The phone rang a little after eight on Saturday morning.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I said as cheerily as possible, not bothering to look at the caller ID so I wouldn’t clue Sarah into the fit Ollie was having, spurring Fred to cry out of either sympathy or frustration.
“Hi.” It was Peter’s voice.
“Oh, hey.” I squeezed the phone tighter between my ear and shoulder. “I thought you were Sarah.”
“What’s going on there?”
“Ollie doesn’t want to wear pants, apparently.”
He laughed. “A conversation I never thought I’d have about your daughter.”
“The fun never ends here. What’s up with you?”
“I was wondering if you and Sarah could watch Demi later today. I have golf. Dad’s out of town. Helen is in your neck of the woods, and Allen isn’t answering his phone.”
“Allen’s spending the day with my nanny. Which means, I’m the last resort.”
“Is Sarah there?” he joked. At least, I think he was kidding.
“Nope. It’s just me this weekend, but drop her off. The more the merrier.” I cringed when Ollie’s screeching reached an impressive eardrum-shattering decibel.
“Are you sure?” Peter’s tone lacked his usual confidence.
I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to leave little Demi in a lurch. “Sure, I’m super mommy this weekend. I’m even wearing a cape.” A bathrobe but I could dream. Delusions—the parent’s last-ditch effort when pretending everything was on the up-and-up.
Around five, Peter breezed into the kitchen, returning to pick up Demi. “I brought Chinese.” He hoisted two white plastic bags in the air.
“You’re a lifesaver. The little ones are just finishing up with their dinner.” I had Demi in my lap, feeding her the posh baby food Peter had packed. “She loves her Jamaican curried pork.”
Peter’s smile was genuine, an emotion I was starting to get used to seeing on his face. He peered across the table. “Fred still doesn’t eat much?”
I shook my head. “We might have to try this stuff.” I motioned to Demi’s stash. “Where do you get it?”
“Uh… I’ll ask.” He placed the bags on the table.
That meant he’d ask the woman in charge of Demi Monday through Friday. Tie was taking to motherhood like the Scotch-lady—not one bit.
I rose. “Can you watch the twinks? I think Demi needs to be changed.”
“Sure.” He didn’t bother looking abashed for not offering to change his own daughter, but I didn’t expect him to.
Afterward, I returned with Demi. “Good as new.” I handed her to Peter so I could get the twins out of their high chairs. “Shall we eat in the front room, allow the kids free rein with their toys?”
It didn’t take long to set up around the coffee table and serve ourselves.
“Where’s Tie today?” I ate sesame chicken and rice with a plastic fork.
Peter wolfed down a greasy egg roll, shrugging to let me know he didn’t have a clue. I think that was his perpetual state when it came to his marriage. “And Sarah?”
“A writing conference.”
He nodded, not pursuing the conversation.
We ate in silence for many moments, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, ignore his surly demeanor.
Covering my mouth, I asked, “What’s going on?” I motioned to his stiff posture.
He tried to relax but gave up. “Long day, that’s all.”
“Losing to more potential clients?” I joked. “Although, you aren’t in your typical Easter Bunny golf outfit.”
“Very funny.” His grimace implied the exact opposite. “Just had meetings today.”
“International finance never stops, not even on a Saturday.”
“Something like that. Be glad you’re a teacher.” He discarded his plate onto the coffee table.
I laughed. “I don’t have to be on campus much, but I have a night of grading to look forward to after putting the twins to bed. That is, if I can muster the energy. Maybe Tie has the right idea. Not work or… anything.”
“She’s been filling her time reading crap like The Wizard of Lies, Den of Thieves, Liar’s Poker, The Smartest Guys in the Room…” He waved that the list went on.
“I’m not familiar with those titles.” I inhaled my last bite.
His laughter sounded cruel. “I don’t think she understands half. Less than half. They’re books about corporate greed, white-collar crime, and whatnot. As if she understands what it’s like to make a buck in this world.”
I hadn’t pegged Tie as the crusader type, so it was difficult to see her motivation. “Interesting,” I managed to say after swallowing. Was she worried Peter was involved in unsavory business tactics? Worried about their livelihood?
He picked up Demi. “You’re smarter than Mommy, aren’t you?” Peter glanced over his daughter’s head. “Do you ever regret getting married?”
Gobsmacked, I looked at my babies playing on the floor.
“Not about having kids but getting hitched?” he clarified.
“Nope.”
“You’re lucky. Very lucky.”
It was heartfelt and probably the first time he’d said something like that to me. “Are you and Tie okay?” Should I bring up Courtney’s warning? I did have experience with conniving women. Then again, Peter was raised by the same mother and he dealt with cut-throat business types.
He looked into Demi’s innocent face, tapping her perky nose. “I should get you home.”
Apparently, Peter was done confiding. If that was what he was actually trying to do. Did divorce lawyers hold meetings on the weekend? Were Sarah and I the only couple in our circle who’d make it to the end of the year?
Chapter Twenty-One
“Here comes the airplane, Freddie.” I made buzzing sounds as I steered a bite of oatmeal to Fred’s pinched mouth.
The call alert window on Skype flashed.
“Ten bucks, it’s Mommy.”
Ollie continued smooshing a banana chunk with her fingers and then licking them. Whatever worked.
“Sweetheart, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in at least five minutes,” I said to Sarah’s image on the tablet, which was propped up since I’d been expecting another call.
Ignoring the jab, Sarah said, “Here comes the airplane, Freddie.”
I laughed. “Right on cue. It’s like you have the morning routine here memorized.”
“I miss you guys.”
I looked over my shoulder at her image. “Luckily, you’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Do they miss me?” There was desperation in her voice.
“Nope. I managed to wipe their memories of you completely. I’m thinking of selling the technology to the highest bidder. North Korea. Russia. College educations don’t come cheap, you know.”
“Earlier, when I said I missed you guys, I was only referring to the children.”
I gave up getting Fred to eat and lifted the tablet. “Are you at the airport?” I squinted at the screen.
“Yes, and good news, I thought we’d miss the flight because Maddie got hammered last night and wouldn’t get out of bed, but our plane isn’t even here yet.” Her broad smile was faker than the propaganda films made during World War II claiming Japanese Americans loved internment camps.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least there’s good people-watching at the airport. Keep an eye out for a hottie for me to lust after. I know you’re concerned about my crushless state.”
“There were a few contenders at the retreat.” She grinned.
“Huh, I’ve always pictured the creators of children’s stories as pudgy old grandmothers.”
“Hey!”
“Excluding you of course.”
“Are you going to be okay with the twinks for a few extra hours?”
Like she could do anything about it. “I was thinking of locking them in a closet with power tools so I can go for a bike ride.”
“We don’
t have any power tools.” I couldn’t see her expression all that well since Sarah was seated next to a window and the brightness was obscuring her face, but I was certain from the tone her jaw was clenched when she spoke.
“Did I forget to mention we went shopping at Home Depot yesterday to prepare for this eventuality?”
Her face got really close to the screen. “I can’t tell if you’re lying.”
“Clearly, my mind sweep program is starting to work wonders on you. Since when have I ever enjoyed shopping? And power tools? I’m not a DIY dyke.”
Ollie lobbed a gooey chunk of banana at my face, which oozed from my hairline on down.
“Good girl!” Sarah cheered. “I’ll let you go. See all of you soon!”
I wiped my face with a hand towel. “Learn from your sister. That banana trick worked like a charm. Who wants to finger paint?” I asked in the typical over-exaggerated parent voice I’d once sworn I’d never use around my children.
Right after lunch, which happened every day at eleven, Helen returned for the second time that weekend, with Allen in tow.
“Let me guess, a little bird told you Sarah’s flight was late?”
Helen kissed my cheek before taking Freddie from my hip. “I had inventory to check in at the Fort Collins store. How’s my favorite little man?”
“I thought I was?” Allen asked, and it was hard to tell if he was joking.
To be safe, I said, “You’re her favorite big man.”
Allen blinked as if trying to determine if I was speaking in code. “Where does that leave Dad and Gabe?”
Maybe Sarah was right. Allen couldn’t handle the likes of Meg. “You’re asking the wrong person. Would either of you mind if I hopped in the shower?”
“Looks like you need it.” Helen peered at my hair.
“Is that a boogie?” Allen moved closer to inspect.
I took a massive step back. “I’m praying its banana from breakfast, but it’s hard to know for sure around here these days.”
Helen bobbled Freddie in her arms. “Take your time. Goodness knows you’ve earned it.”
“You’re a godsend.” I handed Ollie off to Allen. “My arms are going to be sore from lugging these two from room to room.”
Helen laughed. “Rent them out. It may become an exercise trend.”
The idea wasn’t all that bad and not as crazy as the goat yoga craze I’d read about.
I scampered upstairs.
With the water set to the hottest level I could stand, I let it fall over my head, streaming down my body, wiping away the strain of the weekend. While I’d confidently proclaimed to Sarah I could manage the weekend alone with the twinkies, secretly I’d been terrified something terrible would happen on my watch. Even with the pop-in guests, being the sole parent hadn’t been easy. Downright exhausting. And I didn’t want to intrude on Bailey’s weekend. We’d only hired her for fifteen hours a week, Monday through Friday.
Was Lisa prepared for that if she did divorce Ethan?
Was Ethan?
I made a solemn vow to avoid divorce at all possible costs.
Jesus, what would Peter do if he divorced Tie? Raise Demi or leave her with a woman who couldn’t be bothered to water a plant?
The hot water turned a degree or two chillier, an indication it was time to get out.
Quickly, I toweled off and tossed on baggy jeans, a button-up shirt, and a navy sweater.
Laughter from the family room drifted to my ears.
I loved being a family woman.
The twins.
Stepmom.
Stepbrother.
The whole package, including Dad, who wasn’t physically present but my thoughts drifted to him more and more. He had checked in via texts and emails the past couple of days.
“Oh man, did that feel—?”
My eyes laser-locked on Meg.
What in the fuck was she doing here? In my home?
My phone vibrated.
A feeling in my bones told me it had to be a message from Sarah letting me know her plane had landed.
How would I explain her presence?
Better yet, how would I prevent Sarah from murdering Meg?
“You don’t look like a woman who’s just spent seventy-two hours alone with twins.” Meg smiled, holding Ollie.
Had Allen handed over my daughter to Meg? This made it abundantly clear I needed to have a chat with Allen about Meg. Was it possible to fill him in about her character without sharing the details I wanted to keep private?
The big picture invaded my mind. If I didn’t get her out of my house before Sarah’s homecoming, I would be heading for divorce court. Maybe Ethan and I could get the same lawyer. A twofer.
Stop it, Lizzie.
Think.
Act.
“Hope you don’t mind, but Allen asked me to come over.” Meg appraised my frozen in time stance.
“N-no… not at all. Would you like a drink?” I rushed to say as a way to cover my fear. Meg was like a bear wanting to make me her dinner, and I needed to stand tall to show her she wasn’t in control. “Tea, coffee, water…” The sickness churning in my stomach spread throughout my body.
“Coffee, please. And then Allen and I need to head out. There’s a special lecture this afternoon on campus.” She consulted her watch.
Campus? The one where I worked? How did I not know about this special lecture? It wasn’t sponsored by the history department or club. Of that, I was certain.
“Yeah, a Russian author will be discussing her latest novel.” Allen was as giddy as a child who’d received his very first helium balloon.
Helen handed Freddie to her son. “I’ll help you with the coffee, Lizzie.”
I nodded a thank-you.
In the kitchen, Helen whispered, “What’s wrong?”
I scooped coffee into the filter. “Nothing.”
“It’s Meg.” Helen twisted a tea towel into a knot. “Something about her seems off. Allen adores her. I appreciate her taking an interest, but why is she taking an interest in my nineteen-year-old son?”
I shrugged, unable to voice the same concern. Although, I sensed the underlining reason for Meg’s actions I’d conjured in my mind was entirely different than Helen’s.
“Is she trying to get back into your life?”
Ding, ding, ding!
“Would you like a cup?” I asked, not waiting for a response and pulling down four mugs.
Helen spun me around, keeping her hands on my shoulders. “Give it to me straight. Will Sarah flip out if she finds Meg here?”
I moved my head upward and then let it crash down.
“Should I ask her to leave?”
Yes!
I closed my eyes, trying to think of a solution. Didn’t every problem have a solution? Or was I thinking of Newton’s third law of physics: every action has an equal and opposite reaction? My brain couldn’t comprehend if that rule helped me in this situation. What would Dwight D. Eisenhower do? But the allies spent months planning the Normandy invasion… Why hadn’t I mapped out a response to Meg showing up at my house?
“I—”
The coffee dribbled slowly into the pot. We watched it. I didn’t know about Helen, but I was praying to a higher power, any of them, to speed up the process.
As if in tune, Helen proclaimed, “First step, get Meg out of the house. One cup and then I’ll shoo them out to the lecture. I’ll have a chat with Allen later about his friendship with Meg.” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “What time is Sarah expected?”
I fished my phone out of my pocket. “The plane has landed.”
Helen looked skyward. “Retrieving luggage—”
“They didn’t check any bags.”
“O-okay. Less than two hours. Surely, it won’t take that long for one cup of coffee. I’ll get the milk.” She went into action.
It struck me that for so many years I’d wanted a mother like Helen. One who had my back. And the entire time I’d lived wit
h the Scotch-lady, Helen was in the shadows. There for my father. For Allen. I hadn’t known she existed.
This line of thinking wasn’t going to help me with the situation at hand.
The last gurgling sound of the coffee maker nearly made my heart sing. I splashed coffee into all four cups and transferred them to the serving tray. Helen added the milk pot, sugar bowl, and spoons. I took the tray in my hand, the cups rattling on the saucers. Sucking in a steadying breath, I motioned I was ready for the coffee operation, which would be quickly followed by the kick Meg out of my house maneuver.
She gave me a supportive nod.
We entered the room.
“How do you like your coffee, Meg?” Helen used a soothing voice, which I think was meant to calm my nerves.
“Two spoons of sugar.”
“Milk? It’s one percent. Or would you prefer almond? I can get the almond milk.” Helen utilized her best grandmother expression, helpfully holding milk over Meg’s cup.
Meg, who usually only had sugar, said, “One percent is fine.”
“As Allen’s mother, I already know how he takes it. Lots of sugar and extra milk. Extra sweet for my sweet little boy.” She handed him his cup, while I arranged the twins at the art center in the corner.
“Lizzie?”
“Uh—”
Meg interrupted. “You drink coffee now?”
In my hurry, I’d poured myself a cup. “You know, parenting does things…” Not sure where I was going, I told Helen, “Just like Allen’s, with maybe slightly more sugar.” Like triple.
Helen smiled as if I were her daughter. “Of course, sweetheart.”
Helen was doing her damnedest to make it clear to the interloper that she was the mother hen in the room and Meg had better watch her step. Was this part of her plan to get Allen out of her clutches?
Now that everyone had a cup in their hands, Helen sat on the couch next to Allen. Meg was in the chair on the far side of the room, and I stood by the table, where the twins colored with wax finger crayons that looked massive and unwieldy in their little hands. At least I didn’t have to worry about them choking on them. If I could manage to force down my coffee without grimacing or spitting it out, we would be golden.
A Conflicted Woman Page 21