“And what should I do with all this free time?” Sarah steered us back on track.
“Anything you want. When’s the last time you read a book? From beginning to end, not just snippets every so often?” Maddie asked.
“I read to the kids every night.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Not a children’s book.”
Freddie flailed in Sarah’s arms, and she put him back on the carpet. “I don’t even know what’s popular right now, and I don’t have the mind-power for literature.”
“Read what you want. Who else will introduce the Red Room of Pain in our lives?” I whispered only for Sarah to hear, since I didn’t want to clue Maddie in that I’d read Fifty Shades of Grey, some portions aloud to Sarah.
Sarah’s eyes flickered, but she kept my secret.
Maddie hopped off the leather ottoman, heading for her purse. “Take this.” She handed over a battered paperback of The Girl on the Train. “Start today. Head upstairs, draw a bath, and read. It’ll help you relax before having lunch with your mom and Helen.”
Sarah didn’t budge from her seat.
Maddie extended her arm toward the staircase. “Go!”
Sarah snatched the book and her half-eaten roll. “Fine!” she said with defiance, but I sensed she was relieved to be banished from the room. At least this way she didn’t have to face the Maddie inquisition about Troy.
When the coast was clear, Maddie turned to me. “Make her a cup of tea. Something soothing.”
“You’re bossy today.” I pushed myself off the floor, my back making a cringeworthy popping sound.
“You two need a life coach or something.”
Not wanting to concede she was right, I sought refuge in the kitchen.
“Make me a cup while you’re at it,” Maddie barked. “This coffee is making me jittery.”
After taking Sarah a cup, I carried two mugs of tea into the front room.
Maddie, cross-legged on the floor with the twinkies, had a spiral notebook out. Without looking up, she said, “Does Sarah own a gun?”
“Worried?” I sat on the leather chair Sarah had recently vacated.
She met my eyes. “She needs to get this aggression out some way. Maybe join a gun club.”
“You want Sarah, who, in your own words, has some aggression issues, to purchase a gun? Are you forgetting she’s a democrat?”
“Democrats own guns.” Maddie accepted the tea, resettling on the couch in order to avoid tiny fingers getting scorched.
“In the past, Sarah, the high school teacher, made her views on guns pretty clear, but just in case you need a refresher, watch a documentary on Columbine.” I eased back into the leather chair, propping my feet up on the ottoman.
Ollie pounded on her Turn and Learn toy, which had a bright yellow base and red steering wheel, while Fred silently looked on. The annoying voice sang about the puppy wanting to go for a ride. The green light flashed. There was an oink oink followed by the voice announcing, “Pig.”
“So, guns are out?” Maddie asked.
“Afraid so. What else is on your list?”
“Fencing.”
“No sharp weapons. Actually, no weapons.” I made a slashing motion with my hand.
Maddie scratched off a couple more items from her list. “That leaves shopping, which will remind her of Rose—”
“Leading back to the Troy issue.” I walked my fingers along the arm of the chair.
“Yeah. We’re back to reading. Not sure that’s going to work.”
“She is an English teacher.”
“That’s the problem. It may seem like work for her or make her miss teaching or… It’s hard to tell with her these days.” Maddie stared out the window, the street outside still Sunday quiet.
“What about your Tupperware idea?”
“You want your wife to get a job. Are you two strapped for cash?” There was worry in her eyes as she scanned the carpet littered with toys and stuffed animals.
I set my mug on the side table. “No, but I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous for you.” She smiled not so innocently.
I had to laugh. “Before the twins, Sarah loved working, and unlike me, she actually took on extra roles at the high school without being railroaded by Jean.”
“Who’s Jean?”
“The head secretary in the history office.”
“They’re called admins now,” she scolded, running an index finger over her other one, teacher-like.
I waved it off. “We’re trying to come up with a way to help my distraught wife. Stay focused. Maybe part of Sarah’s restlessness is not working. She doesn’t want to work outside of the home. And I looked into the Tupperware thing. Did you know Earl Tupper developed the first container in 1942 but didn’t introduce it to the public until after World War Two?”
Maddie groaned, tossing her head back. “You want Sarah to sell Tupperware because of its connection to World War Two?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. And I don’t plan on buying Silly Putty for the twinks because of the connection, either.”
“Silly Putty and World War Two?” She tapped the side of her head. “Doesn’t compute.”
“An engineer invented it in the forties when looking for ways to make synthetic rubber, due to rationing.” I tossed my hands up, conveying duh.
Maddie stared at me as if I were insane. I didn’t invent the stuff. Finally, she said, “I don’t think hosting Tupperware parties will solve Sarah’s issue.”
I sighed. “Meaning you think all of her angst is because of Troy?”
“Did you do something?” Maddie’s tone was way too eager.
“Not to my knowledge. Did I?”
“Why are you asking me?” She placed a hand on her chest.
“Please, you two love to dissect all the ways I’ve gone wrong.” I picked up my mug again, adding as an afterthought, “There is the Meg issue.” I took a sip.
“I heard.” Maddie flinched when she realized she’d confirmed my statement, but she pushed past it. “I don’t think that’s really the problem. At least not yet.” She cast an accusatory glance. “If you make it an issue, I may loan my gun to Sarah.”
“You keep it locked up, right? Especially when the twins are over?”
“Of course and I’ve taken gun safety classes.”
I still didn’t like the idea.
Ollie’s toy made croaking sounds, and Freddie put his arms in the air, doing his take on a frog croaking.
“You like froggies?” I asked my son. “Say frog.”
“Ffff-fruck…”
I smiled. “Close, little man.”
“There’s a word I didn’t think he’d say for at least another six months, and I hoped to be the one to teach him.” Maddie encouraged him to repeat his pronunciation of frog, with Ollie chiming in, getting much closer to articulating it correctly. Not that Fred noticed. “I like frog legs.” Maddie tickled Freddie’s belly.
He giggled.
“When did you eat frog legs?” I asked.
“When I was in Paris last May.” She kissed her fingertips and made a smacking sound.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be the one to brainstorm hobbies for Sarah. You scare me.”
“All right. You toss out some ideas and not jobs relating to World War Two.”
“Knitting?” I said in an unsure voice.
“I thought you said no weapons. A knitting needle can do some damage.” She mimicked hacking someone.
I sighed. “Reading it is.”
There was a mooing followed by Ollie mimicking the sound.
“Maybe you’re on the right track, though. Sarah wants to be in charge of something again.” Maddie tapped her chin with an index finger.
I let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me; she is in charge. Of me. The twins.”
Maddie glared at me. “Obviously, she doesn’t see it that way.”
“Not to mention she can’t tell Rose to dump Troy.”
“Exactly.”
T
aking advantage of Sarah being upstairs, I asked, “What’s your opinion of Troy?”
Maddie checked the door and then the entrance to the kitchen to ensure Sarah wasn’t in earshot. “I like him, and Rose seems gaga over him.”
Chapter Eleven
After the applause died down, I retrieved my belongings from the podium and cleared out for the next speaker, who wouldn’t start for twenty minutes or so. Everyone in the room milled about, stretching their legs or networking. Allen approached me. “You were fantastic!”
“Thanks.” I glanced around for Dad and Helen, but they were nowhere in sight. Had I bored the crap out of them and neither could face me? “You alone?”
“Yeah. Mom needed to take an emergency call. Did you know florists have emergencies?” He said it in all seriousness.
“Hadn’t ever considered it. And Dad?”
“His other office.”
I crimped my brow.
Allen laughed. “The bathroom.”
Both seemed like acceptable reasons, but…
Sarah, all smiles, joined us. “Who knew history could be fun?”
I was about to inform her I did, but she plowed on, hooking her thumb over her shoulder. “Two historians are shouting at each other in the hallway.” She leaned in so only Allen and I could hear her. “Apparently, one of them slammed the other’s book.”
“I’m glad something kept you entertained,” I said a little defensively.
“There’s Dr. Shaw.” Allen jostled my side with his elbow.
It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Meg. I’d never thought of her as Dr. Shaw. Probably because after the hotel lobby incident, when she was with a paying client, I never believed she’d get her act together to finish her PhD.
Sarah glanced away, her lips pursed.
“You promised to introduce me.” Allen’s eyes were wide with anticipation.
No one else in the family showed a lick of interest in my profession except for Allen. Was it a cruel twist of fate that he focused on the time period my abusive ex did? But how could I brush him off without getting into the details of why I avoided Meg like she was Heinrich Himmler rounding up victims? “Come on.”
Sarah’s eyes bored into mine as if trying to use her mind powers to force me to reconsider or to eliminate the problem once and for all.
I led him by the arm, Sarah charging right behind like Dwight Eisenhower. We could have used Omar Bradley, who led the First Army on D-Day.
Meg was conversing with Dr. Marcel. When she turned to me, I cleared my throat and said, “Dr. Shaw, Allen my… b-brother… wanted me to introduce you since… uh, you know a lot about the Russian Revolution.”
Allen blushed, but was it because he was in front of an academic idol or because of my idiocy?
Frustrated I’d babbled, I turned to safety. “Dr. Marcel, how are you?”
“Not bad.” He put his hand out to Allen. “Wonderful seeing you again, my boy. Would you excuse me?” He retreated to another gaggle of historians anxious to talk.
“Hi, Allen.” Meg shook his hand, her expression showing curiosity. “Are you really interested in the Russian Revolution?”
Sarah quirked her brow at me, and I wondered if the same thought penetrated her mind: did Meg think I was using Allen to get close to her?
Clearly, during her reconnaissance with Janice, Meg hadn’t learned anything about the Dad/Helen/secret half brother intrigue.
“Yes!” He slammed a fist into his open palm. “I read your paper on the Lena River massacre. It was brilliant.”
Sarah rammed her fingers into my back, causing me to stumble forward.
Meg and Allen gawked at me.
“These new shoes are giving me nothing but trouble.” I pointed to my black loafers, which had lost their shine from years of wear and tear. “Have you met my wife, Sarah?” I asked Meg.
“It’s a pleasure.” Meg stuck out her hand.
Sarah smothered it with force. “Likewise.”
Wanting to keep the introduction as short as possible, I said, “We don’t want to keep you. I know you’re next to speak.”
Allen’s face fell, but it was for the best. The last person he needed in his life was Meg. Adult or not, I could still teach my brother some things. Not to mention the last thing I needed was for Meg to think I wanted to be friends.
Meg picked up on Allen’s disappointment. “Do you have time later to chat? It’s not every day I run into someone with such passion for Russian history.”
I was about to mention the roomful of people waiting to hear her speak, but Allen jumped in. “We’re having dinner at the Mediterranean place in between the hat shop and bookstore on Pearl Street after Lizzie finishes the cocktail hour with all the academics. Maybe… if it’s okay”—he shuffled on his feet—“with Lizzie, you can join us?”
I could have strangled my usually reserved half brother. Recovering, I said, “Allen, I’m sure Meg has dinner plans.” Please, please with a cherry on top say you have plans. Evidently, drawing a line in the sand wasn’t in my arsenal yet.
“Actually, I don’t. My social calendar has been gaping open for months.” Meg gave her attention to Sarah. “It would be lovely to get to know each other.”
Sarah offered a noncommittal thin-lipped smile.
Zero words came to me to get out of the situation.
“I better get up there.” Meg motioned to the podium.
“Good luck. Can I say that? Should I say break a leg?” Allen’s words came out like rapid fire.
Meg situated a hand on his arm, but her eyes were on me when she spoke, “Thanks, Allen. I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“How could you invite her to a family dinner?” Sarah paced the hallway outside the lecture hall. Aside from the older woman sitting with her hands folded at the welcome table on the opposite side waiting for stragglers, we were the only two present.
“I seem to remember Allen extending the invitation. And I recall you buying him books like Eat That Frog, How to Win Friends and Influence People, and others to encourage my younger sibling to be more efficient, confident, and determined. Who knew books could lead to this disaster?” I palmed the top of my head, struggling for air.
“He asked for my help so he could be more like you: successful!” She waggled a finger in my face.
“Well, he successfully invited Meg to our family dinner!” I shouted back.
Sarah sighed and spoke through gritted teeth. “Let’s get back on track to the issue at hand.”
“Do you want me to disinvite her?”
“And let her know she’s a threat?” She made several hand gestures and seemed to be having an internal debate about the pros and cons. “She’ll feed off of that.”
“She’s not a threat,” I scoffed, taking a step back, troubled Sarah felt the same about showing weakness to the likes of Meg.
“Have you forgotten everything she’s done?” Sarah’s eyes blazed.
“Of course not! But—” I looked to the ceiling. “I meant she’s not a threat to us.”
“What? You think I’m worried about that? I’m worried for you. She was horrible to you. It’s my job”—she clawed her chest with the tips of her fingers—“to protect you from the likes of Meg Shaw.”
I mulled over the options. Let Meg join and become further acquainted with Allen. Call off the dinner and quite possibly bring Blackmailing Meg back to life. Would cancelling threaten her sobriety? Obviously, she didn’t have anyone to go to. Why else was she hounding me? Her mother had blamed me for turning Meg into a lesbian, so calling her more than likely wouldn’t be fruitful. I cradled my stomach with both hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You okay?” Sarah’s voice was soft and supportive. “You’re turning green.”
Squelching the bile back down, I ran the possibilities by Sarah, while she did her best to stay mum by pacing.
Finally, I settled on a choice. “Allen is excited to speak with her.” I stepped into her path
, taking her hands in mine. “Let’s not let Meg ruin the night. I presented my latest article, which went over well. Dad and Helen listened to me speak for the first time. We should celebrate. Besides, Meg can be very charming when she puts her mind to it. Maybe we can get through the night without incurring the wrath of Meg and then be done with her.”
“Charming!” Her lips snarled. “I know the true Meg. Alcoholic Meg. The woman who struck you!”
I put a finger to my lips. “Please keep your voice down. You’re the only person who knows the whole truth. There are details I would prefer stay between you and me.” I glanced at two gray-haired historians slipping into the lecture hall, praying their hearing aids weren’t on. “You thought the fight about the bad review was entertaining… if one of my peers learned the truth…” I swiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “I’d never be able to live it down. No matter how brilliant my books or articles, that’s all they’ll associate me with.”
“Of course, I won’t say anything,” she said in a hushed angry voice she was struggling to control. Maybe she realized the impact of her tone since her facial expression softened. “I’m sorry. It’s been years since she left your life. I don’t know why it’s affecting me this way. Once again, I’m making this about me.”
“It’s been your latest thing. Honestly, how’d you put up with my self-centeredness for so long?” I bumped my shoulder into hers.
“Good question.” Her shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry.” I let out a rush of air. Taking her hands in mine, I said, “Meg reappearing in my life now after everything—I don’t know how to process it. Being with her was hell, and she almost ruined my chance at real happiness with you. I know she’s trying to turn a corner in her life, or at least she’s claiming that. If it’s true, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize her sobriety.” I squeezed her hands. “But does her moving on have to involve me and now Allen, who reminds me so much of myself when I was his age? Eager to be accepted. Meg craves adoration.” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I hate this. Not knowing what to do.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s get some fresh air. Maybe that will help us focus on the first issue we need to tackle.”
A Conflicted Woman Page 12