3

     A black limousine pulled up next to a curve. An elegant woman stepped out wearing a long black dress and matching gloves. Pears embellished her neck, while a hat; black sunglasses and a matching leather suitcase complimented the outfit. In her hand was a biscuit. The woman walked over to the store that the limousine had parked in front of and read the words on the glass. Tiffany’s Funeral Home. She went inside.

      A short man in a cheap suit met her at the door. He did not seem the least bit aware that he was leering at her. The song Moonriver droned softly in the background.

      “May I help you, miss?” He took her had and gave it a wet kiss..

      “Mrs. Fisher. Hunter Willington Fisher.” She removed her hat and sunglasses and spoke indifferently. Since she was a rising model it surprised her that he did not recognize her, not that she would have wanted him to anyway. "I'm sure you can help me. I’m looking for a green-colored oak casket for my husband.”

      He laughed. “I’m sorry madam; we don’t carry any green caskets.”

      “You don’t understand.” Hunter tried to act warmer as she waltzed around the room seductively. “My husband, Kevin loved my green eyes, and he died rather suddenly.”

      “How?”

      “Act of God, freak construction accident. It really depends on who you ask. The point is he’s being buried today and I think he would have loved to have been buried in a green casket; again, he loved my eyes.”

      “Quite a touching story there,” the short man said with a hint of sarcasm. “But I can’t help you. I don’t have a green casket to sell you.

      “I see. What about a lovely sage color? I’ll settle for sage.” Hunter moved closer to him.

      “Ma’am, they don’t make caskets sage.” He laughed harder. Hunter was not impressed. “How do you feel about mahogany? I can sell you the best mahogany casket they make.

      Hunter then slapped the slimy looking man so hard that he toppled over. He looked up at her from the floor and she remained unmoved. She did however, offer her hand to help him up. “I’m really very sorry,” she said pleasingly. “It’s just that my eyes are green, Kevin loved my eyes.”

      After the awkwardness had subsided as much as could have, the slimy man escorted Hunter to his desk. He sat at one side and observed her as she put her suitcase on the desk and began to open it.

      “I’m sure that after you see what's in this suitcase you’ll somehow be able to help me.”

      The man looked inside and was spellbound by what he saw. Hunter was repulsed at how he kept his mouth open during his awe. ‘The things I do,' she thought.

Lantana General Hospital.

      Hope awoke to find her husband by her side. She felt a bandage on her forehead but did not remember how she had gotten it, why she was in the hospital or how she had gotten there.

     “Blade?” She was still dazed.

     “You’re finally awake. You had a pretty nasty fall.” Blade comforted Hope with a quick gentle kiss on her lips.

     “What do you mean?”

     “Don’t you remember? You fainted. Fell right to the floor.”

     “Fainted? That can’t be.”

     “But it is. It was when we were all waiting for news on Rachel; I came in to tell everyone what was happening and you fainted?”

     “Rachel?” Hope was panicking. Nothing made sense and she genuinely could not remember anything that Blade was telling her. “What happened to Rachel?”

     “Hope, now you’re starting to scare me, just a little bit. Honey, she was in labor during the tornado; we helped her and got her to the hospital.”

     “Oh Blade, she’s two months early.”

     “I know that.” Blade was now more frustrated than concerned. “Hope, you know that. You were there.”

     She began to cry. “The last thing I remember, I was going to make you something to eat. Apple juice, we talked about how you hated apple juice.”

    “Right. But honey that was yesterday afternoon.”

    “What am I going to do? That’s a whole day I‘ve lost!”

    “I know you’re thinking the worst. But just remember that we’ve been through this before and I’ve always stood by you. We’ll get through this again.”

    “I know. It doesn’t get any easier though.” Hope then welcomed Blade’s embrace and she seemed somewhat relaxed.

     Dr. Jasmine Fallow came in to make her rounds and it was clear to her that the couple was upset. She cleared her throat to give them a chance to compose themselves.

    “And how’s my patient doing?” Her tone was dry as usual but she was glad to see Hope awake. “How are you Blade?”

    “Been better,” he joked.

    “Yeah, I think we could all use a break,” she quipped back and smiled. Hope are you feeling any better? Do you need anything? The staff‘s at your command.”

    “I need to remember feeling worse.” Hope lamented.

    “She says she can’t remember falling. She’s a little upset.”

    “I can see that.” Jasmine said matter-of-factly. “Blade could you maybe go grab a cup of coffee. I want to check her vitals and talk to her a second.”

    “Actually I have some studying to do. Honey, I’ll be back in a few hours.” Blade gave his wife another gentle kiss on the lips.”

    “Bye sweetheart.”

    “Have a good one Blade.”

    “Look it’s none of my business;” Jasmine began, after she was sure Blade had left. “I do however consider you and Blade good friends. I’m just wondering, why you haven’t been going to your AA meetings and why Blade doesn’t seem to know about your problem?”

    “I don’t know Jasmine.” Hope spoke softly. “It’s just so embarrassing. I’ve learned to live with it.”

    “That may be true, but your fainting spells are getting worse. And your drinking isn’t helping you in the least.”

Felicia’s Apartment.

      In a dim apartment with one window staring coldly into a brick wall Felicia Drake stared into a full-length mirror completely focused on her reflection, and especially on a gash present on her forehead. The mirror itself, which might have been an antique at some point but whose brass lining and glass had been marred by too many fingerprints was the only thing in the grim room that was not impeccably clean. The linen on her immaculate but unimpressive bed was fresh and had recently been changed and it complimented the marble floor that had been bleached white. On the walls there were pictures of Hope, some of them had Blade in them at various stages of their courtship, from the time they were children even; but for the most part there was picture after picture of Hope, taped perfectly one after the other of her moving, smiling, cooking and mostly of her asleep. Every inch of Hope had been scrutinized from how she wore her hair everyday, to how she smiled, moved her eyes and breathed, in through her nose and out through her mouth.

      In Felicia’s hand was another picture of Hope, this time lying in the hospital bed after her fall. Felicia held the picture up to what little light was in the room and observed it keenly. She took a small comb that was sitting on a picture of Blade studying out of a little drawer near the mirror and parted her hair exactly as Hope had it in the picture. I’ll take everything she has, Felicia thought, finishing with her hair. She put back the comb, took out a pocket knife and proceeded to make a little slit on the top of the picture where Hope’s forehead was. Felicia then took out the picture of Blade studying.

     “Oh Blade,” she said melodramatically mocking her sister and simulating a swoon. “I fell asleep for five hours and my cheesecake has burned. My life is over!”

     “Don’t talk like that Hope.” Felicia held up Blade’s picture above her as she imitated him pretending that he and her imitation of his wife were having a typical conversation. “I love you. And I would never be complete without you.”

     “Oh Blade,” she swooned even more dramatically this time. “How can you say that when my cheesecake is ruined, ruined like my life! How could you ever love anyone that burns cheesecake?”

     “Oh, God, honey. I love you and you could always make another cheesecake. I believe in you.”

     “Oh Blade," Felicia cried. “You say the sappiest things sometimes and it always makes me feel better.”

      She then put Blade’s picture away in its drawer and replaced it with the comb and the picture of her sister in the hospital bed. She combed her hair as Hope had it in the picture, trying to recapture the glory of each individual hair; only now the hysterics and enjoyment she was feeling just a moment ago was replaced with an anger that made her soulless eyes glow in the growing darkness of the room. “Asinine,” she said calmly. She went into the drawer and took out a small bottle pill bottle. It was the sleeping medication Dr. Guthrie had prescribed her.

Rachel’s Hospital Room.

       Rachel was barely awake and already in pain. She had not yet regained all of her strength but she was strong enough to hurt as all of yesterday’s events beat down on her at once. She remembered being at her daughter’s grave and not noticing the rain. She remembered collapsing in the shed and being wheeled into the operating room; but what she most remembered was the dream she had when she was being operated. “My baby!” She thought and began to struggle weakly in her bed.

         “Hey careful, you’re gonna break more water.” Kendall usually didn’t sleep much and since they had put her sister in a private room in ICUshe had not taken her eyes off of her.

         “How’s the baby?” Rachel’s speech was uncharacteristically hurried and erratic. The last day or so had really taken a toll on her.

         “Relax. She’s as well as can be expected. They have her in an incubator.”

         “I want to see her.”

         “I’m sure you can. Jasmine’ll be by soon and she’ll probably like take you to go see her then.”

          “What about you?” Rachel observed her keenly and the compassion in her voice came back. Knowing that her baby was alright, she tried to calm down. “Have you slept at all? You look terrible.”

          “Yeah I would imagine. I didn’t get a whole lot of time to put my blush on before tree branches started falling on top of my car.”

          “I didn’t mean that,” Rachel smiled. You’ve been here all night. I appreciate it by the way. I slept terribly last night.”

         “Yeah I noticed. What was all that about?”

         “It was strange. I kept seeing myself.” Rachel struggled to find just the right words to explain. “I was fourteen again and I was in the hospital right after Lily died. Nick was there. I remembered that stupid sandwich he made me.”

        “Rachel, what happened?” Kendall asked. Rachel seemed to be getting more agitated and it worried her.

        “I don’t know. Nick told me my baby had died and I just knew that somehow it was my fault. I know he always blamed me, but in the dream it all just felt so real.

       “Rachel, Lily died of anemia. I remember when it happened. It wasn’t your fault.

       “I can’t explain it.” Rachel shrugged. “I know you’re right, but it just seemed so different in the dream.

       “Just don’t think about it right now.” Kendall tried to cheer up her sister. “Your baby doesn’t even have a name; I’ve been calling her it this whole time and I have a whole list of names I got from this website about unusual baby names.”

       “And I thought I had blocked that site.”

       “Come on now, you haven’t thought about anything better than Fauve yet.”

       “I have actually. Anything, for starters,” she joked. “But no, I was thinking Eden.”

       “Eden?” Kendall scoffed. “Why?”

       “That was the second dream.” Once again Rachel struggled to find the words to explain. “I dreamt I was with Greg in the garden.”

      “Greg huh?” Kendall was not surprised. Rachel just hadn’t been the same since he had left her. ‘How stupid this love crap was,’ she thought.

        Rachel continued. “It was right after we had made love. I remember he said he loved the name Eden and I told him that if I ever had another child I would consider naming her that.” Kendall did not seem to understand and Rachel hid all inflection in her voice to make the whole thing seem less interesting to her than it really was. “It just seemed significant at the time.”

      “I can’t believe you really remembered that,” A voice said happily, inappropriately interrupting the mood.

       Rachel and Kendall looked up in disbelief. In a hospital robe with scratches and Band-Aids on his forehead, Gregory Hathaway stood, holding a paper cup and smiling sheepishly. He stared at Rachel and their gazes were frozen for a moment. It was almost as if a year had not passed since he had left her and all of the hurt vanished for a minute. For a moment, Rachel’s eyes seemed to lose some of their paleness as she looked at his injuries. It occurred to her that Greg had been the man who they were wheeling in as she was in labor and on the way to the operating room. At that moment she had turned away because of all the blood but now she had the urge to run to him and ease his injuries but immediately suppressed the urge and turned her glance away from his.

       “What are you doing here Greg?” Rachel asked cordially.

       “I guess I should leave you two alone.” Kendall had noticed the stares, the longing and even the bitterness and had decided that she was no longer needed. “I have to meet someone in a while. I'll see you later Rachel.” She kissed her sister on the head, gave Greg a quick acknowledgement and crept out of the room.

      “To be honest Rachel, I came here to see you.”

Tapestry Hotel.

       Vincent crept around the top floor of the hotel. He made sure not to make a superfluous sound or move. All of the doors were closed, but he tried to act natural in case one of the guests came out of the rooms, he wouldn’t have to explain his snooping. He examined all of the doors and came to one that looked like a closet door. He had been inspecting the area for a long time but figured it would be a great time to move the investigation along since everyone’s attention was diverted by the tornado and Rachel’s birth. He opened the closet door and found nothing surprising: towels, linen, quilts. ‘Such a small closet for this entire wall?’ he thought. He knew immediately that something was hidden behind the wall. He then heard the doorbell ring and peered from the top of the staircase to see if it was anyone that could come upstairs.

       What Vincent saw was Marina Gavin reading what appeared to be a newspaper. He did not really have much of an opinion of her. His girlfriend Jasmine was friends with some lady and Marina was the daughter of that lady. Being a detective however, Vincent reserved all judgments until he had the facts. He assumed that being an aspiring journalist, Marina probably thought the same way. ‘Smart girl’ he thought and decided not to go downstairs and risk being seen. Jasmine was at the hospital and he had not really made friends with anyone at the hotel so he would have had no justifiable reason for being upstairs.

       Upon hearing the doorbell, Marina rose from her chair, folded her newspaper and went to the door rather listlessly.

      “Hi,” she said cheerfully before the door was fully opened.

       A throng of men, some short, some fat and some sweaty stormed through the door each carrying two large leather suitcases. Marina, who had narrowly escaped their soldiers’ welcome stood back in amazement as they lined all of the suitcases neatly in a corner. Her expression quickly changed to horror as the next batch of personnel came through the doors, this time carrying a tastelessly gaudy sage-colored coffin.

      “I could only hope you idiots are being careful with that,” a shrill, disagreeable voice that Marina immediately recognized said.

     “Hunter?”

     “That would be Sister H. Hunter Marie Suggins Willington Fisher.” Hunter stood posing in front of the door dressed in sky-blue nuns’ habit with an oversized white head. The habit had clearly been altered and was significantly shorter and tighter than one would expect from a nun.

    “I didn’t expect you so soon. I was going to pick you up at the airport later,” Marina stammered.

    “There’s no need. You all could leave now.” Her staff marched out.

    “Hunter.” Marina walked over and inspected the coffin keenly. “We’re really not equipped for this sort of, well, baggage.

    “In that case I should just leave then.” she said self-mockingly.

    “Yeah get the Hell out,” Marina laughed and the two women embraced. “It’s good to have you back. And I know there's a story behind this, so whose your friend in the box?”

    “That would be my husband, Kevin Fisher.”

    “Of course, why wouldn't it be? And as far as the nuns’ habit...?

    “Oh that.” Hunter danced around the coffin as if cameras were watching her. “Remember when Kevin was horribly crushed from above somehow I said I wanted to return to religion?”

    “You went to Puerto Rico and became a nun. Yes, we all know that, it was last week.

    “And then it came time to bury Kevin. So I procrastinated, as usual and needed a green-colored oak casket immediately. Luckily the pervert at the coffin place had a thing for nuns and it so happen I always keep a spare habit with me in case I get stopped for a traffic ticket or something. I would have done it sooner but there was that whole little murder investigation. Him being Mr. Millionaire photographer and me being Mrs. Photogenic. Mysterious circumstances and what not.

    “Naturally. Condos don’t usually just get built on top of one’s spouse after they've been married five minutes.”

    “I know what you were implying. It was a freak accident, that's what my lawyer says and that's what the investigation revealed. Look lets not dwell on the specifics Marina, someone will be by to take my dear husband to the cemetery and they will be gone by the time we finish shopping and having dinner.”

    “I don’t know Hunter. I need a minute to digest all of this.” Marina was no stranger to Hunter’s antics; but a coffin and a nuns habit all in one sitting was controversial, even for Hunter.

   “Come on it’s my treat.” Hunter said, ushering Marina out the door.

     After he was sure the two women had left, Vincent came smoothly down the stairs. He admired the coffin. “So Princess Hunter’s a friend of the family and her husband’s dead. Small world.” Still admiring the ugly coffin Vincent took out his cell phone. “Hey,” he said firmly. “We got a break in the case. Something's definitely up with that closet upstairs. Yeah, it’s too small for where it’s. There's gotta be another room behind it; I just gotta find a way inside.”

Will Greg and Rachel reunite? Who is Kendall meeting? What other “baggage” is Hunter carrying? What other problems will Hope and Blade have to face? And who or what is Vincent investigating? Find out next week on Tapestry.

In Episode 2 of Tapestry...

The Lantana Ladies find themselves in an odd predicament when Clark, a man they’ve been hiding for sixteen years begins to rise from his coma. Vincent and Kendall agree to forget about their night of passion. Rachel’s friends worry as she goes into surgery to save her premature baby. Rachel dreams about her first daughter Lily’s death and about her brief romance with Greg. Hope has a nasty fall.

Episode Three.