by Megan Hart
Effie ducked back beneath the water to rinse off the shaving cream and start on her hair. “No, but arguing with your mother is.”
“Ugh!” Polly said, disgruntled. “If you’re not going to let me stay home alone, then why are you still bothering to shower?”
Good point. Effie scrubbed shampoo through her hair, making sure to strip out the blobs of paint. “I’m going to call Betty Grover.”
“No! No, Mom!”
Effie laughed again but held it back so Polly wouldn’t hear. “She’s not that bad, Wog.”
“She smells like pee, and she makes me watch stupid TV. She treats me like a baby.”
Effie bit back another chuckle. Betty had lived in the house next door for fifty years and had been very kind to them when they moved in, but she did, in fact, smell faintly of urine and was prone to babying both Polly and Effie. Still, she was almost always available to come and sit with Polly for a few hours and refused to take money, and with Betty here instead of Effie’s mother, Effie would have a real excuse to get home early if she needed one.
“Can’t I see if Heath will come over?”
Effie muttered a curse at the sudden sting of shampoo in her eyes. Polly had no idea, really, what a shitty thing it would be to ask Heath to babysit so Effie could go on a date, but there was no way to explain it to her. “No, Pollywog, if Betty can’t do it, I’ll stay home.”
“He already said he would,” Polly said.
Effie pulled open the shower door again to glare. “What? You already asked him?”
“Yeah, he said he would.” Polly held up her phone without even a glimmer of remorse.
“That’s not... Shit, Polly. Shit.” Effie tipped her face under the water to rinse away the last of the shampoo. If she couldn’t explain why it was a problem, how could she also explain why she was angry? Heath had taken Polly hundreds of other times when Effie needed someone.
“He’ll be here in about ten minutes,” Polly said. “You’d better hurry up and finish getting ready.”
It took her about twenty to finish with everything else, and admittedly, Effie did not put as much effort into getting her glamour on as she should have for a date, even a second one. The look on Heath’s face, though, as she came into the kitchen, was proof that even the underwhelming effort she’d made had been impressive. The gleam of admiration in his eyes actually made Effie blush.
“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem. You know I’m always here for you when you need me.”
Effie pressed her lips together but met his gaze steadily. Heath gave her a bland grin. He knew exactly what he was saying.
“I won’t be out late,” Effie said.
Heath shrugged. “Take your time. Have fun.”
“I won’t be out late,” she repeated, then kissed the top of Polly’s head. “Be good.”
* * *
“So, tell me about what you do.” Mitchell waited for the waiter to finish pouring the coffee before he leaned forward a little to look across the dessert plates at her.
It was an inevitable question for a second date, and one for which Effie had a standard answer. “I work from home, handling the details of an online retail store specializing in handcrafted items.”
“Cool.” Mitchell pulled the sugar packets toward him and added a few, then cream. “Do you like it?”
She laughed. “Sure. Do you like what you do? Tell me what you do, exactly. Software engineering. What does that mean, exactly? Programming? Writing code?”
It was almost always a cinch to get men talking about themselves so she could avoid talking about herself. Mitchell laughed and sat back in his chair. He shrugged.
“I put out fires,” he said.
Effie sipped coffee. “Huh?”
“People bring me problems, and I fix them. Writing code, yes. Mostly for websites, but sometimes for internal company functions like, for example, if a company needs an internal instant message system, I might work on that.”
“Sounds exciting,” Effie said.
Mitchell laughed again, ruefully, and tilted his head. It was charming, the way he did that. Something about the slant of his smile.
“Oh, it doesn’t. And it mostly isn’t. Do I like what I do? Not really. I mean, it’s a good job, I guess. But mostly at this point I’m just lazy about it. I do what I have to, and that’s about it.”
It was not a confession she’d expected from him, yet it made her like him better. No false modesty. “So why keep doing it?”
“Money. And lazy,” he repeated. “I don’t feel like trying to find a new job or do something else. I envy people who follow their dreams, I guess, but I’m too practical.”
For a second, Effie considered telling him the truth about what she really did, but it would have only been to brag and would’ve opened doors she wasn’t ready to unlock. “There’s a lot to be said for being practical. What would you do, if you could do anything in the world?”
“I’d knit sweaters for ducks.”
He said it so deadpan, so serious, that Effie didn’t know what to say. When he laughed, though, she joined him. Mitchell shook his head.
“Sorry. It’s something my dad always said when someone asked him what he was doing. He’d say, knitting sweaters for ducks. I have no idea why. But, really, if I could do anything? I’d be a ski instructor in the winter. In the summers, be a rafting guide.”
Effie sat back in her seat. “Really?”
“Really.” Mitchell shrugged and gave her that head tilt, that tilted smile. He had no idea how cute it was, that was evident, which meant that no woman had ever told him so. Maybe no woman had ever thought so.
Watching him gave Effie a warmish feeling all over, thinking that perhaps there was something about him that would be fresh and new with her. That she might be the first, in some way. Which was vanity and arrogance, she reminded herself.
“I’ve never gone skiing. Or rafting.”
Mitchell shifted in his seat and leaned a bit closer, his gaze on hers. “I’ll have to take you, then. Next summer.”
Next summer was a long damned time away, but his words sent another round of tingling heat through her. They were only words, she knew that, but even so, it gave her something to think about. Something beyond a third date, anyway.
The conversation drifted after that, interrupted by a buzz from Effie’s phone. She excused herself to check it. “My kid.”
It was a photo of Polly and Heath at the bowling alley, both with wide grins and thumbs up. Another came in a moment later of Heath doing what looked like a victory dance after a strike. This one had the corner of Polly’s eye and someone else in the background. A blonde someone. Effie frowned and didn’t reply. She looked up to see Mitchell’s curious look.
“She’s out with her...my...friend. They’re bowling,” she explained.
“Everything okay?”
No, because apparently Heath had taken Polly on his date with Lisa Collins. Effie didn’t say that aloud. “Yep. I should be getting home soon, though. He’s doing me a huge favor taking the kid. My mom was supposed to, but she was sick. I promised I wouldn’t be out late.”
“Seems like they’re having fun, though. Are you sure you have to rush home? I thought we could check out this local jazz band at Mooney’s. A friend of mine’s the bass player.”
Effie hesitated. Jazz made her ears bleed. She must’ve done a poor job of hiding her distaste, because Mitchell frowned.
“No?” he asked.
“I just... I really... I hate jazz.” She gave an apologetic smile.
“You know what?” Mitchell said. “Me, too.”
She laughed and shook her head. “So...why?”
“My friend really is the bass player. He’s been asking me to come out fo
r months. I figured if I had to suffer through it, at least the company would make it all worthwhile.” Mitchell, Effie discovered, had a really great, genuine smile.
They sat in smiling silence for a moment or so. She liked him, Effie realized. Really liked him and his great smile and his sense of humor and the fact he was up front about being lazy with his job. She liked that he knew without a doubt what it was he’d like to do, if he threw away the restrictions of practicality. She liked that he hated jazz but would listen to it so he could make a friend happy.
“We could wear earplugs,” she suggested.
Mitchell waved for the check without ever taking his gaze from hers. “You’re on. Let’s go.”
* * *
It was not even close to what Effie would’ve considered early when she got home just before midnight, though she was ready to argue that it also wasn’t late. She didn’t have to defend herself, though. The house was dark and empty when she went inside.
Polly hadn’t texted her since sending the pictures. Heath had sent no updates. Effie turned on the lights in the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water as she considered whether she ought to start worrying. As it turned out, she didn’t have to, because ten minutes after she got home, Heath and Polly came through the back door.
“Mom! Guess what, I bowled a one-eighty and I beat Heath and his friend twice. We bowled five games.” Polly sounded giddy the way she always did just before she crashed from exhaustion, but her eyes were bright and her cheeks pink with excitement. “It was awesome! Heath said there’s a kids’ bowling league on Saturday mornings, and I should join! He said he could take me.”
“We’ll see.” Effie met Heath’s gaze over the top of Polly’s head. “You should get to bed. It’s late. Make sure you thank Heath.”
“My pleasure.” Heath squeezed Polly and kissed her cheek with a loud smack. “Do what your mom says.”
“Love you,” Polly told him, then gave her mother a hug and a kiss, too. “Mom, next time you need to come.”
“We’ll see.” Effie waited until Polly had disappeared down the hall and her bedroom door closed before turning to Heath. “You should’ve told me you were taking along a friend.”
“Hey, I had made those plans beforehand, and what was I supposed to do?” He helped himself to a can of cola from the fridge and leaned on the counter.
Smug. Jerk. Effie poured the rest of her water down the drain so she didn’t throw it at him.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate to be taking my daughter on your dates. That’s all. I don’t take her on mine,” Effie said quietly, refusing to let even the tiniest hint of anger drift into her tone.
Heath drained the can and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He put the empty can in the sink and moved toward her. She let him pull her closer, but she did not kiss him.
“Jealous?” Heath whispered into her ear.
Effie closed her eyes. All she had to do was turn her face the tiniest bit and she could kiss him. She wanted to. It would be so easy for them to slip back into what they’d been doing with each other, on and off, for so many years.
“No.” She let her lips brush his cheek before she pulled away, turning so it wouldn’t be so easy for him to embrace her again.
Heath took the hint and stepped back. “Effie...”
“It’s fine.” She looked at him sideways with a small smile. “Thanks for taking Polly. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
For a moment, Heath looked as though he meant to say something more but thought better of it. “I’ll call you.”
“Sure,” Effie said. “Talk to you later. Thanks again.”
When he’d gone, Effie went to Polly’s room. She was sure the girl would be asleep, but the light was still on. Polly lay wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey, Wog. What’s wrong?”
“Can’t sleep.” Polly turned onto her side, tucking a hand beneath her chin. The earlier giddiness had faded. Now she looked sad.
Effie sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“Mom, how come you and Heath aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“We’re better as friends, that’s all.” Effie rubbed Polly’s leg under the blankets. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”
“You used to be. When we all lived together, weren’t you?”
Effie hesitated. “Heath and I have always had a really special friendship. And we always will.”
“I didn’t like Lisa,” Polly said.
Effie held back a smile. “Nobody says you have to. But you could give her a chance. Don’t automatically not like her, Pollywog, just because you think I won’t.”
Polly was quiet for a moment or so, her eyes drifting closed. She wasn’t quite asleep, though. Effie could tell by the breathing. Effie waited.
Polly spoke. “I love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, Pollywog.” Effie waited another minute or so, letting the sound of her daughter’s breathing soothe her. When she was sure Polly had at last fallen asleep, she turned off the light but left the door cracked so the night-light in the hall could shine in. Polly hadn’t asked for that in years, but tonight it seemed like the right thing to do. To leave some light on in the darkness.
Effie left her own door cracked open, too.
chapter thirteen
“Effie! Hey!” Dee waved furiously from the table in the corner. “Over here!”
Effie waved and pointed toward the counter to show that she was going to grab a coffee first. She got a latte and a muffin and headed for Dee’s table. “Hey.”
“Have you tried the cranberry walnut? Super yummy.” Dee grinned.
Effie had ordered a plain corn muffin. “I don’t eat here very often.”
“No? It’s my favorite place. I come in, check out the cute guys, drink a latte. Catch up with my reading.” For a moment, Dee looked sad. “Since Brad left, I haven’t been reading as much.”
“But maybe you’ve been checking out the cute boys more often, huh?” Effie glanced around to see if she could find any, but the coffee shop was mostly empty.
Dee still looked sad when Effie turned back to her. “Yeah. It’s hard, though. You know? Finding someone nice.”
“Yeah...yeah, I bet.” It seemed like the right thing to say, until it came out. Then it sounded sort of condescending, which wasn’t how she’d meant it, at all. To make up for the fact that she’d sounded like a straight-up bitch, Effie admitted, “I’ve been on a dating site for about six months. God, no. Longer than that now.”
“Any luck?” Dee waggled her eyebrows.
“Not much. Well. There’s one guy. He’s all right.”
“Yeah?” Dee looked thoughtful. “I thought you and...”
“No,” Effie said when Dee didn’t finish. “Not for a long time. We’re friends, that’s all.”
Dee looked embarrassed. “Hey, do you remember Mrs. Kettle?”
The twelfth-grade English teacher. She’d almost failed Effie, keeping her from graduating with her class. “She made me do a bunch of extra credit work in order to get a freaking D.”
Dee nodded. “She was a tough one. Well, she published a book!”
“Really?” Effie laughed at the thought of it. “What kind?”
“A romance,” Dee said. “A really smutty one, apparently. We’re going to read it for our book club. You want to join?”
Effie hadn’t read a book for pleasure in years. “Umm...how smutty is it?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s got...you know, spanking and stuff in it.” Dee looked so gleeful that Effie had to laugh again. “What? It’s kinky, right?”
Spanking. The thought of it twisted Effie’s smile a little. She
’d done so many things more fucked up than that, though she doubted they’d count as BDSM. “Yeah. Totally.”
Dee lifted her coffee cup. “I’m in!”
Effie shook her head. “Okay. Sure. I’ll read it.”
“Good. The meeting’s at Nancy Gordan’s house at the end of the month. Peter’s mom? I’ll email you the information.” Dee beamed. “You know, Effie...I know we weren’t really friends in school. But I hope we can try to be friends now.”
“High school was a long time ago,” Effie admitted slowly.
“I always admired you,” Dee blurted.
Effie’s eyebrows went up. “You did?”
“Yeah. Even...before. When we were younger. You were always so good in art class and stuff. I’m not surprised you sell your paintings.” Dee nodded.
“Well. Thanks.” Heat crept up Effie’s cheeks and throat, but the compliment pleased her.
“And I’m really sorry, again, about the stuff with Meredith and Polly. I talked with her about gossip.” Dee looked rueful. “It’s a lesson I should’ve learned myself a long time ago. I guess it made me feel important or something, because I remembered when it happened and none of the other women in the group did. I mean, most of them had no idea.”
Effie frowned. “And now they do. Thanks.”
“I don’t blame you for being mad,” Dee said hastily. “I just hope you can forgive me.”
“Holding a grudge doesn’t really do anyone any good.” Effie shrugged. “What happened to me and Heath was a long time ago. I try to forget about it as much as I can. Move on.”
Dee was quiet for a second before she said in a low voice. “But you don’t, do you? I mean, the artwork. It’s all related to the...what happened. You paint it, right? I’ve seen your stuff. It’s good. But a little scary.”
Good, but a little scary. It wasn’t the first time someone had called Effie’s paintings that. It was better than hearing that her work was boring as shit, pretentious and tried too hard to capitalize on her notoriety, which she’d also heard more than once.
“Yes. Sometimes. The art helps. Like cutting out an infection,” Effie told her.