Then another car door slammed.
Mimi turned her head sharply.
The sound of footsteps could be heard on the gravel by the shoulder of the road.
Vic swore and quickly zipped up his pants. He searched around for his shirt, but found Mimi’s turtleneck sweater first. He passed it to her.
She wiggled it on, still on her back.
Aroused from her sleep, Roxie started to bark.
“Quiet, girl,” Vic commanded. All he needed was to have her bite a cop. He was sure they were violating local ordinances by being in a park after dark. Quickly, he located the end of the dog leash before she could take off.
Roxie strained at the end and barked protectively, with totally false bravado.
Vic got to his knees and waited for the inevitable. “Mimi Lodge,” he muttered with a philosophical harrumph, “getting close to you for any period of time is nothing but trouble with a capital
T.
”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“HEY, MAN, DON’T TELL ME the cops have police dogs now?” It was a young male, late teens. He stopped near the road’s edge, the car headlights exposing his silhouette. His features may have been obscured, but the outlines of a six-pack of beer were easy to discern.
Roxie, straining on the leash, barked protectively.
Mimi scrambled to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “What the…”
“Roxie, quiet,” Vic ordered, then directed his attention to the two figures frozen by their car. “Sorry, boys, the dog’s loud but perfectly harmless.”
“How come if he’s perfectly harmless I can see his teeth from here?” The driver of the car moved cautiously sideways. He carried a beer bottle in one hand.
“It’s a she, and maybe she just wanted to let me know that you’ve committed two criminal offenses—driving with an open container and underage drinking.”
“What are you? A lawyer?” The passenger asked brazenly. The six-pack swayed toward them.
Roxie growled again.
The kid stepped back.
Vic shushed her. “Listen, guys, what you do is your business, but it’s only fair to warn you that the lady here—” he indicated Mimi “—is a cop magnet.”
“Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” she murmured under her breath.
“If you want to avoid a hassle,” Vic went on calmly, “let alone the grief you’re going to get from your parents when they have to come bail you out, you’ll dump your beer in the nearest trash can, go home and play Skyrim.” He made no threats, but the ring of authority in his voice was clear.
“Sky what?” Mimi asked, stepping closer to Vic.
As if on cue, the wail of sirens penetrated the night air. Now that the sun had fully set, a chill had truly begun to set in.
The sirens grew louder, more insistent. The two kids whirled around. “Geez, he wasn’t kidding. We’re outta here, man.” They scrambled back to the car.
“The beer?” Vic reminded them.
“Oh, yeah.” They raced to a nearby rubbish bin and dumped their stash before hightailing it back to their car. It peeled away from the shoulder, the spinning tires sending a shower of pebbles across the grass.
Mimi watched the escape and shook her head. “Talk about a mood breaker.” She turned to Vic. “Somehow I have this feeling we’re not going to have a night of passionate sex, let alone reach first base.”
“Not if those sirens are any indicator.” He looked at her sideways. “And, just to refresh your memory, we had already reached first and were on the way to second.”
“Oh, right, I seem to recall that.” Her throat tightened. All too clearly she remembered it.
“It doesn’t sound like I was having much impact on you.”
Mimi shook her head. “
Au contraire.
It was more a question of being overwhelmed.”
“Nice try.”
“Besides, the night is young. Who says it has to end here?”
“As far as the park is concerned, I think that’s pretty well no longer an option. On the other hand, I do live alone. We could take this stuff back to your family’s place, get my car and explore each other’s bodies on my king-size bed, not to mention the other six rooms of my town house—if you don’t count the two and a half baths. On the other hand, why neglect them?”
“Now, that’s my idea of decisive leadership. Tell me, did you ever think of applying those skills to revolutionize the stone business?” she teased.
“Hah, hah. Now stand to the side, and I’ll fold up the blanket,” he ordered, waving her away. “Roxie, you, too.” The dog had plopped herself right in the middle of the plaid.
It was quick work, with Vic grabbing the last meatball. She held on to Roxie’s leash with one hand and slipped the other in his as they left the park for the surrounding neighborhood of large old Colonial-style houses, half-timber Tudor estates and the occasional award-winning modern dwelling. The glow of tasteful streetlamps supplemented the state-of-the-art security systems. Grantham was a remarkably safe town, and most residents didn’t even lock their homes or doors. But not in this neck of the woods, where the preponderance of priceless art collections and lavish sets of jewelry were frequently featured in magazines and newspapers.
Relaxed, Mimi was in no rush as she let Roxie stop and sniff practically every blade of grass. “I can’t believe I’m actually enjoying myself in Grantham,” she announced, waiting while Roxie examined a branch of a giant holly bush with infinite fascination.
“I can’t believe I’m holding hands with Mimi Lodge,” Vic said.
Mimi gave him a sideways glance. “You make me sound like the fatted calf.”
“I wouldn’t use that metaphor exactly. But back in college, I remember watching you and some of the other members of the Women’s Water Polo team walking together to go to your Social Club. You all glowed with this supreme confidence of good schools and money. You seemed untouchable.”
“Hardly. I think we were a very down-to-earth lot. But I guess you’re right. We used to hang out a lot together because we were all members of Lion Inn.”
Roxie had had her fill of holly and jingled her collar that she was ready to move on.
“What club did you belong to?” Mimi asked.
“I didn’t. I was an independent.” The term referred to someone who didn’t join a Social Club, Grantham University’s version of coed fraternities, which were the hub of social life on campus.
“I’m surprised. All the clubs must have been eager to get you. Didn’t football players always join Colony?” she asked, mentioning another club across the street from Lion. The clubs were located on Edinburgh Street on the edge of campus, their architecture ranging from brick Southern Plantation to Gothic Revival.
“Maybe. In any case, I didn’t join because, number one, I didn’t have the money for the fees, and number two, I didn’t want having too much of a good time to get in the way of my studying or football.”
“You really were a Boy Scout, weren’t you?”
“I was practically born that way,” he admitted. They stopped at a traffic light.
Normally, Mimi would have barged ahead since there were no cars, but with Vic she didn’t feel that compulsion to push forward. Instead, she reflected on what he’d just admitted. “You know, I hope you’ve gotten over thinking of me as untouchable.”
He squeezed her hand. “I think I’ve already demonstrated that fact.” He paused. “And before you say anything, this…this is not about fulfilling some kind of post-adolescent fantasy. That’s not the kind of person I am.”
“I believe you because unlike me, you clearly do not bear grudges—well, maybe reasonable ones, but I don’t think you’d ever manipulate someone for your own gains.”
He suddenly shifted his focus on a distant car, the headlights streaming on the paved road.
“You know, if we’re being entirely truthful about our college days, I have a confession to make, too,” she said, trying to regain his attention.
It worked. He turned back. The light changed and they crossed the street.
“Back in college? Back when you probably thought I never noticed someone like you?”
“Don’t tell me you secretly stayed awake at night wondering just how exciting it would be to do assignments in differential calculus together?”
“Please. Unlike my scientific little half-brother, my brush with mathematics was brief and far from illustrious. No, what I’m talking about is this one lecture course in Civil War history. Maybe you remember? It was scheduled at some ungodly early hour, but it was really popular because the professor was so good. And it needed to be held in the big lecture hall, the one that slanted down toward the front where the professor stood.” She raised their joined hands and swooped them down in a sloping fashion. “You always sat in the front row.”
He cocked his head. “Yup. Four seats in from the left aisle seat. Always the same seat. I’m left-handed and with those swivel-up desks, I always had to sit on the left so that I could still see the professor while I took notes.”
“I never noticed that, but it makes perfect sense.” She swallowed. “Anyhow, it got so I always checked that you were there. I found it…reassuring, especially since I usually crept in late, way in the back. I’d do that and first thing, seek you out, check that you were there. And of course you were—”
“I took attendance seriously.”
“As I would have expected. Anyway, I remember you always sitting in profile, your jaw jutting forward, tight curls covering your head…”
“My hair was longer then.”
“You’re right. But shorter hair suits you now—more mature.”
Vic groaned.
“No, no, that’s good. But let me finish. The thing was, I’m sure the lecture was fantastic, but more often than not, I’d find myself staring at you sitting all stoic and rapt up in the class. I thought you were the best thing to wake up to.”
“So you’re telling me that this is just a chance to live out
your
post-adolescent fantasy?”
She shook her head. “In some ways yes. But I’m not that sleepy-eyed girl any longer. I mean, that was just a fantasy. I never actually approached you.” He’d adjusted his stride to her shorter legs, Mimi realized. So they moved in perfect synchronization. A unit, with Roxie leading the way.
“I probably would have thought you were crazy.”
“And I probably would have considered you a stick in the mud, but still… Maybe that’s why I reacted the way I did that day of the panel. I was finally working off all that unrequited fantasy.”
“Is that what you’d call it?”
“Whatever. It was in the past. I’m not interested in reliving history. I look to the future now.” She squeezed his hand. “Definitely forward looking.”
He bent down and kissed the top of her head.
She sighed.
The flashing lights and wailing siren of an ambulance whizzed by.
Mimi tensed.
He drew her closer, shifting to wrap his arm around her shoulders. He leaned down and rubbed his cheek against the side of her head.
Mimi breathed a little easier—just. “There must be some terrible traffic accident judging from the commotion. I hope those two kids didn’t get in a pile-up.” They stopped and waited for another traffic light to change. Roxie obediently sat. Mimi’s family’s house was in the next block, four houses down from the corner.
“I’m pretty sure those kids aren’t involved,” Vic assured her. “The police sirens started while they were still messing around at the battlefield.”
The light changed, Mimi jiggled Roxie’s leash, and they all crossed. “You’re right. I’d forgotten.” They passed a gray clapboard house on the corner half-hidden by a tall hedge of hemlocks. Then came a Victorian folly painted the ubiquitous Grantham yellow. Its turrets and cupolas reached above the tops of the ancient sycamores.
Mimi pointed. “You know, I always thought that place looked like something out of Mary Popp—” She stopped.
Roxie didn’t anticipate the suddenness and jerked on the leash.
“What?” Vic asked.
Mimi pressed her lips together. “My family’s place? Just up above. The flashing lights? They look like they’re there.”
Indeed, the sky above the six-foot-high wall of holly bushes was blazing bright. Mimi wiggled out of Vic’s embrace and took off. Roxie, given the chance to run, seized the opportunity and pulled out in front, the leash taut under the force of her pulling.
Vic caught up with them within a couple of sprinting strides. “Hold up. You don’t know what’s going on.”
Mimi didn’t stop. She sped through the open gate at the entrance to the house. Two police cars parked head-on at the columned portico. An ambulance, its back doors open, blocked them from the rear. The house itself was ablaze with light. The front double doors stood wide open.
Mimi could feel her heart rate rocket upward, her throat tighten. She weaved through the parked vehicles, her chest pounding ready to burst. All sorts of thoughts flashed through her mind—her mother’s suicide, her kidnapping, fear that something had happened to Brigid or maybe Press.