Chapter 13 #2
“Vagina, vagina, vagina,” she retorted.
He sucked in a wordless breath through his teeth.
“See,” she told me. “Shuts ‘em up every time.”
I laughed. I’d have to remember that for my next argument with March.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll find out his name myself. Now, what’s wrong with your leg, and what are you going to do about it?”
Feeling sorry for March, I rescued him with a change of subject. “It’s called plantar fasciitis, and I think it’s actually your foot that’s the problem. Karla, I can show you a few exercises that will help, if you’d like.”
She smiled. “Thank you, dear, but the only exercise I’m interested in is lifting my fork to my mouth.” She laughed at her own joke.
I’d heard the joke more than once from my patients, so I settled for a smile.
“Mom, you should be taking better care of yourself,” March said, quite correctly.
Karla finished chewing and ignored her son. “Those earrings of yours are lovely.” Now she was the one wanting to change the subject.
I touched my earlobe self-consciously. “They were a gift from my grandmother.”
She forked another bite. “If they’re old, they must be real.”
“They are,” I admitted.
March sent his mother a glare. “Mom.”
“What?” she answered. “Girls like to show off their jewelry.”
I smiled, remembering Nana. “My grandfather gave her these.”
Karla nodded. “He must have loved her very much. Those are lovely.”
I felt my cheeks redden. “Thank you.” I pivoted. “To be more clear about your foot, I meant stretching exercises. Nothing hard, but they will help with the pain.”
“Mom, you should take this more seriously.”
“Vagina, vagina, vagina.”
I rescued the red-faced March. “Did your doctor recommend a night splint?”
March drizzled more syrup on his plate. “What’s a night splint?” he asked.
“It keeps your foot in a desirable position while you sleep to keep the fascia from shrinking overnight,” I explained. “It’s quite helpful for most people.”
“You sure know a lot about it,” March noted. “How’s that?”
Busted. “Uh…my roommate had the condition.”
Duke quickly complimented Karla on the pancakes, and March gave up, shifting the conversation to Karla’s upcoming trip.
As we ate, I regretted giving anything away about my prior life. Maybe nobody had noticed.
March checked his watch. “We should get going,” he said, looking at me.
Karla centered her silverware on her plate. “Peyton, maybe you’d like to help me clean up?”
I nodded, having seen this scene play out in dozens of movies and dreading the inquisition that was coming.
“Leave them,” March suggested. “This is my place. I’ll do the dishes when I get home.”
His mother tsked. “And attract ants? Never. You boys go clean your guns, plan a bear hunt, or do something else manly while Peyton and I have a chat.”
So much for this being like the theater. In the movies, the mother was never so blunt.
“Be nice to her,” March warned as he stood.
Duke shook his head and pulled March away. “We need a plan.”
I had no idea what plan, but that wasn’t my concern.
I followed Karla with two sets of dishes and glasses into the kitchen.
She turned on the faucet full blast. “What is going on between you two?”
Talk about getting right to it—that was blunt. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t get cute with me now, young lady. I’ve seen plenty of furtive glances in my day, and I’ve sent furtive glances myself. He has the hots for you. That part is easy to tell.”
Blushing was something I couldn’t control. I opened the dishwasher. “Really? You think so?” I feigned shock.
“I may be a little biased, but I happen to think he’s quite the catch. So why are you pretending to be dumb?”
Was I that easy to read? “I’m flattered if he likes me, but I don’t have time for a man right now.”
She rinsed two plates and handed them to me. “Peyton, in my job, I’ve learned to read people pretty quickly, and I can tell Ruppert scares you, but he shouldn’t. I like you, so let me tell you this, he’s one of the good guys.”
I loaded the plates and accepted two more. “I know he is. He’s a great guy.”
March poked his head around the corner. “Peyton, it’s time to get going. Hey, Mom, do you mind locking up when you leave?”
“Ruppie, give us a second,” she barked.
He left.
She rinsed glasses and started passing them to me. “Whatever you’re afraid of, it shouldn’t include Ruppert.”
“Of course,” I said as I loaded the glasses.
She quickly rinsed a handful of silverware and leaned over to place them in the washer. “Great. I’ll have Ruppie give you my number if you want to talk.”
“Thanks.” That was twice now she’d suggested that March could help with my problem. Too bad that wasn’t true. My problem was unsolvable, at least by anybody at this end of the country.
I was sweating as I left the kitchen and gathered up my things. Karla was intense.
But when March appeared around the corner, I couldn’t control the smile that came to my lips. One of the good guys.
Zane
After breakfast, while Mom interrogated Peyton, I gave Duke the rundown on the break-in at Peyton’s condo and called Winston to arrange our meeting to talk to Peyton’s neighbor, Frank.
While I waited for Peyton to get ready, I replayed the discussion over breakfast about Mom’s foot. My bullshit detector had gone off big time when Peyton said her roommate had the same condition as Mom.
I didn’t buy the roommate story for a second, and her medical knowledge was an interesting glimpse into the background Peyton refused to share. Was she a podiatrist?
That would cast her situation in a whole new light. Nobody left a position like that and changed her name to become a personal assistant without a damned good reason, which meant a damned good fear.
When I turned the corner and saw her again, she bit her lip and smiled. For obvious reasons, when I focused on her lips, it took me right back to yesterday’s kiss. “How’d you sleep?” I hadn’t wanted to ask around Mom.
“Fine. You?”
I caught the wrinkle at the edge of her eye that could have meant subterfuge. “I had trouble falling asleep. Thoughts of a certain—”
“Ah, Ruppie, there you are.” Mom appeared out of nowhere. “I was thinking…” What followed that sentence was rarely good. “You should invite Peyton to our Sunday lunch.”
Peyton’s eyes widened like a cornered cat.
“Angel,” I said. “You are officially invited to the March family meal on Sunday.”
“Uh, thank you,” she said tentatively. “But I’m not sure—”
“I am,” Mom said with authority. “We’ll have time to get to know each other, and I can tell you a few of the embarrassing stories from Ruppie’s childhood that he wishes I forgot.”
Peyton laughed.
I grimaced and made a show of checking the time. “We need to get a move on.”
Mom got the hint. “All right then. You two run along. And, Peyton, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Same here. You have a son to be very proud of.”
I gave my mom a quick hug goodbye. “Don’t forget— ”
“Don’t worry. I’ll lock up and turn on the dog.”
I hurried Peyton out the door.
She giggled as we reached the street. “Is your mom crazy? How do you turn on a dog?”
“I have motion sensors for when I leave. If anyone comes near the house, they trigger a recording of a big, angry dog barking. Burglars hear an alarm, and they think it’s okay to break in so long as they get out in a hurry.
They hear a dog, and they think, no way am I going in there and getting eaten. ”
Wow. That was pure common sense.