Chapter 13
Amy scooped up Duchess and sauntered down to her room.
She was trying to appear nonchalant, like none of this was anything more than hanging out with a friend.
But the moment she was inside, she shut the door, dropped Duchess on the bed, and dashed into the bathroom to change and freshen up, which in the last two days had come to mean putting on makeup.
She’d really let herself go au naturel in the last couple of years.
Mostly, she was all about body positivity and aging as a natural thing we should all embrace.
But when a handsome man was involved, all her noble intentions flew out the window.
So did any tolerance for her family. She didn’t know what was up with her mother and wasn’t going to take the time to figure out why on earth she would send all that junk food.
Maybe she thought Amy had brought the boys, even though she’d been explicit about her two-week, all-alone sabbatical.
“What a marvelous opportunity!” her mother had said. “We could all use a break like that.”
Well, whatever, at least now they had Cheez-Its, her favorite snack food. And anyway, she was still in her blissful, I-had-amazing-sex mood, and wouldn’t mind more of it. Therefore, the very last person she wanted to think about was her mother.
Her phone rang while she was dashing on mascara, and she was so certain it was her mother asking if she’d received the gift that she almost didn’t pick it up.
But then she happened to look at the screen.
It was her dad. Dad! Now what? It was her first family call of the day, and she thought she’d almost made it, had finally gotten through to them to leave her alone, but of course that was like hoping for world peace.
With a sigh, she picked up the phone. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? ”
“Amy?”
Yes, this was Amy, as evidenced by the fact that he’d called her number and she’d answered. “Yep, it’s me. What’s up?” She applied more mascara.
“Oh good, it’s you,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Now listen, honey, I know you’re at work, but I need to talk to you.”
“Okay, but I’m—”
“I’m worried about your mother. She has not picked up her phone all day, and that’s not like her.”
Amy paused. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Her parents lived in the same house. Why was he even calling her? Couldn’t he walk to the kitchen and find her? “You mean she’s not at home?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Okay. Maybe she’s at pickleball. She keeps that calendar on the side of the fridge.”
“I thought that, too,” he said. “But there is nothing on the calendar and her racket is right here.”
Speaking of rackets, the last time Amy had been over, Duchess had helped herself to one, and Amy had had to replace it.
She leaned backward, intending to cast a stink eye to her dog, but Duchess was not there.
She put down her mascara and walked to the door of the bathroom.
“She’s probably out shopping,” she said to her father.
No Duchess. She glanced toward the garden door and noticed it was ajar.
Had she forgotten to close it this morning?
Or had the little blind troublemaker figured out a way to open it? It didn’t have the most secure latch.
“That would be a lot of shopping,” her dad said. “We’re talking all day.”
He clearly knew nothing about shopping. “Then she must be at the spa. Or out with friends. She probably told you where she was going and you forgot.” She opened the back door and looked in the garden. No Duchess.
“No, I would remember. And, you know…she won’t talk to me, Amy,” he blurted.
Amy stopped searching for Duchess for a moment. “What?”
“She’s not speaking to me. Not a word.”
That didn’t sound at all like her mother. Amy’s experience was that she never let anything go unsaid. Furthermore, her mother had not mentioned being angry with her father. “Since when?”
“Since…well, recently is all I can tell you.” He sounded so sad.
Amy was confused. She returned to her room and sank onto the foot of her unmade bed and rubbed her forehead.
Her parents weren’t speaking to each other?
They were best friends. Or at least that was the face they presented to the world.
“I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t know. Maybe you could call Kevin and talk about it?
” Who, last time Amy checked, had absolutely nothing to do and could handle this.
“Kevin?” Her dad snorted. “Why would I call Kevin? Wait…do you think he knows something?”
“No, I’m sure he knows nothing. I just thought that maybe you’d want to talk—”
“Amy, you’re a woman. Tell me the truth—do you think something is going on? What does your intuition tell you? Do you think it could be the lack of intimacy?”
“Dad!” Amy surged to her feet. She had a strong urge to stick her fingers in her ears like she used to do when she was a kid. “Please don’t say another word. I don’t want to know anything. Come on, I’m at my art retreat.”
“I know, I know, and I did hesitate to call you. But doesn’t it concern you that I can’t get hold of her?”
She didn’t know why, but Amy was not concerned.
Her mother was a very busy person, and she would guess that she probably told Dad where she was and he forgot.
Again, why couldn’t he take this concern to Kevin, who could literally spend every minute of the day out looking for her?
“I’m not really concerned, Dad. If something had happened to her, the authorities would have been in touch by now. ”
“You’re right,” he said morosely. “I know you’re right, but I can’t help but worry about her. Do you know last week she went out with the Bossy Posse and didn’t come home until two in the morning?”
She did not know that, but again, not surprising.
The Bossy Posse was a group of women her mother’s age who thought they were hilarious and liked to Do Things.
They were essentially a book-pickleball-wine-travel group that rotated between houses and venues.
“She’ll turn up, Dad. She lives in the same house you do, so you’ll know the moment she comes home. I’m sorry, I have to go find Duchess.”
“Sure, okay. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, and sighed long.
That forlorn thing again! Amy winced. “You didn’t bother me. I just…I’m sort of taking a break from…everything.” She hoped he understood that everything meant her family.
“I’m sorry.” He sniffed and she wondered if he was being sentimental.
“But I hope for both our sakes that she’s all right.
Because I don’t know what I did,” he continued, clearly not ready to give up the ghost. “What could I have done? I know I haven’t been as frisky as she likes lately, but that medicine I’m taking for my blood pressure is really—”
“Okay, Dad!” Amy cut in loudly before he could say another word about his body functions. “If I hear from her, I’ll have her call you immediately. Talk to you later?”
“Okay, honey,” he said sadly. “Do you think she might be having an affair?”
“Dad. No. I really don’t believe that. Mom is loyal.”
“I hope so,” he said.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“Sure, sure,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”
“Love you,” she said, and clicked off the phone before he could suggest another possibility. “Jesus,” she muttered.
She was, of course, curious about what was going on with her parents, but she really believed it was a misunderstanding. And she had bigger fish to fry at the moment—find her dog and her lover. Ooh, she liked the sound of that.
Lovah, said like a real Carrie Bradshaw. She was a Carrie Bradshaw!
She quickly changed clothes, brushed her hair out, then went outside.
She found both dog and lover easily enough—one was sitting in the other’s lap at the firepit.
Duchess had curled into a perfect bagel.
The dog didn’t look that cozy even when she was sleeping next to Ethan.
“I think my dog has found a new favorite person.”
“It wasn’t hard,” Harrison said. “A couple of sniffs of the biscuit, and here we are.”
She smiled warmly. “Sorry I’m late.” She slid into the Adirondack chair next to Harrison’s. “My dad called.”
“Now dad, huh? That must make it a trifecta, right? Kid, ex, and now dad.”
“The only thing missing is my mom, and according to my dad she is literally missing.”
“What?” He looked at her with alarm.
“I think she is alive and well and reached out to me with her grocery delivery. It’s a miscommunication of some sort.” She picked up the box of Cheez-Its from a tray and ripped the top off. “Speaking of groceries, may I offer you some delicious cheese snacks?”
“You may.” He put Duchess on the ground, then reached to a table on the other side of his chair and picked up a glass and handed it to her. He’d already made the margaritas.
“You salted the rim!” Amy exclaimed with delight.
“The mix package came with two salts. One very spicy, one very standard. I erred on the side of caution.”
She took the drink from him, clinked his glass in a happy-hour toast, then they each took a handful of crackers. The fire Harrison had built was perfect. The smoke lifted up to a twilight sky, making the lights across the lake look hazy.
Harrison rubbed his thigh, complained that he was sore after Hillary had worked him over. “She doesn’t look that tough, but she’s got some mean hands on her.”
Amy confessed that her eyes burned from focusing on a canvas. “I think I need some new readers,” she said. “Or, dare I say it, some progressives. It’s happening, Harrison—the old is coming for me.”
“Between the two of us, it sounds like we are one step away from giant TV remotes.” He lifted his margarita. “Here’s to middle age.”