The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  “He’s my best friend.”

  She nodded.

  “We dropped out of college together and lived in a garage apartment while we figured out what we were going to do. I owe him.”

  Nolan was a good guy. A little geeky—which came with the software brilliance. He was loyal and sweet. With his millions, he could have dated a string of starlets who wouldn’t care about his thick glasses and wrinkled shirts. They would have their gazes fixed on his bank account. But instead of taking advantage of the local access to those beauties, he’d married his high school sweetheart and, to the best of Shannon’s knowledge, had never once looked at another woman.

  “You don’t have to fire him,” she pointed out. “Move him laterally.”

  “He’ll know what I’m doing.”

  “Yes, but then staying is his decision, not yours. He’s simply in over his head right now.”

  Nolan sighed heavily. “You want to run operations?”

  She laughed. “Thanks, but no. I would do a terrible job. I know what I’m a good at and it’s not program management. I know some headhunters that can help replace him, if you want me to set up a meeting.”

  “Yeah, let’s do that. But quietly, you know?”

  “Sure. We’ll do a lunch away from here. No one will need to know.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a smile. “You’re making me feel better about all this.”

  “Good.”

  They rose and walked out of the conference room.

  Shannon returned to her office. Her assistant handed her a stack of messages. Shannon took care of them, then checked her email before reviewing the latest sales projections.

  She was in the middle of studying a forecast when her stomach gurgled and cramped. She ignored both and kept looking at the report. About thirty seconds later, the cramp grew, zipped through her entire intestinal track and had her running for her bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, she splashed water on her face and wondered if it was wrong to wish herself dead. The opening salvo of food poisoning was never happy news. She tried to review what she’d eaten in the past couple of days, but thinking about food wasn’t a good idea. Through the closed door of her office, she heard her cell ring.

  She managed to walk to her desk and grab it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Adam said. “Are you okay?”

  She pressed her hand against her stomach. “I’m not feeling that great.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She thought about what had just happened in the bathroom. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I was calling to see if you wanted to get dinner tonight. I’m guessing that’s a no.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. Rain check?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll touch base in a couple of days.”

  “That would be great.” Her intestines twisted. “I gotta go.”

  She pushed End and dove for the bathroom.

  * * *

  Pam stepped into her panties, then reached for her bra. Twinges of pain rippled through her thighs as she moved. When she slipped her arms behind her back, there was a pulling sensation in her side. She laughed softly.

  “What’s so funny?” John asked as he walked into the bedroom.

  “I hurt everywhere.”

  Her husband crossed to her, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah?” he asked, before pulling her close and kissing her. Not on the cheek, or casually, but on the mouth. With plenty of tongue.

  She leaned into him, liking the feel of his body next to hers. His hands unfastened her bra, then slid around to her breasts. He cupped them as he deepened the kiss.

  “You have to be at work in a few minutes,” she murmured, even as he was backing her up toward the bed.

  “I know.” He was already pulling his shirttails out of his jeans. “What on earth will I use as an excuse?”

  Twenty minutes later, she did her best to catch her breath. “We can’t keep doing it like this,” she gasped.

  He rolled toward her and grinned. “How would you like to do it?”

  Sunlight poured into the bedroom. It was nearly nine and any second now Steven would be calling to find out why his father was so late getting to the office. They both had a thousand things to do and she didn’t care.

  “I love you,” she whispered, feeling the warmth deep inside.

  “I love you, too, my beautiful bride.”

  It had been like this since the weekend, she thought happily. Between the way-too-explicit seminars, the porn and the basket of toys, she and her husband of thirty-one years had found their way back to each other.

  They’d laughed, they’d tried everything in that basket and they’d made love more times in the past five days than in the previous five months.

  She couldn’t explain exactly what the shift was. Before she’d looked at John and felt that she loved him and liked him. But there hadn’t been that old thrill. Now she got tingly. Yesterday, he’d snuck home for lunch and they’d gone at it on the kitchen table like teenagers. She was sore and ready to do it again at the same time.

  Maybe the seminar had triggered some sexual hormone surge. Maybe the change of scene and a bit of education were all they’d needed to reignite their marital spark. Whatever it was, she was grateful. And very happy.

  John stood. “I have to go earn a living. But be thinking about me.”

  “You know I will.”

  He winked. “We could try phone sex.”

  “I think I’d rather have you in person.”

  He laughed. “Which is exactly why I married you.”

  They both dressed. He kissed her once before he left. She made the bed for the second time that morning and hummed to herself as she worked around the house. About ten thirty, her cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Tell me morning sickness passes,” Jen said, sounding miserable. “I feel awful.”

  “It passes. Are you throwing up?”

  “No. I just feel like I’m going to every second. All I can get down is crackers.”

  “It will get better. I promise. In the meantime, eat what you can. You’re not going to get malnourished.”

  “I have to eat right for the baby.”

  “You have stored vitamins. Do you feel better in the afternoon?”

  “By about two, I’m okay.”

  “Then eat better then. Your stomach will settle when the hormones do. You’re doing great.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry to whine.”

  “It’s okay. All this is new.”

  “I can’t believe you went through this three times.”

  “It gets easier.”

  Jen sighed. “I have to run. Thanks for being there.”

  “I always will be. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Pam hung up and looked at Lulu. “I’m going to be a grandmother.”

  The dog gave a tentative tail wag, as if asking if that was good or bad.

  “Good,” Pam told her firmly. “It wasn’t before, but it is now. I just remembered I’m pretty hot, for an old lady. So I’ll be a hot grandmother.”

  She took Lulu and they went out to run all the errands. By three she was back and putting away groceries. The weather was already warming up, even though it was only early March. Life was funny, she thought as she set out steak on the counter. The east coast was knee-deep in snow and she and John would be
barbecuing for dinner.

  Just thinking about her husband made her body hum. She wondered if they would make love again that night. She wanted to. Very much. She wanted the rush of desire, the thrill of having him touch her. Maybe they’d take that ridiculous beaver-tree vibrator out of the drawer and play with it again. Adult toys, it turned out, could make things really interesting.

  At five, John walked into the house. After greeting Lulu, he wandered into the kitchen and smiled at Pam.

  “Prepare to be amazed,” he told her.

  She laughed. “I already am.”

  He pulled a folder from behind his back. “I’m taking you on a cruise. To the Caribbean.”

  “What? Really? When?”

  “In May. We have a spectacular cabin with a big bed and a balcony. We’re visiting several islands, including Grand Cayman. I know how you want to see those turtles.”

  She flung herself at him. “Really? You booked it?”

  He set Lulu on the floor, then cupped Pam’s face in his hands. “I booked it,” he told her, staring into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Pam. You’ve mentioned those turtles and that island to me for years. I should have listened. I should have taken you sooner.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m so excited we’re going on a cruise. We’ve never been.”

  “I know. Think how it’s going to be when we do it to the rhythm of the ocean.” He wiped the tears from her cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She held on to him. Her heart was so full, she wondered how there could be a moment more perfect than this. A man more wonderful. She’d been blessed, she thought with gratitude. So very, very blessed.

  * * *

  Nicole stared at her list and hoped she had it all. Shannon was still swearing she wanted to help, which was going to be great. Nicole had felt obligated to point out that seven five-year-old boys were going to be loud, but her friend had only laughed and said, “That’s what birthday parties are supposed to be.”

  They were having Tyler’s party in the backyard. The rain had ended for the season and the long-range forecast was for sunny, warm weather. Pam was loaning her two folding tables, along with eight chairs.

  The food was simple enough. Hot dogs and chips with cut-up fruit and birthday cupcakes. She would be decorating with all things Brad the Dragon. As he was red, that made the frosting colors easy enough.

  After waffling for a couple of days, she’d sucked it up and had gone to the party store Shannon had found. Now Nicole had a trunk full of Brad the Dragon party gear.

  There were the usual paper plates and napkins. She’d bought sturdy tumblers that would double as part of the goodie bag. She’d added two centerpieces, tablecloths, a custom banner and assorted B the D, as she was now calling him in her head, toys, balls and games. She’d also rented a portable fort that came with slides and other outdoor activities. Her goal was to send her guests home happy and tired.

  She heard Eric’s car in the driveway and looked up from her lists. Things had been okay between them over the past few days. More friendly, which she liked. She had decided to tell him she wanted him to move back into their bedroom. In fact, she would be doing that tonight.

  He walked into the house and saw her in the living room.

  “You’re up late,” he said by way of greeting.

  “I’m working on Tyler’s birthday party. It’s coming up quick. He’s growing up so fast.” She held out her list. “Want to see what I have planned?”

  “Sure.”

  He crossed to the sofa and sat down. He wasn’t next to her—there was a sofa cushion between them. Still it was the closest they’d been physically in weeks.

  “How many boys?”

  “Seven, counting him. All the toys and plates and stuff come in packs of eight. That gives us one extra for breakage.” She looked at him. “You’ve got the date on your calendar, right? It’s on Saturday afternoon.”

  Eric handed her back the list. His mouth pulled into a straight line. “Why do you do that? Why do you set me up?”

  Because he went to one of his critique groups on Saturday afternoons, she thought grimly. Right after she got home from her morning classes.

  “It’s his birthday, Eric. I’m not trying to be difficult. That is simply the day it is. I don’t feel it’s right to tell Tyler he can’t have his party that day because you have critique group.”

  “And you expect me to be there?”

  The question left her gaping at him. “Is that a real question?”

  “You have friends,” he said defensively. “I thought you said one of them was helping you with the party. A couple of the moms will probably stay. You don’t need me.”

  It was as if he’d socked her in the stomach. All the air rushed out and she was left stunned.

  “Never mind,” he muttered. “You’re always so dramatic.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she snapped.

  “You didn’t have to. You looked at me like I’m an ax murderer. It’s just a birthday party.”

  “Right. It’s just your son turning five. Why would you want to be there?”

  He stood up and faced her, his gaze accusing. “It’s not like I wouldn’t see him. I’ll be here in the morning. I’ll be here that night. I just wouldn’t be here for the stupid party.”

  She rose and faced her son’s father. “It’s not stupid to him.” When had this happened? When had he changed so much?

  This man in front of her looked the same. Maybe his hair was a little longer, but it was still the same dark brown color. He looked the same on the outside, but on the inside, he was a stranger to her.

  Every time she dared to hope they were making progress, she discovered they weren’t. That he wasn’t the least bit interested in being a part of their lives at all. She was starting to think the only reason he stayed was so that he didn’t have to get a job to support himself. That if he ever sold that damned screenplay, he would leave.

  She turned the idea over in her head and realized she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Which was incredibly sad. Shouldn’t she be devastated? Broken? Begging him to—

  “Earth to Nicole.”

  She blinked. “I’m listening.”

  “I said I would cancel critique group. I’ll be here for the party.”

  “No,” she told him. “Don’t. Just go.”

  “You’re not going to let me win on this, are you? So now I have to beg to attend my son’s birthday party?”

  “No, Eric. You don’t have to beg.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want you to want to be there. He’s your only child and he’s turning five. I want you to think that sharing his birthday party is the best thing you could do with your time. I want you to be the kind of dad who wouldn’t try to get out of coming.” She turned away. “He’ll be with his friends. I’m sure he won’t notice that you’re somewhere else.”

  He swore. “You don’t have to make this so hard, you know. You could try to see things from my point of view.”

  “Right now I’m more interested in Tyler’s point of view. You can take care of yourself.”

  “Because you’re the wonderful mother and I’m just the asshole father. Is that it?”

  She walked out of the living room and into the master bedroom. A few seconds later, she heard Eric enter his office and bang the door shut. She waited until she was sure he wasn’t coming out, then crept into her son’s
room.

  Tyler slept on his side. His breathing was slow and steady. She smoothed the covers and lightly kissed his cheek before returning to what had become her room. As she sat on the bed, she wondered what was happening in her marriage. How had they gotten to where they were and how on earth were they supposed to find their way back?

  Twelve

  Shannon suffered with food poisoning for an ugly twenty-four hours, then spent the next day recovering. She’d had her first real food—a piece of dry toast—around noon and was now thinking she would make another attempt to keep something in her stomach.

  She lay on her sofa, her midsection still sore from all the vomiting and other things that had happened. She’d also discovered that the grout around her toilet and on the edges of her bathroom floor was in excellent shape.

  Beside her, on the coffee table, was an assortment of liquids. Some carbonated, some flat. All there to entice her into hydrating. Soup would be very nice, she thought. If she had any. But she didn’t.

  Someone knocked on her door. She sat up, then groaned as her stomach muscles protested. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which were presentable enough, she thought as she stood and walked slowly to the door. She pulled it open and stared.

  “Adam?”

  She blinked at the man standing in front of her. The man who looked all tidy in a long-sleeved white shirt and worn jeans.

  She knew the clothes meant he’d come directly from work. Despite the fact that he’d put in a long day on a construction site, he looked good enough to model underwear. Or vodka.

  She ran her palm across her hair, hoping to smooth out any sticking-up bits, and wondered how pale she was and how sick she looked.

  “Hi,” he said as he stepped into her condo and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I called your office about an hour ago and your assistant said you were still out sick.”

  He held up two shopping bags and a take-out drink container. “Two kinds of soup, crackers, Sprite and ice cream. Because once you start to feel better, you’re going to need ice cream. Oh, and a couple of chick flicks I don’t think you have. Don’t worry. I’m not staying. I just wanted to check on you.”