Better Off Without Him (Romantic Comedy)

by Dee Ernst

  “And I’m sure it was just what you wanted,” Rebecca said gently.

  I glared at her. “No, of course it wasn’t. I wanted a Datsun 240Z with a moon roof.”

  “I loved those cars,” Rebecca murmured.

  “I had one,” Julian said. “Black with red pinstripes.”

  The house was starting to smell of sugar, which should have put me in a happy place, but I was on a roll. “Lauren has become a vegetarian. Just last week, in fact. She wanted me to make Tofurkey for today.”

  Julian looked puzzled. “Tofurkey? Is that a real word?”

  “Yes,” Rebecca said. “It’s tofu pressed into the shape of a turkey, seasoned with herbs, and baked. It’s supposed to be quite good, and taste just like real turkey.”

  I snorted. “Rebecca, you know I love you, but that’s a crock of shit. Nothing takes like real turkey except real turkey. She’s in a snit and wailing that she’s going to starve. We’re having sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, creamed onions, green bean casserole, roasted Brussels sprouts, stuffing and two kinds of rolls besides the bird. And four different pies for dessert. I somehow think she’ll find something else to eat.”

  Rebecca nodded in agreement. “And Jessica?”

  “A tattoo.”

  “To be expected.”

  “Yes. And seriously, I wouldn’t mind something small, like a Chinese character or a musical note.”

  “But?”

  I sighed. “She wants this shoulder to elbow thing, all swirls and colors, and it will cost a fortune besides being something I know she’ll regret if she ever decides to get married and wear a chic sleeveless dress.”

  Rebecca gave me a look. “Because we all know how likely it is that Jess will wear a chic sleeveless dress. Or even get married.”

  Lily swept into the kitchen. “Good morning, Rebecca. Lovely to see you.” She gave Rebecca a kiss and Julian a hard look. “Is this the new beau? He was at Miranda’s little fete, I’m told.” She held out her hand. “Lily Martel.”

  Julian stood up and kissed her hand. “Julian FitzPatrick. At your service.”

  Lily raised her eyebrows. “Oh, my. Rebecca, I always knew you were the only one in that family with any class.”

  “Aunt Lily,” I began, but she waved me off.

  “Not to worry, Mona. I’m on best behavior today, promise. After all, it’s not Phyllis’s fault her son is an unmitigated jackass. Are those your famous rolls, I smell, Rebecca?”

  “Yes. About another ten minutes and they’ll be ready. You’re looking well, Lily.”

  “Thank you. I’m feeling quite good these days. Blue algae is the secret. I take it twice a day. Cleans out the system. Of course, your poop is bright blue, but well worth it. Mona is not a believer, but I think the girls are coming around.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Did you mention the blue poop to them?”

  Lily shook her head.

  “Well…” Rebecca said slowly.

  Lily brightened. “Excellent idea. I’m sure that will do the trick. Can I help you with anything right now, Mona?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Good here. I’ll call the girls in a bit.”

  “Excellent.” She had poured herself some coffee and was heading for the den. “Oh, I meant to ask, is Mitch coming?”

  I shook my head. “No. Couldn’t make it. But I asked Ben.”

  She stopped in the doorway to the den and gave me a sly smile. “Oh, how lovely. Do you think he’ll take off his shirt?”

  I almost dropped the carton of eggs I was taking out of the fridge. “No, I don’t think so. But don’t ask him, please?”

  She looked sorrowful and disappeared into the den.

  Rebecca had found a bowl and was cracking eggs into it. “Mitch? And Ben?”

  “Mitch is the man I’ve been seeing,” I explained, putting the frying pan on the stove to heat up. “About four months now. He’s really nice, and the girls seem to like him.”

  “Is it love?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Sleeping with him?”

  “As often as I can.”

  “Good girl. Is he the rebound guy?”

  I chuckled to myself and thought about Doug. “No, I had one of those. Mitch is the alternative relationship guy. You know, the-dipping-the-toe-in-the-water guy. For now it’s good, but who knows how long it will last.”

  “And Ben?”

  I pulled the rolls out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool. “Ben is my plumber. He’s divorced, and his sons are away, so I thought it would be nice for him to be around people instead of all by himself.”

  Rebecca glanced over at me as she whisked the eggs. “Is he the same plumber who’s really good-looking with the hot body I’ve been hearing about all these years?”

  “Yep.”

  “Sounds yummy. Is the table set?”

  “Yes, but could you get the juice? I’ll start the eggs in a minute.” I went into the hall and yelled up to the girls, and the day began.

  You’d think the hours between hot cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs and the actual sitting down to turkey dinner would drag, but they don’t. Rebecca and I can talk for hours, the girls sit and watch parades with Aunt Lily, and there’s all that food to get ready. Around noon, the bird had already been stuffed and put in the oven. Patricia arrived, apple pie in one hand, a bottle of my favorite port and a huge bouquet of flowers in the other. She greeted everyone, dazzled Julian with a smile, mixed herself a martini and supervised the setting of the table. She pulled glasses and bowls out of my breakfront that I forgot I even had, arranged the flowers beautifully, and started on her second drink. Rebecca watched as she always did when around Patricia, in utter amazement.

  Anthony arrived a short while later, with cherry pie and brie wrapped in pastry.

  “We’ll pop it in the oven for about twenty minutes,” he said, “so we’ll have a little something to nosh.” Victor was with him, Victor of the beautiful yoga body and air of serene wisdom. Anthony gave him a tour, introduced him around, parked him with Lily and the girls, and came back into the kitchen frowning.

  “Why is there an extra place at the table? I thought Mitch couldn’t come.”

  “He can’t,” I explained. “But I invited Ben.”

  His face dropped. “Ben? Ben is coming here?”

  Patricia, sensing a crisis, swooped in.

  “Why did you invite Ben?” Anthony hissed.

  I’d been trimming the Brussels sprouts, using a very sharp knife to remove the little stems and make a tiny slit in the tough end. “I invited Ben because I ran into him and he told me he’d always had a mad crush on you, and he wished he could spend a little time with you so he could ask you out. Too bad you brought Victor.”

  Anthony clutched the front of his cashmere pullover. “Oh, God, no.”

  “No,” Patricia said firmly. “She ran into him, he told her he’d be alone, and she made a very friendly gesture in inviting him here.”

  Anthony was breathing heavily. “I could pretend to get really sick, have Victor take me home, then come back here by myself. What time is dinner? When did Ben say he’d be here?”

  “Anthony,” Patricia said, raising her voice. “Think a minute. Do you really imagine, even for a split second, that if Victor weren’t here, Ben would suddenly look at you, give up a lifetime of women, and ravish you on the dinner table?”

  “On the dinner table? Oh, God, would he really?” Anthony’s voice cracked as he slumped against the counter. “I can’t breathe.”

  I was trying so hard not to laugh that I could barely speak. “Anthony, I invited him after we had dinner together. And I never mentioned that you’d be here. Honest.”

  He straightened up and narrowed his eyes at me. “You two had dinner?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because when I mention his name, you get apoplectic, that’s why. Calm down. We’ll all have something really nice to look at be
sides Patricia’s centerpiece and my turkey. The brie should be ready. Why don’t you take it around?”

  Anthony got his breathing under control, gave me a hard look, and grabbed the brie.

  Patricia also gave me a hard look. “You shouldn’t do that to him,” she chided.

  “I know. I just can’t help it.”

  “How are you cooking these?” she asked, nodding at the sprouts.

  “Just salt, pepper, oil in a hot oven, why?”

  “Toss them with some balsamic. And pancetta if you’ve got it. Trust me. Why did you really invite Ben?”

  “God, Patricia, why do you think? The man’s beautiful.”

  “What about Mitch?”

  “Nothing about Mitch. Mitch couldn’t come. This has nothing to do with Mitch.”

  “If Mitch were coming, would you have invited Ben?”

  I had to think about that one. “Probably not. But Mitch knows I invited Ben.”

  “Does Mitch know how good-looking Ben is?”

  “No. They haven’t met.”

  Patricia raised an eyebrow. “Is this getting complicated?”

  “No.” I said firmly. I heard a car beep in the drive, and turned to yell. ”Girls, Grandma’s here.”

  I suddenly got choked up.

  I had not seen Phyllis since before Brian left, and hearing the horn brought back twenty years of memories, most of them good. I loved Phyllis, not just because she’d been my mother-in-law, but because she was a warm, caring person who loved me and my daughters and had been very good to all of us. I suddenly ached to see her, so I ran to the door, threw it open, and swept Phyllis into my arms. She was shaking, crying a little, and we held each other for a long time, until she finally pulled away, wiping tears turned black from mascara.

  “Oh, Mona, it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you. You look wonderful, and your hair! It’s so short! The girls told me, of course, put I couldn’t picture it.” She looked past me. “Miranda! Sweet girls, give me a kiss!” I watched, feeling a warm glow settle over me that was dashed by a cold voice in my left ear.

  “Hello, Mona.”

  I turned. It was MarshaTheBitch.

  My other sister-in-law is short, like Phyllis, curvy, with light brown hair and blue eyes, also like Phyllis. MarshaTheBitch wears her hair is a very short, curly perm and is always perfectly made up, just like Phyllis. But MarshaTheBitch wears an expression on her face that looks like she just got a whiff of something unpleasant, not a sneer, exactly, but a slight curling of the upper lip. She had that expression on her face now, only more so, because although I knew she was intensely relieved that her brother was finally going to be rid of me, we were still technically family, and she still really didn’t like me.

  Which was fine, because I really didn’t like her either.

  “Marsha, what a surprise. Really. Because you told me you wouldn’t be here.”

  She looked aggrieved. “Mom had a migraine all day yesterday, and didn’t feel well enough to drive. I invited her to come to Frank’s folks, but she insisted on coming here instead. So I sent Frank off with the kids, and agreed to bring her here. I hope you have enough food.”

  Perfect. My least favorite person in the world would be spending the day in my house. Not only would I have to be nice to her for the sake of the kids, but I’d have to be grateful that she’d brought Phyllis.

  Phyllis tugged at my sleeve as MarshaTheBitch swept past. “I hope you don’t mind, Mona, but I really couldn’t drive, and if she hadn’t come, I would have had to eat at Frank’s family’s house, and I don’t think I could have stood it.”

  Having met Frank’s parents on several occasions, I couldn’t blame her. They were just like him, only ten times worse: pompous, boring, and totally devoid of a sense of humor.

  “Of course I don’t mind,” I said. “It’s worth it to have you here. Did you bring pie?”

  She nodded and dived into the trunk of her car, bringing forth her specialty, the best pecan pie you’ll ever taste in your life.

  We went back into the kitchen, which seemed very crowded, so I loudly suggested we take the brie and some wine into the living room. Everyone filed out quite nicely, but Anthony stayed behind, arranging more crackers on a dish. He looked up at me slyly.

  “I’m sure Marsha will be quite interested to meet Ben,” he said.

  I closed my eyes. He was right. She’d never leave him alone. She’d assume he was with me and pump him ceaselessly for information. I didn’t want to put him through all that. I wouldn’t want to put anyone through all that.

  “Ben can be Patricia’s date,” I said, suddenly inspired.

  “Does he know that?” Anthony asked.

  “No, of course not. I just now thought it up.”

  “Well, make sure you tell him,” Anthony said. “And you might want to let Patricia know.”

  “Send her back here,” I hissed as he went towards the living room.

  I stood in the middle of the kitchen and took deep, cleaning breaths. Lily wandered in.

  “I heard a commotion. Is Phyllis here?”

  “Yes, Aunt Lily. And Marsha is with her.”

  Lily’s eyes went cold. “MarshaTheBitch is here?”

  “Yes. Listen. I need a huge favor. We need to make her think that Ben is Patricia’s date. Otherwise, she’ll assume he’s with me and the entire day could get ugly.”

  “Very ugly,” Lily murmured. “Not to worry dear, I can handle this.”

  “Handle what?” Patricia asked, coming in and looking concerned.

  “Patricia, when Ben gets here, can he be your date? Please?”

  “MarshaTheBitch?” Patricia asked. She’s very quick on the uptake.

  I nodded.

  “Of course, Mona. Rather ridiculous, but I understand perfectly. What else can I do?”

  “Get her drunk?”

  Patricia beamed. “No problem.” She and Lily went out. I turned, grabbed the phone, and called Mitch’s cell phone.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Mitch? Mona. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Are we playing the ‘Who’s Having A Worse Thanksgiving’ game?”

  He chuckled. “I wasn’t planning to, but it sounds like fun. You first.”

  “My sister-in-law Marsha showed up.”

  “MarshaTheBitch?”

  “Yep. Your turn.”

  “Vicki’s new boyfriend is a twenty-six-year-old golf pro.”

  “That must be comfortable.”

  “Oh, yes. But I think you’re ahead right now.”

  “Maybe. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I took another deep breath, grabbed wine and some glasses, and strode into the living room.

  Rebecca and Patricia had MarshaTheBitch surrounded on the couch. Anthony was making Phyllis laugh. Victor and Julian, the two relative outsiders, were apparently bonding over Fred, who was sitting between their two club chairs, getting his ears scratched and in obvious doggy heaven. Lily had taken over brie duty and was making the rounds. Pure holiday bliss.

  “Wine?” I asked.

  Victor waved, so I headed straight over.

  “How are you guys doing?” I murmured as I poured.

  “Julian is a witch,” Victor said excitedly. “He was just telling me all about it.”

  “Are you sure it’s not warlock?” I said, puzzled. Julian rolled his eyes, so I left them.

  I set the wine and remaining glasses down in front of the couch. MarshaTheBitch, holding a very full martini glass, looked annoyed.

  “I’ve already got a drink, Mona,” she pointed out.

  “True, Marsha, but there are other people in the room,” I reminded her, smiling. “Maybe someone else is thirsty.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “So, Mona, tell me what’s new in your life. Your hair looks great, by the way. Why didn’t you cut it years ago? You look much younger.”

  “Brian liked my hair long,” I told her.r />
  “Oh. Yes, he would. What else? We haven’t spoken in ages.”

  How cute. She was being social. Probably for Phyllis’s sake.

  “Ah, well.” I sat down across from her. “Actually, some good things have been happening. I’m going to teach an online class next year. Through the Gotham Writer’s Workshop. They approached me a few weeks ago, and we’re working out a class outline. I’ve never done any kind of teaching before. It should be a lot of fun and very rewarding.”

  “That’s marvelous, Mona,” Phyllis said, coming over to perch on the arm of my chair. “I’ve always wanted a teacher in the family. Not that you’ll officially be the family anymore, but still. How nice.”

  She was getting a little misty again, so I hurried along. “I’m also going to put my name up to be on the Board of Directors of the RWA. You know, the Romance Writers of America. It would be quite an honor to be elected, and a big responsibility.”

  MarshaTheBitch puckered her lips. “Haven’t you been a member of that group for years? Why have you suddenly decided to become so involved? Are they running out of qualified people?”

  I felt a burning behind my eyes. “Actually, it’s something I always wanted to become involved in, but Brian didn’t want me to spend all the time and energy needed to do a good job.”

  Anthony was hovering. I could tell he had his back up. “Not only that, Mona may be going on an extensive tour with the new book,” he said. “Her editor loved it so much there were hardly any revisions. They’ll be releasing it next fall, and if they go with hardcover, Mona will be on the road, all the major cities, signings and everything. That’s something else that Brian never wanted her to do.”

  MarshaTheBitch set her glass down on the coffee table. “Well, Mona, it seems that your career has taken quite an upturn since Brian left.” She sniffed.

  There was a sudden silence. Phyllis cleared her throat. “Just what is the new book about, Mona?” she asked.

  I looked steadily at MarshaTheBitch. “It’s about a woman who gets dumped by her husband and turns around and has a much better life without him,” I said loudly.