For Better or Worsted (13 page)

CHAPTER 17

I
CAME HOME TO A QUIET HOUSE, BUT IT WASN’T EMPTY.
There were a bunch of boxes and a fountain and some metal cherubs holding a banner saying, “Love Forever.” A note from my son was attached. Someone had delivered them earlier.

I let Cosmo in the yard and went across the house to encourage Blondie to do the same. It was too late in the day to let the cats have some outdoor time, so I filled their bowls and let them follow me around. It seemed like forever since I’d had my house all to myself. The options were overwhelming. Should I have an ice cream dinner and watch a comedy DVD? Or sit in my yard and crochet with the help of the outdoor lights?

The front doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. I considered ignoring it, thinking it was somebody collecting for something, but it rang again. A double ring, like the person was a little impatient and would keep ringing until someone answered. I pulled the door open and looked out.

“You shouldn’t just open the door,” Barry said. “I could have been a home invasion robber.” I did a double take. This wasn’t end-of-the-day Barry with a five o’clock shadow and his tie pulled loose. I could smell his cologne and see that his hair was a touch wet from a shower. The shirt was fresh, and he was wearing a sport coat over slacks instead of the suits he wore for work. He noticed my perplexed expression.

“I’m right on time,” he said, showing me his watch. Then he started to smile. “Hmm, look who’s not ready.”

“Ready for what?” I said.

“Dinner and Jeffrey’s play.” He seemed to be amused at my surprise. He took out his cell phone and showed me that it was turned to off. “Remember, I promised there was no way I wouldn’t show up or be called away in the middle of things. I even reminded you when I saw you at the station.”

“You did?” Then I remembered his mouthed message. “That was about tonight. But it’s a weeknight. I assumed the play was on a Saturday.”

He was enjoying this way too much: I was the one who wasn’t ready and who’d forgotten. “Am I going to have to make excuses to Jeffrey about why you didn’t come?” he said with a teasing lift of his eyebrows.

I couldn’t do that to his son. He was probably used to his father not showing up to things, but I’d always been the dependable one.

“Give me a few minutes,” I said, inviting him in. He did a double take at the stuff in the front hall.

“It belongs to Thursday,” I said, explaining they were things her parents had bought for the condo she was supposed to have shared with Jonah. “She has no stake in the town house or most of the furnishings. But then, you probably know all that,” I said. I left the comment hanging to see what he’d say, but all he did was tell me I’d better hurry and that we’d have to eat after the play.

Ten minutes, well, maybe it was more like twenty minutes later, I reappeared. I’d dumped the khaki slacks and shirt I always wore for work, showered and put on a black dress and ballet flats. I’d finished the look with a shawl I’d made in a whisper-soft cream-colored mohair.

Judging by the uptick in Barry’s expression, I must have looked pretty good. This was all too weird. Barry was acting very formal. He opened the door of the Tahoe for me and even helped me step into the SUV.

The parking lot was full at the middle school. Even though Jeffrey was officially in high school now, the play was from the drama group that had met over the summer at the middle school. The auditorium was already crowded when we walked in. We’d gotten there just in time. I saw Jeffrey in full Captain Hook costume peeking out from the wings as we found our seats. When I saw how his face lit up seeing us there, I was glad I’d come.

I was about to sit when I heard someone call my name.

“Emerson?” I said, surprised as the dark-haired woman got out of her seat and came up to me. Lyla turned around in her seat and waved.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” the event florist said. “You probably realize Lyla didn’t get very far with the crochet lesson. Could we do another one?” She paused as if there was something else on her mind.

“There’s something else I’d like to run by you,” she said. “I was thinking how nice it would be if the mothers, or in one case, father, got in on the crochet. They could stay and learn, too.”

My mind was ticking. It would be more people to teach how to crochet, but if the parents had a positive experience, it would help spread the word about our new venture. “I think that’s a great idea,” I said. She seemed relieved by my answer. I understood why when she let it slip that she’d already told one of the parents they could join the party.

“Then I’ll need a crochet lesson, too,” she said. She was agreeable to coming to the bookstore this time, and we set up a time.

“Lyla is very excited about her birthday party. She’s been telling all her friends. The RSVPs are coming in fast and furious,” she added with a smile. “I’m glad we’re doing this.” The lights went off and on, indicating the play was about to start, so Emerson went back to her seat.

I saw Barry’s eyes lock on her and then back to me, questioning. I promised to explain later because now the lights had gone off and the curtain was opening. No matter how much Barry fussed about his son’s acting aspirations and name change to just Columbia, he was all pride as he watched his son’s big moment. Even if his wig was a little crooked, and the hook almost fell off.

“He was great, wasn’t he?” Barry said when the last curtain call had ended. I nodded in agreement and Barry took my hand, squeezing it. Then he dropped it like he’d done something wrong. “Am I overstepping?” he said. I thought he was being facetious, but I checked his expression and he seemed serious. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he said finally.

We waited by the backstage entrance until Jeffrey joined us, floating on a cloud from the excitement and the applause. But he only stayed long enough for us to get a picture together. After hugging me and thanking me for coming, he announced that the cast was going out for pizza and somebody would drop him off at home, if that was okay. As Barry nodded, a bunch of voices said, “Hey, Columbia, hurry up.”

“Hmmm,” Barry said, watching as his son joined his group without looking back. Barry looked bereft.

“It’s hard letting go, isn’t it?” I said. I heard Barry let out his breath as he nodded with a touch of sadness. “If you just want to call it a night,” I started, thinking the whole point of the evening had been Jeffrey. But Barry shook his head, insisting that the plan had been the play and food.

“A promise is a promise,” he said. I knew he was referring to all the plans in the past cut short because of something with his work. He really did seem to have changed his priorities.

I let him pick the place, expecting he’d choose somewhere local for a quick bite. That way he could live up to his word and still be on call soon. I could only imagine all the messages with leads to follow up on collecting on his phone. I was getting nervous just thinking about it. He caught me by complete surprise when he suggested a place probably ten miles away in Studio City.

Traffic was light on the 101, before he turned off onto a friendly-looking side street. The residential street gave way to a block of appealing retail places. The café was in what had been a house back in the day. Most of the seating was on a brick-lined patio that surrounded the small structure. We went inside to order at a counter that was flanked by a display case of mouthwatering pastries and cakes. Barry saw me eyeing the princess cake and before we’d even chosen our food, he ordered a piece for us to share. I couldn’t help my surprised expression. Barry had never been a share-a-piece-of-cake kind of guy. It was almost too much when he pointed out their extensive tea selection and fondly remembered the cups of tea we’d shared at my place. I asked for coffee, dark and strong.

It had gotten chilly outside and we chose a table next to a patio heater in a secluded corner of the backyard, though by now, the crowd had thinned out. With the flickering candles on the table and the night sky as a ceiling, it was very atmospheric or, should I say, romantic.

Our food was delivered shortly. I fidgeted with my silverware and napkin, feeling awkward. This had become too date-like. I was almost relieved when Barry checked his phone once, but then he put it away without a word.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been out like this,” he said, picking up half of his sandwich. “So, tell me what’s going on in your life?”

A long time since we’d been out like this—how about never?

I started to talk about putting on the crochet parties and all the parts to them I hadn’t considered, and all the stiffness went away. “So, then you won’t be doing author events anymore?” Barry said with a friendly smile.

“It’s in addition to, not instead of,” I said. “I have an author event coming up in a few days. Dr. Chopin Wheel. He wrote a book called
Cheap and Natural Cure-Alls
.” I went back to talking about the crochet parties and mentioned that the woman I’d talked to at the play was my first client. “She’s the event florist who did Thursday’s wedding.”

Barry nodded. “That’s why she looked familiar. I think Heather and I talked to her.”

“She’s a suspect?” I said, surprised.

“No. There are so many people involved with this case. We’re still trying to find out who was at the reception and left before you and I got there.” His mouth settled in a straight line. “Between dealing with the caterer—” He shook his head in dismay. “At least if all the workers hadn’t been dressed like unisex robots it would be easier. Whose idea was that?”

“Mason’s ex,” I said. There were more head shakes. Jaimee seemed to inspire that reaction in people.

Barry finished his bite of sandwich and took a sip of his beer. “So, how’s it going?”

“How’s what going?” I was confused. Hadn’t he just asked me about my life?

“Molly, I know you. With Thursday living at your house, you have to be nosing around the case. You want to share?”

“You’re really asking what I know?” I said with a surprised laugh. I was still getting used to this new him. Barry had always told me to stay out of things and had never taken my investigating very seriously. Paxton Cline crossed my mind. I wasn’t ready to tell Barry about him. I still wanted to get some more information, well, really, evidence. But there was something I could share. I told him about the shirt and that I’d remembered an important detail—the way it was positioned on the ground. I even described how I’d figured it out by dropping my own shirt on the ground when I faced different directions. “It seems to me that when the killer dropped it, they were facing the house. Why would they be facing that way unless they were going back to the reception?”

Barry listened and nodded, seeming impressed. “Good thinking, babe, I mean, Molly. You did all this shirt-taking-off at Mason’s?” he said, his eyes narrowing. Barry seemed to have forgotten about my evidence and was more focused on me being shirtless at Mason’s.

I realized how it sounded and explained it was an overshirt I’d been dropping. Barry still didn’t look happy. “What were you doing at his place? Nothing’s changed between you, right?”

I laughed and said we were all just friends. That word was starting to grate on me. Why not just be straight. It was a relationship with no serious touching.

“Right,” Barry said. Something about the tension in his expression made me believe the word was starting to grate on him, too. But whatever it was, he dismissed the mood as he pushed his plate away and pulled the piece of cake between us.

“The first bite is yours,” he said. His hand brushed mine as he handed me a fork. He waited until I had a piece of cake in my mouth and watched my smile. Since the frosting was a pastel green, you would expect it to be lime or mint, but it was actually a thin layer of marzipan, giving it a sweet almond flavor. The yellow cake had lemon, whipped cream and raspberry between the layers.

Barry cut off a piece with his fork and made an
mmm
sound as he tasted the combination of flavors. We both kept working on the cake, smiling at each other with each bite. I’d never noticed how intimate sharing food was.

The café help had long since deposited a to-go box with the half sandwich I couldn’t finish, and they were sweeping up by the time we’d finished and headed to his Tahoe. When Barry pulled his SUV into my driveway, I thought he was just going to leave me off, and I prepared to open the car door. I was surprised when he cut the motor and got out.

“What kind of escort would I be if I didn’t make sure you got in all right?” he said, following me across my backyard. My mind was ticking away. How was I supposed to end this evening? Should I kiss him like the old days? No. I could just imagine his reaction if I went to shake his hand. Maybe a kiss was the way to go—a kiss on the cheek or the forehead.

It ended up being a nonissue. I opened the kitchen door and before I could do anything, Thursday called out a greeting. She was in the midst of working on a project for her class on my kitchen table.

“Are you here to question me again?” Thursday said in a tired voice when she saw Barry. I quickly told her about Jeffrey’s play, but her expression said she wasn’t buying it. “It’s awfully late for a play on a school night.”

Barry seemed amused that I had to answer to someone. I was thinking how ridiculous it was that I had to answer to anyone. I mentioned we’d gotten something to eat afterward. I thought she was going to comment on that, but she didn’t.

Cosmo had already run past and gone out into the yard. I went across the house to get Blondie and encourage her to come outside. As I was bringing her back, I heard Barry and Thursday talking. Was he interrogating her again? I leaned closer to hear what they were talking about—it wasn’t what I expected.

“I’m glad to hear you and Molly are just old friends. My dad really cares about her. I’m not sure if either of them realize it, but they’re made for each other,” Thursday said.

When I walked into the kitchen, Barry’s cop face had returned, but I knew the blank expression was hiding his reaction to her comment. He followed me as I went outside with Blondie. He’d become so quiet and withdrawn, I couldn’t help it. I leaned up and kissed him. It wasn’t on the cheek, either.