by Ann McMan
“Why don’t we cut to the chase? What do you really want?”
He sat back and folded his arms. “What do you think I want?”
“Frankly, I have no idea.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
He waved his hand. “This. So prickly. I don’t deserve it.”
She considered that. “Okay. Tell me what you do deserve.”
He leaned forward. “I think I deserve another chance. Look, I fucked up, and I know that. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I can say. I don’t want to lose you over something that didn’t even matter to me.”
She sat in silence for a moment, letting his words hang in the air between them. “It’s that last part that’s the problem. I believe you when you say that your various dalliances didn’t matter to you—that’s what makes them even more impossible for me to forgive or overlook.”
He lifted his hands in supplication. “I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “I know you don’t.” She poured a splash of Pellegrino over her tumbler of ice. “The fact that you could be unfaithful to me so easily—so many times—with women who didn’t even matter to you is what makes your behavior so intolerable. If your heart wasn’t engaged with them, it certainly wasn’t engaged with me.”
He leaned back against the padded seat. “That’s not true. You know that our physical relationship was never really what I needed it to be.”
She stiffened.
He shook his head in frustration. “It was hard for me. I know I screwed up, but I should think you’d be happy that I never really got involved with any of them. It was all just harmless. Just me being stupid.” He looked at her with puppy dog eyes. “I always loved you. I never wanted us to end up like this.”
For just a moment, he resembled the man she had met so many years ago at her parents’ home in Towson.
“I know you didn’t. I didn’t either.” She sighed. “But here is where we are. And here is where I need to stay.” He started to protest, but she stopped him with a raised palm. “I could never trust you again. I know that. And you should respect what I am doing to try and make a new life for myself.”
“And this is your idea of a new life?” He waved his hand at the landscape visible outside the windows. “A two-bit town full of rednecks who probably can’t even read the books you’re shelving? Come on, Syd. I know you. This isn’t the kind of life you want.”
Her patience with him was waning. “I don’t think you have the first clue about the kind of life I want. And don’t be so quick to judge. You don’t know anything about the people who live here. I’ve already made better friends here than I ever had in Durham.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” It was against her better judgment to ask, but she took the bait anyway.
“Oh, come on. You don’t seriously think I missed the chemistry between you and Dr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly?” He flexed his fingers to make air quotes. “Not that I blame you. She’s a real beauty. I’d be tempted myself.”
Syd placed her napkin on the table and regarded him coldly. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
He met her level gaze. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Syd dug a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and laid it on the table next to her glass. “Trying to make me responsible for your behavior is pathetic, but at least, it’s consistent.” She collected her keys and stood up. “I’m glad I agreed to meet you here, Jeff. It was great confirmation for me.” He reached out a hand to stop her, but she drew back. “Don’t waste your time—or mine.” She glanced toward the bar to see Randi headed toward their table. “Enjoy your beer.”
She walked out. He didn’t follow her.
Outside in her car, she cursed herself over and over for her stupidity. What did I think would come of this? He’s never going to change. She started the car and left the parking lot with no idea about where to go.
If she was honest with herself, she knew that her real motivation for agreeing to meet him was somehow tied to a desire to flee. But what was she trying to escape? Jericho? That made no sense. Jericho was her escape.
Her future hung in the distance, formless and murky. Once her work at the branch was complete, she had no idea what direction she would take. Going back to Jeff and her life in Durham would have simplified everything. But ten minutes in his company reminded her of all the reasons why she had left him in the first place.
And then there were his vague insinuations about her friendship with Maddie. It wasn’t the first time that he had made retaliatory suggestions like that—usually in response to her rejection of his sexual advances. It infuriated her that he continued to lay the blame for their uneven physical relationship solely at her feet.
The on-ramp for the highway and a twenty-minute ride back to the library was just ahead of her. Impulsively changing her mind, she continued on past the interchange, and headed toward a shopping center where a brand new Wal-Mart Superstore rode the horizon like a three-masted ship of state.
MADDIE WAS SPRAWLED in front of the small gas fireplace in her bedroom sitting area, reading. Correction: trying to read. She had reread the same paragraph five times. In frustration, she tossed the journal down on the coffee table. Who cares about functional dyspepsia? Eat some damn Rolaids. She sighed and stared at the small mantle clock. 8:25. I wonder if she’s home yet? She cast her eyes around the room, trying to think of some other way to distract herself from her obsessive clock-watching.
Her eyes fell back to the coffee table, where an open brochure advertised the upcoming AMA conference in Richmond. She picked it up and looked for the hundredth time at the glossy photo of the keynote speaker. That was another thing that didn’t make sense to her. She tossed the brochure back down and sat, tapping her foot in agitation. What a loser. I’m gonna take Pete out for a stroll then go to bed. She slid her long legs off the chaise and stood up just as her cell phone vibrated. She snapped it up from the pedestal table next to her chair and flipped it open.
It was a text message—from Syd.
R U still awake?
Smiling to herself, she quickly typed back.
Yep.
She hit the send button, then sat down to wait for Syd’s reply. A bit later, her phone vibrated again.
Up 4 a chat?
Now curious and a tad concerned, Maddie quickly answered.
Sure. Where are you?
A few moments later, her doorbell rang.
Pete raced ahead of her down the stairs and danced back and forth in front of the big front door, barking. Shushing him, Maddie flipped on the front porch light and unlocked the door. Through an etched glass panel, she could see Syd, casually perched on the arm of an Adirondack chair. There was a canvas shopping bag at her feet.
Maddie pulled the big door open and addressed her through the screen. “If you’re finally here with my pizza, you need to know that you’re about three-and-a-half hours late.” She pushed the screen door open, and Pete rushed outside with his tail wagging. “This is going to seriously eat into the size of your tip.”
Syd sat affectionately, scrubbing the top of Pete’s head. She looked up to meet Maddie’s eyes. “If a pizza is the price of admission, then I’m screwed.” She lifted the canvas bag at her feet and held it out to Maddie. “Will this work as well?”
Maddie took the bag from her and burst into laughter when she looked inside. It contained a bottle of MacMurray Pinot Noir and a large bag of Cheetos—the crunchy ones.
“I apologize for just showing up this way. I needed a shoulder.” Syd stood up as Pete vaulted off the porch and headed for the pond. “I promise not to make a habit of this.”
Maddie set the bag down and stepped forward to pull Syd into a hug. “This shoulder will always be available to you.” She smiled as she felt Syd’s arms wrap around her waist. “And you already figured out your co-pay,” she muttered into Syd’s hair.
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Syd drew back and looked at her with a confused expression.
Maddie reached into the bag and held up the Cheetos. “I might be cheap, but I’m not free.”
Rolling her eyes, Syd pushed past her and walked into the house.
Smiling, Maddie followed her inside and closed the big front door. They walked down the long center hallway toward the kitchen.
Syd took off her leather jacket and draped it over a straight-backed chair. “Got anything to eat?”
Maddie raised an eyebrow.
“I’m afraid I didn’t last long enough to order any food.”
Maddie went to the big Subzero and pulled open a door. “Funny you should mention that. I seem to have missed dinner myself. Let’s see what we’ve got in here.” She began to rummage around, shifting through a myriad of plastic containers.
Syd stood beside her, and they peered into the massive depths of the fridge together.
“My god,” Syd said, incredulous. “Don’t you ever cook?” She looked up at Maddie. “You’re a doctor, yet you have about the least healthy eating habits of anyone I know.” She picked up a round container of pimento cheese spread and held it up like Exhibit A. “I’m surprised no one has ever ratted you out to the union.”
“You’re joking, right?” Maddie crossed her arms. “There isn’t a physician on the planet who hasn’t subsisted on a diet of doughnuts and Ramen noodles. We invented the whole ‘do as I say, not as I do’ credo.”
Syd shoved her out of the way. “Yeah? Great. Then do as I say and go find a place to perch while I sort through this recycling nightmare.” She began to pull random ingredients out and stack them on a nearby counter. “What’s your excuse for not eating dinner?”
Maddie pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer and began to open the bottle of Pinot Noir. She shrugged. “I dunno, just preoccupied. I wasn’t really hungry when I got home, and by the time it occurred to me to eat, I was already past caring.” She cast a concerned glance at Syd. “How about you? You gonna tell me what happened at your non-dinner?”
“Oh sure.” Syd turned around. “That’ll take all of two seconds.” She walked to the center island and began to wash some spinach leaves and a big tomato in the prep sink. “Got a pair of kitchen shears handy?”
Maddie opened a drawer and waved her hand across its contents. “Take your pick.”
Syd gasped as she looked inside at the neatly displayed array of culinary gadgets. She looked up at Maddie in surprise.
“Don’t look at me. I told you—Dad was the chef.” Maddie scrunched her eyebrows as she peered into the drawer. “I did a standard surgical rotation, but I confess that I have no idea what half of this stuff is. It looks to me like the contents of Jack the Ripper’s tool box.”
Syd withdrew a large pair of stainless steel kitchen shears. “Well, take these and walk outside to that impressive winter herb garden and get me a few sprigs of basil and oregano.” She pulled out a garlic press before closing the drawer.
“Yes, ma’am,” Maddie complied and headed for the porch door. She smiled as she walked outside and descended the steps that led to her father’s lean-to greenhouse. This would please him. I’m glad that Miguel has kept this up. She resolved to give her landscaper a raise.
The tiny greenhouse was dark, but balmy, and there was enough moonlight to make it easy to locate the right plants. After snipping off a few leaves of each, she turned back toward the kitchen.
On impulse, she walked around the big porch to the front door. Pete met her at the top of the steps. Inside, she ducked into the front parlor and turned on the CD player. Once it spooled up, Alfred Brendel began grunting his way through a Mozart sonata. She smiled to herself as she stood in the center of the room and raised the fresh herbs to her face. The music and the aroma of the plants reminded her of her childhood—of an earlier time, when evenings like this one were typical. A time before everything fell apart. The music. Her mother’s music. And down the hallway, her mother and her father would be together in the kitchen, cooking and talking about their days at work. She shook her head. How did all of that change so fast?
She continued to stand there. The cartoon-like colors of the Chagall print mocked her with their playful optimism. And now, here I am again. But Dad’s gone. And although her mother was still alive, she was gone, too.
She raised her head when she caught a whiff of garlic. Syd was sautéing garlic.
And here she is.
Jesus. I’m in trouble.
She walked back toward the kitchen with Pete in tow.
Syd was at the island, chopping the tomato. The spinach leaves were washed and drying on paper towels. On the stove, the garlic sizzled in a flat pan, and a large pot of water was heating on a back burner.
Maddie handed her the herbs. “I see you found your way around.” She picked up two wine glasses and poured them each a hefty portion of the Pinot.
Syd took the glass Maddie held out and they clinked rims. “I hope that’s okay. Everything was pretty easy to find.”
Maddie grinned. “It’s more than okay. I think my dad is probably up there smiling right now.” She hesitated, and then she stepped forward and kissed Syd lightly on the cheek. “He’d like you.” She stepped back and took a sip of her wine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Syd stood quietly for a moment. The only sounds in the room were the sizzle of the garlic, and a rapid-fire succession of notes from the Alla Turca rondo. She smiled shyly at Maddie and took a sip from her own glass. “Me, too.”
SYD’S CONCOCTION TURNED out to be wonderful. Aglio e Olio with garlic, spinach, and tomatoes—all topped with fresh Parmesan. Maddie was in transports as the intoxicating smells wafted about the kitchen. When it was ready, she took two deep pasta bowls off a shelf and handed them to Syd.
“Let’s take these into Dad’s study to eat. It’s got a small gas fireplace that heats up in two shakes.” She picked up their wine glasses and utensils and hovered over the stove as Syd divided the pasta between their bowls. “If this tastes even half as good as it smells, I’m going to have to marry you.” Syd looked up at her, and Maddie nodded. “That’s right. You’ll just have to give up your day job.”
Syd smiled. “That sure would simplify concerns about my immediate future.”
Maddie bumped her playfully. “Yeah, well, we’ll get to that, too. But for now, just hurry the hell up. I’m starving.”
“You’ve got the patience of a gnat, you know that?” Syd set the now-empty pot down in the sink and splashed some water into it. She picked up the two pasta bowls and faced the doorway. “Lead on.”
“Goodie.” Maddie led them into a small sitting room off the main hallway.
It was dominated by a massive oak desk, but also held two comfortable-looking club chairs with matching side tables. The walls of the walnut-paneled room were lined with overflowing floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Books were stacked on every available surface—even the deep windowsill. There were framed diplomas and photos hanging on every exposed bit of wall space.
“Have a seat,” Maddie instructed, as she set their wine glasses and utensils down on the tables. She walked to the small fireplace and knelt to turn on its gas jet. She pressed the igniter, a telltale pop sounded, and the opening filled with warm blue flames. As she sat down in one of the chairs, Syd handed her a bowl heaped with the fragrant pasta mixture. Gleefully, she wound a few strands around her fork and took a bite. Her eyes rolled back into her head.
“God. Fuck Cheetos. Who needs sex when there’s food like this?”
Syd slowly chewed her own first bite. “I guess that depends on what you’re used to.”
Maddie took another bite. She regarded her with interest. “Meaning?”
Syd shrugged. “A good meal can only get you so far.” She twirled her fork with practiced ease.
“Color me intrigued. Does our demure and girlish librarian have a checkered past?”
Syd glared at her. “You’re not going to start with all that
Sandra Dee crap again, are you?”
Maddie put her fork down and raised her free hand in surrender. “Nuh uh. Been there, bought the t-shirt. I think you’ve already established your . . . credentials.” She picked up her wine glass.
“Well, you know what they say—it ain’t the years, it’s the mileage.”
Maddie choked on her wine.
“Wimp.” Syd picked up her own glass. “Wanna rethink those Cheetos?”
“Do you and David have some kind of job-sharing arrangement that I’m not privy to, or is it just a perverse twist of fate that I ended up with both of you in my orbit?”
Syd laughed. “Poor baby. Are we really that hard on you?”
“He’s pathological, so it isn’t really his fault. You, on the other hand, have no excuse.”
“I don’t?”
“Not from where I sit.”
“Hmmm.” Syd tapped the edge of her bowl with her index finger. “There’s really only one response I can make to a statement like that.”
Maddie gave her a suspicious look. “What’s that?”
“Change your seat.”
“Oh great. Already the two of you function like some kind of twisted incarnation of the Bobbsey Twins.” She took a big sip from her wine glass. “Soon you’ll start dressing alike. It’s going to get ugly. I just might have to go off the grid.”
“Off the grid? Who are you? Jason Bourne? And I can think of worse fates to befall me than having to share David’s wardrobe.”
Maddie snorted. “Yeah. You’d look fetching in that magenta smoking jacket.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of that red cocktail dress. How fetching would I look in that little number?”
Maddie was silent for a moment, as images of Syd wearing the low-cut ensemble raced around inside her head. She needed to step off this gerbil wheel before things got any worse. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend the shoes—the enhanced altitude might give you a nosebleed.”
Syd’s jaw dropped. “Smartass. Your usefulness to the species went south when they invented the stepladder.” She paused. “And while we’re on the subject of genetic abnormalities, just exactly how tall are you?”