Relative Danger (26 page)

Kat said, “Do you think Mr. Gil will come in tonight?”

I shrugged, attempting a look that said I didn’t care. Roger eyed me, and I couldn’t tell if he cared whether Gil showed up or not. With Roger lately, who knew what he cared about or if he cared about anything at all? Except that his daughter would soon leave him all alone. Fear of losing another beloved person had overtaken his loneliness from losing Nancy. I understood. My security had come from being Freddy’s wife. A while after he vanished from my side, I found Gil. Parting had been painful, but still, I left him; therefore, he couldn’t leave me.
Damn
, I thought,
why is it so difficult to understand the stages of love and life?

I had to shift my thought pattern. “What university do you think you’ll attend?” I asked Kat. Nibbling on a cracker, I tried to make the question sound unimportant.

Roger watched her, waiting for her answer. She sipped a cola, her eyes turned away from his gaze. “I’m not sure yet.”

Roger set down his water glass. “Kat has choices. On Class Day she received different scholarship offers.” He feared her leaving, but looked proud of her achievements.

“Wish I could have seen that,” I said.

“You can’t be everywhere,” Kat said, “and it was no big deal.” Relief washed her face. I couldn’t tell if it was from the cup of corn soup with shrimp being served to her, or from not having to continue this area of conversation.

I pursued it anyway. “I’m sure your final average needs to remain close to where it’s been for you to receive total coverage of those scholarship offers.”

She ate, pointing to her mouth to show us she couldn’t talk.

Roger leaned toward me. “Why shouldn’t her average stay the same?”

I tipped my spoon into my duck gumbo. Kat quit chewing. Her head made a deliberate turn toward me, and then she looked at her dad. “It shouldn’t change,” she said.

I felt her stare. But my deductions had made me fairly certain that she’d be safe at school the next few days. And I wasn’t backing down now. “So what exams do you take tomorrow?”

Her nostrils loudly blew out air. “Chemistry. Advanced Placement English.”

“Those exams shouldn’t give you major problems, should they?” Roger said.

Absolute silence set upon our table. I clinked my spoon around inside my dish to insert sound. Kat cleared her throat. “No, Dad, they shouldn’t.”

Ah, that’s what I wanted to hear
. “Good luck with them,” I told her.

“Thank you,” Kat said, her tone frigid.

I almost asked if she’d heard anything new about the condition of Mrs. Peekers, but Roger would have questioned my knowing about school. I doubted whether he’d believe I subbed because I needed money. And I doubted whether Kat had told him anything about her recent concerns. “Kat likes her Spanish teacher,” I said between bites of gumbo. I glanced at Roger and could see Kat’s head snapping toward me.

“Kat finished taking her Spanish classes last year,” Roger said. He looked at Kat. “You used to talk about that teacher. What was her name?”

“Miss Hernandez.”

Roger nodded, and a waiter served our entrées. Conversation turned to how good all our food looked and tasted. The glint off Kat’s fork when she lifted it made me think of the bullet in my shoulder bag. But she didn’t need more worries at this time. And Roger—well, he was Roger, with his mind aloft in some neverland. I bit into golden crab claws. The batter crunched, and sweet meat flaked into my mouth. The chewy scallops were tasty. I offered Roger some of each, but he was so busy gobbling frog legs that he said nothing else would fit in his stomach. Nonchalantly, I said, “Have you done any dating, Son?”

Both his head and Kat’s swerved toward me. Roger appeared to choke while he stared at me as though I’d poured burnt coals on his head. I couldn’t help myself. I snickered. Kat remained silent a moment. Then she giggled.

Red flamed up to Roger’s cheeks. Anger struck his eyes. His lower lip spread up over his top one. I gripped his arm. “We all miss Nancy. You and Kat and I adored her. But Nancy left this world, and no amount of mourning will bring her back.”

Kat’s expression seemed a combination of pain and gratitude. At least on this, I felt she was with me. I couldn’t let Roger go yet. “Son, you’re still a young man. Nancy wanted you to keep on living, and Kat needs you to do that.”

Kat sat motionless.

Roger threw his napkin down on his plate. “I’m done here.” He waved to call our passing waitress and said, “We need the ticket. Now.”

“I’ll get it,” I said, but he insisted on paying.

Kat and I rose to leave, and the waitress who’d recognized me earlier touched my shoulder. “You were here with Mr. Gil for his birthday, weren’t you?”

I smiled. “Yes, I was.”

“He’s such a nice person to work for. The employees got together to get him a gift. Then yesterday, as a gift to us, he let us close early.” She shook her head and started away.

“Wait,” I called. “He isn’t here tonight, is he? In an office or something?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Disappointment struck me, and I bit it back. I said, “Oh, and I’ve seen this attractive woman around here. Young thing with black hair, big bazookas.” I reached far out in front of my breasts and cupped my hands.

The waitress laughed. “She isn’t here either.”

“I just wondered.” I hurried toward the exit.

With some delight, Kat came to my side. “It would have been nice to see Mr. Gil again.”

“Maybe so.” I rushed out the door. Spotlights lit the bridge. I waited there and bent my neck as if I were especially interested in anything swimming in the black water underneath.

Kat nudged my side. “So tell me about you and Mr. Gil.”

“I stopped for a meal, and he happened to be here. That’s it.”

She made a huge smile, and Roger came out, his face stern. “Kat, are you riding home with me?”

“Did you need me to drive anything?” she asked me, still smirking.

“No, thanks.” The kid was digging it in. She thought something was brewing between Gil and me again. Her little secret. “Thank you for the meal,” I said to Roger, and he grunted. To Kat I said, “Good luck with those exams you’ll be taking tomorrow.”

Her grin vanished. She scooted off with Roger, and neither of them said another word to me. Still, I was happy. Kat would return to school and complete her work. No one would bother her there. She’d be safe. And before this week ended, she’d be finished.

I trotted to the Mustang and felt my smug expression fading. Where was Gil? Off with that woman? Even if I wanted him back in my life, could I get him?

Gil wasn’t here
. An unbelievable tidal wave of grief washed through me.

Chapter 20

Returning to the condo, I mused. Kat would take those finals—I hoped. She wasn’t happy and might not want to speak to me again. But that was probably okay, as long as she took exams. I could get Kat to talk.

I walked restlessly and reentered the dark den, my apprehension returning. Kat and Sidmore High. John Winston would become livid with her tomorrow when the police questioned him there because of me. My knees wobbled, possibly from the stiletto heels I kicked off. Little good they had done. Gil hadn’t been around to see. Neither had the woman with black stockings…
Black
. A black truck had come near twice, each time for its driver to possibly hurt me. The same truck? I wasn’t sure, but somehow needed to get the bullet checked out.

I used up nervous energy by buffing the stovetop with a thick dry towel. I drank water to moisten my throat. I poured a refill and automatically dumped it on Minnie. “Oh, no! I’m sorry,” I said, grabbing paper towels. I wadded and pressed them against the soil. I carried Minnie to the sink and tried to hold in the dirt while I turned her pot sideways. Clumps of black dirt fell. No water ran out.

I was doing as badly as Grant Labruzzo had done with Harry Wren’s prized Cero plant.

Apologizing profusely, I attempted to right Minnie to her former erect position. “That’s a girl,” I said, urging her straighter. Her little pink head refused to stay upright. My damp eyes stung. I was envisioning Kat’s hostility and Roger’s grief. Gil hadn’t been there when I’d wanted him.

Sniffling, I set Minnie on a counter far from the sink and said, “I’ll try to do better.” I needed to get thoughts away from family and fears and my former lover, so I went for something that would make me content. I couldn’t dwell on problems I couldn’t solve. I was a positive person. I was positive the police would discover who’d hurt people from school, and with the swift hand of justice, punish them. And I’d do whatever I could to help Roger and Kat.

I located relaxing reading material in the dishwasher, then drizzled lavender-scented oils into my bath water. On the corner of the Jacuzzi, I lit vanilla-scented candles, slender to chunky ones. I set the overhead light on dim. The candle flickers created a pleasant illusion while I stepped into swirling tepid water. I laid my head back on the bath pillow and skimmed my cookbook from Georgia. Not the culinary capital of the country, I decided. But after I’d first dined at Gil’s restaurant, no other foods could compare.

Antipasto
was the first entry I read. Mm, good dozing material. To create this appetizer, you’d have to shop for seventeen items. Seventeen! Any silly woman who fixed this dish would need a can of mushrooms and one of artichokes, some Spanish olives, ripe olives, bell pepper, celery, white vinegar…I wondered what would happen if you used dark vinegar instead. Snickering, I felt superior to any person who might actually attempt this chore.

You’d serve these hors d’oeuvres and then have all those empty jars and cans and dirty dishes in the kitchen. And this was only to give guests an appetite! Next item:
Antipasto II. Easy
. Ah, a wiser person created this recipe. But it required ten items.

My body relaxed, growing weary from imagining having to shove the huge grocery cart out to a car, lug all those bags inside, follow each step in order to prepare the dishes.
Cheese Ball I and II
. Didn’t everyone know you could purchase balls of cheese?
Curry Chutney Mold
. Yuk.

My eyes shut. I willed them open so I wouldn’t sink. I watched the candles flicker, and eyed wall shadows that created interesting dancing figures. Shadowed figures. One approached me. And Grant Labruzzo. I thrust my attention to the book.
Mrs. Jackson’s Cheese Straws
. Oh, come on now. Surely these recipes had been written to calm their readers into sleeping.
Cheese Wafers I
: flour, garlic salt, shredded American cheese. Ridiculous. No kitchen today would still hold a shredder.

I thought of Gil and my family. My gaze shifted to the squat candle. I watched its flame shift and yielded myself to a meditative condition. My family would be all right.
Give yourself totally to this moment
, my wise thoughts said. My eyes rolled toward the cookbook.
Jalapeno Cocktail Pie. Rolled Cheese Fingers
.

Gil’s warm fingers. All their wonderful magic I was missing. Streams of water pulsated out the sides of my tub. Enticing warm bubbles. I shifted my torso, and the water jet gave my thighs a little quiver. Mmm. I shut my eyes and replayed mental pictures of Gil. His deep gray-eyed gaze penetrating mine. His body, nude. The hot water surrounding me helped me relive how I felt pressed against him…I shivered. Jet bubbles sent relief washing through every inch of my body.

* * *

A strident rattling sound made me jump.

My eyes snapped open. The noise, I determined, had been my snores. I’d sunken to my shoulders, my nostrils filled with the scent of the lavender water that was tickling my lower lip. The bottom edge of one my favorite cookbooks had turned dark from touching the water.

I climbed out the tub and spread the book’s pages to dry. Dressed in my softest nightgown, I crawled into bed. Sleep overtook me in seconds.

* * *

I awoke hungry, entertaining visions of lavender-colored foods flavored with vanilla. My hair needed washing but not my body, since it had been totally cleansed. And sated.

The sun hadn’t appeared yet when I leaned over the lavatory, pouring strawberry shampoo into my hair. Its scent made me famished. I’d fix a bagel. Glancing in the mirror, I found the burnt sienna had inched more of itself from my roots. I liked to blame my hairdresser for putting that gray at the base of each hair shaft. Surely it wasn’t caused by age. Maybe I’d go platinum blond next time. I grinned, considering what Roger might say to that.

I shampooed my hair, singing about platinum hair to the tune of “Blue Suede Shoes.” I laughed, in such a jovial mood this morning, knowing I’d sing my new song to Kat. Last night Roger had asked her about exams. She’d take two of them today. Would she really, or would she back out? Would Roger even know before final averages were released?

I had promised myself I’d go to Sidmore High. Now I quit singing and uttered expletives. I hated any kind of promise. I would go to that school. But under what premise? I tried to create one while towel-drying my tresses. Unsuccessful, I entered the kitchen.

Poor Minnie slumped, her soil still black from my dousing. I carried her to the patio and set her beside my back door. “You’ll feel better in the sun, and you’ll dry out here.” I considered bouncing my ideas for the day off her, but her torso slanted, and the pink poufs on her head looked spread out. Maybe she was catching something. Were plant medications available? I’d have to return to that nursery to find out. Or at Sidmore High, I could ask Harry Wren.

Ah. Was that enough of an excuse for returning? Probably not. I doubted whether a person could just drop in and disturb a teacher’s class to inquire about horticulture.

The day promised a clear blue sky. I took time to smell the flowers, which gave off no scent from their beds. They did look pretty—pinks and yellows and reds—and I mentally praised whoever tended them. If I saw that person, I’d get pointers.

A prickle of fear touched my spine. I slowly turned, glancing toward what I’d spied on the street.