"Budge came back the next day and told me not to worry, that Daddy would see I'd have to divorce Stewart once he found out about the missing money." Margie looked mutinous. "Except he didn't. Daddy said he didn't want any more scandal. He said he'd fix it so Stewart never bothered me again."
"Hello," Suze said.
"I think he was going to make him be a good husband," Margie said. "Where Daddy got the idea he knew anything about being a good husband is beyond me."
"So you hit Stewart with the Desert Rose pitcher," Suze said, the wonder still in her voice.
"Keep up," Nell said to her. "We don't have time to stop and review."
"And he left and now I have Budge. Sex isn't everything. And he really wants to get married now." Margie put her nose back in her glass.
"You know, you're going to have to hit Budge with the milk pitcher, too," Suze said.
"Suze." Nell smacked her with her foot.
"Hey, if I could beat Jack to death with that damn Spode, I would," Suze said, and Nell took her glass of milk away from her.
"I really thought that if I just didn't tell anybody, maybe nobody would ever know," Margie said sadly. "But that never works."
"It's okay, honey," Nell said, pretty sure it wasn't.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Margie said to nobody in particular and wandered off toward her powder room.
"So Stewart's come back annoyed because Margie pasted him with her Franciscanware seven years ago?" Suze said. "That doesn't make sense."
"You're forgetting the two million in insurance Budge wants her to collect," Nell said. "That would bring a lot of people back from the dead."
"Margie better keep that pitcher handy," Suze said. "Give me back my milk."
"Gabe and Riley are not going to believe this."
Suze took her milk back. "You think we should tell them?"
"Of course we should tell them. Margie's off the hook. Stewart got up and walked away."
"Okay. But maybe you should leave out the part about her clocking him with the pitcher. And sleeping with Budge."
"Which means I tell them what? That Stewart fell down on his way to the airport?"
Suze looked conflicted. "She's our friend and she was married to a son of a bitch."
"She did not kill him with earthenware," Nell said. "She's clear even if he's dead. And he doesn't appear to be dead. Although Lynnie didn't sound like she was working with anybody. She wanted me to work with her, so he couldn't be with her."
"She was also the queen of the cons," Suze said. "Maybe it was a come-on."
"No," Nell said. "I trust her."
"You trusted Tim, too," Suze said, and Nell drank some more milk.
Margie came back. "I feel kind of sick."
"Soy poisoning," Suze said. "Lay off the milk for a while."
"Okay," Nell said, pushing the rest of her own milk away. "We need to concentrate on the important stuff here. Margie, Stewart cannot hurt you, so stop worrying about him. And you don't need to marry Budge if you don't want to."
"Nell," Suze said, warning in her voice.
"Stop doing whatever he says," Nell said.
"Neil," Suze said, and Nell looked up to see Budge standing in the living room doorway, looking like the Sta-Puf Marshmallow Man at the end of Gbostbusters, ready to take out a city.
"Budge, she doesn't want to get married," Nell said.
"Yes, she does," Budge said. "She just thinks she doesn't because you're not. She thinks she wants everything you do, like an apartment in the Village, but she'd be miserable if she moved." He came up to the table and put his arm around Margie, and his voice rose as he went on. "You've upset her. You're always upsetting her. Every woman doesn't have to be like you. Every woman doesn't want a job and an apartment. Apartments are dangerous. Terrible things happen to women in apartments, rapes and burglaries and murders. Margie needs to stay here with me where she's safe."
Suze said, "Margie?" but Nell knew it wouldn't do any good. Margie would fight back about the time she threw out her dinnerware.
"I think you'd better go," Budge said.
The last thing they heard as they went out the door was Budge saying, "You know your daddy doesn't want you talking to them, especially Nell. You should have told them you couldn't see them," and Margie saying, "I need some more milk."
On the way back down High Street, Suze said, "He makes me ill."
"That might be the soy and Amaretto," Nell said. "That might have been me," Suze said. "I used to listen to Jack like that."
"I let Tim pretend I was just the office help," Nell said. "We do it because we want to keep the marriage going."
"I don't think I'm doing that anymore," Suze said. "Of course, I'm pretty gullible. I believe anything I think."
"I'm lying to myself about one thing," Nell said.
"Gabe?"
"Marlene," Nell said, staring at the dog on her lap, and Marlene picked up her head and looked at Nell to see if anything good was about to happen.
Suze frowned at her, incredulous. "Marlene? Come on-" Then she broke off. "You're not back on that I-stole-a-dog-from-its-loving-master thing, are you? He called her SugarPie, for heaven's sake. For that alone the ASPCA should have tagged him."
"I love her," Nell said. "I cannot tell you how much I love this neurotic dog. But she is neurotic. I adore her and she looks like I beat her daily. And if somebody took her from me-"
"I don't believe this," Suze said.
"It's been nagging at the back of my mind," Nell said, holding the dog closer.
"I know," Suze said. "I just don't know why."
"We've been carrying guilt for so long," Nell said. "You resented Jack, and Margie hated Stewart, and you both felt guilty about it. You faced Jack and you're free. Margie won't face Budge so she's stuck."
"So you're going to face Farnsworth?" Suze said. "Good luck on that one."
"I was thinking more of taking Marlene back to the yard," Nell said, "and letting her go. And then if she trotted off toward the house and was happy, I'd know I'd done the right thing. And if she stayed with me, then I could keep her without guilt."
"And if she rolls over on her back and moans pathetically?"
"Same thing," Nell said. "That's what she was doing when I dognapped her. It'll be getting dark soon. We could do it now before I lose my nerve."
"Now?" Suze said. "Listen, I'm against this. I love this damn dog, too. Plus, she has that wardrobe. Will Farnsworth get her a leather bomber jacket for the chilly nights?"
"Budge is holding on to Margie because he loves her," Nell said. "He really does. I thought he was awful back there, but he wasn't being mean. He was really tender with her. He thinks its okay because he loves her. I can't condemn him for that and keep Marlene for the same reason."
"I think it's different," Suze said, but her voice wasn't sure.
"Margie's going crazy from the frustration and the guilt. I always thought it was funny the way she solved everything with 'maybe he'll never know,' but that's how I am with Marlene. I want a clean slate, no guilt." She took a deep breath. "I have to do it. And then we have to tell Cube about Margie."
"Great," Suze said flatly. "Nothing like ethics to ruin a perfectly good evening."
A little after eight, when the sun had given up for the day, Nell walked a naked Marlene down the lot line to her old backyard. When they got there, she crouched down and undid Marlene's leash and collar, and looked deeply into her eyes. "I love you, Marlene," she said. "I'll always love you. But this is your home. So if you want to go, it's okay." Marlene didn't move, and Nell said, "Of course, if you want to come back with me, that's okay, too."
Marlene yawned and looked around and then, evidently spotting something of interest, she trotted into the yard.
So much for the old if you love something, set it free bit, Nell thought as she stood and watched her. Of course, the depth of Marlene's feeling had always been a mystery. Nell wanted to yell after her, "You're losing the chenille throw here, did you think about that?" but the only word that Marlene really knew well was "biscuit," and it didn't seem appropriate under the circumstances.
Marlene examined the yard for a while and then sat down, bored, and Nell realized the flaw in her plan. Farnsworth was going to have to let Marlene in, but there was no way Nell was going to knock on the door and say, "Hi,
I stole your dog seven months ago and the guilt finally got to me. Here she is. Bye."
Marlene continued to sit in the middle of the yard, looking disgruntled. Whatever had piqued her interest was over.
Okay. Nell picked up a rock from the back of the lot and threw it at the back door. It hit low and made a good, solid thunking sound. She faded back into the trees, but nothing happened. Fine. She picked up another rock and threw it. Thunk. Nothing.
Marlene observed the proceedings with interest, moving her head from Nell's pitch to the impact on the back door twice without showing the slightest interest in chasing anything.
"One more," Nell said and threw the third rock, and this time, a woman opened the door, and the biggest German shepherd Nell had ever seen bounded out, barking like the Hound of the Baskervilles.
Marlene turned on her butt and raced for the lot line, zapping past Nell before she could catch her, and Nell followed her almost as fast, praying that Farnsworth still put those electronic collars on his dogs and that the shepherd wasn't moving too fast to stop. She saw Marlene streak into the street and Suze open the door of the Beetle. Marlene scrabbled into the car and then up and across Suze just as Nell opened the passenger door and slid in, grabbing Marlene and pulling her on her lap.
"Drive," she said.
Suze took off without question, and Nell caught her breath. "I am so sorry about that," she said to Marlene, who was heaving in her lap. "I had no idea."
Marlene looked up at her with blood in her eye. Then she barked once, a short, sharp, furious aaarp sound that could have cut glass.
"My God," Suze said. "Garbo speaks. What happened?"
"Farnsworth got a new dog," Nell said. "A German shepherd the size of a horse."
Suze laughed, and then as she thought about it, laughed harder. "Oh, God," she said finally. "That is so perfect." Marlene moaned her anger and Suze said, "I can relate, Marlene. I was replaced, too."
Marlene barked at her, including her in the night of infamy.
"Hey, it wasn't my idea," Suze said, keeping her eyes on the road. "I bought the chenille and the bomber jacket. It was Mother Teresa here who wanted to do the right thing."
Marlene looked at Nell again, who said, "I'm sorry," and then she curled up grumbling in Nell's lap.
"You know, once you lose their trust, you never get it back," Suze said.
"Oh, please," Nell said. "One biscuit and she's mine for life."
Marlene looked up at her and barked again, a bark that spoke volumes about her contempt for and distrust of the woman she'd once moaned at daily.
"Can we stop and get some dog biscuits?" Nell said. "I think I'd better do something fast here."
"It'll have to be plain old grocery store biscuits," Suze said. "We're very late."
"One more betrayal," Nell told Marlene, but later, when Suze had run into Big Bear to get the biscuits, Nell gathered the dog up to her and hugged her and said, "Marlene, I'm so sorry. And I'm so glad we get to keep you. You didn't really want to go back there, did you? You were just curious about the yard, right?"
Marlene regarded her malevolently and barked.
"As long as we're still communicating," Nell said.
Marlene was grumpy about being left in the car with the windows rolled down the prescribed inch, and once Nell got into the Long Shot, she was willing to trade places. The bar was pretty much the norm in yuppie drinking holes-great beer, good wings, and mediocre music and Nell couldn't think of a place she wanted to be less.
"You know," Suze said, "this is the kind of place I always wanted to go to and Jack would never take me. Now I see his point."
"Whose idea was this place, anyway?" Nell said.
"I'll get the drinks," Suze said brightly. "You grab a table."
Nell found a table near the door and sat down to watch Suze thread her way through the crowd to the bar, gathering second glances from men as she went and not noticing any of them. Nell looked around, hoping to spot Riley, and stopped cold when she got to the bar. A man there who looked a lot like Gabe was talking to a very attractive brunette who looked a lot like the Hot Lunch. She squinted through the smoke. Yep, Gabe and Gina. She felt sick for a moment, as if she'd been punched in the stomach, and then she turned away. If Riley had set this up so she'd get jealous and go back, she was going to hurt him. And if he hadn't…Gina Taggart, she thought. What was Gabe, stupid? He, of all people, knew what she was like.
Of course, if he wasn't looking for a permanent relationship, what Gina was like was probably just what he wanted.
Men.