Secrets, p.17
Secrets, page 17
Hey. Any idea when you’ll be home?
His phone was sitting on the bar with what looked like cash and his keys. He glanced at the phone, then turned his attention back to the bleached-blond-bad-hair woman without answering Tori’s text. Tori switched to the camera app and secretly started taking photos of her husband and whoever the floozy was. She also noticed the time stamp. It read 9:00, which was the precise time the woman from the coffee shop said she should show up. That gave her the willies. Who was that woman and how did she know? Instead of breaking up the two lovebirds, Tori decided to turn around and head back home. Now she had a real reason to demand a conversation with him.
Her hands were shaking as she gripped the wheel. Her mind was racing as she came upon a tight bend in the road. An oncoming car horn blasted as it swerved to avoid clipping her. She could hear the driver screaming as he drove past. “Slow down!”
Tori immediately hit the brakes and regained control of her car. She pulled over to the side of the road to regroup. Seeing her husband with another woman in a place where he hangs out with his friends was truly not what she was expecting. What to do? What to do? She knew this time she couldn’t do nothing. She had to do something. That was becoming an anthem with her. Then she decided that doing nothing for the time being was actually doing something. She was going to wait for the right opportunity. She wasn’t going to react when she was in a state of shock.
As she returned to the road, she thought that maybe she would text him the picture she just took of them. Yes, but not now. At the moment, she was in charge. She had the power in her little art form. If he didn’t agree to take a walk with her, then she might show him her slideshow of his infidelity. Or was it? Was he simply flirting with that floozy? Showing off for his friends? She was going to get to the bottom of it. When she was good and ready. She had a lot of thinking to do. Again.
As the water filled the tub, she looked at the photos again, making them larger to see if she could identify the woman. Tori flinched at the first enlargement. The woman was much older but trying to look younger. The fake-colored hair and the heavy black eyeliner with blue eye shadow was not doing the woman any favors. “If that’s what he wants, then that’s what he can have.” Tori was baffled. Why on earth would he be with someone like that? She decided to go to the diner the next day and see if she could get more information from the woman who had told her to go to Ringo’s in the first place.
After her bath, Tori got into bed and willed herself to fall asleep. She did not want to be awake when he got home.
The following morning, Tori got out of bed unnoticed. She hurriedly got dressed and bolted out the door. When she arrived at the diner, she checked her face in the visor mirror. She took in a deep breath and told herself she was in charge of this situation.
She walked up to the area where you placed your order and asked about the woman. “Good morning. I was wondering if the woman with curly gray hair is in today?”
The waitress gave her an odd look. “What woman?”
Tori began to describe her. “Late sixties. About this high.” Tori held her hand to indicate the woman was about five feet tall. “Short, gray curly hair. Wore glasses on a chain around her neck.”
The waitress still looked puzzled. “There is no one here that fits that description.”
“Are you sure?” Tori was certain she had given the woman an accurate assessment.
“Absolutely. It’s just me and my three sisters. My dad owns the place, so I would know if someone worked here who looked like that.”
“So, no one who even remotely resembles her works here? Not even a couple of weeks ago?”
“No, hon. Sorry.”
“But I spoke to her last week when I came in for donuts. You were at the cash register.” Tori was becoming impatient.
“Yes, I remember you, but I never saw you speak to anyone else. Not to my recollection.” The waitress was giving Tori an “are you all right?” kind of look.
“So you don’t recall me talking to anybody? Ever?”
“Listen, sweetie, I don’t keep track of who my customers talk to every time they come in here. But I know who works here, and that lady you described does not.” The waitress was getting a little exasperated.
Tori knew she hadn’t imagined it. How would she have known to go to Ringo’s at that exact day and time?
“OK. Thanks. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“No bother. Maybe it was a different diner or coffee shop?” The waitress could see the look of concern on Tori’s face and offered an alternate explanation.
“Yeah. Maybe.” Tori smiled but knew exactly where she had spoken to the mysterious woman. It was right there, only a few feet away from where she was standing.
In the weeks that followed, she maintained the status quo. He had been unusually quiet. Almost kind. She wondered if anyone had seen her that night and told him. He hadn’t pressed her for sex, and if he had, she would have brought down the hammer. She surely wasn’t going to have sex with someone who was doing God knows what with other women.
She sent a text message to the psychic woman, Luna. Now she had more questions that needed answers. Luna texted her back to meet with her the week following Tori’s origami workshop. She had hoped it would be sooner, but she could wait. She had waited this long. What was another two weeks?
Chapter Thirteen
Marshal Gaines couldn’t remember the last time he had been so nervous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a woman spend the night either. He realized that Luna would be staying in Carter’s room. But still. He hired a professional cleaning service, which made sure everything was spotless. He wasn’t a messy person, but he wanted his home to be pristine considering it needed a lot of work in the décor department. He wasn’t sure what arrangements he should make for dinner. Dine out? Eat home? Takeout? Grill? He peered into the refrigerator. He had two rib-eyes, salad fixings, and asparagus. He then checked the pantry. A few Idaho potatoes. He would offer to cook, but if she wanted restaurant food, that would be fine with him as well. He would leave the decision to Luna. Although, he fancied the idea of cooking together. He knew they worked well in the field. Cooking would be a good opportunity to see how well they worked in the kitchen. Preparing a meal with someone was like choreography. You needed to move in sync with the other person.
He smiled as he thought about having that wild woman in his kitchen. They would share a bottle of wine, cook, then sit by the fire and have dessert. Dessert? He snapped his fingers. Then he remembered he had a pint of ice cream in the freezer. That should work. He knew Luna wasn’t much of a dessert person, but she had ordered ice cream or gelato on more than one occasion. Satisfied he had the dinner part of the evening under control, his mind moved on to breakfast for the next morning. Eggs? Check. Bacon? Check. English muffins? Check. He was beginning to relax, knowing there was enough food for two meals for both of them.
His next challenge was what to wear. How casual? Jeans and a navy-blue long-sleeved cashmere button-down shirt? Why not? Unless they would go out to dinner, then he’d put on a blazer. But he really hoped they would stay in.
He checked Carter’s room to make sure there weren’t any adolescent remains such as dirty socks, laundry, stinky sneakers, and who knows what else. He knew he was being a bit obsessive, but he wanted Luna to be comfortable. The cleaning people did the laundry and put fresh linens on both beds. Clean towels were in place in the bathroom, and a clean set for Luna was on Carter’s bed.
He took another long look around. The place was acceptable. He thought fresh flowers for the table would add a nice touch. Nothing too girlie. He phoned the local florist and spoke to Nancy. He explained he was having a guest for the weekend and he wanted to spruce up the dining-room table, but he didn’t want it to be overdone. She said she knew exactly what do to. Two hours later, she arrived with a rectangular wooden box with an arrangement of greenery including eucalyptus and white dogwood branches. It made the long plank table that once served as a door look a little less like a flea-market find. It was just the right touch.
Then he thought about wine. He had a very nice bottle of Seamus Olde Sonoma Cabernet Reserve he could serve with the steaks. It was a sixty-five-dollar bottle someone had given him as a housewarming gift. Maybe it would help warm up the house that coming night, he thought to himself. He checked the balloon wineglasses and polished them. Dinnerware, flatware, and cloth napkins were in the pantry. Music? He went through his vinyl record collection and pulled out a Wes Montgomery album. It was classic California smooth jazz, a style Montgomery had made famous. Keeping in line with the genre, he also set aside albums by Earl Klugh and George Benson. That should cover a couple of hours. He checked the liquor cabinet. He also had a bottle of vermouth they could have after dinner in front of the fireplace. “Get a grip, Gaines,” he said out loud. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Then he remembered he should check that he had a decent pair of loungewear. Normally when he puttered around the house, he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, or a U.S. Marshal sweatshirt. Did he have something he could put together so he didn’t look like a gym rat or a slob? He sprinted into his bedroom and rifled through his drawers. He dug out a pair of gray flannel pants, sniffed them to see how fresh they were. Not enticing. They must have been sitting at the bottom of the drawer since he moved in. They would need to go into the wash. He looked at the digital clock on the footstool that served as a nightstand. He had at least four hours before Luna arrived. He dug through another drawer and found a new U.S. Marshal warm-up jacket he had been saving. For what? He couldn’t remember. Some special activity? Luna coming for the weekend fit the bill. The warm-up jacket was gray and navy. It would look good with the pants, casual but put-together. Thankfully, his moccasins were in good shape. He scanned the room to see if there was anything else he or the cleaning people might have left behind. Nope. Just the two items he had in his hand. He bolted down the stairs to the basement and tossed the clothes in the washer. He spotted a few old trophies from when he played baseball. Should he put them on display? He quickly thought, Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t need any “Glory Days” reminders. Such a guy thing. He climbed back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Then he thought about candles. Did he have any? Would that be over the top? Maybe a quick trip to the drugstore and get one for the kitchen and one for the bathroom. That wasn’t too fussy. Or weird. Or was it? Who could he ask? Minnie. He pulled out his cell and punched speed dial.
“Hello, mate! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Minnie’s Yorkshire accent always made Gaines smile.
“Hello, Minnie. How are you today?”
“I’m ducky, love. And you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“What are you doing on such a lovely morning?”
“Luna is coming this afternoon to help me decide what to do with my house.”
“Brilliant! How is she doing now that she is working with her brother? Does she miss child services?”
“The art center is doing well. It’s become a destination spot. Her brother has been quite busy with restoration projects. She’s been consulting for him and running the adjacent café.”
“She’s a love. So, what can I do for you?”
“I want the place to be comfortable in spite of the condition it’s in.” Gaines wasn’t sure how to broach what seemed like a ridiculous question. He looked around the room and frowned. “Candles. Yes or no?”
Minnie chuckled. “A few wouldn’t be a terrible idea, but nothing too overwhelming. Stay away from lilac and coconut. You don’t want your place to smell like old ladies or suntan lotion, now do you?”
Gaines smiled. “Correct. I certainly don’t want this to turn out to be a damp squib.” He chuckled, using one of Minnie’s favorite terms for a total failure.
“Oh, I doubt that, but I understand. You want to make a good impression and not look like you’re desperate.”
“Desperate?” Gaines balked.
“Oh, lovie, it’s obvious you have a sweet spot for her. I am sure everything will be aces and do get vanilla candles. But not too many.”
“Will do. And thanks, Minnie.”
“You are quite welcome. Have a wonderful time. Give Luna my regards. We miss working with her.”
“I will. Gotta dash and go buy some candles. Thanks again, Minnie.”
“Cheerio.”
Gaines hopped into his Jeep and drove to the local pharmacy. He wandered aimlessly through the aisles. Heaven forbid he ask someone where the candles are kept. As he walked down the third aisle, he realized he was probably being watched by security. What was a grown man doing meandering through the women’s hygiene section of the store? He picked up his pace and moved as quickly as possible into the toothpaste section. Nope. Not here either. He finally succumbed to his ignorance of product placement and asked a woman who was taking inventory of the dental floss. “Excuse me. Can you point me in the direction of candles?” He didn’t know why he felt embarrassed, but he did. Maybe because he couldn’t remember the last time he had thought about candles.
“They’re right over there.” She nodded at an endcap.
He must have walked past them at least twice. Now he really felt ridiculous. “Duh. I should pay better attention. Thanks!”
The woman gave him a “most men don’t pay attention” shrug.
He stared at the shelves. Some of the names were vague. Summer Delight. Serene Sanctuary. Home Sweet Home. He took a whiff of it and his eyes almost teared up. That was one home he didn’t want his to smell like. He searched for vanilla but there were none. He gingerly pulled the Serene Sanctuary closer to his face, concerned it would make him sneeze. Much to his surprise, it had a clean scent. Once again, he was befuddled. He brought the candle over to the same woman who had directed him to the shelf. “May I ask you something?”
She shrugged again. “Sure.”
“I’m having guests and I want to give my place a little more, I dunno, umph, I guess. Would this be all right?” He handed the candle to her.
“Divorced?” she asked.
Gaines laughed out loud. “Is it that obvious?”
She gave him a deadpan look.
“Understood.” He nodded. “Due to my candle ignorance, could you please advise?”
She handed it back to him. “This is fine. Has a little sandalwood so it’s a bit more masculine than the others. Go for it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
“She’s a lucky woman,” the clerk replied, as he was walking away.
He stopped suddenly, turned, and grinned. “I think I’m the lucky one.”
“Even better. Good luck.” The woman finally smiled.
Gaines bought three large candles and a lighter and headed back to his place. He set one on the dining-room table, one on the fireplace mantel, and one on the bathroom vanity. He decided to light one just to be sure he wouldn’t have another olfactory reaction. He checked his watch again. Three more hours. He didn’t want to start any new projects. The house was in a state of suspended animation, and he didn’t want to open any work files. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually had time on his hands. He sat on the sofa and looked around for the umpteenth time. Not very homey. It is what it is, and that’s why she’s coming. I should be thankful it looks the way it does.
The weekend
Luna must have packed and unpacked her bags three times. Wiley watched her move back and forth from the closet to the weekender suitcase propped on the chair in the corner. She held up a midi dress with long sleeves. “What do you think? Too caj? Too dressy?” Wiley didn’t make a move. “OK. So that will go back on the rack.” Her closet was squished. She dug through more clothes, shoving each garment into the next. “Wow. I never realized I had so much stuff.” She looked at Wiley. He yawned. “And I can’t figure out what to wear or pack.” She threw herself backward on her bed and began to stare at the ceiling. She was nervous. She knew it. Talk about practicing what you preach. She stunk at it. Maybe this was a good time to put her own words to good use. She didn’t have to be on the road for another couple of hours. She had time to decompress and hit the reset button. She got up and dimmed the lights, pulled down the shade, put on some New Age music, and set the timer. She would try to be still for forty minutes, regardless. No thinking allowed. She closed her eyes and began deep yoga breathing, inhaling and exhaling to the rhythms of the ocean waves in the background of the music. She drifted off to the guided meditation taking her to the tranquility of lush, beautiful gardens.
* * *
Before Cullen left for work that morning, he set out the clothes he planned on wearing to dinner with Chi-Chi. Of course, Luna had a major hand in it. A Hawes & Curtis green-and-blue Italian linen blazer, navy linen pants, a dark green shirt, and a blue-and-green-checkered tie with a pocket square to match. Cullen was always very buttoned up. Literally. During the week, he would spend most of his time in the workshop renovating something. But under his work apron was a button-down collared shirt. The only thing that gave a hint of his creative side were his socks. They were always something different than one would expect. Something interesting. Most people didn’t realize it because he wore work boots in his studio and workshop. But under that Brooks Brothers appearance was a pair of Looney Tunes, Rocky & Bullwinkle, Oreos, SpongeBob, or some other wacky footwear. Even at a black-tie event, he would wear white socks with black bowties. Rarely did anyone say a word. It was such a dichotomy from what people generally recognized. Now the dilemma was which pair to wear to dinner. Then he remembered he had a pair of green paisleys. Perfect. Dark maroon loafers with tassels, of course. He then started second-guessing himself about the tie. It would depend on how nervous he was and if a tie would make him feel like he was choking. He’d tough it out. The ensemble Luna had picked was impeccable, and he wanted to impress Chi-Chi. Satisfied his evening wear was ready, he left for the showroom and workshop. It was Saturday. He wouldn’t be working with paint, sawdust, old metal, or whatever would arrive in desperate need of refurbishing. He wanted to be sure he wouldn’t find the need to bathe in turpentine before he showered for his dinner date.
