Sleeping Alone (9 page)

“And you weren’t invited?”

They’re hanging on every word,
she thought as she glanced around the table. From Eddie to Vince’s wife, they were all paying close attention to the byplay between John and his brother.

“It’s a holiday, Johnny.” Brian made to pat his brother on the shoulder, but John took a large step back. “Why the third degree?”

Next to Alex, Dee stood up. “Are you hungry?” she asked Brian. There were no words of welcome or greeting. “If you are, I’ll fix you a plate.”

Brian met Dee’s eyes, and Alex’s breath caught.
So that’s the way it is,
she thought. Dee Murray and Brian Gallagher. The teenage marriage that didn’t work out.

“I’d like that, Dee Dee.”

Dee’s expression softened, and Alex’s heart ached for her.
Don’t look at him that way, Dee. Don’t give him that power over you.
She seemed so young and vulnerable, not nearly old enough to be the mother of a sixteen-year-old boy.

“You can sit there.” Dee motioned toward Mark’s empty seat. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be seeing him any time soon.” She headed for the kitchen.

Alex stood up. “I’ll see if Dee needs some help.”

“Stay here,” Brian said. “She likes to work alone.”

“No,” she said firmly, “I’m going to give her a hand.” She wasn’t about to sit there while he tried to figure out where he knew her from.

Dee was standing by the back door, smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you could use an extra pair of hands,” Alex said as she approached.

Dee exhaled. Smoke wreathed her head like fog. “Only if the extra hands are willing to strangle him.”

Be careful,
Alex warned herself.
You don’t know anything about the situation.
The only thing she did know was that—right or wrong—she’d disliked Brian Gallagher on sight.

“I’m not up for attempted murder,” she said, “but I’d be happy to nuke the gravy for you.”

Dee took a drag on her cigarette. “Some friend you are.”

“I take it he wasn’t invited.”

“He was invited, all right,” Dee said with a laugh. “It just took him almost twenty years to show up.”

Alex couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would be of any value. Any advice she might offer would be based solely on conjecture, as Dee hadn’t offered any clues about her relationship with Brian Gallagher. “Why don’t I fix the plate for him?” she offered.

Dee took a drag on her cigarette, then tossed it out into the rain-soaked backyard. “I’d appreciate that,” she said. “I might add a side of hemlock just for the hell of it.”

Alex took a microwavable plate from the cupboard and set about arranging turkey and all the accoutrements in the pinwheel fashion she’d learned in one of her cooking classes. She left a spot for the cranberry sauce. “What do you think?” she asked Dee. “A thirty-second nuking should cover it.”

“You’re really good at this,” Dee said, admiring Alex’s handiwork.

Alex grinned and popped the plate into the microwave. “You have to be good at something.”

* * *

Brian excused himself to get something from his car. John followed him out to the driveway.

“So what the hell are you doing here?” he asked as Brian unlocked the car door.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Brian said. “We’re family. Families spend Thanksgiving together.”

What a crock of shit. Brian had an angle, and John was going to find out what it was. “Then why are your wife and kids in Aspen?”

Brian leaned across the front seat and grabbed a large bottle. “A magnum of Dom,” he said, locking the door again. “Think Dee Dee will like it?”

“She might have liked a phone call before you showed up at her door.” Or something she could actually use. Brian was still more into impressing people than making them happy.

“Sounding a little possessive there, Johnny. Have you and Dee Dee finally—”

John’s fist met his brother’s chin in mid-sentence. Brian staggered back against the Porsche, and John caught the champagne bottle just before it crashed to the driveway.

“Say something like that again,” John warned, “and you’ll be picking your teeth out of the asphalt.”

Brian rubbed his chin gingerly. “I’d sue your fucking ass, but the paperwork would cost more than the settlement I could get out of you.”

“Did Margo finally have enough of your shit and move out?” His sister-in-law was too upwardly mobile for his tastes, but she’d always been pleasant enough to him. Sometimes more pleasant than he deserved.

“Her parents opened the ski lodge a week early. She took the kids out to celebrate the holiday with them.”

John couldn’t contain the smirk. “And they didn’t roll out the red carpet for the aging Boy Wonder of Bailey, Banning, and Horowitz?”

“Go to hell.” Brian tried to push past John, but John wouldn’t move. “I’m taking a depo tomorrow in White Plains. If I went to Aspen, I’d never get back in time.”

“Leave Dee alone,” John said through clenched teeth.

“Fuck off.”

Work before family. Brian’s priorities had been set in the cradle, and nothing would ever change them. A long time ago he’d said he would be a full partner by his fortieth birthday and so far he was on track to his goal. Most of the fight seeped out of John, and he turned away.

“You’re not going back to the house?” Brian asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“I wouldn’t mind having a chance to talk to the new face without you shooting me dirty looks.”

“Are you talking about Alex?” His hands were curling into fists again.

“There’s something familiar about her,” Brian said, “but I can’t quite get a handle on her yet.”

“You’re pathetic. You’ve got a wife and kids, you bastard. Do you have to try to score with every woman you bump into?”

“Who said anything about scoring?” Brian’s outrage didn’t quite ring true. “I’m saying I think I know her from somewhere.”

“She doesn’t know you.”

“Maybe she does and she’s not saying.”

John made a face of utter disgust. “Who’d blame her?”

Brian ignored the slam. “So where’d you meet her?”

He hesitated, but he wasn’t sure why. After all, it was a matter of public record. “She bought the Winslow house.”

“What?”

“The Winslow house,” John repeated.

“It wasn’t supposed to be on the market until the New Year.”

“How the hell would you know when the Winslow house was going on the market?”

Brian’s face closed in on itself. “Let’s call it a lucky guess.”

Brian Gallagher’s presence at the dinner table changed everything, Alex thought as she served dessert. Where the conversations had been free-flowing and lively before, they were careful and formal now. Except for John, who wasn’t talking at all; he just stabbed at his apple pie as if it were a rattlesnake on the attack. She wouldn’t say the other dinner guests disliked Eddie’s elder son, but it was painfully clear they were very uncomfortable around him.

She didn’t blame them one bit. Every time she looked up, she found him looking at her with a curious expression in his eyes that made her uneasy.

“Looks good, Dee Dee,” Brian said as Dee dropped his dinner plate in front of him. “How about some more stuffing?”

“All out,” she said.

“Cranberry sauce?”

“None left.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a—”

“The cupboard’s bare, Brian,’’ Dee said, taking her seat at the head of the table. She picked up her dessert fork. “You’re lucky you have that much.”

“Lucky and grateful,” he said, sweeping a smile from one end of the table to the other.

“Sweet Jesus,” Eddie erupted, “this isn’t one of your candy-ass New York dinners, Brian. Can’t you just shut up and eat like everyone else?”

A ripple of laughter moved its way down the table. Even Dee grinned as she poked at her pumpkin pie. John was obviously too angry to find any humor in the situation, but Brian, to Alex’s surprise, took the gibe with good grace.

“You’re right, Pop,” he said, spearing a sweet potato with the tines of his fork. He popped it in his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “Good food, Dee.”

The woman’s face flushed dark red. “Enjoy,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Hear a nor’easter’s working its way up the coast,” Eddie said as he polished off his apple pie a la mode. “Should hit after midnight.”

“You better batten down your hatches, missy.” Sally wagged a fork in Alex’s direction. “Poor old Marge had herself the devil of a time whenever a storm blew in.”

“You’ll have to do something about that roof,” John said, breaking his silence, “and soon.”

“Better start with a ceiling,” Eddie chimed in, “or you’ll need a rowboat to get from the living room to the kitchen.”

That remark got everyone’s attention, including Brian’s.

“Marge Winslow’s house?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alex said.

“John told me, but I didn’t believe him.”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe him,” she said, careful to maintain an even tone of voice. “People buy houses all the time.”

“The Winslow place is a dump,” Brian said. “What idiot steered you to it?”

“I steered myself,” she said, then mentioned the newspaper ad in the
Star-Ledger.

“That’s where you made your mistake,” Brian said. “You should have used the
Times
.”

John started to say something, but she beat him to it.

“I did try the
Times,”
she said, aware that she and Brian were the focus of everyone’s attention. “I’m afraid their offerings were too rich for my blood.”

“Come on,” Brian said with a laugh. “Those earrings you’re wearing probably cost double what you paid for the house.”

Sally almost choked on her coffee. Dee’s fork clattered to her plate. John looked ready to go for his brother’s throat. Everyone else stared at her ears as if the crown jewels were hanging from her lobes.

“I hope you bring an expert with you when you buy jewelry for your wife,” she said, “because these are cubic zirconium.”

“CZ and platinum?”

How on earth could he tell platinum from across the table? “Wrong again,” she said. “Sterling silver. I bought them from QVC. I’m sure I have the order number filed away someplace if you’d like it.”

“I couldn’t live without my QVC,” Sally piped up. “I got a four-carat Diamonique band that could fool Mr. Tiffany.”

God bless you, Sally Whitton,
Alex thought gratefully, and God bless the fact that she’d watched the popular home shopping channel more than a few times herself. She chatted with Sally and the other women about the different show hosts, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brian was evaluating every word she uttered.

For that matter, so was John, and yet his scrutiny didn’t give her the uneasy feeling that she was about to walk straight into the jaws of a trap. John’s attention made her feel alive.

* * *

Brian managed to corner Alex as she came out of the bathroom an hour later.

“Oh!” She jumped back in surprise. “I didn’t know you were waiting out here.”

“No problem,” he said, that same bland smile on his face that she knew so well from Griffin.

She flattened herself against the wall, expecting him to walk by and cross the threshold into the bathroom. He didn’t, and her anxiety level escalated.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable out there,” he said.

“Uncomfortable?” She hated to think that she could be so transparent to a stranger.

“All that talk about your house. It was insensitive.”

“Yes,” she said, “it was.”

“It’s probably a great fixer-upper.”

“I hope so.”

“I imagine you’ll keep half of Sea Gate employed.”

“How would I do that?”

“Fixing up the house.”

“I’d figured to do it myself.”

“You don’t look like the kind of woman who likes to get her hands dirty.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” she asked bluntly. “Because if there isn’t, I’m going to rejoin the crowd in the family room.”

“Only that you don’t see too many pairs of Ferragamos in Sea Gate.”

“I’m a good shopper.”

“Or an even better liar.”

“You’ve never heard of thrift shops?”

“I’ve seen you before,” he said, and she knew from his tone of voice that he believed it. “I can’t figure out where but I will.”

“This is quite amusing,” she said. “Please make sure you let me know what you find out.”

“I will, Alex Curry,” he said as she pushed past him. “You can bank on it.”

* * *

“He did something to upset her,” Dee said to John after Alex left. They’d gone to the kitchen to get more coffee for the crowd. “I don’t know what but I know that son of a bitch did something.”

“I asked her,” John said, adding sugar to his own cup, “but she shrugged it off.”

Dee was almost in tears. “It was such a nice day until he showed up. Damn him.” Her voice shook with emotion. “I wish he’d—” She stopped abruptly and turned away.

John glanced at the kitchen clock. “It’s after eight. How much longer is he going to stay?”

“Until the rest of you leave.” Dee turned back to face him. “Don’t you know what he’s doing, Johnny? He’s here for me.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“What do you mean, he’s here for you?” She’d made it sound like something from an old horror movie.

She gave him a pitying look. “What planet are you from, Johnny? His wife’s away, and he’s had too much to drink. Classic,” she said. “Pathetic and classic. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

He grabbed her by the arms. “Happened before? What the hell does that mean?”

She pulled away from him. “He wants to fuck me. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Jesus.” His stomach twisted with anger. “You’re not—”

“I’m a fool,” she said, “but not that big a fool. At least not yet.”

“You’ve been there, Dee, and it didn’t work.”

“Like I need to be reminded? All I have to do is look at Mark.”

“Want me to set him straight?”

“You already socked him in the jaw. That’s enough for one holiday, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t I—”

“You don’t need my problems,” she said. “You have enough of your own.” She took his hand. “Like Eddie.”

“Eddie?” He pulled his hand away. “Nothing’s wrong with Eddie.”

“You know something’s wrong, honey, and you’re going to have to deal with it sooner or later.”

“So he walks in his sleep. Since when is that a crime?”

“You’re kidding yourself, Johnny, and it’s not being fair to your father.”

“Good try, Dee,” he said. “Now, why don’t we talk about being fair to your son.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “You bastard.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning away. “I guess it runs in the family.”

* * *

“Damn!” Across town Alex slapped the steering wheel of her VW in frustration. “Start, car,
start
!”

She turned the key again and was rewarded once more with the sound of utter silence. How could a car break down at a stop sign? The salesman had promised her she’d get at least another year out of the battery, and she’d believed him.

Talk about a clean sweep. Her house had more leaks than the Clinton White House, and her car was a candidate for Dr. Kevorkian. What was next, a visit from space aliens?

Dark sheets of rain fell across the windshield, making it impossible for her to see beyond her own fender. She’d been stuck in the intersection for ten minutes, and not one single car had driven by. She had the feeling she could sit there another ten with the same result.

To make matters worse, she’d left her umbrella in the brass stand in Dee’s foyer. She’d been in such a rush to leave that it was a wonder she’d remembered her coat and car keys.

“Stay a little longer,” Dee had urged. “I usually make sandwiches around eleven.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Alex had said, “but I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“I could shoot Brian,” Dee said fiercely. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable.”

Alex had said nothing. Brian had made her uncomfortable, but that wasn’t why she was leaving. His relentless probing unnerved her, but not half as much as simply being in the same room with his brother. John made her feel things she’d only read about, a mix of heat and longing so fierce it shattered her fondest illusions about herself. About the kind of woman she was. Sex had never been an important part of her life. She’d craved the tenderness and closeness that came afterward when Griffin held her in his arms, but she’d never known how it felt to burn with desire for a man’s touch.

She knew now. She could still feel his powerful grip as he’d held her last night to keep her from falling. The shameless way she’d wanted to press herself against him and brand herself with his heat. Now it was even worse. Now she wanted to know his secrets.

Wind rocked the small car like a cradle. It was obvious a traveling auto mechanic wasn’t going to materialize, and she certainly couldn’t spend the night here. She didn’t have a choice. She’d leave the car where it was and worry about it first thing in the morning.

She ran through the rain-soaked streets, dodging puddles and potholes with varying degrees of success. Five minutes later she let herself into her house, just in time to empty the pans and buckets she’d left beneath the leaks in the living room before they overflowed. She knew that sooner rather than later she would have to find a more permanent remedy, but ceiling or no ceiling, she was glad to be home.

And it really did feel like home. She wouldn’t have believed a person could put down roots in less than a week, but that’s exactly what had happened. Within these four walls, she was more herself than she had ever been in her life.

* * *

John did his best to outlast his brother, but Eddie’s hiatal hernia started acting up, and they called it a night around ten o’clock.

“Want me to come back?” he said quietly to Dee as she saw them to the door.

“I’m a big girl, Johnny,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

John glanced toward the living room, where Brian—together with a bottle of Scotch—was holding court. “He’s drunk, Dee. What if—”

“Don’t worry,” she said, kissing his cheek. Her breath smelled like wine and cinnamon. “I’ve called for a very expensive limousine to drive him home.” She grabbed his wrist and checked his watch. “In one hour he’ll be on his way to Manhattan and a major hangover.”

She wasn’t his wife or sister. He didn’t have any right to tell her how to live her life. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” she said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “That’s why I’m divorced and waiting tables at the Starlight.”

The drive home took ten minutes. Eddie slept for nine of them.

“Getting old stinks,” he said, climbing out of the truck. “I used to be able to kick butt until the sun came up.” He groaned and rubbed a spot at the top of his chest. “Now I can’t even eat two pieces of pumpkin pie without catching hell.”

John laughed. “I’ll take care of Bailey. You go pour yourself a Pepto cocktail.”

Grumbling, his old man let himself into the house. A second later Bailey exploded through the front door and aimed herself straight at John. “Glad to see you, too, girl.” He scratched her behind the ear. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re having a nor’easter. How about getting down to business?”

Bailey didn’t care about the weather. A full-blown tornado wouldn’t have stopped her. She ran laps through the muddy front yard, paws sliding in all directions. Every now and then she threw a look in John’s direction as if to reassure herself that he was still there. It felt good. Nobody else seemed to want him around.

He leaned against the truck, letting the wind and rain pummel him. He didn’t much like thinking about Dee being alone with Brian. His brother was a sly son of a bitch. Some men practiced law to help right society’s wrongs; Brian practiced law to see how far he could push the envelope. Unfortunately that was the same way he treated women. Dee was a lot more vulnerable than she cared to admit, and John was afraid a little sweet talk at the right moment would be enough to persuade her to take a horizontal walk down memory lane.