Best Staged Plans (26 page)

It was just incomprehensible to me that my family hadn’t called me back. Especially Greg. I couldn’t wait to get home and check in with Chance to find out what was going on. He and Shannon were probably on the phone right now.

“I’m so glad I finally got Naomi to give me that creep’s screen name,” Denise said.

“In point three miles, take ramp on left,” the GPS said.

I shook my head to bring myself back to the car. “Just be careful, okay? Naomi doesn’t need any more trouble.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll never know what hit him. I’ll reel him in, toy with him mercilessly, and then figure out the best agency to turn him over to.”

“It’s so scary,” I said. “I mean, who knows how many other women he’s stringing along.”

“And then there’s Josh,” Denise said.

I kept my eyes on the road.

“Next time,” I said. “You’ll get it right.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Are you okay?” I finally said.

Denise made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Yeah, I mean what are my choices? And it’s not like a part of me didn’t see it coming. I don’t know, maybe it was the whole devil-you-know thing with Josh. The thought of going through it all again with another person feels pretty daunting right now. Do you think I’m too old to adopt?”

“A boyfriend?”

“Ha.” She let out a long sigh. “You know, sometimes your life makes me feel so lonely.”

I took my eyes off the road for just a second. “Sometimes your life makes me feel like I’m suffocating in mine. And other times it makes me feel lucky to have what I have.”

CHAPTER 38

C
HANCE HAD LEFT
a note for us on the kitchen counter:
GONE FISHING. MAKE YOURSELVES AT HOME
.

“Was it something we said?” Denise asked.

I dialed Greg’s cell. It went right to voice mail. “Call me,” I said. “Call me the second you get this.”

I grabbed the iron railing and jogged down the three little steps to the living room, then back up to the kitchen.

“Something’s wrong,” I said. “Something’s really, really wrong.”

Denise opened the refrigerator and handed me a bottle of water. “What are you talking about?”

“Nobody has called me back. Nobody.”

Denise took a long sip of water. “So? It could be lots of things.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re already in bed. Maybe they forgot to charge their cell phones.”

I realized I was rocking. I crossed my arms and grabbed my elbows to stop myself. “I tried our landline, too. Maybe they’re at the hospital. Maybe there was an accident. Maybe Greg had a stroke.”

“Stop,” Denise said. “Come on, it’s late. They’re probably asleep. You can call again in the morning.”

“Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my bones.”

Long after Denise had fallen asleep, I stared up at nothingness. Finally I fumbled around on the bedside table in the dark until I found my mood ring. I slipped it on. I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep. I kept them closed for as long as I could take it, then I opened them again.

I was so exhausted that when I finally grabbed my readers and went into the bathroom to check my mood ring under the light, for a moment I flashed back and thought I was on my way to read a pregnancy test.

I sat on the closed toilet seat and watched as my mood ring turned from an uncertain amber to a seriously stressed black.

I tiptoed back into the guest room and brought my BlackBerry out to the hallway.

Amazingly, the missed call icon was now lit up. I clicked on it.

Greg had called. Two days before. And there was no message.

ONE DAY NOT LONG AFTER
we’d moved into our new old house and the kids and I were home alone, there was a knock on the door. Luke was napping, and Shannon and I had been waiting for one of Shannon’s friends to get dropped off for an after-school playdate.

I didn’t think twice. The heavy oak door creaked as I swung it open.

A guy was standing there. He was small and wiry with pale skin and a really bad haircut that made his hair stick out in little patches. He was wearing a white T-shirt and shiny blue work pants. He had a homemade tattoo on his forearm, something swirly and snakelike.

I pushed Shannon back behind me. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s the bed?”

I shoved the door as hard as I could.

He moved his foot in to stop it, like a salesman selling encyclopedias in an old movie. Something about his eyes wasn’t right.

“You live here?” he asked.

Come home, Greg
, I thought.
Please come home now
.

“Yes, my husband and I bought it a few months ago.” I put extra emphasis on the word
husband
. “He should be home any minute,” I lied.

The guy inched his foot forward a fraction of an inch. He was wearing an ancient pair of Docksiders. Not work boots, but those boat shoes with little leather ties.

I could feel the warmth of Shannon’s body pressing against me. Why hadn’t we rehearsed this?
If a strange man comes to the door, go get your brother. Run across the street to the neighbors’ as fast as you can and tell them to call the police.

“Where’s the bed?” he asked again. He turned sideways and did a ninja leap into the foyer.

If I grabbed Shannon and ran out the front door, I’d leave Luke upstairs in his bed.

I gave Shannon a nudge toward the door. “Go wait on the swings for Katie.”

She dug her fingers into my thigh. “I don’t want to,” she said.

The guy peered up the long central staircase, then turned and sprinted through the hallway and out to the mudroom. I heard the door to the mudroom scrape open, followed by the
thud-thud-thud
of feet on the stairs up to the secret room. Their rhythm matched the beat of my heart.

I grabbed Shannon by the arm and raced up the stairs to Luke’s bedroom.

“Cowabunga,” he growled when he saw us.

Luke was getting too heavy to carry, but I scooped him up from his big-boy bed like he was a newborn.

“Mom?” Shannon said. When I saw the look on her face, my eyes filled with tears.

“Run,” I said. “Just run.”

We clomped down the stairs.

The guy took a long step into the foyer and crossed his arms over his chest.

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t scream.

“You didn’t find no water bed up there in that room over the garage?”

“No,” I said.

“Where’d they go?”

“Vermont,” I said.

He scratched a patch of hair. “Well, that’s too far to go for a fuckin’ bed.”

And then he walked out. Just like that.

And in the blink of an eye we had our old life back.

All of our lives hang by a thread. Anything can happen, and sometimes it does.

It was the randomness that was staggering. You could do everything right, cross your
t
’s and dot your
i
’s, and still that lightning bolt could head straight for you, and not for the people who didn’t even bother to take their vitamins. The ones who, face it, barely even watched their kids.

What if that drunk gets into the car, just as we’re heading home, all buckled into our minivan, snug as a bug in a rug? What if something happens to one of the kids? What if that lump on Greg’s knee turns out to be, you know, something? What if the crazy guy comes back again? What if he has friends?

For the rest of my life, I’d never again open a door without thinking about what could be on the other side.

CHAPTER 39

I
UNHOOKED MY SEAT BELT
while Denise was still pulling into my driveway.

“Thank you,” I said. “And sorry to make you get up so early.”

Denise yawned. “It’s not like there was anything to hang around for. And I need to go makeup shopping anyway.”

I tried to laugh, but it came out like a croak.

Denise gave me a shove. “Go. Call me later.”

We’d left so early that even the Atlanta streets were deserted. When we dropped off my rental car, the sleepy guy at the desk offered to drive us to the nearest MARTA station.

At the airport, I overpaid for a ticket while Denise paid the standby fee to get on the earlier flight.

She handed me her receipt. “Bill him. For both of us.”

The flight was only half full. I tapped my toes and tried not to think, but every single horror story I’d absorbed over the years flashed through my head: entire families murdered in burglaries gone bad, gas explosions, accidental poisonings, heart attacks. I should have planned better, checked in more, said
I love you
a zillion extra times to each member of my family.

The outside house lights twinkled in the morning sun. The shades were still down.

I opened the mudroom door and stepped over a pair of sneakers. I slid my key into the lock that opened the door to the kitchen.

A towering pile of pizza boxes greeted me from the kitchen counter. Shannon’s Bedazzler shared the granite island with Mouse Trap, three empty beer bottles, a glass half full of milk, a Diet Coke can.

The kitchen cabinets were still doorless.

I couldn’t believe it.

I dropped my carry-on to the floor and plunked my shoulder bag on the counter. I jogged across the great room to the center staircase.

“Somebody better be hurt,” I yelled.

The bathroom door creaked open. “Hey,” Greg said as he jogged down the stairs. “What are you doing home?”

“What happened?” I said.

Greg tilted his head. “Shannon didn’t tell you, did she?”

He leaned in for a kiss. I took a step back. “Where are they? What happened? Just tell me.”

“Relax,” Greg said. “Everything’s fine. The kids went out for a jog. They tried keeping up with me yesterday, and I blew them both out of the water. So now they’re in training.”

I wondered if coming back early for no reason to a house that was not only not ready to go on the market but a total disaster was grounds for divorce. I fought for control. “Why didn’t you call me back?”

Greg smiled. “I tried once. But then I wanted to surprise you, and I had to wait till I was sure.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I said. I might have even screamed it.

“The house,” Greg said. “We sold the house.”

I could see his lips moving and even hear the words, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around what he was saying.

“What?” I said.

“We sold the house. I mentioned it to the tennis guys a couple weeks ago, and I guess one of them knew somebody who knew somebody who was looking. Anyway, we were out in the side yard playing badminton—Shannon and me against Luke and Raven—and this couple just pulled into the driveway. So I let them in and they loved it.”

“You let them in? Please tell me the house didn’t look like this.”

Greg shrugged. “Who cares? They made us an offer we couldn’t refuse. I called a real estate lawyer from my gym, and he drew up the purchase and sales. As soon as you sign, we’ll be in escrow. Shannon offered to forge your signature if we didn’t have time to FedEx it to you. She said she perfected it in high school.”

I sat down on the stairs. “You let them see the kitchen without the cabinet doors?”

Greg sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. “Hon, you’re missing the point.”

I shook my head. “Just tell me you didn’t let them open the drawers. Or the closets.”

Greg kissed me on top of the head.

“Wait,” I said. “We don’t want to give it away. Fully staged houses always get more money. How much did they offer?”

He told me.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Seriously,” he said.

“Do they know the housing market is in a slump?”

Greg wiggled his eyebrows. “It didn’t seem like the best time to bring it up.”

I closed my eyes and leaned against my husband as the full weight of seller’s remorse kicked in. “It’s just that there are so many memories in this house.”

Greg squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll pack them up and take them with us. Plus, now we don’t have any choice. The kids split up most of our furniture. The new owners want to close in thirty days. Luke found a place, so we can crash on his sofa if we have to. Actually, I guess that would be our sofa. But I’m thinking we pay off our debt, put what’s left of our stuff in storage, and do a little traveling.”

I looked at my husband of almost three decades. “I’m speechless.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved Greg’s laugh. “Well, that’s a first,” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s like the messy guys won or something.”

“I’m a good winner,” Greg said. “I won’t gloat.”

I shook my head. “This would never fly on HGTV.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

I just sat there and tried to let it all sink in. My house wasn’t perfect, and neither was my life. And there’s an emotional cost to new beginnings, a scary kind of letting go and heading into the unknown that fights with the part of me that wants to believe all the world can and should be staged.

But WTF.

I held out my hand and watched my mood ring turn blue. Not the pale blue of a cloudless sky at noon. But the rich deep indigo of the ocean blending into the sky under the light of a full beach moon.

CHAPTER 40

“A
CTION
,” Shannon said.

Luke pushed a button on the video camera.

“Shouldn’t we make a sign for the opening credits?” I asked. “I think there’s still some poster board out in the garage.”

“Mo-om,” they said.

“Owe me a Coke,” they both said at once.

“We’ll do the titles in iMovie after we finish,” Luke said. “We can even add a theme song at the beginning.”

Greg looked up from the box he was packing. “How about Tom Rush’s ‘Remember Song’? You know, the one about not being able to remember anything? It’s got a nice Boomer vibe.”

“I think we’d have to get permission for that,” I said.

“Like he’d remember whether he gave it to you,” Greg said.

Shannon looked over at the living room clock. “Come on, you guys. Chance is waiting for me to call.”