Chapter Two
The next Tuesday I was halfway home from the gym when my phone rang. I glanced down and read Mom on the screen, and sighed. I let it ring another time, then decided it was better to get it over with than to let her leave a message and have to call back later. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How are you doing?”
“Fine. How are you?”
“Oh, all right. We went to the doctor yesterday for your father’s knee…”
I continued on my drive, listening to the report on everyone’s various ailments and updates on my brother’s children. I was in the driveway when she said it. “Well, you can talk to them about it next weekend.”
I thought for a moment, as I tried to get the correct key without dropping my phone. We had been talking about my brother and his family going to Disney World. What was next weekend? I usually called Kevin for his birthday, but that was in March. I was stumped. I finally asked Mom.
“The wedding,” Mom said. Her voice told me I was being silly.
I closed the door behind myself and tossed my bag down so I could free Ollie and scritch him behind the ears. “Come on…Let’s go out,” I told him, then returned to Mom. “What wedding?”
“Cami Snyder’s wedding.”
Her mother worked with my mother at the church and I’d babysat Cami when I was in high school and home summers from college. “Wait, I can talk to Kevin then?”
“Yes.” Mom sounded exasperated. “We’ll have them over while you’re in town.”
Oh shit. I didn’t remember getting an invitation to Cami’s wedding let alone saying I’d go. She’d been about six the last time I’d seen her. “Mom, I’m not even invited.”
“She sent an invitation to the whole family. I responded for you.”
I pressed my forehead against the doorframe. “Mother.”
“Kevin is busy that night, but—”
“Mom, you didn’t even ask me.”
“We talked about it months ago.”
I knew for a fact that we hadn’t. “I haven’t seen her for a million years. Why would she even want me at her wedding?”
“The whole family was invited,” she repeated. “When are you coming in? Friday night or before that?”
I should have said I had plans, or an appointment, or anything to get out of it, but I didn’t, so I stood there in silence, watching Ollie dig up my flowerbed. “Friday night, I guess.” I hate my life, I added inside my head.
After another five minutes of talk about my nephew’s swim meet during which I inserted the requisite “uh-huh” from time to time, I grabbed Ollie’s harness and leash. I’d need to fix that flowerbed. “Hey, buddy.”
Ollie perked up and bounded toward me, filthy paws and all, and planted the front ones firmly on my chest. I was glad I was still dressed from the gym or I would have had to grab the stain stick.
The Brownlee kid was shooting baskets again.
He usually put in about two hours each night, but the poor thing really did not get any better.
As we passed, his ball banked off the rim and headed our direction.
Ollie considered guarding it, but let me pick it up.
I thought about trying a shot from the sidewalk but decided that would be mean, especially on the off chance it would go in.
I tossed it to the kid and he turned back to his game without acknowledging my help.
Little prick. Ollie crunched on a few baked worms stranded on the sidewalk from last night’s rainstorm, then went after a neighborhood cat.
One would think I never walked that creature, but even with practice every day, he did his own thing and was proud of it.
I’d tried to run with him a few times to expend some of the puppy energy he’d never lost, but that ended one day when someone’s underground sprinkler system popped up and started spraying just as we came to their yard.
Ollie panicked and stopped short, and I launched over his body and face-planted on the sidewalk.
I’d actually turned around and walked the long way back home so as not to have to pass the Sutherlands’ with road rash on my forehead.
I expected them to be in at dinner, but Corey was out trimming one of his rose bushes, snipping one stalk, standing back like an artist, snipping another. I had a couple in my backyard but I’d never trimmed them and they were wild and as tall as the house. “Those are beautiful.”
Corey smiled at me. “Why thank you.”
“How do you know just where to trim?”
“C’mere. You see this?” He showed me a tiny leafy bud looking thing. “Go at about a forty-five degree angle above this and snip—”
“Oh my God.” Lisa hung in the doorway. “Are you showing her bloom characteristics or how to prune?”
Corey gave her a dark look. “We’re pruning.”
I wished I’d changed out of my gym clothes. “It’s okay. I should probably learn to do this.”
“Do you have roses?” Corey asked.
“A couple in my back. They’re monsters.”
Corey gave me a few more tips, but Lisa watched from the porch and finally cut him off. “Want some cookies? I just baked for our staff meeting and I have a ton of extras.”
I didn’t bother to ask what kind. “Sure.”
“Come on in.”
“The dog,” I reminded her.
“He can come too.”
Corey raised his eyebrows, and I glanced over Ollie to make sure his paws were no longer muddy.
The Sutherlands had the cutest little porch with two rocking chairs facing the street.
I’d never seen them out there, and a vision flashed in my head of sitting with Lisa, Ollie curled up at our feet, a pitcher of iced tea between us. Ugh, shut up.
“Best behavior,” I hissed at Ollie as we followed Lisa into the house.
He stuck close as if he was paying attention, sniffing some things but not doing anything awful.
The door opened into a foyer directly next to the kitchen, which was absolutely spotless; perfect, just like the yard.
I wondered if everything in that house was so beautifully polished or if just past the dining area the rest of the house was a humongous mess. I hoped I didn’t smell like a barnyard.
Lisa went to transferring six cookies into a Ziploc, then cocked her head at Ollie. He cocked his head back. “Can he have one? It’s just oatmeal. No raisins or chocolate chips.”
I considered how neat Ollie usually was about eating. “Sure, but maybe outside?”
Lisa rolled her eyes at me, but handed me the Ziploc and pushed the screen door back open. “I hope this makes me your best friend, old man.”
I did, too. I also hoped he wouldn’t take her hand off. “Gentle,” I said. He accepted the cookie like a gentleman, then proceeded to snarf it up, dripping crumbs everywhere. Lisa watched with an adorable smile on her face as he nosed around, licking up every last bit. I watched Lisa.
Corey glanced up from his roses. “Did you just feed the dog a cookie?”
“Of course I just fed the dog a cookie.”
“Thank you for these,” I said.
“You’re very welcome. I’ll just eat them if I don’t give them away.”
Corey turned back to what he was doing, but his eyebrows jumped again. I wanted to ask him what that meant, if he thought she shouldn’t eat a dozen cookies if she wanted, if he thought she should be rail-thin or something. I didn’t say anything, just gave Lisa a little nod and continued on my way.
I didn’t let my breath out until I was well down the block. I felt like I was twelve again, when I accidentally found my gorgeous history teacher’s house and stood swooning in her living room while she wrote me a check for Girl Scout cookies.
I had a cookie in my mouth before I even unhooked Ollie, and they were wonderful. Would I think that if Mrs. Finley made them? I didn’t care. I grabbed two more, shared with Ollie, left my gym clothes on the floor in my bedroom along with yesterday’s T-shirt and shorts, and started the shower.
I needed some dinner, but there was literally nothing I wanted to eat in the house. I didn’t want to stuff Ollie into his crate again, so I told him firmly not to chew up my furniture, and headed out to Kroger.
Everything began innocuously. I looked over the bakery section, picked up some roast beef and a rotisserie chicken in the deli, and continued through the first row of dry foods.
I was pushing my cart between pasta and dried beans when I caught sight of something at the seafood counter ahead.
At first, I thought it was just a figment of my imagination, but I crept silently toward the end of the aisle and poked my head around the end cap.
Yes, Veronica Hamish was standing there poring over the glass case with Ally McLaughlin.
My Veronica. Like the one who was supposed to be in St. Louis.
I knew that hair and T-shirt anywhere. I had seen her silhouette as they walked by and I could hear the lilt of her voice now, discussing shellfish.
I blinked twice, but she didn’t go away like a clever mirage. What the actual fuck? I must have been standing there for a long time because a lady on my left cleared her throat. “Sorry,” I whispered and backed my cart out of her way.
I hugged the Ragu so closely I could feel the glass jars against my back and tried to breathe normally.
This was completely absurd. She’d left just three months ago, for her great new job and her great new apartment in St. Louis, with all her earthly belongings.
I’d packed them with her. I’d sat in her apartment atop the boxes with her and the goddamn tofu.
Now, she was here, in Kroger, on a Tuesday evening, talking about dinner with someone else.
How could she get off of work mid-week, less than three months into a new job? Was someone dead or something?
It sure didn’t look that way. It didn’t look like anyone was grieving at all.
Actually, it looked quite like she and Ally were a little bit close.
My jaw went tight. I peeked around the end cap again and promptly knocked two bags of cookies to the floor.
So much for a stealth move. It didn’t matter, because when I looked up, they weren’t in the seafood department anymore.