Stand-In Wife (8 page)

Her feelings about her brother-in-law were mixed. She’d learned enough over the past couple of days to sympathize with him, but she was far from empathizing. He was still an idiot for ending his marriage and she didn’t approve of him inveigling her—his wife—into doing so much work on his mother’s funeral.

Puzzled, Susan lifted her head. “What?”

“There’s a whole world of great guys out there. And you’re young. Don’t be in such a hurry to get stuck with one for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t think you love Charlie at all,” Susan said hotly.

Viv shut up.

“A
BOUT TIME
,” R
OSS MUTTERED
under his breath as Meredith’s Subaru finally pulled into her driveway. She got out, looking flustered and hot, which made it odd that she double-knotted the belt on her trench coat before walking over to the curb where he sat waiting in his SUV. He’d noticed yesterday that she moved differently these days.

He averted his eyes from a flash of leg as she climbed into the car. He’d never been aware of his sister-in-law as a woman before. Maybe being separated was causing her to send out pheromones? Or maybe he’d just been celibate too long. Whatever the hell it was, he didn’t like it.

“Sorry I’m late.” Settling into the front seat, she reached for her seat belt. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He tried to read her expression, keeping his own neutral. Had Susan told her? Bloody Charlie and his drunken truths. Susan had been pretty upset when she left last night; maybe she hadn’t gone to work this morning?

“Everything okay…at day care, I mean?”

“Fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

He started the engine and gestured to the women’s
clothes draped over the backseat. “First on our list is to drop off one of Linda’s outfits to the funeral director’s.” Charlie had left at seven to make sure a residential building site was ready for the concrete truck’s arrival at nine-thirty. The foundation pour would take until midafternoon.

Meredith glanced over her shoulder, then frowned. “Oh, no. That won’t do. Linda can’t be buried in a winter wool skirt and summer floral blouse.” Unfastening her seat belt she turned in her seat to take a closer look. “And the red and olive color combo…” She shuddered. “Is Charlie color-blind or something?”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“What?” She shot him a blank look. “Oh. That’s right, he is. Well, you should have weighed in with a second opinion.”

“You do remember Linda is being cremated right? Not going to a garden party with the Queen? The clothes don’t matter.”

“They did to her. Drive back to her place and I’ll choose something else because she can’t wear
that.
” She settled back as though the matter was closed.

“Meredith, there’s too much to do without—”

“She died without dignity, Ross.” Her expression was raw. “This is one thing I can fix for her.” Without another word he did a U-turn.

“Redress,” she said with a shaky laugh. “To put it in military terms.”

Eyes on the road he gave her shoulder a brief squeeze, and then was annoyed because he didn’t want to commiserate with his sister-in-law. Those days were gone. But, yeah, he definitely understood redress.

“By the way, you and I need to get something straight,” Meredith said. “I’m not seeing that doctor.”

“So who was sending you air kisses?” She hesitated
and frustration got the better of him. “Don’t bullshit me, Meredith. What I can’t work out is why you’ve been acting all heartbroken over Charlie and Susan when you’ve been dating Doctor Dick all this time.”

“Luke,” she corrected. “And we didn’t—”

“So you just wanted to make Charlie feel like a heel?”

“Of course not! Look, it’s too complicated to explain. All you need to know is that I’m not having a relationship with anyone.”

“So the air-kisser was a one-night stand?”

“You’re the most cynical guy I’ve ever met.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Everything’s black or white for you, isn’t it? It must be so nice sitting in your tower judging the poor idiots who screw up occasionally. Why don’t you try seeing the breakup from my side—walk in my shoes?”

He glanced down and said drily, “Those would be the slutty red ones you’re wearing.”

“God, it’s like talking to a brick wall! Okay, leaving my marriage aside, no one could be a more devoted mother than me. You said it yourself yesterday, so why—”

His car phone rang. “It’s Charlie,” he said, and answered on speakerphone.

“Is Meredith with you yet?” His brother didn’t wait for a greeting. “Her cell’s switched off and I need to talk to her urgently.” In the background, Ross could hear the graunch and grind of heavy machinery and the gravelly whoosh of pouring concrete.

Viv answered, “I’m here, Charlie. Is something wrong?”

“Tilly’s school has been trying to contact you. Why did you drop her off when the rest of her class are still at camp?”

Briefly, Ross took his eyes off the road. The expression on his sister-in-law’s face was priceless. “I…I guess we
both forgot.” Ross shook his head and she averted her gaze. “What’s the number? I’ll arrange to pick her up. Uh-huh…okay. No, I can take care of it. Bye.”

Ross cut the connection. “So you were telling me what a good mum you were.”

“Hey, you’re the one who should be questioning himself,” she countered, turning on her cell. “The only reason she went to school was because she didn’t want to spend time with mean old Uncle Ross.”

“That’s because I don’t put up with any of your daughter’s spoiled-brat behavior,” he retorted, swinging onto Stoke St. But her accusation had stung him.

“She has become a handful,” she admitted, keying in the school’s number. “I’m not sure how that happened.”

It surprised Ross that Meredith seemed to be inviting his viewpoint but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Tilly was too important to him for that. “You and Charlie used to be good at setting limits.” He slowed to give way to a bus waiting to pull out of a stop. “Since the split, you tend to cave in and give her everything she wants. I know it’s to make up for living apart, but that kid’s inherited Linda’s genes, Meredith. Absolute power isn’t good for her.”

She nodded. “Thanks, that’s helpful.” Ross filtered her tone for sarcasm but found none. Normally his sister-in-law was defensive about her eldest.

Meredith phoned the school and talked them into keeping Tilly until morning break so the little girl didn’t have to go to the funeral home. It was halfway through the call, that Ross became aware she was studying him.

He pulled into Linda’s driveway, switched off the engine and faced her. “What?”

“You won’t do it,” she said, returning the cell to her bag. “Encourage Charlie to go for custody.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why won’t I?”

“Because you won’t do anything that will hurt those kids.”

Ross frowned. He didn’t like being read that easily by a woman he no longer trusted.

“Look, I get it,” she added. “You want to protect Charlie and shepherd him through the next few days without any more drama. Believe me, I do, too. And I’ve got enough troubles without your threat hanging over me. Can we call a truce, please?”

“Maybe I could have been less confrontational,” he acknowledged.

“You think?” His sister-in-law wasn’t normally this sarcastic. Lips curving, she climbed out of his SUV. She’d changed somehow…was more frank, less earnest…. It was like some kind of straitjacket had been taken off her. Ross hated noticing how much being on her own suited her—it felt disloyal to Charlie.

Helping his inebriated brother to bed last night, he’d seen last year’s family photo on Charlie’s bedside table. Everyone smiling, even Tilly. Charlie with his arm around Meredith. He’d forgotten what his brother looked like when he was happy.

He followed Meredith. “Charlie broke up with Susan last night.” He wanted to gauge her reaction before he agreed to anything.

“Yes, and she’s devastated.” Meredith turned to level a look at him. So his first instinct was right. Susan
had
told her. “You should have made Charlie wait until he was sober.”

“Oh, so now you’re feeling sorry for Susan?”

“I feel sorry for any woman who has to deal with Coltrane men.”

Using the spare key, Ross opened the front door. “He’s
susceptible right now and I don’t want him doing anything stupid.”

“Like trying to get back together with me, you mean?” She laughed, as if at some private joke. “I highly doubt that, but I promise not to encourage him. In fact, I’ll try not to be alone with him for the next few days if it makes you feel better. Be my chaperone.”

She
sounded
sincere.

Thoughtfully, Ross stepped inside. He’d cleaned up after putting Charlie to bed, too much the soldier to leave the mess until morning. Realizing Meredith hadn’t followed, he turned. She’d paused on the threshold. It took him a moment to realize why.

“You okay with coming back?”

Swallowing, she nodded and stepped inside. “How’s Charlie coping with the fact that his mother died here?”

“What bothers him is having people over after the funeral…all passing through the hall.” An idea occurred to him. “Will you have it at your place? The food’s going to be catered, so there’d be no work involved.”

“No, it’s out of the question.”

Her flat refusal annoyed him. “Technically it’s Charlie’s house, too,” he reminded her. “He still pays the mortgage…and before you jump down my throat, remember the only way he could afford payments was by moving in with his mother. Don’t tell me that wasn’t a sacrifice.”

“No, I won’t tell you that,” she said. “But think about what you’re asking. It’s going to be bad enough seeing his relatives for the first time since the breakup.”

“Yeah, but if it’s in your house, they’ll be forced to behave themselves. Say yes and I promise to run interference.”

“I don’t know.”

“You want a truce,” he challenged. “Make a goodwill gesture.”

V
IV LOOKED AT
R
OSS’S
implacable face. Rock and a hard place? More like being clamped between two of the earth’s tectonic plates. She’d intended to skip the after-funeral get-together, citing a headache, premenstrual craziness, anything. But if hosting Charlie’s family got Ross off her sister’s back then Viv didn’t really have a choice. “And you’ll ride shotgun,” she reiterated as she held out a hand to shake on it, “stop any lynch party?”

His mouth twitched and his incongruous dimple made a brief appearance. Dang, but the man was hot, even mid-blackmail. She liked making him smile when he didn’t want to, liked cracking through that icy disapproval.

Of course, Viv reflected, with her being Merry—the sister-in-law who’d purportedly broken his brother’s heart—she should probably refrain from flirting with him. Though it might be worth it just to see his face. As his hand seized hers in a firm handshake, she smiled at the thought.

Ross released her hand abruptly. “Okay, let’s get on with it.” He gestured to the coatrack. “You can hang your coat here.”

Viv’s hands dropped protectively to the belt. “I’m cold.”

“Really?” He looked at her perspiring forehead and she felt herself flush even hotter.

“Really.” She’d allowed twenty minutes to change before Ross picked her up, and had spent thirty comforting Susan. You’d think she’d know by now to factor in the unexpected.
Viv led the way up the stairs then realized she had no idea which room was Linda’s and paused at the mirror.

Shaking his head, Ross carried on. His limp was less pronounced today but his footsteps slowed as he approached a paneled door at the end of the corridor. As he opened it, he recoiled slightly before going in. “Can we get this over with?” he said shortly.

“Sure.” Curious to see what might have stalled him, Viv followed, stopping at the doorway. It was exactly Linda’s kind of bedroom. Restrained ostentation in gold, cream and eggshell-blue with ornately carved French reproduction furniture. Ross was at the window, sweeping aside the cream, brushed satin curtains to open it. It must have been the lingering scent of Linda’s perfume—expensive, heavy, floral—that he’d reacted to. Being here was hard for him, harder than Viv had appreciated.

In that case, they’d do this quickly.

The wardrobe ran the length of one wall. Opening the sliding door she cast a professional eye over the clothes, immaculately organized—by season as well as color—with shoes neatly stacked in clear storage boxes. “What would suit her?” she mused aloud.

“A witch’s hat and broom?” Ross pushed aside the curtain and took another breath of fresh air. “God, it’s good to say that.”

“How are you doing,” she asked. “With the pretending?”

Ross shrugged. I’m not comfortable with it, but hell, what choice do I have?” Every time he was distracted he unconsciously massaged his leg.

He saw the direction of her gaze and straightened.

“How’s the rehab going?” she asked to cover the awkward moment.

“Great.”

“Dan said you’ve been helping out with trainees,” Viv
persisted. Okay, she still asked her brother about his former troop mate, she couldn’t help it. “Is that something you’ll be doing more of when you go back?”

Ross stared at her. “Is that what Dan suggested?” he asked slowly.

“He mentioned it was an option.”

“Did he?”

The hair on the back of her neck rose at his tone. “Did I get that wrong? He just said it might be something you’d consider.”

A moment passed, he suddenly put up a hand to rub his forehead, shielding his eyes. “No…he’d never do that to me,” he muttered.

“Do what?”

“Nothing. Go ahead, choose something.”

Baffled, she returned her attention to the wardrobe, flicking through the hangers. “Aqua seems to be Linda’s favorite color.”

“Yeah, I remember her in a lot of bluey-green.”

Taking that as a direction, Viv chose a simple belted dress patterned in swirls of mariner-blue and seafoam-green and laid it on the bed.

Ross looked at it strangely. “She wore that at Dad’s funeral.”

Viv picked it up. “I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”

“No.” He turned back to the window. “She wore it because it was his favorite. It’s probably appropriate.”

She could see the tension across his shoulders, like a rubber band pulled tight. “Can I ask you a question…about the day she died? Why were you visiting a woman you disliked so much?”

He didn’t turn around. “She had something of my mother’s I wanted.”

“What was it?”

“The artwork she was taking down when she fell.”

“Oh,” she said, then the significance hit her. “Ohhh! But that doesn’t make her fall your fault. You know that, right?”

He faced her with folded arms. “We done here?”

“No, we need shoes.”

“The funeral director said they were optional.”

“She has to wear shoes,” she said sharply. She couldn’t forget Linda in her stocking feet, water pooling under her heels, wicking up her trousers. Suddenly afraid she was going to cry, Viv smoothed out the creases in the skirt.

Behind her she heard Ross move to the wardrobe. He probably thought she was being melodramatic but as the last person to see Linda alive, Viv felt a terrible compulsion to do right by her.

A pair of silver slingbacks landed on the bed. “She wore these with that dress,” he said.

“You remember what shoes she wore?”

“It’s my job to notice things.”

Viv swallowed hard. “Thanks. I was thinking some costume jewelry in turquoise but I’ll need Charlie’s permission.”

Ross pulled out his cell, dialed the number and then handed it to her. Charlie said he was happy to defer to her judgment. “Thanks, Meredith, you know how hopeless I am at this.” Viv resisted the impulse to tell him that he’d never get better if he didn’t practice because it was something her long-suffering twin would never say, even to her estranged husband.

“I phoned Pastor Fred about taking the service,” Charlie said. “He suggested getting some of our church choir. How would you feel about that?”

“It’s entirely up to you.”
None of my business, Charlie. We’re separated, remember?

“So, can you text everybody? See who’s available?”

She blinked. “You want me to organize the choir?”

“It makes sense. Listen, I have to go, the concrete truck’s returned with another load.”

“Charlie, wait.” Both twins sang like caterwauling cats, but maybe church choirs were obliged to be inclusive? Viv tried to recall if Merry had ever mentioned anything, but she drew a blank. “I won’t be expected to sing at the funeral, will I?”

“God, no,” said Charlie with feeling. “Just your usual job. And we’re only talking two hymns, the start and finish of the service—not there, you idiot! Sorry, Mere, gotta go, we’ll talk later.” He hung up.

What was her usual job? Printing copies of the hymn sheets? Though Merry couldn’t sing, she did play an instrument. But Viv was confident the choir wouldn’t be harmonizing to a double bass.

“Everything okay?” Ross asked.

“Sure.” Clarification would have to wait until her next phone call to Merry. In the meantime, Viv collected a few pieces of costume jewelry, then crossed to the nightstand and picked up a photograph. “We’ll give this to the funeral parlor so they can see how to apply her makeup.”

It was a studio shot of Linda with her late husband. In keeping with men styled by their social-climbing wives, John Coltrane looked both uncomfortable and immaculate. “Of course Linda would treat her husband like another accessory,” she commented. Then remembered. John was Ross’s dad, too. “I’m sorry.”

Ross shrugged. “He didn’t have to go along with it.”

Viv returned her attention to the photo. On the few occasions they’d met, she remembered John Coltrane as a nice man, if resigned and sad. “Did your dad ever try and mediate between you and Linda?”

“Probably. But he didn’t stand a chance. To Linda I was a surly reminder of a woman she wanted my father to forget. And to me, she was the home wrecker who stole Dad away and broke Mum’s heart.” He seemed to become aware that he was talking about his feelings, because he stopped. Blinked. “Ready to go?”

He picked up the dress and shoes and left. Conversation ended. But that wasn’t Viv’s style. Not when she could see he was hurting. And this was one thing she could definitely fix.

Grabbing the jewelry and photograph, she caught up to him at the bottom of the stairs. “Ross, where did it end up? Your mother’s sampler?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t find it in the cleanup. I expect Linda hid it.”

“No, she was still taking it off the wall when I went to wash pollen off my hands.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, and opened the front door.

“I wonder…” Putting down her load, Viv tried to slide out one end of the black lacquered dresser. It didn’t budge. “Come help me move this.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

“Ross,” she said impatiently, “you didn’t scare her into trying to hide it. When I arrived Linda was taking the sampler down to burn it.”

“What!”

“She told me.”

He huffed out a breath. “She really was a piece of work.”

“So, you going to help me move this or what?”

When he’d hauled it forward, Viv crouched down and slid her arm into the gap. “I can feel something…yes…it’s a frame.” She pulled out the sampler and held it out but
Ross didn’t take it. “Don’t you dare feel guilty,” she said. “Meanness killed Linda.”

His gaze met hers, for once unguarded. The anguish shocked her. “Should I tell Charlie?”

“That his mother was a vindictive horrible woman? I wouldn’t,” she advised.

His shoulders relaxed and he accepted the sampler. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. Smiled.

“Don’t mention it.” Viv turned to pick up Linda’s accessories. Because her reaction to that smile was far from sisterly.

“I’
M HUNGRY
,” T
ILLY ANNOUNCED
as she climbed into the backseat of Ross’s Range Rover.

“Say hello to your uncle.” Viv dumped Tilly’s bag and morning’s drawings at her niece’s feet.

“HelloUncleRoss.” She returned her attention to Viv. “Can we get McDonald’s on the way home?”

“That’s only for treats, honey. If you’re hungry, eat what’s in your lunch box. Right now we’re going to choose flowers for Nana Lin.”

Tilly gave her a meaningful look. “But you said I could have whatever I want,
remember?
”

“That’s not exactly what I said.” Viv laughed nervously, acutely conscious that Ross had slung an arm over the back of the driver’s seat and was
also
sending her a meaningful look. Oh, hell. “Anyway—” she leaned forward to help Tilly with her seat belt “—we’ll talk about it
later,
okay?” She launched a meaningful stare of her own.

“But that’s not—”

“You heard your mother, Attilla.” Ross ruffled his niece’s hair and faced the steering wheel. “Let it go now.”

Tilly folded her arms and sat back, her mouth set in a mutinous line.

“Good girl,” Viv encouraged. Shutting the door on her niece’s sulky face she returned to the front passenger seat, hot and sweaty under the coat she couldn’t take off. Crisis averted. Ross started the ignition and the SUV rumbled out of the school parking lot.

“Tilly was helping out with the kindergarten class this morning,” Viv said brightly to Ross.

“Yeah?” In the rearview mirror, he grinned at Tilly. “So what did you teach them?”

“I read stories and said their drawings were good an’ stuff…. Uncle Ross, do you know my auntie Viv?”

Viv stiffened. The little rat.

“I met her at your mum and dad’s wedding but that was a long time ago. Why?”

“Just wondered.”

“Look.” Viv pointed. “A Prius. One of those eco-cars.”

“McDonald’s recycles,” said Tilly.

Ross laughed. “Nice try, kid.”

“You can tell me all about it
later,
” Viv stressed.

“Did Auntie Viv look the same as Mum when you saw her, Uncle Ross?”

Flipping down the passenger visor, Viv pretended to check her makeup in the inset mirror and glared at her niece. Tilly glared back.

“Not at all.” Ross braked to allow a car waiting for a gap in the traffic to pull in front of him. “Her hair was white with pink streaks in it.”

Even locked in a stare-off with Tilly, Viv heard the male speculation in his voice. “So you
were
tempted.”

“What?” Ross said, confused.

“Nothing.” Damn it. She’d blinked. And if Tilly’s smirk was anything to go by, she’d read that as victory.

“McDonald’s is coming up,
Mum,
” she said in a singsong voice. “Last chance to change your mi-i-ind.”

“You know it’s the darndest thing—” Viv snapped the visor closed “—I know it’s only ten-thirty but I suddenly find myself craving chicken nuggets. Pull in, Ross.”

“You’re giving in?”

“Don’t miss the turn.”

Shaking his head in disgust, he swung the car into McD’s drive-through lane.

“I don’t want drive-through,” said Tilly. “I wanna eat in the restaurant next to the playground.”

Ross looked at Viv. “We’re expected at the florist’s.”

“What’s an extra twenty minutes,” she said feebly.

He stared at her, incredulous, then shrugged. “Hey, it’s your funeral.” The tires squealed as he accelerated out of the drive-through lane and into the restaurant’s parking lot.

“No, it’s not, it’s Nana Lin’s,” said Tilly, cheerful again now that she’d got her way.

Trying to retrieve the situation, Viv wagged a finger at her niece. “No Coke, though. That’s one thing I’m going to be strict about.” She only sounded more pathetic.

Ross obviously thought so, too, rolling his eyes as he got out of the car.

“I don’t like Coke anyway,” said Tilly airily.

Resisting the urge to strangle her niece, Viv grabbed Tilly’s hand and hurried ahead. “Our treat,” she called over her shoulder. “What would you like, Ross?”

“Just coffee, thanks. Black, no sugar.”

“You get a table. C’mon, Tilly.”

In the queue she positioned them both so the only view Ross got from the window booth he’d selected was Viv’s back. Warm air blasted from an overhead air-conditioning unit, mixing with the heavier mimosa of oil and fries. “Tilly, this isn’t a game. This is about keeping people happy remember…your dad, your mum…”