Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5)

by Catherine Bybee

  Stupid thought. The chances of her biological parents ever being away on business was slim to none. Kids not ready for kids was a more likely scenario.

  Her thoughts moved directly to Glen. He’d had such a different life, loving parents, stable home. Yet they were both just now entering a committed relationship for the first time.

  Mary lifted Leo into his crib and watched him sleep.

  It wasn’t until she saw lights from a car outside that she walked toward the window overlooking the street below.

  A dark sedan slowed to nearly a stop in front of the house. Mary wondered if it was an unmarked police car, something Officer Taylor said to expect. It didn’t stick around long before it drove away.

  Mary crept out of Leo’s room thinking of how lucky she was to have what she did.

  Mary found her phone and sent a quick text to Dakota. Leo is asleep and everything is fine. Enjoy your evening.

  A smiley face was Dakota’s reply.

  Glen talked to Mary every day, texted her constantly . . . and yet he still missed her.

  Their winter trip to London hadn’t happened, so this one was longer than normal. Jason and Glen were due to fly back on Wednesday, and it was only Sunday.

  Jet lag alone kept them a half a step behind for two days.

  “Did Dakota survive a few hours away last night?” Glen called Mary as early as he could without waking her up. He’d just come off an afternoon lawn party that took place in tents because of the London rain. He had an hour to shower and change for the next round of shoulder rubbing on his Sunday.

  “Two hours and twenty minutes . . . and yes. It was good for them. I saw it in their faces when they walked in the door.”

  “I would imagine the first time is the hardest, and after that it gets easier.”

  “I hope so, or she’ll be sitting on a therapy couch in ten years asking what happened to her own identity . . . how did she become just a mom.”

  “What’s on your agenda today?” Glen liked the idea of picturing what Mary was doing. It made the distance more tolerable somehow.

  “Furniture shopping. There are a few wholesale warehouses in the valley I’m going to check out.”

  His mind flashed to the week of all the chaos. The first thing that needed to be replaced was her mattress. Glen didn’t consider himself a shopper, but hopping from one mattress to the other with Mary by his side changed his mind. “Make sure there’s a comfortable armrest on the couch,” he told her.

  “Why?”

  “For when we don’t make it to your bedroom.”

  He felt her blushing through the phone.

  “Good call.” Her giggle made him smile.

  “I need to go. I’ll call before I go to bed.”

  “I’d tell you that isn’t necessary, but I’d be depriving myself of your voice. And I’m becoming addicted to it.”

  He knew the feeling. “I wonder if there’s a twelve-step program for that?”

  “Probably. Have fun schmoozing.”

  “Have fun shopping.”

  He heard her blow him a kiss through the line.

  The problem with furniture shopping on a budget was everything you liked you couldn’t afford and everything you could afford you hated. The salesman at the second store she went to followed her around like a puppy. He had doe eyes that lingered on her butt every time she walked in front of him. Still, he seemed harmless, just enamored. “There is a hotel surplus store a couple miles from here. Gently used furniture from some high-end places.”

  Mary thought about the sofa she and Glen had made love on. At the time she didn’t consider how many others might have gotten naked on the furniture. Now she cringed. Bringing that into her home . . . not gonna happen. “I think I’ll pass on that.”

  The store she was in was filled with hard, contemporary edges and glass.

  After cleaning up glass in her condominium for two weeks, she decided wood would be a better option.

  “Any stores close by that have more traditional furniture?”

  The butt-watching employee happily told her about several places to shop. He seemed to understand her budget restraints and guided her to those he thought would be best. Then he asked her for her phone number.

  “I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend, not husband?” The guy was still smiling.

  “More like a fiancé.” She wasn’t sure where that stretch of the truth came from, but after Kent, she didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.

  “Fiancé is not a husband.”

  She laughed and his enamored smile gave way to total player status. “You’re persistent. But I’m not interested.”

  His eyes did the full body scan. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

  “You have a nice day.” She turned to leave.

  He called out after her, “It would have been if you’d said yes.” He was still flirting with her.

  Mary waved a hand in the air but didn’t turn around as she walked out the door.

  The next store leaned toward what she wanted but wasn’t perfect. Unlike the last one, with flirty player guy, this store had very few salespeople on the floor. Every once in a while, Mary felt someone watching and thought for sure a salesman stood in the wings just waiting for her to show interest in something.

  By the time lunch rolled around, she stood in the sixth store of the day. Maybe it was the heat that was climbing up into the hundreds or the fact she was hungry . . . or perhaps the sheer desire to get the job done, but the sixth store was the one she found her furniture in.

  Full, rounded armrests and sturdy wooden end tables along with great prices. Sold!

  It took over an hour to complete the paperwork and schedule a delivery, a delivery that cost twice as much since she lived in Orange County. Still, the furniture price offset the delivery charge.

  She ate lunch at one of the many small fast food Mexican restaurants the valley offered. The dollar tacos were always good, but she always felt a little out of place when eating them. As much as Mary attempted to tame her hair, by the middle of the day it took on a life of its own. And when a fair-skinned, blue-eyed blonde walked into an eatery that often only had dark-haired, brown-eyed patrons, she stuck out. Even the menu was only written in Spanish. Good thing she knew her way around the language enough to order food.

  She took her steak tacos and chips to a table and checked her e-mail on her phone while eating. Mary ignored the feeling of being watched while she ate.

  On her way home she kept an eye on her rearview mirror a little more than normal.

  Calling herself stressed, Mary did what she hadn’t done in a while. She detoured toward the beach, which was filled with people beating the heat of the valley. With a floppy hat, a beach chair, a paperback, and a bottle of water, Mary found her Zen. She took a quick picture of her feet facing the waves and sent it off to Glen. She teased him with the message: Hope the rain isn’t too bad.

  He sent a text a short time later of a dark sky and rain pouring in front of a streetlight. No such luck.

  Mary dipped her toes into the sand and her head into the pages of the book.

  She liked her life. Loved having Glen in it. Loved the simple enjoyment of babysitting for her BFF. Loved knowing that someone cared if she was at the beach or at work or home watching TV.

  She finished her day grocery shopping and missed a call from Glen while she was in the store.

  His message made her smile.

  “Sorry I missed you to say good night. I’m exhausted and have to be up early tomorrow. I’ll dream of you.”

  If his message wasn’t enough, the flowers on her doorstep when she got home had her smiling all night.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mary met her Monday with a headache and a scratchy throat.

  She was supposed to have breakfast with Dakota and Leo while Walt took the morning to check in with the ER.

  “I just don’t want to get the baby sick, and I feel like I’m com
ing down with something.”

  “All that shopping yesterday,” Dakota suggested.

  “I think it was the number of door handles I touched going in and out of stores.”

  “Do you have clients today?”

  “After one. I’m probably fine, just a head cold.”

  “If you need anything just holler. I’ll send Walt over with a biological warfare suit and some Tylenol.”

  Mary couldn’t help but laugh with the image that came to mind. “I’m guessing the old Dakota is coming back.” Dakota had always been a closet prepper. Someone who stocked enough food for four months and medical supplies for a year. During her pregnancy some of that waned.

  “The old Dakota needed to remove the cast and the ten pounds of baby in her belly. Do you have any idea how good that first shower felt when I came home cast free?”

  “You’ve already told me.” About a dozen times.

  “Feel better. If you plan on staying home, give me a call so I know it’s you running around in your house.”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  Mary almost asked her not to say good-bye, but didn’t.

  She took a nap around ten, had some hot soup for lunch, and left for the office at twelve thirty feeling marginally better.

  Right as she pulled into the parking lot at work, her phone rang.

  “I was wondering if I’d hear from you today.” The eight-hour time difference between her and Glen was not something she wanted to get used to.

  “Meetings all day. Dinner with clients. How are you?”

  Mary rubbed her forehead as if it was going to ease the ache inside. “I’m actually kinda sick.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah, think I picked up something shopping yesterday.”

  “Poor baby. I hate being ill.”

  “Don’t we all. And I’m about to go into the office so I’m going to have to cut this short.”

  “You go. I just wanted to tell you I was thinking about you.”

  She cradled the phone as she sat in her car talking on it. “I miss you, too.”

  “I’ll be flying back Wednesday and flying out again on Friday to come see you.”

  “I can’t wait. I should be better by then.”

  “And Mary?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m really glad you said yes to our first date.”

  “I’m really glad you asked.”

  He disconnected the call and she forgot about her headache.

  “I have some good news.” Officer Taylor had left a message when she was with a client, and when she called him back, this was how he started the conversation.

  “I’m listening.”

  “We have a partial match from the prints we took off your office door to that inside your condo.”

  “Which means that whoever was in my condo has been in my office.”

  “And that is enough of a reason to find Jacob Golf and bring him in.”

  Mary wrapped the bulk of her hair in her hand and tossed it behind her back. “I thought you were looking for Jacob already.”

  “Sending a car to his residence and work when you called was the extent of our search. We’ll bring him in, see if we can get him to consent to fingerprints to see if they match.”

  “If he’s guilty, he won’t consent.”

  “Maybe he’ll say something that gives us the right to run him through the process. We’ll get the prints.”

  Mary leaned the phone away from her mouth to cough. “This is good news.”

  “You sound sick.”

  “I am sick.”

  “I’ll give you an update as soon as I have one.”

  “Thanks, Officer Taylor.”

  “You watch yourself, Miss Kildare. Once we heat things up, the guilty often get active.”

  “I’m picking up my shotgun next week. The guy at the store said it’s the best for home defense.” She held the thing once, went through the motions of loading it for the sake of buying it, but still wasn’t sure she should have it.

  “Shotguns do the job. Every woman in my family owns one.”

  Somehow, she knew he’d say that. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Feel better, Miss Kildare.”

  Mary barely made it through her last client before feeling like she was going to fall asleep on the drive home.

  The lights in the parking lot did a fair job of lighting her route to her car. Not that she paid much attention to them.

  Halfway around the building, she saw Kent walking her way.

  “You’re off early.”

  She coughed twice and lifted her hand holding her briefcase. “Finishing at home tonight.”

  “You look a little pale.”

  “Head cold,” she said, even though she knew it was more than that. She used the remote on her keychain to unlock the door of her car.

  Kent shuffled around her to open her door.

  She muttered a thanks and climbed inside. “You’re working late tonight.”

  “I told you I’d walk you to your car. I keep my commitments.” Kent leaned in as he spoke.

  Mary turned her head to cough. “I appreciate your help. But don’t let me put you out.” Her head was splitting.

  “You’re not putting me out.”

  She offered a weak smile. “I should get home.”

  “Good night.”

  Mary waved as she pulled away and counted the red lights on her way home.

  It was the middle of the night in London, so she texted Glen instead of a call. I heard from Officer Taylor. They have a match on fingerprints. I’ll give you details tomorrow . . . I’m fighting more than a head cold. Ugh!!!

  Glen woke to Mary’s text. He had a hundred and one questions about the match on the fingerprints but got stuck on the image of Mary laid up in bed with a Kleenex to her nose and cough syrup at her bedside.

  He had a secretary that he never used for personal things . . . but there was a first time for everything, and he was half a world away. “I want a monkey . . . a teddy bear will do if you can’t find a monkey, but the monkey is better.”

  “With a thermometer?”

  “Yes, with a thermometer in its hand or mouth.”

  “You’re serious.” Sylvia was in her late forties and had worked as the CFO’s secretary since before he took the position.

  “It’s above and beyond. I’ll make it up on your birthday.”

  “My birthday was last month.”

  “Christmas then. I want the card to say . . .” He rattled off his sentiment with a smile.

  “How much do you want to spend on this monkey?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “A hundred bucks?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “A thousand?”

  “I. Don’t. Care.”

  “Do you want balloons with this?”

  His eyes lit up. “Great idea.”

  “I was kidding.” The sarcasm in her voice made his smile bigger.

  “Today. If she’s not home, leave it at her doorstep.”

  “You don’t pay me enough, Fairchild.”

  “Yes I do. Thanks, Sylvia.”

  “I draw the line at breakup flowers.”

  He imagined Mary picking up the monkey and reading his card. “I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about those.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . . you owe me.”

  He liked his sassy secretary.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mary crawled out of bed the next morning long enough to call her clients and tell them she wasn’t well and needed to reschedule or risk making them ill.

  Walt showed up just before noon. “I left the bio suit at home.”

  Mary opened the door, wrapped her bathrobe a little tighter around her waist. “Dakota won’t let you back inside until you’ve gone through decon.”

  “She’s not that bad.”


  Mary laughed. She knew his wife better than he did sometimes.

  He had his doctor bag and looked her up and around, asked her a bunch of questions.

  “I think it’s viral.”

  She knew what that meant. “No antibiotics.”

  “Nope, just good old sleep and crap to make you feel better. Dakota has a ton of decongestants, nighttime stuff. Daytime stuff. Don’t drag yourself to the drugstore when you have one right across the street.” He suggested a few things by name. All of which she had.

  Mary rested her head in her hand. “I’m stocked. But let Dakota know I’ll have her leave it in the middle of the street if I need something.”

  She walked him to the door as the bell was ringing.

  A delivery boy, not much older than eighteen, stood with a stuffed something and a half dozen balloons.

  “Ah, Miss Kildare?”

  Mary lifted a hand.

  Walt stood back when the kid handed her the toy.

  It took a minute for her to recognize what the mass of fake fur was. Then she started laughing until she was coughing.

  The kid stood back and looked around.

  “It’s a monkey.”

  Walt blinked, stared, and blinked again. “Yep. It’s a monkey.”

  “That’s funny.” She kept laughing. The boy at the door looked behind him toward his delivery van.

  “Oh, a tip.” She twisted around, wondered where she’d left her purse as another coughing fit stopped her progress up to her bedroom.

  “You know, lady . . . it’s okay.”

  Walt removed a five-dollar bill from his wallet and helped her out.

  In the back of her head it registered that the kid drove away and Walt said his good-byes . . . but all Mary could see was a silly stuffed monkey with sad eyes, holding a thermometer.

  This time, Glen sent a card.

  You didn’t even have to fight for it.

  She set the balloons next to the flowers that were starting to turn and hugged the monkey to her chest.

  When she climbed back in bed, her head ached, her chest felt heavy, but her heart was full.

  The ibuprofen and cough syrup Glen suggested wiped her out for a good two hours. She felt a little better when she climbed out of bed the second time that day but still knew she wasn’t right.