All I Ever Wanted (22 page)

“Oh! Louis! Annie, you remember Louis, right? Oops! Gotta run! Bye. Sorry! I have…things. To do. Things to do. Annie, help me! Help me do the things, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Annie said.

“I'll help, too,” Louis said. “I'm very handy.” He raised an anemic eyebrow. “Very. Handy.”

I paused. “You know what, Louis? My sister needs help. Over there.” I gestured toward Hes, who appeared to be dozing in a lawn chair.

“If it would please you, then I will help your sister,” Louis said, gliding away.

“That wasn't nice,” Annie said. “Oh, here comes Ian. Hi, Ian! You look
really,
really nice.” Back to her fettuccine voice.

“Hello, Annie,” Ian said. “Um…thank you.” He turned to me. “Callie, the K-9 unit has to go now. Did you want to say goodbye?”

“Sure. I have the check right here.” I peeked into my leather backpack purse. “Yup. Right here.”

“I hear Seamus calling me,” Annie lied. “Must run. Bye, kids!”

Ian and I walked over to where the cop was still holding court with his beautiful German shepherd under the elm tree. “So how are you doing, Ian?” I asked.

“I'm fine,” he answered. He glanced at me. “You really did a nice job on this. So many people came.”

“I thought you did great, too,” I said, risking a quick squeeze to his arm. Ooh. Nice arm. Nice and strong with all that dog-hefting or whatever. Cat hurling. Whatever.

We gave the good sergeant a donation to the cops' union and thanked him. The fair was winding down, though Josephine had found the microphone and was serenading the stragglers with her favorite song. “‘Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me,'” she sang as Seamus head-bopped agreeably in the background. Annie and I had high hopes for a marriage between them someday.

“Callie, I'm headed home,” Noah said. He was rubbing his leg, but he gave Ian a terse nod.

“Sure, Noah,” I said. “I have to stay a little and make sure everything's settled, but don't worry. I'll catch a ride.” I wasn't in a horrible hurry, to be honest. It was 4:00 p.m. on a Saturday. I didn't have plans, though the River Rats had invited me to hang out with them. I believed it was their monthly mojito night, not to be confused with their monthly martini night, beer night, wine night, mint julep night…

“I'll drive you home,” Ian said.

“Thanks,” I said. “That would be great.”

“I'll bring Bowie,” Noah said, then hobbled off toward his pickup truck, his uneven gait more pronounced than usual.

“His leg must be hurting,” I said. “He hates wearing the prosthesis. We've tried eight different models.” I frowned. “Can we stop at the pharmacy on the way home? He's out of Lanacane, and I'll bet he won't remember to pick some up.” Glancing at my watch, I winced. “Shoot, they're closed already.”

“I have some in the office,” Ian said.

“Really? Thanks, Ian,” I said. “See? You're getting good at this nice thing. Just like me.”

He gave me a tolerant look, and I smiled.

As we approached the office, a new-model Saab pulled into the lot. The driver got out. I recognized her immediately—it was the woman from the ladies' room at Whoop & Holler. The one who told me I wasn't an idiot.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “How you doing, Kate Spade?”

“Hi there, fabulous shoe woman!” she called right back. “How are you?” Then she looked at Ian, and her expression softened. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. I sensed a tremor in the Force, if you know what I meant. Ian had gone very still.

“I didn't realize you had an…event,” she said, gesturing to where the rental folks were taking down the tent.

“Yes,” he said, offering no more. They looked at each other for a moment, the air suddenly was crackling and brittle.

“Got a minute?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, then, turning to me, added, “Callie, though I take it you've already met somehow, this is Laura Pembers. My ex-wife.”

 

T
HOUGH
I
OH-SO-CASUALLY
circled the building with Angie, I was unable to find a spot where I could eavesdrop on Ian and Laura without climbing a stepladder and pressing my ear against the window…and sadly, I didn't see a ladder anywhere.

The last of the pet fair people left, trickling away with waves and compliments. I kissed my nieces and managed to catch Seamus and kiss him as well, though he was getting to the age where he kind of hated, kind of loved that sort of public display. With a sigh, I flopped on the grass under a pear tree, the silvery leaves rustling slightly in the breeze. Angie joined me, lying down with her front paws crossed daintily as if she were the Queen of England. I stroked her silky fur and was rewarded when she put her head in my lap.

So. Ian's ex-wife was gorgeous, friendly and most important, had great taste in accessories. I remembered thinking that night in the ladies' room that she looked familiar, and now I knew why. Her picture was still in Ian's office, though her hair was shorter and darker now.
I don't think he's over his ex-wife,
Carmella had told me the first
day I'd come to check Ian out. Ian himself told me he wasn't looking for a relationship. So I guess I knew what he'd meant that day, when he'd told me I didn't have to try so hard with him. It didn't mean he was interested in me. And heck, he'd made that clear, hadn't he? Actions spoke louder than words. He'd never touched me, except to help me into the kayak. Certainly didn't flirt. So what if he laughed this morning? I was easy to laugh at.

I heard a car door close, then an engine start. As Laura drove down the driveway, she slowed. I stood up and waved. “Nice to meet you, Callie!” she called. Angie woofed softly.

“Same here,” I shouted back. Then I headed back toward the building where Ian stood looking where Laura's car had been, his hands in his pockets, face more than a little grim.

“Hi,” I said, and he started.

“Hi,” he said, not looking at me. “I'm sorry, I forgot the Lanacane. Come on in.”

I followed him into the office and waited while he disappeared down the hall. A few seconds later he was back, his suit jacket and tie over his arm, the tube of cream in his hand. His face was tight, and he didn't look at me.

“Everything okay, Ian?” I asked gently.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered.

“No.”

“Okay. Well, I appreciate the cream. Noah will, too.”

A muscle in his jaw clenched, and he managed to cut his eyes to me, then looked away once more. “She's getting married.”

I bit my lip. “I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, it's fine. I knew already…she
wrote to me about a month ago. I just haven't seen her for a while.” He paused. “They should get married. They're…right for each other.” He shrugged unconvincingly. “Let's go.”

Angie came the nanosecond she was called, jumping into the way back of Ian's Subaru, where there was a dog bed for her comfort. I got in the passenger door. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, buckling my seat belt.

“You're welcome. Thank you for today. It was very nice.”

I could tell his mind was elsewhere. For a change, I managed to keep my mouth shut as we drove home. Autumn was here, brilliant and blazing. The fields glowed with good health, and black-and-white cows lined the fence at the edge of the road at the Valasquez farm. But my heart hurt for Ian.

When we pulled into Noah's Arks, Ian spoke again, though he stared straight ahead. “Callie,” he began, taking a deep breath. He didn't continue, just exhaled slowly.

“Yes, Ian?” I prodded (gently, I thought).

“Laura wants me to come to her wedding.” He turned to look at me.

“Ah,” I said. He didn't say anything else. “Well, do you want to go?”

“No,” he answered. “But I probably will.” He dropped his gaze to his hands.

“And how do you feel about going?” I asked, trying for armchair psychologist.

“Really crappy, Callie.”

I gave a little laugh, almost surprised at the honest answer. “I would, too,” I said.

“It's next weekend.”

“That's…soon.”

He took another deep breath, then seemed to grit his teeth. “Will you come with me?”

Lordy! I certainly didn't see that coming. Well, of course he'd want a date! Especially (not to toot my own horn) but especially one as pretty and charming and in possession of such fabulous shoes as I was. “Sure, I'll come!” I said. I could see it already. I'd flirt with him, be utterly gorgeous, we could dance, everyone could see that he'd moved on… “You can say I'm your girlfriend, I'm a great date, Ian, and I'll—”

“No!” he blurted, looking stricken. “I don't want you to pretend to be my girlfriend,” he said more calmly. “I…I don't even want you to come as my date.”

“Oh,” I said, deflating. There went that plan. What did he want, a driver?

“Just come as my…friend.” He turned to look at me, his eyes steady.

My heart seemed to stop beating for a second.
Oh.
Somehow, coming from this man, the word was huge. His
friend.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I'd be honored.”

Ian reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded up piece of paper, handing it to me. “It's just outside Montpelier,” he said. “We'll have to stay overnight, but I'll pay for your room.”

“Or we could bunk together,” I said, glancing at the invitation. “Save some money. We could have a slumber party. Order room service, watch movies, jump on the beds.”

“I'll pay for your room,” he repeated, but there it was, that little smile in his eyes.

I opened the car door. “Okay. See you next week.”

“It's black tie, by the way.”

“Oh, I love black tie!” I exclaimed. “I have the best dress! How cool! This will be so much fun, Ian!” Then, remembering that Ian's poor heart was probably breaking and his wife was in love with another man, I hastily added, “Actually, this is going to suck, and it won't be any fun at all.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “I know I'm going to regret this,” he murmured.

I got out of the car and pointed at him. “You won't, Ian. I'll make sure of it.”

“B
RONTE, TELL YOUR
aunt why you got sent to the principal's office,” Hester said on Wednesday. Hes and I were being summoned to Elements…third and final stop on the Tour of Whores…and I'd offered to pick my sister up, since she hated to drive at night.

Bronte sighed and slumped in her chair. “I told Shannon Dell I was Barack Obama's love child. And when she didn't believe me, I told her the Secret Service had, like, already tapped her lines and knew she was a snot who should totally mind her own business.” She glanced up at me. “I also swore.”

Hester raised an eyebrow at me.

“You could do a lot worse than the President,” I said to my niece, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Though I was fond of the Morgan Freeman version myself.”

“Callie!” Hester barked.

“It's very wrong to lie,” I hastily amended. “Tsk, tsk, Bronte.” She grinned up at me. From upstairs came the sound of Josephine singing another age-inappropriate song…Shakira's wholesome little ditty, “She-Wolf.” “Shouldn't we censor Josephine's songs?” I suggested.

“I figure she'll outgrow it,” Hester said. “All that Baby Einstein's gotta kick in sometime. God knows I spent thousands of dollars on those fricking DVDs.”

“So are you two meeting one of Poppy's girlfriends?” Bronte asked, casually studying her nails. Hester, who'd just taken a sip of water, sputtered.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I eavesdrop and spy,” she answered.

“My admiration continues to grow,” I murmured. “Yes, we are. Speaking of that, let's get going, Hester. I'll need a drink first.” I glanced at my niece. “Just one glass of wine, as I would never drive while intoxicated. Ever. And nor would you.”

“I'm thirteen years old, Callie,” she said patiently. “Try to, like, pace yourself on the lecture circuit, okay?” She favored me with a kiss, then hollered up the stairs to see if Josephine wanted to eat ice cream and watch SpongeBob.

“She's the greatest kid,” I told my sister as we drove over to Elements.

“That she is,” Hester agreed. “But this father thing at school…not the first time. Last month it was Denzel Washington.”

I laughed. “Well, she has excellent taste.”

“So. I have a date,” Hester boomed.

“Oh, fun! Who is it?”

“Louis.”

I sucked in a breath of pain. Granted, I'd kind of orchestrated that by sending Louis over, but it still wasn't a pretty mental picture. “Good luck.”

“Ayuh.” She didn't comment further, so I changed the subject.

“What do you think about the, uh, Tour of Whores?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Seems like a lot of scab picking to me. You want to turn up here,” she said, pointing at a street sign.

“Yes, Hester, I know. I live a quarter of a mile away.
Have lived in this town most of my life. Eat at this very restaurant twice a week or so.”

“Go left at the firehouse. So why did you agree to come tonight?”

“I'm afraid of Mom and don't want to disobey her.”

“Mom's such a pussycat,” Hester said. “You have this skewed image of her… I don't know. Always making her the bad guy.”

“Well, what about your image of Dad?” I asked, in that sibling way one never outgrows.
No, I didn't. You did!

“Dad's a shit,” she said calmly. “Mom, pregnant. Dad, fucking around. Do the math, Callie.”

“I know,” I muttered. “I do know. But twenty-two years is a long time to atone.”

We walked into the restaurant, where Dave greeted me in his usual way. “Callie! You look incredible tonight.” He took my hands in his strong grasp and kissed my cheek, then turned to my sister. “Hester. Always a pleasure.” She glared at him… Dave might be gay, but he was still male, and that was enough to make Hester suspicious.

“Have you talked to Damien lately?” I asked Dave.

“No, but I did get a very mysterious and romantic card yesterday,” Dave said, smiling a little, looking (sigh) like Clive Owen. So unfair…the good ones were always gay or married. Then his expression changed. “Listen, ladies.” His voice dropped. “They're here. Your parents and the…other woman.” He looked at me seriously. “Prepare yourselves.”

He walked us to the table, and before we even got there, my steps slowed.

My parents were both in their early sixties… Fred was
a surprise baby, born a week before Mom's fortieth birthday. But even turning back the hands of time twenty years…even so…Dad's, er, special friend here had to have been…oh gosh…older than God's dog. Honestly, she didn't even look alive.

A tiny, shriveled woman sat—in a wheelchair—between my parents. Mom was wiping the lady's chin with a napkin, and Dad was patting her liver-spotted hand. Her wispy hair stirred in a draft as we approached.

“No fucking way,” Hester said in her version of a whisper, which was slightly louder than a shout. “Oh, my God, I have to go to the bathroom.” She bolted, deserting me.

“Callie. Do join us,” Mom said, pinning me with her laser look.

My mouth snapped shut. Surely there was a mistake. “Ah…I…well! Hello there!” I said, ever my father's girl when it came to putting on a good front. “Mom! Dad! Hi!” I turned to the stranger, who was indeed alive. “I'm Calliope Grey, Tobias's daughter.” I held out my hand to shake hers. She raised her arm weakly, then let it fall back to the table, unable to find the energy to do more.

“Is this…are you…?” I whispered to my parents.

“What did she say?” the little old lady asked, her voice creaky and thin.

This
was the other woman? Holy Lord!

“Callie's my daughter,” Dad said loudly. “Callie, this is Mae Gardner.”

“Very nice to meet you,” I lied.

“Oh. I'm fine, dear.” She smiled—no teeth, I noted, and I bit my lip. I glanced at my mother. She gave me a cool look in return, her thoughts unreadable.

“I was so happy to hear from you,” Mae said, turning
her head with some effort toward my father. “To be honest, I don't remember you, but I thought it would be nice to get out. Most of my friends are dead, after all! My great-grandson drove me. He just got his license! He did very well on the way over here. No accidents!”

“That's great,” I said after a beat, because Mom and Dad were staring at each other and Hester was apparently never coming back to our table. Sure enough, she was waving and gesturing to her phone, pretending a patient needed her. “Is he here?”

“Is who here, dear?”

“Your great-grandson.”

“He's in the car. He has the most cunning little gadget, it's a talking camera or a radio or some such thing. He can take pictures with it! And type on it! Isn't that remarkable?”

“Oh…yes,” I said. “Modern technology…amazing. So, um…how old are you, Mae, if you don't mind my asking?”

“I'm eighty-five,” she said. “And I knew your father here—he's your father, you said?” I nodded. “We knew each other, oh, quite some time ago! We had some fun, didn't we, Lenny?”

“It's Tobias,” my father said kindly.

“Is it? I don't know why I said Lenny. Well, I had a cousin Lenny, of course. He served in World War II, in the Pacific, and I used to send him cookies!”

With that, Mae fell asleep, her bony little chin resting on her collarbone. None of us said anything for a second. Mae gave a slight snore, assuring us that she was still in the land of the living.

“I cannot believe you cheated on me with an old woman,” my mother hissed.

“She wasn't that old back then,” Dad said weakly.

“Children present, no fighting, please,” I interjected quietly, not wanting to wake our companion.

“Mind your own business, Callie,” Mom said.

“You made me come! And where's our waiter? Could I please get some alcohol? You know, I could be home watching
Say Yes to the Dr—
”

“Hush, Callie. Tobias. Explain yourself! First that hippie widow—and I mean hippie in every sense of the word—then a blind woman…now…now… Bette Davis here! What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“At least they needed me!” Dad said, leaning forward abruptly. “Unlike you, Eleanor!”

“Oh, right. So it's my fault now,” my mother said, disdain dripping from her voice.

Mae twitched in her sleep. “It's in the left drawer,” she said, then resettled herself and gave another gentle snore.

“No, it's not your fault. Of course not,” Dad replied in a softer voice. “I did a horrible thing, Eleanor. I broke our marriage vows, and I hurt you.” His voice became firmer. “I've admitted that, and I've been apologizing for
decades
now, and I've told you again and again that I'd do anything to make it up to you…which I think I've proved by dragging these women back into our lives.”

Mom didn't answer, just gripped the stem of her wineglass. Her shoulders were tense, the only indication that she was listening.

“But maybe you should take some responsibility, too, Ellie,” Dad went on, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “The minute we moved to Georgebury, it was like I was just…some…appendage or something. You had the family business, you had the girls, you had your work, and on the nights when I was home, I was just
someone who messed up your routine. You couldn't wait for me to go back on the road again!”

“Oh, Dad, nobody felt like that,” I attempted. “We loved when you were home.”

“Hush, Callie,” he said.

“Why don't I just go to the bar and have a nice drink?” I suggested.

“Stay where you are,” Mom ordered. “We might need you if she wakes up.” She gave Dad an icy look. “And it wasn't like that at all, Tobias.”

“Wasn't it?” he asked fiercely. “Callie, did you ever feel neglected or overlooked because your mother was so obsessed with her dead people and creating the perfect send-off and comforting and coddling everyone but her husband and kids? Did you, honey?”

“I'd like to invoke the fifth amendment,” I said, waving to Dave. “Can I get a drink over here, Dave? Something large?” Dave pulled a face, rightfully wary of approaching.

“She did, Eleanor,” my father said. “And so did Hester, and I'm sure Freddie has as well. And as for me, Ellie—” here my father's voice cracked “—you barely remembered who I was.” His eyes were wet.

“I remembered enough to get pregnant with your child,” Mom said, but her voice was not quite as certain as before.

“Yeah. The first time we'd had sex in a year and a half.” I closed my eyes. Would that aliens would abduct me right about now. “And I was so happy about a new baby,” Dad continued. “But you weren't, were you? This was just a great inconvenience.”

Mom blinked. “I was thirty-nine years old, Toby.”

She hadn't called him
that
in a long, long time.

“It was a
baby,
Ellie. Our baby. But every time I brought up the subject, what should we name him, should we take another vacation before he came, you just gave me a dirty look and left the room.”

“I love Freddie,” Mom said, opening her hands up in an appeal.

“I know. But you stopped loving
me.
I don't know when, but you did, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make you love me again, and yes, I had three one-night stands, and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, and I'm so damn tired of being sorry.” My father's face crumpled. “I wanted to be needed. I wanted to be appreciated, and I was an idiot, and I'd take it back if I could, I'd cut out my heart if it would make you forgive me, but for Christ's sake, Eleanor, it didn't happen in a vacuum.”

My mother was silent, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

My father stood up. “I'm sorry, Poodle,” he said to me, wiping his eyes.

At that moment, a young man came over to our table. “Hey. You guys done with Goggy?” he asked.

Neither of my parents answered. “Um…yes! We are! She's lovely,” I said, cringing as the words left my mouth. “Do you need help getting her into the car?”

“I'm all set. Thanks for inviting her out! She's usually in bed by seven. Big night for her.”

He backed his sleeping ancestor away from the table and left. Without another word, my father followed. I watched him go, his shoulders slumped, then turned to my mother. “You okay, Mom?” I whispered.

My mother blinked and closed her mouth. “Yes. I'm fine, Callie.”

If “fine” looked like “slapped,” then I guess she was
fine. Not knowing what to say, I took her hand. She squeezed back gratefully.

“Where'd she go? Where's Dad?” Hester boomed. “Sorry about the phone call. Did I miss everything?”

“Not now, Hes,” I said. “Come on, Mom. We'll take you home.”

“I didn't even get to eat,” Hester protested.

“So order a pizza,” I hissed. “Now is not the time.”

 

I
DROPPED
H
ESTER BACK AT
her house, promising to call her later, then took Mom back home. Fred, who'd just popped open a beer, set it down when we walked into the foyer.

“Mom, you okay?” he asked, his dark eyes, so like our dad's, filled with concern.

“Rough night,” Mom murmured, patting his shoulder absently. She wandered into the Tranquility Room and sat in the back row.

“What happened, Callie?” he asked, and I briefed him in low tones.

“Poor Dad,” he said when I was done, then glanced toward our mom. “And Christly, poor Mom.”

“Tell me about it,” I murmured. “She looked like he slapped her. And Daddy… Fred, he was crying.” My own eyes filled up.

“Now don't you start,” Freddie said, sounding a lot like Noah. “Twenty-two years divorced, and they're still making the kids miserable. Come on.” He gave me a quick hug. “Ma! You want a grilled cheese?”