Merried

by Jamie Farrell

“Me too, me too.”

  He gestured her ahead—Such a nice gentleman, Phoebe Moon said on a sigh—and she typed a quick text to Max while she walked down the romantically lit wooden hallway, reminding him to keep his doors and windows locked and that she’d changed his security code on his house’s alarm system.

  If she had to have accidentally fallen into uber-friendship with a jeweler, at least he was semi-equipped to battle her father.

  Hopefully he had a safe hidden behind a picture somewhere in his house too. She hadn’t thought to check, because she wasn’t actually a criminal.

  Usually.

  She stepped into the austere private dining room, where servers were clearing dinner plates of mostly eaten chicken from the linen tablecloth. Poinsettias decorated the sideboard. The windows overlooked the wedding cake monument. A tray of individual servings of cheesecake—yes!—sat near a door she assumed led to the kitchen. Mom stopped mid-conversation with John, who was the color of a man who’d just been put in his place by his future sister-in-law, though Mom appeared cool as an early spring daffodil.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Merry headed toward the empty seat between John and Richard.

  John nodded.

  Richard ogled Merry’s chest.

  And Mom smiled, but her eyes were brown puddles of anxiety. “Merry, darling. How’s poor Max?”

  “Poor pretty much sums it up, but he’ll pull through.”

  “So nice of you to tend to a friend in need.” And have you seen your father and disposed of the Mrs. Claus diamond? Mom’s expression seemed to add.

  I have no idea what you’re talking about on either account, Merry attempted to telegraph back.

  Merry, you just told your mother you’d rather eat frogs than touch that diamond again, Phoebe Moon chastised. You need to work on silent communication.

  Telepathy is impossible, Phoebe Moon, Zack Diggory said.

  Obviously you’ve never had a mother.

  Neither have you.

  Touché.

  Merry told the two teenagers in her head to hush, and concentrated on her mother. Mom was a master at running formal dinners, and putting on everything’s good here acts, and tonight seemed no different.

  “Glad you could make it in time for the toasts,” Mom was saying. “And the cheesecake, of course.”

  “Cheesecake can go in a box, but the toast can’t,” Merry said.

  Mom’s smile spread wider. “Isn’t she the best daughter?”

  “She’s wonderful,” Patrick said with a wink.

  “Don’t know her well yet,” John boomed.

  Richard merely continued to stare at Merry’s boobs.

  Merry shook out her red cloth napkin and put it in her lap. “I invited Max to your wedding.”

  Close enough to the truth.

  Not even Botox could disguise Mom’s obviously conflicted feelings about Max though. “You’ve never brought a date to any of my weddings before.”

  “If he’s feeling up to it,” she added quickly.

  Richard smirked.

  “I’ve promised to defend his honor if anyone tries to feel him up while he’s under the weather,” Merry said. Pointedly.

  “Merry’s a ninja,” Patrick said.

  “Kinky,” Richard purred over his wineglass.

  “I thought ninjas were invisible,” John boomed.

  “Common misconception.” Merry eyed her fork. If it were to accidentally slip and land in Richard’s eyeball, that would probably only half-qualify as a wedding disaster in Mom’s mind. But Merry had probably committed enough crimes already today. “Oh, is that strawberry sauce on the cheesecake? My favorite.”

  “Merry once ate an entire cheesecake while hiding under my bed,” Mom announced. Her forehead shifted, a good sign she was ready to be done with Richard and John.

  Merry could sympathize, and she’d only been here three minutes. “I didn’t eat it by myself. I shared it with my imaginary best friend, Clarence the Clown.”

  “You were so adorable at twenty-three,” Mom said.

  That finally got Richard’s eyes off Merry’s chest.

  “Can I have Terry’s cheesecake too?” Merry winked at Richard. “He’s my imaginary taxidermist friend.”

  Max would’ve been stifling a grin, but Richard angled closer to Patrick on his other side.

  John’s lips puffed out in a frown. “Patrick, you know the girl has issues?”

  “But at least she’s not ogling your son’s testicles, John, dear,” Mom said with a sweet smile.

  It’s a really good thing Patrick loves your mom so much, Phoebe Moon whispered.

  “I miss Jim the Juggler,” Patrick announced. “Remember him, Merry?”

  Mom’s brows almost wiggled higher on her face, and Merry felt another surge of affection for impending stepfather number six. “My imaginary friend last month,” she explained to John and Richard. “He kept breaking things and blaming it on me.”

  “I’ll never get that Ming vase back, but he was such a good friend to you,” Mom said.

  “They’re all touched, Patrick,” John boomed. “They’ve made you touched.”

  Patrick put his arm around Mom. “John, I’ve waited my whole life for love. Living with Merry’s imaginary friends is a small sacrifice to pay for the privilege of having these two lovely ladies in my life every day.”

  Something got stuck in Merry’s eye. A feather, maybe, or a speck of strawberry sauce.

  Or possibly, it was a doomed wish that this time Mom’s husband would stick.

  * * *

  It was dark the next time Max opened his eyes. No Merry. No Scout.

  But someone was downstairs.

  Max rolled to his back with a grunt, his gaze landing on the dark shadow of his display case.

  He’d had some fucked-up dreams today, and the guilt was still lingering.

  “Max?” Dan called. “You up?”

  “Yeah,” Max grunted.

  “What’s up with your girlfriend’s paranoia?”

  The click of the front door locking echoed up the stairs, then the beep of Dan entering the security code.

  A minute later, he appeared in Max’s doorway and flipped on the lights. “No Christmas tree yet? You still have all of Gran’s ornaments, don’t you?”

  Max squinted. Scout wagged her tail and followed Dan into the room. Dan dropped into a spare kitchen chair that Max kept in the corner, but Scout made herself at home on Max’s bed.

  Right where Merry had spent half the day.

  He thought.

  “Today Thursday?”

  “For a few more hours. You tell Merry to change your alarm code?”

  “Her dad’s a jewel thief.”

  Smooth, dumbass, Zack Diggory intoned.

  After a slack-jawed moment, Dan folded his hands over his gut and laughed. “Rachel said she was funny, even if she did leave you last year. Rubbing off, is it?”

  Max felt around for his phone.

  Two missed texts from Merry, one telling him she’d changed his alarm code, the other reminding him to lock his doors and windows.

  A little extreme, even for Merry.

  His thumbs hovered over his phone, but he stopped himself before he asked if her dad was in town.

  She would’ve told him.

  Wouldn’t she?

  “Nicholas Raymond,” Max said to Dan. He pulled up a browser on his phone and entered the thief’s name in the search bar, then held it out for his brother.

  Dan didn’t move to take it. “The dude who made off with Grace Kelly’s engagement ring,” he said, more a statement than a question.

  “He’s Merry’s dad.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I’m cursed, man.” Max tried to smile.

  Dan didn’t. “You’re dating the daughter of a jewel thief.”

  “Not actually dating—”

  “She disappeared. Last year.”

  “I didn’t know until she left.”

  “Does Pops
know?”

  After years of being assistant manager, Max had taken over full duties from their father, who was now happily retired, planning to spend his summers on the golf course and his winters in the bowling alley whenever Ma wasn’t taking him out on road trips. “Gramps did.”

  “Jesus, Max.”

  “She’s not her father.”

  “Where is her father?”

  Good question, considering Merry’s sudden paranoia. “Would you love Rachel any less if her father was a jewel thief?”

  “You think you’re in love with a jewel thief’s daughter.”

  “She. Is. Not. Her. Father.” Which was the entire point of telling Dan.

  Because if his whole family could understand why Merry left, why she thought she’d had to leave last year, why she was catching a plane to fucking France, then they’d back him up.

  They’d help him convince her to stay. They’d all show her she could belong.

  Dan dropped his head to one hand and rubbed his brow. “Okay. She’s not her father. But you still should’ve mentioned this sooner.”

  “Did you know Gran’s grandfather was a snake oil salesman?”

  “Why don’t we save this until you’ve held down some food for more than four hours?”

  There, there, widdle Maxy-waxy. Let Daddy Dan take care of you. Daddy Dan knows best. “I told you,” Max growled, “because I trust you to help me show Merry the people in this town don’t give a damn who she’s related to.”

  Dan suddenly looked older than his thirty-seven years. “The dressmakers don’t have to care. The photographers don’t have to care. The bakers and caterers and florists don’t have to care. But we’re jewelers. We have to care.”

  “That’s what Gramps said.”

  “Gramps was a wise old man.”

  “Gran chewed his ass up one side and down the other for it.”

  “Max—”

  “Get out.”

  Dan’s brows shot up. “Max,” he started again, this time like he was placating a three-year-old, “leaving aside the fact that she abandoned you last year, I could potentially like Merry. But—”

  Max’s stomach twisted and grumbled, and his face flushed. “But her father might try to rob the store one day, so I need to move on?”

  Scout whined.

  “I didn’t say that,” Dan said.

  “Then what the hell is the issue?”

  “If you won’t tell me when you’re dating the daughter of a jewel thief, what else won’t you tell me? Was that really Merry’s mother with her today in my store? Are they really here for a wedding? Who is she? What does she do? Where does she live?”

  Wasn’t just Max’s stomach bug making his face hot now.

  Because he couldn’t answer half of those. “It’s our store, and as manager, I took appropriate actions to increase security as soon as I knew. You want to know why she left last year? She left to protect me. To protect our family. She knows he’s wrong. She’s suffered for him more in her life than you can even begin to imagine. But you still won’t give her a chance.” A giant ball of conflicted, gassy, emotional slime roiled in his gut.

  Dan stood. “Rach sent some soup over. I’ll lock the door on my way out. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

  In other words, You’ll still be wrong when I lecture you tomorrow.

  Scout scooted closer to Max, her tail swishing against his covers, big brown eyes worried.

  Downstairs, Dan hit the code, then slammed the door.

  “So that’s how you fuck up a relationship and make sure the girl flees to France as scheduled,” Max muttered to Scout.

  His dog didn’t answer.

  And even though the lights were still on in his bedroom, Max flipped onto his stomach, tossed an arm around Scout, and closed his eyes again.

  If he couldn’t be right and if he couldn’t have the girl he wanted, at least he could be unconscious.

  Chapter 23

  Phoebe Moon might be tiny in stature, but she wasn’t afraid of Uncle Sandy. Nor was she afraid of spiders, snakes, or quicksand.

  She was, however, afraid the grown-ups would one day make her be a kid again.

  —Phoebe Moon and the Secret Sister

  * * *

  “One of my more memorable rehearsal dinners, wasn’t it?” Mom said to Merry after they returned to the B&B. Patrick was out at Suckers for his bachelor party with John and Richard, and Merry was itching to go check on Max one more time tonight.

  “Sorry to have missed so much of it.”

  “Sweetheart, when’s the last time you missed any part of one of my weddings?”

  “Um, never?”

  “Exactly. You’re due.” Mom sighed. “I’m sorry you can’t keep him. You seem quite smitten.”

  “Maybe we’ll stay friends.”

  Mom studied her for a minute, then reached for Merry’s hand. “Have I ever told you how much I admire your independence? I’m not sure I’ve had a day in my life when I was as strong as you are.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  They were propped on a comfy plaid couch in the B&B’s sitting room, a Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the corner while the TV played It’s A Wonderful Life. Mom was still in her rehearsal dinner pantsuit, complete with a poinsettia pinned at her heart and her feet snug in her fur-lined boots.

  Merry opened her mouth to change the subject and say what she almost always said the night before her mother’s weddings—“You got a really good guy this time, Mom”—but it wasn’t right.

  Mom always went for the good guys. Stable men with solid careers, good relationships with their mothers, and no criminal backgrounds.

  But they never stuck.

  “Would you take Daddy back?”

  Mom’s head turned slowly, like it was on a crank with gears too small. “What happened to you last night?”

  What she’d done last night and this morning was filed away in her brain under Speak Of This To No One. Ever. And she’d already broken the rule by telling Max as much as he needed to know.

  “Do you ever just want to go far, far away?” Merry whispered.

  Mom got her. Mom sat at fancy dinners and had the right amount of fun with Merry’s fake imaginary friends. She texted Merry every time she went shopping, asking which dress or pants or shoes looked better, and Merry did the same.

  But Merry still didn’t know how much Mom might speak with Daddy. And she didn’t know how much Mom might confide in Daddy.

  All she knew was that Mom had never gotten over Daddy.

  “I can’t run from who I am and what I’ve done,” Mom said. “They say your past catches up with you, but they’re wrong. It doesn’t catch up, because it never leaves. You learn to live with what you’ve done and how it’s molded you into the person you are today. To accept that you’re imperfect, that you’re fallible, that you’re human. And, ultimately, how to forgive yourself.”

  Merry didn’t feel human. Well, maybe a small part human.

  Like the heel part.

  She stole a freaking diamond today. And shoved it inside a toy car.

  “I want to be someone else sometimes,” she confessed to Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey.

  George Bailey wouldn’t have stolen a famous diamond ring today.

  But I would’ve, Phoebe Moon said.

  See what you’ve done now? Zack Diggory chastised.

  Mom pulled Merry into a warm, vanilla-scented Mom-hug. “You can be someone else for a while,” she whispered into Merry’s hair. “But promise me you’ll come back to being you soon. Because you’re perfect just the way you are.”

  There were moments when Merry wondered if her mother knew more than she gave her credit for.

  This was one of them. “You have to say that because you’re my mother.”

  “I have to say that because I happen to very much enjoy the woman you’ve become, and I would hate to see the world deprived of what only you can offer it.”

  Did she know?

  Abo
ut France? About Phoebe Moon?

  About what Merry had done with the Mrs. Claus diamond? “Wow. I forgot how mushy we get the night before you get married.”

  “I was actually thinking how lovely it is that you’re talking to me before this wedding. Such an improvement over my first three.”

  “So is your choice in grooms.”

  “Now we simply have to find you a nice man who’s not a jeweler.”

  “I thought you admired my independence.”

  “I do, but you’re depriving me of beautiful grandbabies.”

  “How could I possibly raise a baby when I can’t even raise my parents?”

  “For that, I’m taking away your maid-of-honor gift.”

  “Hey! I let Richard ogle my rack for that cheese basket.”

  Mom snuffled out a laugh. “That poor boy. You can do some of your ninja moves on him after the wedding tomorrow.”

  Max would love watching that.

  And the idea of his eyes going smoky and intrigued by her self-defense moves made Merry warm and tingly in all the right places.

  She had a ticket to Paris on Sunday. She had an apartment booked just outside Lyon for the next two months. She’d been reading the French-English dictionary on her phone. Her new life was waiting.

  But her new life didn’t have a Max.

  “Meredith, you are not seriously considering doing any ninja moves on Richard at my wedding tomorrow. Promise me.”

  Merry smiled. “It wouldn’t be one of your weddings if it wasn’t memorable.”

  * * *

  Max woke up late that night to a room with its lights still on, a snoring dog, and a weird feeling about his scale-model Mustangs.

  He was also starving.

  But stumbling downstairs in the dark to heat up a bowl of soup zapped most of his energy. Halfway through the bowl, he collapsed onto his couch. Scout padded in and curled up on the braided rug beside him. He let his hand drop into her fur, and she nuzzled his arm.

  “Good dog,” he murmured.

  His limbs were heavy, his stomach still sore, and his head oddly empty, but something was missing.

  And not just sleep.

  Max lay on the sofa and watched the dim shadow of the fireplace grate until his eyes crossed, but he couldn’t fall asleep. He’d bought this sofa specifically because he could fall asleep on it, but not tonight.