The Truth About Mallory Bain (6 page)

“We were talking about the Kings next door. You remember their son Brent.”

I laid the dirty dishes I'd carried in on the island counter. “I need to shower.”

“In a second, honey. Before you run off.” Mom held up her hand for me to wait. “They have a grandson Caleb's age, and I'll bet he's in his class. You have him ask about a boy named Gavin King.”

“Does he live close?”

“Yes. Brent and his wife bought that blue-and-white Victorian around the corner.”

“Having a friend around the corner would be convenient whether they go to school together or not,” I said.

“Gavin is a friendly boy.” Judith lifted her head. “His mother is a judge, you know.” She sized me up and down. “Brent became an attorney.”

“I knew that, Aunt Judith. You make it seem as if their careers are important for Caleb and Gavin to be friends.”

“No. But perhaps an attorney might come in handy.”

She couldn't have known I needed an attorney to change Caleb's surname.

Mom picked at the ribbon wound around her straw hat, which lay on the island. She glanced back and forth between her sister and me. I know she sensed an argument brewing, but let it carry on.

Judith squinted at me. “No need for sass.” She pressed her lips against her cup for a drawn out sip.

Mom lifted her own cup. “I invited Ronnie for supper Saturday. I hope that was all right.”

I ignored Judith. “Yes. I imagine she is the same.”

Mom tipped her head. “More reserved.”

“The library is a scholarly place,” said Judith. “Appeals to one's intellect.”

Mom moved over to Judith and looped her arm around her sister's arm, appearing ready to leave me standing alone in the kitchen.

Sounding as mysterious as Judith, Mom added, “That may very well be, or more to the point, perhaps Ronnie knows something not yet said.”

P
unctuality never was one of Dana's attributes. Waiting fifteen minutes or longer for her was nothing for those of us who had ever known her. I barely recognized my friend when she sashayed into the coffee café looking like a runway model and as beautiful as when I'd seen her last. I expected the years to show as those years were starting to show on me—hints of tiny crow's feet defacing the corner of each eye. Her skin oozed vitality, her gait well-balanced and brisk.

That dress—definitely too pricey for my budget. Her heels and leather handbag were no haute couture but seemed disproportionate to what I figured her salary to be, even combined with however much Erik presumably earned. Perhaps herbal and natural remedies were a more lucrative trend than I had imagined, or the Fowlers carried tremendous debt.

I'd never fill her dress as well. She carried her three inches of height over mine with style. I touched my collar, feeling flatchested and plain. My blouse hung loosely. My brown slacks were too casual—bought on sale last spring. It mattered little that other customers wore clothes like mine. I pushed my hair off my shoulder and donned a cheery expression to conceal my awkwardness.

On closer look, her hair had retained its natural blonde, or her stylist was one of the best. She reached for my hand, showing off manicured and professionally polished nails. My unpainted nails showed uneven lengths. A few broken ones needed filing. I'd been too preoccupied to let a little thing like messy cuticles bother me until now.

“We are thrilled you're back.” The words bubbled out of her when she greeted me with a hug.

We selected our coffees and retreated to the overstuffed chairs in the quiet corner near the unlit fireplace. I sat across from her, reminding myself to sit straighter, or at least to try not to slump.

“I needed an afternoon out,” I told her. “Coffee with a good friend. A huge weight's been lifted from my shoulders being home again.”

“We can only imagine. We often talk about you and Chad. When I told Erik you were moving back, the first thing he said was how much he regretted never making that trip to Tennessee we always talked about but never found time to do. He thought he might have helped sort Chad out for you.”

“Now there's a daunting task. No matter now. We're here and what's done is done. Where is Emma today?”

Dana glanced down and flicked at the bodice of her dress. “At a play date with a neighbor.” She lifted her eyes and stared coldly into mine. “Your mother must be enjoying the afternoon with your little boy.”

Without an obvious reason, her widened eyes unnerved me enough to avert my gaze downward into my cup instead of looking back. I nodded. “And she kicked around a soccer ball with Caleb this morning.”

“Erik's parents live here. Mother returned to California after Father died.”

“I'm sorry. You never mentioned he passed away.”

She took a long sip of coffee and looked out the window. “Six years. Sudden. His heart.”

“Our fathers died about the same time, then.”

“We seldom got along.”

As if not getting along made his passing bearable.

I deeply missed my own father, so I paused, searching for a fitting response. None came to mind. “You and Erik could move to California to be near her.”

“We're too dug in here to leave.”

“Like us, you'll be around a long time.”

She uttered a weak titter and rolled her eyes. “I suppose.”

“Emma must miss your mom.”

Dana wrinkled her nose. “Mother does her own thing. She travels, but she does send Emma gifts from the places she visits.” Dana rolled one shoulder and tittered again. “Enough of me. Tell me all about your plans.”

“Find work. Settle Caleb in school. Mom invited Ronnie for dinner this Saturday.”

“How nice.”

“I'll bet you and Erik see many of our old friends.”

“Not much.” She fussed with her dress again.

Curiosity pressed me to know specifics. “Who?”

She furrowed her brow. “Nobody really.”

Her reticence stopped me from pressing. I excused myself, at least for a few minutes. My first impression made me rethink our friendship, though by the time I reached the restroom, I blew off my doubts. Dana was fine. The problem was me. I had diminished self-esteem thanks to Chad. But our meeting was too awkward to continue without reprieve from the prickly air between us. And I had no clue why that would be.

I gazed at my eyes in the mirror. Dark circles were slowly surfacing from under my foundation.

“No doubt that jewelry is genuine,” I unthinkingly spoke aloud.

“Pettiness is unbecoming, Mallory.”

“Excuse me?”

I scanned the room from its reflection in the mirror. I was alone. I pushed open both stall doors. Empty. I stood back, staring at the black toilet seats. I truly was alone, yet a man had spoken, spoken my name in a ladies' restroom. I leaned against the sink and folded my arms against my chest. The visions, the auditory hallucinations, good or bad, had to stop.

I splashed cold water over my face and rubbed my eyes. I was spent. Dana probably considered me a fool. I reminded myself how
in a week, I'd divorced my husband of seven years, made moving arrangements, speed-packed our stuff, and tied up loose ends before driving over eight hundred miles in a day. Too much for anybody.

It had been unrealistic agreeing to coffee and expecting myself to carry on a normal conversation. I dragged a comb through my hair and flew out of the restroom. What I needed was more sleep, not caffeine.

Dana looked up from her phone. Her eyes were empty and cold.

I must have surprised her or the caller had upset her.

“Erik,” she finally said.

“I hope you said ‘hi' for me.”

I noticed her hand not holding the phone. My heart sank as I watched those fingers pull into a white knuckled fist.

Dana smiled sweetly. “Naturally.” She resumed our conversation as though nothing had perturbed her.

I was more at ease when our conversation grew more fluid and relaxed. She mentioned her stint in real estate before the market spiraled, which might have accounted for her clothes had she done well. We engaged in the customary small talk—current interests, kids, cooking, although I sensed she generally avoided the kitchen. In no time, we'd gabbed away a solid three hours when exhaustion won out. My eyes fell heavy and my constant yawning bordered on rudeness.

“Dana. I'm sorry. I have to go home. Driving all day yesterday did me in.”

Her eyes widened again. I saw concern. Her kind expression told me I was home among my friends despite my off-the-rack clothes, dark circles, and untidy nails.

“I'll drive you. Erik will come for your car.”

“He can't do that. He's miles away and Mom's house is only a couple miles from here.” The strap broke when I grabbed my bag and started digging for my keys. “Let's get together again soon.” My face warmed as I set my bag on my bent knee and tied the
broken strap to the metal ring. “Erik, too. Let's plan a playdate for Caleb and Emma.”

“When you're rested, text me a few dates and I'll check when we're free.”

At some time during our visit, a downpour started, as Aunt Judith had predicted—or made a lucky guess. Regardless, it turned out to be a storm with gusting wind blowing the rain sideways. I'd forgotten how Minnesota's weather can bring a northern bite even in late summer, compared to the constant high heat and humidity we'd left behind in Tennessee. The brisk chill perked me up until the car's heater warmed and my drowsiness returned. I started thinking how I, too, needed a heavier winter coat after I outfitted Caleb.

The streets were slick and blackened. The newly painted white lines popped against the shiny asphalt, making my eyes cross, pulling me deep into thought
—a coat—handbag
—the car swerved.

I rammed the brake to the floorboard. The car fishtailed into a slide until the back end bumped over the curb and stopped hard. The left side of my body slammed against the door. My head bumped against the window. Blackness.

A cramp seized my neck and left shoulder enough to awaken me sometime later. I made a slow, full body turn against the pain, and looked out the back passenger window—a towering brown lamppost was pressed against my car. I laid my hand over my eyes to stop the swirling.

A woman's muffled voice shouted through the windshield, “Are you badly hurt?” She tapped on the window beside me. “Are you all right?”

I swallowed hard and lowered the window. “I think so.”

“I should call 911.”

“No, please. I'm all right. Thank you, though.”

I tried rolling my shoulder but sharp pain shot into my neck. I unhooked my seatbelt and started explaining to her how exhausted I was from my trip the day before when I realized I owed this stranger, nice as she was, no explanation whatsoever. I shut off the
engine and excused myself to pick up my bag, chucked upside down on the floor beneath the dash. My cell lay buried in the clutter.

Mom was already leaving the house before my call ended. “And don't you drive!”

I left the window cracked an inch. The cold rain drizzling into the car and onto my head felt good, letting me lay my head against the headrest with eyes closed.

In no time at all, a white Ford Explorer pulled up slowly and parked ahead of my car. The passenger door flew open the instant the vehicle stopped. Mom jumped out. A familiar-looking woman exited the driver's side and opened the back door.

Caleb ran to my car. “Mommy!”

I reached over my midsection with my right hand to push open the door. I held onto the door tightly and eased myself out onto the street. He hugged me tight. “No tears, buddy, I'm fine.”

“You look better than expected,” said Mom.

“A sore shoulder.” I caressed Caleb's head to soothe him. “You didn't drive.”

“Pam dropped in before you called. She offered.” Mom glowered at me. “You drove hundreds of miles yesterday and now this.”

“I'm embarrassed. I fell asleep. I took that curve back there way too fast. I know better, but my first instinct was to hit the brake. Stupid.”

“You scared me to death.”

I rubbed my aching shoulder. “The caffeine should have kept me awake a week. But I am so groggy.”

The glower deepened. Mom shook her head at me without offering any explanation for her obvious disapproval.

Pam had been talking to the woman who had stopped to help. After the woman left, Mom's friend reached for my hand. “You might not remember. I'm Pam Egger. We live down the street from your mom. Gray house by the corner.”

I smiled friendly-like against the pain. “Yes, I do remember.” Not exactly certain whether or not I actually did. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“Diane had no idea if you were hurt. We're glad you're not dead.”

I cuddled Caleb close, hoping he missed that remark.

Pam stepped around to the other side the car. “Oh, yeah. You definitely need body work, kiddo.”

“I have no idea where to go,” said Mom.

“A fella my husband fly fishes with owns a couple of shops. If his guys fix wrecks as good as he fishes, you're in luck. He mostly works out of the shop in Richfield.”

My head spun; I stumbled backward. Mom dropped her purse to grab onto me. “Get the number for us, Pam. Look at you, Mallory. You can hardly stand. What's gotten into you?”

Her question sounded suspicious. “A car accident. What are you thinking?”

She threw open the back door and lifted out Caleb's booster. “I'm driving you home.”

“It's not that far.”

“No. Too many accidents happen close to home. You cannot drive.”

“Fine.”

“I'll drop you off, then we'll get your car scheduled in at the body shop. Pam can bring us home later. You better sleep this off. And when we get home, you're seeing a doctor.”