Murder With All the Trimmings (7 page)

“Did you love Daddy when you were young?” Amelia said.

Josie’s daughter was methodically spreading grape jelly on a second piece of toast, making sure all the corners were perfectly purple.

Josie wanted to yank the knife out of her daughter’s hand, but she sat still. This was a lull in their battle. She knew another shot would be fired soon.

“Oh, yes,” Josie said. “I was crazy about your father.” She didn’t add
I’m still young
. By Amelia’s standards, thirty-one was ancient.

“Why?” her daughter said.

“Because he was so funny and energetic. Because I never knew what he would do next. One weekend he would whisk me off to Aruba to scuba dive. We’d go to New York for dinner the next. I never knew what to expect. I liked that.”

“But besides taking you places, did you love him?”

Josie winced. “Yes,” she said.

It was a good question, and one Josie had never honestly answered before. Nate had kept her off guard their whole courtship. If she’d married him, would their wild romance have withstood the daily grind of grocery shopping, jobs, light bills, and taking out the trash? Not to mention her mother, Jane? Would Nate have become an alcoholic if he’d lived with Josie? There was no way to answer those questions.

“I loved your father,” Josie said.

“Do you still love him?” Amelia picked up on that past tense—“loved”—immediately.

Josie tried to give her nine-year-old as much honesty as she could handle. “Part of me still loves Nate and always will. But living with an unpredictable man who has a drinking problem is asking for trouble.”

“Is it me?” Amelia asked. “Is that why you broke up with Daddy?”

“No, sweetie. I stopped seeing Nate when he was arrested in Canada for dealing drugs. He was barred from this country. I’d just learned I was going to have you, and I thought it was better to break off our romance. Children need stability, and he couldn’t give you that in his situation.”

“What if he reformed?” Amelia said.

“It’s hard for grown people to change their ways,” Josie said. “It’s not impossible, but it is difficult. I’m not that much of an optimist that I believe he’ll simply stop drinking. I have a question for you: How did you know Nate was your father the first time you saw him?”

“I just knew,” Amelia said. The toast had reached her desired level of perfection. “I always knew he wasn’t dead, or I would have seen his grave. He’s old like you, but he has my eyes and hair. He looks like my daddy.”

“Yes, he does,” Josie said.

“He found me because he’s my daddy. Zoe got a pink Love hoodie for her birthday,” Amelia said, abruptly changing the subject as she crunched her toast.

“That’s nice,” Josie said. She recognized this as another bid in Amelia’s Christmas gift hint campaign.

Zoe dressed like a junior hooker. The principal called in Zoe’s mother to discuss her child’s fashion choices. Zoe’s mom showed up wearing clothes even more revealing than her daughter’s outrageous outfits, and the discussion ended quickly.

Amelia was smart enough to know Zoe was not high on Josie’s list of favorite people. “Paris Hilton was photographed wearing a pink Love hoodie,” Amelia said, as if this touch of stardust would persuade her mother.

Josie remained silent.

“Emma’s getting one for Christmas,” Amelia said.

Josie liked Emma and respected her mother. “I doubt that,” Josie said. “Emma’s mom doesn’t think Paris Hilton is a good role model.”

“Emma’s grandmother is buying it for her. Do you think Grandma—”

“Your grandmother cannot afford an overpriced hoodie,” Josie said firmly. “Don’t even mention it to her.”

“It’s only sixty dollars,” Amelia said.

“Grandma lives on Social Security and a small pension,” Josie said. “Sixty dollars is too much money for something you’ll outgrow in a couple of months.”

“What about a cell phone? Those are free.”

“Only if you sign up for a plan that bleeds you dry,” Josie said. “You are not getting a cell phone.”

“It’s important for my safety,” Amelia said. “That’s why the other kids have them.”

Nice try, Josie thought. “I drive you to school and to Emma’s house. You don’t roam the malls or walk to the bus stop. Why do you need a cell phone?”’

“So I can text my friends,” Amelia said.

“You already spend hours sending them instant messages.”

“It’s not the same, Mom. Everyone has a cell phone. I’m nothing but a loser face without one.”

“Somehow, Amelia, I doubt that.”

Amelia gave a pained sigh. Josie was tempted to sigh along with her, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Josie opened it to find Nate on her front porch. He was a different man from the one she saw last night—at least a clean and sober one. Nate was dressed in a fresh white shirt, open at the collar, and neatly pressed pants. The shirt gapped across his burgeoning beer belly. But some things couldn’t be cleaned up. Nate’s complexion was crisscrossed with spidery veins. His eyes were red and the skin under them was puffy. His nose—Josie used to love to trace its noble dimensions with her finger—still looked like an exotic gourd. He was carrying a shopping bag of Christmas-wrapped packages and a big bouquet of red roses.

“Presents for my girls,” Nate said. He handed Josie the flowers. He paused, as if he’d prepared a little speech. “I came to apologize. I should have called first before I showed up last night. I shouldn’t have let my little girl see me drunk. I didn’t mean to drink, Josie. I got nervous. I knew you would be angry when you saw me and I started drinking and couldn’t stop.”

Ah, an alcoholic’s excuses. Josie hated them. Somehow Nate’s drinking problem was her fault. He was a long way from recovery.

“Daddy!” Amelia came running out of the kitchen in her pink robe. “What did you bring me?”

“Open your packages and see,” Nate said, handing his daughter the shopping bag.

Josie didn’t like this, but she let Amelia tear open the brightly wrapped presents. Her daughter ripped into them like a young lioness opening an antelope.

“My hoodie!” Amelia said. “It’s exactly what I wanted! And a cell phone. This is the cool RAZR phone, too. Even Zoe doesn’t have one.”

Josie didn’t like the greed gleaming in her daughter’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “Thank you, thank you.” She threw her arms around her father.

“Aren’t you going to open your present, Josie?” Nate asked. He handed her a flat box about the size of a floor tile. It was Tiffany blue. Josie was relieved to see the box was too big to hold an engagement ring.

“I have something to do first,” Josie said. She went straight to Amelia’s room and switched on her daughter’s computer, then studied the SENT MAIL queue. Amelia had written to an e-mail address Josie didn’t recognize. She opened it.

“Dear Daddy,” Amelia’s e-mail began.

 

It was signed “Love, Amelia, your daughter.”

Josie was so furious that she wanted to smash the computer screen.

Cinderella indeed. Where did Amelia get this fairy tale? It’s true Josie was serious about Mike and hoping for marriage, but not at Amelia’s expense. She would never turn her daughter into Heather’s servant. Servant, hell. Josie could barely get Amelia to set the table, much less wait on Heather.

Josie called Jane from her own room. Her hands shook so badly, Josie could hardly punch in her mother’s number.

“Josie, what’s wrong?” her mother said. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Josie said in a low voice, “Mom, Nate’s here. We have problems we need to hash out, and one of them is Amelia. Can she stay with you before I kill her?”

“Josie, send the child up here this instant.”

“Will do,” Josie said.

“And be careful with that man. He can make trouble for you. He never signed over his parental rights.”

“He was in jail when Amelia was born.”

“But he’s out now and you don’t know why,” Jane said.

“He said it was a technicality,” Josie said.

“If he was pardoned, he could sue for custody and take Amelia back to Canada. Then where would you be? You need a lawyer. Nate could take her now and just disappear. Don’t upset him.”

“Thanks, Mom, that’s good advice. I’ll find someone who knows international law. I’ll ask Alyce’s husband, Jake, for help. He owes me.”

Josie took a deep breath to calm herself, then called Amelia way too sweetly. “Can I see you a minute, dear?” she said.

Amelia came in wearing the pink hoodie over her robe and danced around her room, showing it off. “It’s perfect, Mom,” she said. “It’s just what I wanted. It’s the right size, too.”

“And how would your father know that?” Josie asked through clenched teeth. She wanted to tear the pink sweatshirt off her daughter. It took all her strength to restrain herself.

“I don’t know,” Amelia lied.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with an e-mail you sent your father, would it?”

“You read my e-mail,” Amelia said, outrage in her voice.

“That’s my privilege as long as you live in this house. Where did you get Nate’s e-mail address?”

“He gave me his card last night, while barfing Heather took a shower,” she said. “Daddy said I could e-mail him anytime.”

“Give me that hoodie,” Josie said.

“It’s mine,” Amelia said.

“Give it to me, or I’ll rip it off your back and put it in the Goodwill donation box.”

Amelia reluctantly peeled off the hoodie.

“You’re grounded, young lady,” Josie said. “No computer except for schoolwork. Now get dressed and go upstairs to your grandmother. You have exactly five minutes to be out the door.”

Amelia was furious at her mother. “I hate you. You’re a liar,” she said. “I’m going to live with my father.”

Suddenly, Josie felt like a hostage in her own home.

Chapter 8

Deep breaths, Josie told herself. You can’t come out screaming at Nate. That will only drive Amelia closer to her newfound father.

When she felt calmer, Josie went out to face her ex. Nate was pacing her tiny living room. Suddenly, the room that had seemed so homey looked small and shabby. Was the couch starting to sag? She spotted a cobweb on the table lamp and brushed it away. Amelia’s pink backpack was still abandoned by the front door, and the new stain Heather had added to the worn carpet seemed radioactive.

Josie wondered if she looked slightly worn, too, and then brushed that thought away like the cobweb. Concentrate, she told herself. You have to save your daughter. What if Nate wants to take Amelia back to Canada? If he sues, you can’t afford a good lawyer. Your mother will have to get a second mortgage on this place.

“Is Amelia okay?” Nate asked.

“She’s fine,” Josie said too cheerfully. “She has to see her grandmother now.”

Nate looked disappointed. “Oh,” he said. “I thought we could spend some time together.”

“When we work out some ground rules,” Josie said.

“Wait a minute,” Nate said. “She’s half mine.”

“That’s what we need to talk about,” Josie said.

“How about lunch at O’Connell’s Pub?” Nate said.

That’s where Josie and Nate had first met. Josie didn’t want to encounter the ghost of their former romance—or any of their old friends. Too many of them would be happy to start Nate on a Saturday bender.

“What if we grab a burger at Ruley’s Tavern on Manchester?” Josie said.

“I’ve never been there,” Nate said.

“It’s a neighborhood joint,” she said. “Very quiet.” With no painful memories.

They walked two blocks to the little bar. The day was growing chilly. Nate wore a leather jacket. Josie wondered if it was the same bomber jacket he’d had when they were dating. She doubted Nate could zip it over his belly.