Crazy Little Thing (31 page)

Driving home from the marina later that evening, I leaned back in Des’s sporty little car. The wind tonight could hardly do more damage to my hair. The air was moist and warm. I could still feel the rocking of the boat as we sped along under old-fashioned street lights.

“So what did you and Tasha talk about when Tom and I were getting the drinks at the bar?” he asked, the line of his jaw stern.

“Not much. She told me you were awesome and I shouldn’t break your heart.” I meant to tease, but he didn’t smile or say anything. I reached over and put my hand in his, adding, “I won’t break yours if you don’t break mine, OK?”

He didn’t look my way. He only lifted my hand and pressed his lips against the back of it.

CHAPTER 23

I TUCKED MY KIDS INTO bed at Dody’s, giving Paige her requisite twenty good-night kisses. Jordan wanted one kiss, and it had to be on his left cheek. I was tired after my day of working with a new organizing client but was also looking forward to seeing Des. It had been days since I’d seen him for more than a few passing minutes. He’d been working nights at the hospital.

Dody offered to keep an eye on the kids since she was staying home tonight. She’d invited Anita Parker over to watch a documentary about Area 51. So once my munchkins were in their beds, I was off, hoping to end up in Des’s.

I strolled down the street toward the Pullmans’ place, listening to the crickets and smelling a faraway bonfire. What a lovely little street this was. Bell Harbor was a wonderful place to visit. It was a shame my new sweetheart and I didn’t live here all the time.

I got to Des’s place and walked in without knocking. He was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window toward the lake. He turned, and his annoyed expression gave me a chill. Maybe I should’ve knocked?

“Sadie, hi.” He gave me a nod but no smile, and the chill turned frostier.

I pointed at the door with my thumb. “Um, should I have knocked?”

He frowned. “What? Oh, no. Of course not. Hey, you want a drink?”

I wanted to walk out and come in again to start this moment over. “Ah, sure. What are you having?”

“Scotch.” His tone was defiant, as if daring me to contradict him.

“Are you OK?”

He stared at me, but I felt unseen. Then he huffed a big breath and shook his head. “God, sorry. It’s been a shit day. Come on in.” He set his drink down and came around the counter to hug me. He was tense in my embrace, but he pressed his cheek against my hair, saying, “I’m glad you’re here.”

I leaned back and looked into his face.

Brows furrowed, lines etched, he didn’t look happy at all. “Are you?” I asked.

He nodded, once, with another big sigh. “Yes. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me all day. Come on, get a drink.”

I let him pull me into the kitchen. “No scotch for me,” I said. “That stuff is vile. Do you have any wine?”

He opened a bottle and poured me a glass, filling it much higher than was socially acceptable. I tried to make small talk, which he largely ignored, not even laughing at my story about Dody trying to rollerblade with Fontaine. “So tell me about this awful day,” I finally said.

“No.” He shook his head and took another long pull from his drink. “I know we talked about seeing a movie or something, but would you mind if we hung out here, maybe watched some TV?”

“No, that’s fine.”

He tugged my hand, leading me over to the couch. We sat down, and he picked up the remote control, flipping rapidly through channels.

He was acting so peculiar I wasn’t sure what to do. He obviously didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the channels. I sat in silence, waiting for him to unload whatever was on his mind.

I sipped my wine, he gulped his scotch.

We watched one inane show then another, but I could tell his mind was light-years away.

“Des,” I said when he changed the channel again. “I don’t know why you’re upset. You know I’ll help if I can. But it’s not very fair for you to keep me wondering if you’re mad at me.”

He looked over as if surprised I was there. “I’m not mad at you, Sadie. Not at all. It’s got nothing to do with you.” He got up and poured himself another drink.

His words stung. Even if I wasn’t the object of his bad mood, to say it had nothing to do with me wasn’t true. I was here. That made me a part of it. I stood up and set my wineglass on the table.

“I think I’ll head on home.”

He came back out of the kitchen. “No, no. Don’t go home.” He pulled me loosely into his arms. “Seriously, I want you to stay. I’ll cheer up.”

I squeezed him around the middle. “You don’t need to pretend to cheer up for me, but seeing you all grumpy and sad brings out my maternal instincts.”

“Maternal instincts?” His face suffused with color, and I realized it was quite possibly the least sexy thing I ever could’ve said. He stepped back and turned away, running a hand through his hair.

“Did Tasha tell you why Stephanie and I got divorced?” he asked, facing away from me.

Now it was my turn to turn colors. I hadn’t admitted what Tasha and I discussed. It didn’t seem necessary, and I thought if he wanted to talk about it, he’d bring it up. Maybe that’s what he was doing now.

“Yes.”

He pulled his drink from the kitchen counter and returned to his spot on the couch, slumping down against the cushions.

I joined him, sitting gingerly on the edge, and waited for him to talk.

When he did, his voice was flat. “We probably would’ve gotten divorced sooner or later anyway. If it hadn’t been that, it would’ve been something else. Stephanie wasn’t one to consider anyone else’s needs.” A humorless laugh, another gulp of scotch. “That being the case, I figured she wasn’t cut out for motherhood, and maybe that’s why she did what she did.”

He looked at me, his gaze intense. His voice was nearly a whisper. “I don’t love her anymore, Sadie. I haven’t in a long time, so I don’t know why this is bothering me so much.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Why, what is bothering you?”

“I found out today Stephanie just got remarried. And she’s having a baby. Due anytime.” He drained his glass. “You know how I found out?”

I couldn’t imagine. I shook my head.

“The insurance company called to verify her address because she’s still got me listed as her emergency contact. Can you fucking beat that? She’s got time to find another guy, get married and have a baby, but she can’t get around to updating her goddamned insurance policy.”

“Are you sure? Maybe the insurance company made a mistake.”

He shook his head. “I made a few calls. It’s true.”

I was without words. What could I possibly say to something like that? I didn’t even know how I felt, so I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. All I knew was I wanted to make him feel better. I moved closer and took his empty glass, setting it on the table. I slid into his lap and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He leaned into me, burying his head in the curve of my neck. I could feel the tension coursing through him.

“You know the real bitch of it?” he said quietly, not lifting his head.

“What’s that?” I kissed his temple.

“She told me after we got married how she never wanted kids. And I tried really hard to be OK with that, for her sake. Now it turns out she just didn’t want mine.”

My heart shattered into a million aching pieces. How could one person do that to another? Especially someone as wonderful as Des. I hugged him tighter, knowing words were empty and not what he needed. I kissed him instead, and then I kissed him again.

So many times before, he’d led me to his room and shown me I was beautiful. I was desirable and deserving. But tonight I did the leading, the consoling, the reassuring. Without saying a thing, I proved to him that she was wrong, and he was worthy.

“What do you think of my new painting? I just finished it.” Dody stepped away from the easel so Paige, Jordan, Fontaine, and I might admire her creativity. Personally, I couldn’t tell a Picasso from a pistachio, but this looked like something spewed from a blender onto the canvas.

“Wow, Mom. Those are some bold strokes,” Fontaine said.

“Thank you. I call it
Piranha Eating Ravioli
.”

I squinted. I’ll be damned. That’s what it looked like.

“Mommy, there’s a man coming to the door,” Jordan said, pointing at the window with his plastic helicopter.

A black car I didn’t recognize was parked in the driveway. An instant later came a knock on the door and the inevitable barking frenzy of Lazyboy and Fatso. They galloped around crashing into furniture until Dody shooed them away.

I opened the door to find a mousy little man with thick glasses and a turtleneck sweater, even though it was the middle of summer.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Turner? Mrs. Sadie Turner?”

I nodded.

He handed me an envelope, then walked back to the car without another word.

I flipped it over and my stomach plummeted. The return address indicated it was from Richard’s attorney’s office, Kendrew, Graham & Vollstedt. Or as I tended to think of them, Fook, DeWife & Howe. My hands trembled. I wasn’t expecting anything from his lawyer so this could not be anything I wanted to read. I walked to the deck to get away from the kids. Dody and Fontaine followed.

I ripped it open, too nervous to sit down, but after reading a few lines, my legs buckled and I sank to the wicker chair.

“What is it, darling?” Dody whispered.

“Richard is taking me back to court,” I said in stunned surprise. “It looks like he wants the house back and joint custody of the kids.”

“Can he do that?” Fontaine’s voice was an octave higher than normal.

I kept reading the document, flattening it against my lap since my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “According to this, if I understand it correctly, he’s claiming that I have abandoned the house and exposed the children to an undesirable environment.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dody hissed. Fontaine flushed and turned away.

Suddenly pieces to a puzzle that had been bumping around in my subconscious for weeks now began to take shape. A picture emerged. That’s why Richard had been so friendly, offering to check on the house and to pick up the kids from Bell Harbor. The longer I stayed away from Glenville, the better chance he had of proving I’d abandoned my own house. That must be what he’d told my neighbors. That son of a bitch. That’s why he was interested in my relationship with Des. Not because he was jealous. He was looking for ammunition! It must also be why he’d dropped the issue of Fontaine staying at the cottage. I should’ve known. A lifetime of prejudice wouldn’t go away so easily. That vile, despicable piece of shit. Richard wanted to kick me out of my own house and steal my children!

“Dody, I need to make some calls. Could you keep an eye on the kids for a while?”

“Of course, darling. Take all the time you need. I’m sure we can work this out.”

I ran upstairs and called my attorney, Jeannette. She was out of her office so I left a detailed message with her assistant. Then I tried Penny but got her answering machine. I considered calling Des next. He’d help me. He’d know what to do. Just the thought of him calmed my nerves. Last week, when he confided in me about his ex-wife, it seemed our relationship turned a corner.

For a month I’d been pretending what we had was casual, but it wasn’t. I was in deep, very deep. Des was a part of my life now, and I didn’t want to contemplate saying good-bye to him at the end of the summer.

I was sure he felt the same way. Nothing specific had been discussed, of course, but I felt it in his touch, the tenderness in his eyes when he smiled at me. Somewhere between the sake and the sex, he’d fallen in love. And so had I.

I started to dial his cell but disconnected before it could ring. He was working. This wasn’t the time to tell him about Richard’s scheming.

I texted him instead, asking him to come over for dinner. He responded, sending a message that work was crushing him. He’d try to stop by but couldn’t make a promise.

I smiled at his note, disappointed I might not see him but happy he was not the type of man to make promises he could not keep.