Chapter 21
As the eight of them dined, Riva sensed Fiona’s interest in Brad was more personal than professional.
So Riva focused her attention back on Wes.
He was a likable fellow and a good conversationalist. In some ways, he reminded her of Paul.
Not in looks since he was taller and had more hair, but something about his confidence and easy humor felt familiar.
She glanced across the table, where Laurel was chatting with Marcus about the upcoming challenges in the school year.
She could tell that Laurel was in her element, but Marcus seemed unusually quiet.
Perhaps he was worried, like she was, that Kitty would show up and toss a giant Kitty-shaped wrench into the works.
Eventually, dinner was over and everyone was too stuffed to enjoy the frozen dessert Windy had prepared for them. “Why don’t we wait until later,” Riva suggested.
“Yes,” Fiona agreed. “We need some music and dancing first. We can work up our appetites.” She poked Brad in the shoulder. “Feel like getting out your guitar?”
“I was just waiting to be asked,” he told her.
Riva started picking up the dishes. “I’ll clear while you musicians set up.”
“But I’m on KP tonight,” Fiona pointed out.
“Not if you’re providing music,” Riva told her. “It’s more than a fair exchange.”
“I’ll help.” Wes picked up a large salad bowl and a pitcher of iced tea, then followed Riva into the kitchen. As Riva prepared leftovers for the fridge, Wes carried dishes in, then began to rinse and load the dishwasher.
“You’re good help,” Riva told him when they finished up.
“My ex used to accuse me of being obsessive about the kitchen.” He gave the countertop one final swipe. “But after a big dinner, I never liked seeing a dirty kitchen the next morning.”
“I’m the same way.” She was curious about his story, but she didn’t want to ask. “I got very particular after we remodeled this kitchen. I loved it so much that I couldn’t bear to see it all messed up. It got so that I could keep it fairly straight even while cooking.”
“Clean up as you go. I do that too. Makes short work later.”
“I tried to teach my kids to do it.” Riva put the plastic wrap back in the drawer. “But I don’t think they appreciated the concept.” She shrugged.
“How many kids do you have?”
“Just two.” She told him about Brent and Kenzie. “Do you have children?”
“Two daughters. They’re in their midthirties and live down in California, near their mom.”
“Do you see them much?”
“They visit sometimes. Holidays or vacation time. They grew up in Greenwood, so they have ties besides me up here. They’re good girls.
But neither are in any hurry to get married or have children.
I don’t know why so many young people are waiting so long to settle down, but I suppose I could blame myself. ”
“Why’s that?” She rinsed her hands in the sink.
“Because they watched their parents’ marriage fail.” He pulled out an island stool and sat.
“And you blame yourself for that?” She rubbed some lotion on her hands, studying him.
“Not entirely. It takes two.” He toyed with a mason jar of daisies that Riva had picked that morning.
“But I think Livvie, that’s my ex, had a midlife crisis of sorts.
We were empty nesters, and she was restless and unhappy and determined to reinvent herself.
And then her mother had health problems and Livvie went down to the Bay Area to help her.
Her mom died and Livvie got the house and enticed our girls to come down there with her. ” He sighed.
“How long ago was that?”
“It’s been about five years now.”
“Any chance you’ll get back together?”
He shook his head. “She’s remarried to a guy ten years younger than her. According to my girls, he just wanted a ‘sugar mama,’ but Livvie actually seems happy so maybe it’s working.” He smiled crooked. “At least it got me out of paying alimony. One thing to be grateful for.”
“Aren’t you done in here yet?” Marcus asked as he came inside.
Riva waved a hand toward the clean kitchen. “We were just chatting.”
“Oh?” Marcus looked from Wes back to her. “About anything interesting?”
“Just getting acquainted,” Wes told him. “We discovered we have the same compulsion for tidying up kitchens.”
“Well, they’re getting the music started out there.” Marcus paused at the sound of someone walking into the kitchen.
Riva turned to see Kitty, dressed in her usual flamboyant style. She looked all lit up and happy. Perhaps a bit too much.
“Well, hello there, peeps,” she chirped in a slurry voice. “Am I just in time for din-din? Windy said it was gonna be good tonight.”
“We just finished up,” Riva answered abruptly. She suspected Kitty had been drinking and hoped to avoid another scene. She exchanged glances with Marcus, but he remained quiet, his face blank. Maybe he was still troubled over last night’s fiasco.
“You didn’t wait for me?” Kitty’s lower lip jutted out as she tugged on a stool, pulling it right next to Wes before she sat down, nearly toppling off in the process.
“I haven’t had a single thing to eat all day,” she told Riva.
“Well, besides stale coffee and Diet Coke.” She kicked off her platform shoes, then snickered.
“Okay, okay, I did have two or maybe it was three martinis with my girls after an exhausting day at my salon. The clientele was a nightmare of cranky old ladies and snarky teen girls. Did you know it’s prom night? ”
“I didn’t know.” Riva exchanged glances with Wes, wondering what he thought of her strange housemate.
“But seriously, I’m starving, Riva.”
“Well, you definitely need to eat something.” Riva wondered if Kitty’s current state had anything to do with her day of fasting but didn’t care to inquire. “You’ll find some great leftovers in the fridge.”
“Dinner was delicious,” Wes told her. “Be thankful we didn’t polish it all off.”
“Please, help yourself,” Riva encouraged. Hopefully, Kitty didn’t expect to be waited on.
But Kitty just sat there like a stone. With her chin balanced on a cupped hand, she stared at her shiny lime-green fingernails, then looked up at Wes as if just noticing him sitting there.
“Hey, good-lookin’, whatcha got cookin’?
” She leaned in closer now, her face just inches from his, and grinned. “Who may I ask are you?”
“Sorry, Kitty. This is Wes Walker. I forgot you haven’t met yet.” Riva glanced at Marcus. “Wes and Marcus are buddies.”
Kitty stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet ya, Wes. I guess we’re trying to balance out the numbers, eh?”
“Balance out what numbers?” Wes’s expression was impossible to read as he studied Kitty. He could’ve been intrigued or repulsed or amused, Riva had no idea.
“You know, the boy-girl ratio.” Kitty jerked a thumb toward Marcus. “Stop the ladies from fighting over that one.” She grinned at Wes. “Marcus needed some competition. Bring it! Right?”
Wes barely nodded, then slowly stood. “I hear the music playing outside. Sounds pretty good. I think I’ll go check it out.”
“Me too,” Riva chimed in as she opened the patio door.
“Go ahead and fix yourself a plate of leftovers,” she called to Kitty.
“After your tiring day, you might want to take it to your room where you can relax and put your feet up.” Not waiting for a response, she slipped outside, silently praying that their so-far peaceful evening wouldn’t be derailed by Kitty’s unpredictable antics.
Three martinis on an empty stomach, really?
How was Kitty even walking a straight line right now? Maybe she wasn’t.
“Glad you could rejoin us,” Laurel said as Riva sat beside her. “Anyone else coming?”
Riva knew Laurel probably meant Marcus, but instead of answering, she just nodded toward the door. “Kitty came home,” she said quietly. “In the kitchen.”
Laurel let out a groan and now Windy looked worried.
“Do you think she’ll come out here?” Windy asked.
“Who knows? But she sounds tired from work . . . and maybe other things.” Riva grimaced.
“Like a hangover,” Laurel suggested.
Riva shrugged. “Anyway, she hadn’t eaten yet, so I encouraged her to fix herself a plate to take to her room.” Riva paused as Wes sat down by Windy.
Laurel scowled darkly. “If Kitty comes out I’ll just make myself scarce.”
Riva didn’t know what to say so she segued. “Their music sure sounds good tonight.” She tried to sound cheery. “It’s fun hearing a trio. Not so loud, and their harmonies are amazing.”
Eager to curtail this conversation, Riva leaned back to listen to a pleasant Irish folk tune.
It could be such a perfect evening, great food, good company, nice yard, warm weather .
. . except for the spoiler lurking in the kitchen.
She wondered why Marcus had remained in there.
Was he a glutton for punishment or was he simply trying to do damage control with Kitty?
Perhaps he was giving her the attention she seemed to insatiably crave.
But if he could manage to keep Kitty from coming out here and crashing the party, well, did she really care?
Okay, maybe just a little . . . for Marcus’s sake.
She didn’t like to think of a guest martyring himself for the sake of the party.
The music got cheerier and Windy grabbed Riva and Laurel’s hands, tugging them to their feet. “Come on, ladies.”
The three of them danced to the upbeat music and then Windy called out to Wes, who was watching with interest from his Adirondack chair.
“Don’t you wanna dance off your dinner, Wes?
Make room for the yummy dessert I’ve got waiting in the freezer?
” Windy went over to pull him up. “Come on, shake a leg, old man. It’s time for some boot-scooting boogie. ”