For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  Rodri regarded me for a moment, like he was really listening to and processing what I’d said. With a slight tilt of his head, he said, “I might not have answers, but I’m happy to be a new friend you can talk to.”

  My heart swelled a little. I almost reached for his hand, but that seemed too bold. “You’re sweet. Thanks. One way or another I’ll dig myself out of this mess. It feels extra hard, though, because Grace has been my go-to person for levelheaded thinking. She keeps my worst impulses in check. Now it seems our roles got reversed, with her spinning out of control and me buckling down.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s probably better that you two don’t talk much with a lawsuit pending, right?”

  “Doesn’t make it easier, though.” Until Grace withdrew from my life, I hadn’t realized exactly how much I counted on her, having always seen myself as the one she needed for fun. “And I’m desperate for good news about Carter’s recovery.”

  Rodri sighed empathetically. “Sorry I brought up a sore subject. I figured it’d be weird not to acknowledge it, considering how we met. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Good idea.” I forced a grin, determined to enjoy a one-hour break from my troubles. Rodri had such kind eyes—soulful, even, although that sounded so Harlequin. Agnes would love to hear about this when I went to the care center next week. Gosh, if only I could go back to the last time I saw her and get a do-over. “So tell me something about yourself. Did you grow up around here?”

  “I did. My parents are still in town, although my older sister moved to DC after college, and my baby brother is in Winchester, Virginia, with his new wife.” His entire face beamed when he talked about his family. It pressed on one of my tender spots—the fact that my son had no siblings.

  “Do you fit the middle-child mold?”

  “What mold is that?” He tilted his head as if he’d never heard of birth-order traits. Guys didn’t obsess about such things, but surely he’d heard the basics.

  “You know, do you like to keep the peace and make people happy. Sociable, loyal . . . all that? Sort of fits with your job, I guess.” I winked.

  He snickered, scratching his head. “Well, what do you know? And here all this time I thought I was simply a great guy.”

  I laughed. “So that’s a yes?”

  “Busted.” He shrugged one shoulder. “In my defense, it was never a conscious response to my birth order. What about you? Any siblings?”

  I sipped my water, pushing the image of Grace’s face from my thoughts. “No, sadly. I always wished for a sister, though. Does that count?”

  “Don’t think so.” He rested his chin in his hand. The intensity of his attention made me tingly. “Did you grow up here in town?”

  “Sort of. I was born here, but then my parents died in an accident when I was twelve, and I had to go live with my uncle in Virginia. Came back when I was eighteen. Been here ever since.” Somewhere along the way I’d learned to spit that all out quickly so people didn’t feel a lot of pity, and to avoid reliving the more painful parts. Yet Rodri seemed like someone who would treat other people’s pain with great care. It made him a terrific cop.

  “I’m sorry you lost your parents so young.” His gaze softened, giving me the sensation of being held tight. “You’ve had more than your fair share of tragedy.”

  “I don’t dwell on it. I mean, in a way, losing my parents and moving in with my uncle taught me to adapt to change and to count my blessings to get over the hump whenever stuff like my divorce happens.” Of course, Grace and Sam had helped me through that mess.

  “And again we bump into an unpleasant topic. Sorry.” He stretched his long legs out and crossed his ankles right near my feet. I could almost feel the heat coming off him. “Let’s try something else. What do you like to do for fun?”

  He earned lots of points for rolling with the punches, but I suspected this would be our one and only date. A guy his age didn’t need someone with all my baggage when there were plenty of younger women who weren’t single-parent orphans in the midst of a lawsuit. I allowed myself a moment of self-pity.

  “You realize I’m a single parent of a teen boy, so I’m not swimming in free time,” I teased. Truth was, other than going to Rowan’s games and shopping or eating with Grace, I hadn’t invested in new hobbies or other outlets for myself. “How about we start with what you like to do for fun?”

  “Fair enough.” When he smiled broadly, his toothy grin set off another round of tingles. He held up a thumb. “One thing I love is to drive my motorcycle along the rural coastal routes on sunny days.” Then he began using his fingers to mark each successive reply. “I play basketball in an adult league at the Y. I’m a decent cook—especially when I steal my abuela’s recipes. And once in a while you might find me in the back of a Zumba class.”

  “Zumba?” I laughed while trying to picture it. “Aren’t those classes pretty much filled with women?”

  “Why yes they are. That’s actually how it all started.” He chuckled without blushing. “One of my buddies thought it would be a great way to meet women, so a bunch of us went to a class together. Who knew it would kick my a—sorry, my butt that first time? I lift a few times a week, but Zumba is great cardio.”

  “You must like to dance.” A brief daydream about his hips swiveling ensued. It’d be fun to work up a good sweat on a dance floor with him.

  “I wasn’t much of a dancer before, but now I’ve got some moves.” When he stared at me, my whole body flushed.

  I gulped more water. “Well, I confess, I’m on my feet most days and am a naturally busy person, so I’ve never been big into formal exercise, although Grace managed to drag me to yoga a few times a month.” I hadn’t been since the accident, and doubted Grace had found time, either. “I do like to dance, though.”

  “Noted.” His warm gaze melted more of the protective ice that had encased my heart since Friday.

  The waitress chose that moment to stop at our table. She barely looked at us as she turned over a new page on her order pad. “Ready to order?”

  Rodri gestured for me to begin.

  “I’d love a Blue Moon with an orange slice, and the crab cakes, please.” I handed her my menu. When you live in Maryland, you eat crab in every form—steamed, in soup and omelets, and of course as crab cakes. It’s a thing, like hanging the state flag somewhere in your yard or buying clothing with the flag in the design.

  “Make that two,” Rodri said with a cheerful smile.

  “Got it.” She promptly turned away to head to the kitchen, failing to put the “friendly” in her service.

  “Okay, where were we? You like to dance,” he said. “What else did you do before you became a single mom?”

  I scanned the memory banks to remember what I did before motherhood and my shop ate up all my time. “I used to be a pretty good bowler.”

  “With those nails?” His brows rose.

  I splayed my hands on the table, displaying navy glitter nail polish. “They weren’t always this long . . .” I withdrew them and narrowed my eyes while thinking about what else brought me joy. “Oh. This might sound weird, but I also love to paint walls.”

  He laughed. It was a great laugh—a deep chortle, and that’s not a word that rolls off my tongue. “Most people would call that a chore, not a hobby.”

  I chuckled. “I know, but I love it. The smell of a freshly painted room screams ‘clean start.’ A new color can change the whole mood of a room. It’s the cheapest way to redecorate, that’s for sure. And really, it’s sort of meditative. Paying careful attention to those up- and downstrokes with the roller and being neat around the edges shove your problems aside for a while.”

  For a second, I wondered if a fresh coat of paint might help clear away the memories of Rowan’s party. I still avoided the basement except when doing the laundry.

  “Maybe it’s time for a home-reno project.” It was like the man could read my mind. Exciting yet slightly dangerous.

  I s
at up straighter, encouraged. “You know, maybe you’re right. It’s been a while since I spruced up the house, and I could really use a fresh start right about now.”

  “Well, if you need an extra hand, I’d be happy to help.” He leaned forward, folding his arms across the tabletop. He had great forearms with a sprinkling of arm hair. Surprisingly light, considering his thick crop of hair.

  I was about to tease him when someone’s shadow darkened our table.

  “Grace?” My heart stopped as if I’d been electrocuted. “What are you doing here?”

  “Picking up crab legs to take to Carter.” Her confused gaze darted back and forth between Rodri and me, and landed on the rose. Hiking a thumb my way, she asked Rodri, “Did you go easy on Rowan and the others to get in her good graces?”

  I gasped at the accusation.

  Rodri’s pleasant smile evaporated, replaced by a sober-as-shit expression. “No, ma’am. I told you already, we conducted a thorough investigation and filed appropriate charges based on the evidence. I had no personal interaction with Ms. Gillette until after her son’s hearing.”

  “Appropriate charges? Hmph. All these guilty kids are running around as if nothing ever happened. I’d bet they’ll be back to the same nonsense any minute.” Grace’s face flushed and a sheen coated her eyes. Then she looked right at me. “Well, Mimi, I know how much you love the crab cakes here. You be sure to enjoy your lunch date while I spend Valentine’s Day driving up to visit my son after another of his grueling mornings of physical therapy.”

  She spun on her heel and stormed off, a takeout bag in hand. Through the window, I watched her march to her car, her face drawn with a mix of dismay and pain. Seeing that—knowing I continued to cause her such agony—stomped out any bit of joy from this lunch.

  I set my elbows on the table and buried my eyes in the heels of my hands. “Oh, dang it.”

  Rodri reached across the table to grab my wrists and gently pry my arms away from my face. His hands were warm and rough on my skin. “You okay?”

  “I’m sorry. This can’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon.” I let loose one heck of a sigh, thinking again that coming had been a mistake.

  He sat back and stared at me with such tender compassion I almost cried. “Mimi, I told you before. I come across all kinds of people in my job. It’s so rare to meet someone who worries about everyone else more than about saving his or her own skin. I know this isn’t the best time in your life, and that you think I’m too young, but I also know when I’m interested in someone genuine and kind and caring . . . and pretty. So I’d like to get to know you better—however slow that has to happen. I can be a good friend right now—someone to listen to you when you need a shoulder.” He shrugged, wearing a sheepish grin. “That’s it. That’s my pitch.”

  His words bathed my heart in silky, warm water and then wrapped it in soft cotton.

  “You’re very kind, but maybe you should run while you can. I mean, what kind of friend goes on a date when a kid she helped raise still isn’t walking?” My voice was shaky, which made me flush.

  “From where I sit, you’re doing everything you can for that family. And don’t forget, you’ve gone through something traumatic, too. It’s okay to take care of yourself now and then—or let someone else take your mind off your troubles for a while.”

  I sucked my lips inward, torn.

  “Besides,” he continued, a grin forming. “I was getting jacked to paint your place. Judging from your hair and your clothes, my guess is we wouldn’t be using beige.”

  I laughed at that, which felt damn good. He would never know how much his kind words had helped me today. Seeing myself through his eyes gave me the boost I’d needed to press forward despite the lawsuit, my business woes, and Dirk’s BS. “No, we would not. More like coral or lemon.”

  Rodri opened his mouth to say something, but the waitress showed up with our drinks and meals.

  “Anything else?” she asked, as if she hoped we’d say no.

  “No, thank you.” After she walked away, I glanced at Rodri. “Grace was right about one thing. I do love these crab cakes.” Of course, my appetite had waned in the face of Grace’s look of betrayal.

  “Then dig in.” Rodri gestured with his fork. “If you love crab, someday I’ll make you taste-test my crab sofrito.”

  “What’s sofrito?” A man who could dance and cook? Jackpot.

  “A traditional Spanish sauce of tomatoes, onions, garlic, bell peppers, cilantro, and hot pepper. You can eat the crab in a taco shell or with rice and plantains.”

  “Sounds yummy, but hanging out while you cook could lead to weight gain. I’m not known for denying myself, and none of what you said sounds like diet food.” I took a bite of the town’s best crab cakes—totally worth the mediocre service.

  Rodri appeared to be waiting for me to swallow and give him my attention, so I did.

  “There are lots of ways we can burn those calories, like . . . painting.” He winked, sending a zip of sexual tension straight to my inner thighs.

  I didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid, so I took another two bites of my lunch and enjoyed the view. Yes, the bay sure was beautiful, but so was the man in front of me.

  “Thank you for getting me out of the house today, and for being sympathetic and accepting. Like you, I see lots of personalities and gossip in my work, too. Rarely have I met a man as nonjudgmental and sincere as you.”

  He grinned. “Does this mean you’ll answer my future calls?”

  “Heck yeah.” I chugged a bit of the beer, enjoying its refreshing citrus note. “Free labor doesn’t come around often, and it’s past time to update my living room,” I teased, which prompted a smile from Rodri.

  It still felt wrong to enjoy the fact that something good had happened to me as a result of something terrible happening to Grace, but I couldn’t make myself give it up. This budding relationship was worth exploring, although I’d keep it from Rowan until it had real legs. Grace was already jumping to conclusions. Too bad, because under other circumstances she might’ve liked Rodri. A little pinch of guilt held tight when I recalled the look on her face thirty minutes ago.

  Yet I shouldn’t have to apologize for being selfish in this regard. I’d made mistakes as a mother and a friend, but I always tried my best to be a good person. That should count for something, too.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  GRACE

  Monday, February 22

  Rehab facility

  Sam had taken the day off work because, after Leron told me yesterday that he planned to have Carter attempt unsupported steps today, I’d taken a page out of Mimi’s playbook and asked my mom, Kim, and Sam to come surprise him with a little celebration. Hopefully Carter would be pleasantly surprised by the red velvet cake—his favorite.

  Since our first meeting with the lawyers, Sam had been spending more time at home closeted away in his office. I saw him when depositing the daily mail, in which the bills continued to pile up. He hadn’t said another word about those, though, probably because they supported my argument for filing a suit.

  I knocked on the door before peeking into his office. “We should get going so we can pick up my mom and decorate Carter’s room before his therapy session ends.”

  Sam scrubbed his scalp, glancing at the paperwork to his right. “Let’s hope he does better than expected. The sooner he comes home, the better.”

  For many reasons, I thought, praying he’d be home in another week. But seeing uncommon worry etched on Sam’s face made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. With a hand over my stomach, I asked, “How bad are things financially?”

  He hesitated. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I do actually.”

  Sam pressed his lips together as if debating whether he could trust me not to freak out. “Well, between this and property taxes, we’ve drained most of our bank savings account. We can tap the money market for the next round of co-pays, but after that we’ll n
eed to liquidate some investments, which will mess with our retirement portfolio and trigger capital gains taxes.”

  From the beginning, we’d saved and planned with an eye toward our kids’ educations and a comfortable retirement. That one bad incident could reverse our fortunes made me want to throw up. “A big verdict would help, right?” I tried not to sound righteous.

  “If we win . . .”

  Before we got into a debate, Kim raced in. “I made the sign!”

  She held up poster board that she’d decorated with hearts, glitter, and gold sticker letters that spelled out CONGRATS.

  “It’s perfect.” I squeezed her shoulder, wishing hearts and glitter could make us all feel better. “Thank you for making something special for your brother.”

  Sam stood and closed his laptop, forcing a smile for his daughter. “Guess it’s time we get the party started.”

  “Who else is coming?” Kim asked as we filed into the garage.

  “Gram.” I held the car door open for Kim, who scooted into the back seat with her poster.

  Kim grimaced. “That’s not a party.”

  Maybe not, but I didn’t want to overwhelm Carter with visitors.

  Sam turned on a country station and then remained quiet the entire drive, not even participating in Kim’s lively conversation with my mother about Dolittle, which we’d watched together last night. “Together” might be a misnomer, given that Sam had sat in the easy chair rather than beside me on the sofa, and Kim had plopped onto the floor with a bowl of Cheetos. Throughout the film Carter’s absence had loomed large in my thoughts, so much of what Kim was telling my mother about the movie was news to me.

  Throughout the drive, I could feel my mother eyeing Sam and me from time to time. When he pulled into the parking spot, Kim swung open her door without paying attention.

  “Carter’s coming home soon, right?” she asked. Sam barely kept her door from dinging the car beside us.