Contingency covenant of.., p.26
Contingency (Covenant of Trust), page 26
“But we’re not—” Chuck snapped his fingers as he looked for the right words.
“Back together? I know that, but I need to face these people.”
She knew what was in the envelope all along. She was setting me up to ask her to the party. Gavin was right. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty Friday.”
*******
The timer buzzed and Bobbi pulled the pie from the oven, and set it on a hot pad on the counter. Blueberry, Chuck’s favorite, made with fresh Michigan blueberries she bought at a roadside stand on the way home Thursday. Everything was ready. Potato salad, baked beans, steak fries, even homemade bread. With Chuck home on a Saturday, it was cause for celebration, and she went all out, even asking him to handle the grilling. He frowned and shook his head, but he eventually relented, and stood out there right now, flipping the T-bones. Brad held the basketball over his head playing a personal game of keep-away with Joel.
She could see Chuck look over at the boys, and then get that characteristic twitch in his neck. The boys were simply behaving like boys, like brothers, but he would lose it if she didn’t intervene. She wanted Chuck to have a perfect day at home, so the two of them could enjoy an evening together. She’d bought a silk and lace gown in Detroit, and she was dying to model it for him. Tonight she intended to command his undivided attention.
Chuck jabbed the fork into one of the steaks. She had to act fast. She grabbed a tablecloth and headed out to the deck. “Hey, guys! Things are about ready. Why don’t you go wash up.”
Brad dropped the basketball and jogged toward the deck.
“That’s not where that goes,” Chuck snapped, pointing at the ball.
“But we’re coming right back after dinner.”
“And you can get it out of the garage. Discipline, Brad.”
“It’s a waste of time to put it up if I’m gonna get it right back out in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll get it,” Joel said. “I’m closer.”
“Joel, don’t touch that basketball. Brad, come back here, pick up that ball, and put it in the garage.”
Bobbi nodded at Brad. He huffed and rolled his eyes, but trudged back across the yard.
“Can I open the garage door for him, Dad?” Joel called.
“Are you trying to be smart, Joel?” The back of Chuck’s neck reddened.
“No, Dad, I’m trying to speed this up. I’m starving.”
Chuck turned back to the steaks without answering, and Joel yanked the garage door up. Bobbi winked at the boys as they passed her to go inside, then she spread the tablecloth out on the picnic table. “The steaks smell wonderful.”
“Thanks.” Chuck carefully transferred them to the platter. “Are the boys like that when I’m gone?”
“Like what?”
“Disrespectful.”
“Disrespect—?” Bobbi stopped herself. She wasn’t going to argue with him today. “The boys are on their best behavior when you’re gone.”
“Good.” He set the platter on the table and stretched a leg over the seat of the picnic table.
“I made tea and lemonade.”
“I’ll just have water.”
Bobbi walked back into the kitchen and began pouring the drinks, muttering under her breath. “I said ‘I made tea and lemonade.’ I made it—”
“Mom, how soon is Dad leaving again?” Brad asked as he shuffled back in the kitchen with Joel close behind.
“Guys, be patient with him. A few more weeks and this case will be over.”
“And then he’ll be here all the time. Great.” He slumped against the counter.
“Brad!”
“Mom, you heard him. That’s psycho.”
“I’ll talk to him.” She pointed across the counter. “Grab the potato salad and take it outside. Joel, you get the baked beans.”
“I’d rather get the pie.”
“Yes, I know. I’m guarding the pie myself.”
“Rats.”
After carrying everything outside, they sat down to eat. Chuck picked up his knife and began trimming the fat from his steak.
“Aren’t you gonna pray, Dad?” Joel asked.
“Oh ... yeah ... sorry.” Chuck laid his knife across his plate and bowed his head. “Uh ... Lord, thank You for this food, for the hands that prepared it. Bless it in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Short and sweet. Yes.” Joel reached for the basket of fries. “Make sure you eat a lot, Dad, so you’re way too full for dessert.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“Something yucky. Mom brought it from Michigan. I’m sure it’s no good anymore.”
Bobbi shoved Joel’s shoulder and smiled. “I made a blueberry pie.”
“Wow, how did I rate that?” Chuck asked.
“I hadn’t made one in a long time. You’re overdue.”
They ate in near silence for several minutes, with only a few comments about the food. Chuck reached for a second helping of potato salad. “Hey, how’s baseball going, Brad?”
“Uh ...” He looked at Bobbi in a panic. “Uh ... well ...”
“Brad’s not playing baseball this summer,” Bobbi said.
“He what?”
“He wanted to concentrate on football.”
“So all the gear, all the camps ... that’s just thrown out the window?”
“May I be excused?” Joel said.
“Yes.” Chuck never took his eyes off Brad. “What’s the story, Brad?”
“I ... Well ... I went to ... uh ... spring practice, and Coach said ...”
“Does he have a name?”
“Coach Matson said he thought I could play varsity at wide-out if I worked at it.”
“Varsity, as a freshman?”
“I’ll be a sophomore.”
“So, nine years of baseball, all-star at second base, all down the drain for a hint of a promise from a coach who probably says the same thing to every kid?”
“Dad, I like football better, and you said to focus on one thing and go after it.”
“I put you up to this?”
“No, sir, it’s just ... I thought you’d be okay with it.”
“That’s why you didn’t tell me, right? If you thought I’d be okay with it, why didn’t you tell me months ago?”
“Mom said ...” Brad looked in her eyes, then back at his dad. “I mean—”
“No need to lie, Brad. Mom told you not to tell me. It’s okay.” Chuck leaned up on the table. “Why don’t you finish your dinner inside.”
Brad slowly gathered his silverware, apologizing to Bobbi with his eyes. He carefully balanced his plate on his glass and walked inside.
As soon as the door clicked, Chuck started. “Why did you keep that from me?”
“Because you’re extremely busy right now, and don’t need to worry about every little household detail. I can manage.”
“But this is a major parenting decision. I think I should have a part in that.”
“It’s baseball, Chuck. It’s not major.”
“It’s abandoning a commitment! I don’t understand how he could walk away from something that had been such a big part of his life ... since he was six, for crying out loud!”
“He’s a kid! He doesn’t have to be locked into this for the rest of his life.” She stood and started to gather the dishes.
“What else haven’t you told me about?”
“What?”
“What else are you keeping from me?”
“Chuck, make up your mind. Do you want me to call you for every little thing, or do you want me to let you focus on this case?”
“I don’t want to be purposefully left out of the things going on in my own house!”
“Fine, I’ll get the checkbook, my calendar, and the mail from the last month. You want to check my e-mail, too?”
“Will you stop mocking me? Why is it every time I make a legitimate request or ask a question, you come back with the sarcasm?”
“I am not getting into this right now.” She carried a carefully balanced stack of dishes into the kitchen, with Chuck close behind her. “I wanted two days. Just two days where we could be like a normal family.”
“And it’s my fault your fairytale didn’t come true again.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t win.”
“That’s because you’re playing a completely different game.” She stormed outside and gathered the rest of the dishes. He stood and watched her fumble with the door handle. She slammed the dishes on the counter. “I have tried my best to make your home a refuge for you where you could escape the pressure that everyone else was putting on you. I wanted this to be a place where you knew you were loved and respected. But apparently, I’m doing it all wrong. I can’t please you. The boys walk on eggshells when you’re home—”
“See, this is where you just don’t understand—”
“Then tell me! I am begging you. I want to understand.”
He just shook his head.
“What? You won’t open up, or you don’t think I’m capable of understanding?”
“Bobbi—”
“No, you hold on just a minute. Do you love me?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Answer me.”
“Bobbi ...” He rolled his eyes and huffed.
“Chuck.” She folded her arms across her chest. She was not losing this one.
“Yes, all right? Yes. Of course I love you. Are you satisfied?”
“I’m gonna tell you something, and I want you to get it with both ears. I love you. I will be here when you get through this ... midlife crisis or whatever it is you’re going through right now. But I will not be part of some plastic picture-perfect family that you can show off without it interfering with your life in any way.”
“That’s not—”
“You decide whether you want to be part of my family.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “You decide. Because I am through begging, through humiliating myself.” In one quick motion, she swept the blueberry pie into the trash can. “I’m through trying to make you happy.”
*******
She stormed out of the kitchen, but Chuck couldn’t respond. She’d never … Then she slammed the bedroom door, causing the dishes on the counter to rattle.
He had to act fast. “Bobbi! Wait!” He charged up the stairs after her and knocked on the bedroom door. She had a point. He’d beg her forgiveness and show her how much he needed her. “Bobbi?”
“Go away!”
“Is the door locked?” Silence. “Is the door locked, Bobbi?”
“No.” Her soft, gentle voice invited him.
He turned the knob slowly and eased the door open. She stood in the doorway of the master bath, her arms tight across her chest. She clutched a wadded-up shirt in her hand, and she wiped her eyes with the palm of her other hand.
“I’m sorry.” He crossed the room and took her in his arms. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just ... I lost sight of everything.” He kissed her, then whispered, “You are a wonderful wife. I’m sorry I take for granted everything you do for us.” He kissed her cheek and then lingered over her lips.
“Listen, Mister.” He kissed her in between words as she tried to speak. “I don’t want you ... to think ... you can just ... come in here ... and kiss me ... and it’s all better.”
“I would never think that.” He raised her hand, the one with the wadded shirt in it. “What is this?”
She unfurled a silk nightgown, the color of brown sugar, trimmed in lace. “I picked this up in ... in Windsor.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I ... uh ...”
“Would you try it on?”
“Now?” She glanced toward the door. “But ... the boys.”
“Are old enough to take care of themselves.” He stepped back and locked the bedroom door.
Chapter 21
Loyalty
Friday, December 16
Bobbi leaned in close to the mirror in the master bathroom and applied her lipstick with long, deliberate strokes. Her sleek, black dress flattered her. Her haircut and color banished all traces of gray for at least six weeks. She slipped her earrings in and then inspected herself in the mirror one more time.
Not bad. She smoothed her dress and pushed her hair behind her ears. I can do this. I can be Mrs. Chuck Molinsky. If she could survive the evening, and if Chuck behaved more like a husband and less like a law partner, she’d have him come home.
She dropped the lipstick tube into her beaded clutch purse and headed down the back stairs to the family room. A World War II video game commanded Brad’s undivided attention, but Joel saw her walk in the room. “Wow, Mom! You look great!”
“Thanks, Buddy. You guys will be okay, right?”
“I’ll watch out for Brad. Don’t worry.” Brad threw a pillow from the sofa at his brother, without missing a beat on the video game.
“You know the rules, no visitors, and if anyone calls, do not tell them you’re here alone. My phone is charged and the firm’s number is by the kitchen phone.” She double-checked her purse for her cell phone. “Oh, Aunt Rita and Uncle Gavin had plans this evening, but the Shannons are home if you need anything.”
“Crud!” Brad exclaimed as his turn ended. “So close!” He dropped his controller on the floor in front of the television. “Mom, just go. We’ll be fine.”
“Are you in a hurry to get rid of me? What are you going to get into?” Bobbi asked, her eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.
“We only have three islands to go to defeat the Japanese, so we’ll be right here when you get back.”
“I know, I know. You’ll be fine.” Bobbi kissed Brad on the cheek, and turned to kiss Joel on the top of his head. “I thought I heard your dad. Is he here?”
“I am,” Chuck said from the entry hall behind Bobbi. “I put the pizza in the microwave.” When Bobbi turned to face him, she saw a look in his eyes that rivaled his first glimpse of her on their wedding day. “You look ... incredible.”
“Thanks.” Bobbi felt her face flush. “I need to get my coat.” She pointed past him to the front closet.
Chuck stepped aside and opened the closet, then took out Bobbi’s coat and held it for her as she slipped it on. Two steps onto the porch, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the nice, new, but unpretentious, grey sedan in the driveway. “What is this?”
“It’s a Chrysler,” Chuck said. He took her by the arm, and walked her toward the car.
“I can see that. Where’s your car?”
“That is my car.”
“No, really. Where’s your BMW?”
“I traded it.” Chuck opened the sedan’s door for her.
“But you loved that car,” Bobbi said as she got in.
“No, I love you, and you hated that car. I bought it for all the wrong reasons.” Then he smiled and patted the car’s hood. “Besides, this one has a four hundred and twenty-five horsepower engine.” He closed her door, walked around the car and got in. “Are you positive you want to go to this party? Because we can just go to dinner or something, if you’d rather.”
“I want people to know you still have a wife.”
*******
Bows, ribbons, wreaths, and evergreen branches hung in every corner at Benton, Davis, & Molinsky. Soft string music played in the background. The rich aromas from the buffet met Chuck and Bobbi as soon as they entered the building. Among them, Bobbi thought she recognized Dear Joe’s Moroccan coffee.
“What’s wrong?” Chuck asked.
“Nothing. It just ... it smells like ...”
“Like what?”
“Moroccan coffee.”
“Not everybody drinks liquor,” Chuck said, reaching for her coat.
“And nobody else drinks imported coffee.”
“What’s your point?” He hung her coat on the rack, then slipped his overcoat off. “You don’t think we should try to accommodate our guests?”
“Guest, singular.”
“I happen to love Moroccan coffee,” he said.
“You threw half of the Turkish blend away.”
“Fine,” he pouted. “I had the caterers get it special for you. Sue me.”
She smiled and arched her eyebrow. “You should know better than to say that in a building full of lawyers.”
“Yes, but don’t hold that against us.” Walter Davis slipped up behind her and took her hand. “It’s good to see you. I hope you’re able to enjoy the evening.” He leaned forward, kissing her cheek.
Bobbi stiffened and held her breath to keep from choking on the strong scents of cigars, Old Spice, and bourbon. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” she said once he stepped away.
Walter pumped Chuck’s hand. “The food’s back towards the conference room like last year.”
The words ‘conference room’ stabbed Bobbi. Could she do this? Could she push from her mind all the things she knew happened in this building, and be the wife she took a vow to be? Dear God, stick close to me tonight.
“Where’s Helen?” Chuck asked, glancing back through the lobby.
“She’s not here. Her sister broke a hip a week or so ago, and Helen is staying with her this weekend.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, Pat’s healing, and it means no one is counting what I have to eat and drink this evening.” He slapped Chuck on the back, then wandered off to continue his hosting duties.
“I’d say Walter’s had a couple already,” Bobbi said.
“You think?” He slipped his hand around hers. “Can I get you a cup of that coffee?”
“I’d like that.” They walked across the lobby toward the conference room and Bobbi felt eyes on her. Before she could turn around to see who it was, Chuck began reintroducing her.
“Bobbi, you remember Eva Tamashiro, one of our paralegals.”
Bobbi reached out a hand, but the other woman mumbled a hello and walked away. “Frosty.”
