She lifted her hand mechanically. “Hello. Good to see you. How did it go at the car lot today?”
“Busy. Sympathy or curiosity. Can’t say which,” he said with a shrug. A few years younger than her, he might have been handsome if not for the scars left behind from a bad case of acne.
He enfolded her hand between his. “I was just talking to Jake. Nice guy. I told him what we talked about on the phone this morning, and you don’t have to worry about the business. I took a straw poll among the salesmen, and they unanimously voted to stay open. We’re going to buy some black bunting and wreaths to honor Kenny and Pam. I know my cousin would want us to carry on.”
A straw poll. She’d heard the phrase but had no idea what it meant.
She cleared her throat and gently extracted her hands. “I’m sorry. My brain is mush. Is it Rick? Roger?”
“I understand completely.” He clamped one hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m Richard. Kenny’s stepdad and my father were cousins. I’ve been working for Kenny for about five years. He was a great guy. I can’t believe something like this has happened. The good die young, don’t they?”
Allison’s stomach heaved. The good...die... Desperate for a distraction, she leaned over to pick up an empty glass from the end table. Unfortunately, her hand shook so badly she was forced to stuff her fist in the pocket of her sweater, where a wad of wet tissues reminded her of all the tears she’d shed.
Richard was still speaking...Kenny had just added the Subaru dealership and expanded his sales team when I came on board. I used to work in Sonora. How’s the car running?”
“Uhh...great.” How’s the weather? The Bulldogs look good, don’t you think? What about those Niners? Was small talk a defense mechanism? she wondered. Or are we all so egocentric we can only talk about other people for a few short minutes before the topic reverts back to what’s important to us?
“My Outback has over two hundred thousand miles on it,” he boasted. “My wife says she’ll trade me in before she gets rid of that car.”
Cars. Hers was just outside. She could hop in it and disappear. No one would miss her. Jake could handle the funeral. Funerals. Plural.
Her gaze found him without effort. Of course, it was hard to miss his six-foot-two-inch body. His smoky gray-blue silk turtleneck draped across his broad shoulders and was tucked into black jeans. No love handles at that waist, she thought. A simple belt with a plain silver buckle was the only ornamentation.
Allison put a hand to her cheek. Her skin felt flushed. No doubt her hormones were as screwed up as her emotions. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a wake admiring her co-godparent’s great body.
Thank goodness he wasn’t her type. She traditionally went for quiet academics—like her ex- husband, Dean. An Albert Einstein hairdo and thick glasses might not appeal to some women, but Allison had fallen in love with Dean in their senior year. Unfortunately, the qualities that had drawn her to him in the first place—his intellect and logic—had contributed to the demise of their marriage. When tragedy struck, Dean turned to his work for solace, not realizing until too late that Allison was floundering in a sea of guilt.
“Oh, my,” Richard exclaimed. “There’s the fellow who was in the shop last week looking at a new pickup truck.” He cuffed her upper arm lightly in what was undoubtedly intended as a supportive gesture and started to leave. “We’ll talk soon. Ally, but in the meantime you can rest easy knowing we have things under control at the car lot. The only thing I need from you is a decision on the canned food drive. But that can wait until after...well, you know.”
The food drive? Oh, God. Pam’s baby. Rydell Motors’ “A Truckload of Cans” consumed her time and attention from the Monday after Thanksgiving till the Saturday before Christmas, when the cash contributions were used to buy turkeys and the mountain of donations was hauled to the local food bank.
With a weighty sigh, Allison leaned against the wall. One more thing to add to the list. Of course, the smart thing would be to cancel it. Everyone would understand. But when she closed her eyes she could see Pam’s euphoric smile as she handed a check to the food bank personnel last year. “You should have enough here to buy at least sixty turkeys,” she’d crowed. “If that isn’t enough to give everyone on your list a great dinner, send them to my house. We always have too much. Right, Ally?”
Allison pressed her forehead against the painted wall. Tears burned behind her eyelids. Her neck felt wrapped in barbed wire.
“How are you holding up?” a deep voice asked.
She froze. Jake. Quickly wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she stood up straight. “I’m surviving,” she said, trying for a smile. “I really appreciate all that you’re doing. You’re a natural with people. As soon as someone looks at me and says, ‘What a tragedy!’ I either want to run the other way or hit them. Crazy, huh?”
He turned so his back rested against the wall. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, continuous sigh. “Not at all. What you see is an act. Perfected at the age of ten when I learned that you can get away with just about anything as long as you show people what they want to see.”
Allison was shocked by his candor, and her expression must have shown it because he straightened, put on the same warm and empathic smile she’d seen for the past hour and shook her hand. “Thank you for coming. A tragedy, yes, that’s it exactly,” he said, nodding soberly.
Her eyes filled with tears again, and he looked chagrined. “Sorry,” he said, dropping her hand. “I’m doing what has to be done. But inside, I feel just like you do.”
The doorbell chimed before she could reply. He gave her a small, self-deprecating smile then walked away. He’d taken on this responsibility because he’d somehow sensed that she was uncomfortable in the role of hostess.
Suddenly, Allison felt ashamed. She’d abdicated her part of this job because he made what he was doing look effortless. But it wasn’t. And she needed to dig deep and be part of the team.
She started by picking up used glasses and cups, which she carried to the sink. As she loaded them into the dishwasher, a voice called out, “Leave the dishes for us, Ally. You shouldn’t have to do that. This wake was my idea.”
Allison located Gayle in the group of eight women sitting around the dining room table. All in their early to mid-thirties, they were friends of Pam’s. Most were mothers whose children attended the same preschool as Caleb.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I need to keep busy. Go on talking.”
Allison always had been a loner. Her sisters—seven and eight years older than she but just a year apart in age, were like twins. Her brother, the eldest, was too busy preparing to take the family farm into the twenty- first century to have time for his baby sister. Growing up on a farm with no playmates her age, Allison never developed the social skills it took to make friends.
Until Pam rescued her. Pam—one of the most popular girls on campus—had reached out to befriend Allison. She’d taught her how to dress, how to dance, how to flirt. Pam had made Ally attend college functions. She was the one who’d told Allison about birth control and what a lover should do for a woman. She’d also held Allison’s head the first time she came home drunk and, at the lowest time in her life, Pam had forced Allison to keep going when all Ally had wanted to do was die.
And now she was gone. Allison felt like kicking and screaming—just as Caleb had earlier. A question entered her mind. Would Jake hold me until my sobs subsided then rock me in his arms till I fell asleep? A second question followed on the heels of the first. Could I be any more depraved and needy?
With a muffled groan, she opened the cupboard by her knee and took out the big green jug of dishwasher soap. Jake was a nice man, and very kind, but this attraction she felt toward him had to be denied. She’d read about survivors’ guilt and what happened to people who turned to each other in times of great emotional upheaval. Nothing good or lasting ever came from it.
As she gave the big container a vicious sque
eze, a thick white stream burped into the machine—followed by an embarrassingly gross sound that made the whole room go silent.
Cheeks burning, Allison peeked above the counter. Everyone was looking her way. Including Jake, who smiled and winked.
Allison quickly closed the hatch on the soap container and locked the latch on the dishwasher. A wink. Good heavens, the man is a rake. But try as she might, Allison couldn’t keep from smiling.
As she carried the empty detergent container to the recycling bin in the garage, Allison recalled a recent conversation with Pam. “You’re a beautiful, sexy woman, Ally, and instead of dating, you spend all your time and energy on USB plugs and DSL modems,” Pam had scolded. “You need a man, girl. And I’m gonna find you one.”
Allison placed the jug in the appropriate receptacle then walked to Pam's car. She leaned down, placing her cheek flat to the cold hood. “Oh, Pam, I miss you so much already.” She cried softly. “You were always in my corner. Setting up blind dates. Encouraging me to go out with guys my mother would never have chosen.” She tried to smile, but half her face was frozen and the other half wouldn’t work.
Pushing upright, she glared at the car and said, “If I die an old maid, it’s all your fault.” She kicked the car’s tire because she’d been longing to kick something all day then walked inside.
The first thing she noticed was the heightened noise. More people had arrived, including several children—one that she recognized. Gayle’s son, Bradley.
“Hi, Ally,” Marc called when he spotted her. “More food.”
He nodded toward the teenage girl at his side. A blonde clone of his wife. In her hands rested a glass cake pan, which Gayle quickly took. “Thanks for making this, sweetheart. You’re a peach.”
She gave her daughter a peck on the cheek then carried the cake to the counter. Allison hurried over to make room for it. “Where did all this come from?” she asked.
“People want to help,” Gayle said. “I guess food is the way we comfort ourselves. We can’t do anything else, so we eat. And drink,” she added, watching her husband pour a measure of bourbon into a glass.
Allison didn’t know Gayle well. And she’d certainly never seen this sensitive side before. She began to understand why Pam had liked the woman. Allison wondered if her own shyness and even a little jealousy of the friendship the two had shared had kept her from getting to know Gayle better.
“How are you holding up?” Gayle asked. “Is this too much? I thought about telling people to come to my house, instead. But, somehow, I felt Pam would want them here. To be closer to her spirit. To say goodbye.”
“I think you made the right call, Gayle. It’s a good diversion for Caleb, too, having other children around.”
Gayle’s lips compressed together in a frown. “I thought Marc would bring the kids over sooner, but he said Bradley was reluctant to come. We told them what happened, of course. Bradley was terribly upset. Marc’s father passed away last spring, and we took the kids to Boston for the funeral. Not the smartest move, I’m afraid. Brad had nightmares for weeks.”
She lowered her voice and added, “I think it was the open casket that did it. At least, Caleb won’t have to deal with that. He’ll only have positive images of his parents to remember them by.”
Open or closed casket. Cremation or traditional burial. All items on her list. All decisions awaiting a discussion with the lawyer.
Gayle dished up a piece of cake on a small paper plate and reached for a plastic fork in a box of mixed dinnerware. “But Bradley did seem to perk up when I told him that Caleb might be spending a lot more time with us—after the funeral and after Jake leaves, I mean,” she qualified when Allison gave her a questioning look.
“I know how crazy it’s going to get for you, Ally, with Cordelia in the hospital and the demands of your business. This time of year is chaotic anyway—even without dealing with a grieving youngster. Marc and I both want you to know you can lean on us as much as you need to.”
Allison couldn’t speak. Her mind was still struggling over… “after Jake leaves.” He would, of course. She knew that. But the idea of being left alone in this big house to care for Caleb made her head spin. “I...I need to sit down.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Gayle said, dropping her cake plate to grab Allison’s shoulders. “Come over here to the family room sofa. You look ready to pass out.”
Allison was too dizzy to resist. She let Gayle lead her to the big L-shaped sofa that faced the new plasma television Pam bought her husband for Christmas last year. “Kenny-vision,” she’d called it.
At the moment, the wide, crystal-clear screen was filled with undersea creatures in a Disney video—one of Caleb’s favorites, Pam told her. Gayle’s older son was sitting in the recliner across from the sofa while Caleb and Bradley played with the new Matchbox cars Jake had brought, driving the die-cast autos up and over magazines that were grouped on the coffee table.
Just as Allison’s vision cleared, she witnessed Caleb grab Bradley’s car from him. “Mine,” Caleb snapped.
Bradley tried to take it back and a scuffle ensued. Gayle turned toward the boys and said, “Stop it, you two. This isn’t the time to be fighting. We need to cooperate and get along.”
Bradley looked at her, mouth agape at the obvious injustice. “But, Mommy—”
“No, buts, young man,” Gayle said sternly. “Remember what I said. You have to be very kind to Caleb right now. If he needs all the cars, then let him have them.”
Allison wasn’t comfortable with that attitude. Pam was a stickler for good manners. She’d never have let her son get away with being greedy. Allison sat forward and held out her hand. “May I see the car, Caleb?”
Caleb’s triumph turned to rebellion. “No,” he said, crossing his arms so the cars were tucked under his armpits. “Mine.”
“That’s true. But Bradley is your guest. He shares his toys when you’re at his house, doesn’t he?”
The child’s slim shoulders lifted and fell.
Allison could feel Gayle watching her. She wished she’d stayed out of the argument entirely. “Do you want him to go into your bedroom and get another car from your toy box?”
“No,” Caleb said, but Allison could tell he was wavering. He was such a good kid. One of the most generous Allison had ever been around.
Before he could say anything else, Gayle suddenly dropped to a seated position and pulled Caleb into her lap. “Oh, honey, it’s okay to want to keep things. We understand. You just lost the most important things in the world, so it’s natural to be angry about that. Bradley understands, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Bradley nodded but Allison could tell he was just as confused as Caleb, who looked tense and uncomfortable in Gayle’s arms.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Jake asked, dropping to an easy squat beside the couch next to Allison. “Caleb, could I see you a minute, bud? I need to make an ice run and I thought you and Brad could come along so I don’t get lost.”
Caleb dropped both cars on the floor and sprang into Jake’s arms, nearly knocking him over. Allison was close enough to see Jake fight for his balance and, without thinking, she put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
The contact sent a weird jolt through her arm and upper torso—something that had never happened to her before. She snatched back her hand and shoved it between her thigh and the cushion.
“Me, too?” Bradley asked, looking to his mother for permission.
She glanced at Allison then nodded. “Sure. If you’re not gone too long.”
Jake rose, still carrying Caleb, and extended his
index finger to Bradley. Then he looked at Allison. “Do you want to come? I promise to do all the driving.” The little inside joke brought a smile to her lips, but Gayle’s scrutiny made her shake her head. “I’d better stay. In case the lawyer calls. Thanks, though. Don’t forget their coats.”
He looked at his charges. “You heard the lady. Let’s get our jackets.” T
o Gayle, he said, “Back in a flash.”
When they were gone, Gayle shifted to her knees. “He’s a natural, isn’t he? With kids, I mean. My brother is the same way—my children’s favorite uncle. But when it comes to the tough stuff, like discipline and following through? Nada. Zip. He’s outta here.”
She stood up and walked back to the counter. But her words hung in the air like an ominous prediction.
Half an hour later, Allison was still sitting in the same spot. She might have dozed off for a minute or two, she wasn’t sure. But the little fish on the screen was safely reunited with his father, and she couldn’t say how that had happened. So she must have missed something.
Feeling guilty about not being a better hostess, she started to get up just as the phone rang. Gayle motioned for her to stay put and hurried to the small desk to answer it. Jake apparently beat her to it because he walked into the kitchen with the portable phone to his ear. They’d had dozens of calls from concerned friends and people wanting to inquire about Cordelia, but from the expression on his face, Allison knew this call was different.
She couldn’t catch his reply, but a moment later, he pressed a button on the unit and walked to where she was sitting. Without invitation, Gayle joined them.
“That was Dick Fenniman—Kenny’s lawyer. He’ll be at his office in half an hour. Do you want to go? Or should I?”
Before Allison could answer, Gayle said, “Why don’t you both go? I’d be happy to hold down the fort.”
“Good idea. It’ll save repeating everything later. Thanks very much.” Jake turned. “I’ll go get Caleb.”
Caleb? Allison tried to keep her reaction from showing, but Jake must have sensed something. He looked at her and said, “What?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed, giving her a piercing look that made her confess, “Yesterday at the hospital was really hard on him. On us both. Waiting rooms generally aren’t fun places for little kids. Plus, the lawyer might have things to tell us that Caleb isn’t ready to hear.”
“Ally’s right,” Gayle said authoritatively. “Leave him here. He’ll be fine. He has Bradley to keep him company.”
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