“Never mind,” Mary Bliss said hastily. “I’m staying home. And that’s final.”
Katharine plopped herself down on the porch swing. “Then I’m staying too. I can’t have any fun at the country club dance if I know you’re stuck home, alone. So it’ll be all your fault if I’m miserable company.”
“You’re not staying here with me,” Mary Bliss said. “You’re going to the dance. Remember? You’re having a clandestine fling with Charlie. Anyway, I’m perfectly happy to stay home tonight. Erin’s gone to a concert at Piedmont Park with Josh, so I’ll have the house all to myself. I’ve got watermelon and fried chicken, and I’ve rented three movies. I’m having my own Meg Ryan film festival. And you are cordially not invited.”
“You’re pathetic,” Katharine said.
Mary Bliss stuck out her tongue. “Sticks and stones. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”
“Speaking of cops,” Katharine said, sitting back down. “I happened to be driving by yesterday, and I saw his car here. What’s going on with you two?”
“You never happen to be driving by anywhere,” Mary Bliss said. “You were spying on me.”
“So? You’re a helpless widow. I’m looking out for you.”
“There seem to be lots of people who share your opinion that I’m helpless,” Mary Bliss said. “Randy Bowden. You. Matt Hayslip. Everybody wants to look after poor old Mary Bliss.”
“There’s a difference,” Katharine said. “I’m just nosy as hell. Randy and Matt want to get in your pants.”
“Not true,” Mary Bliss said. “Randy feels sorry for me. And Matt Hayslip claims he wants to help me find the money Parker took. But I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I keep asking myself, why is he so eager to help me?”
“Because you’re adorable, in a pathetic kind of way. Sort of like a wet puppy.”
“He scares me,” Mary Bliss said. “He already told me he’s still a cop at heart. What if he starts digging around and finds out the truth? What if he finds Parker? Or, God forbid, Dinky Davis?”
“Dinky is dead,” Katharine said with a note of finality. “And how is he going to find Parker? He’s disappeared, and he doesn’t want to be found. Parker was always a very determined sort of person.”
“Not as determined as Matt Hayslip,” Mary Bliss said.
“Not as sexy either,” Katharine pointed out. “Who does he remind you of more? A taller Richard Gere? Or a younger Cary Grant?”
“He reminds me of somebody who could get me thrown in jail for the rest of my natural days,” Mary Bliss told her.
At eight o’clock, just as she was getting ready to watch When Harry Met Sally, the doorbell rang. Mary Bliss ran to the front door. “Go away, Kate,” she hollered. “I mean it. Get the hell off my porch.”
“Mary Bliss? It’s Randy. Do I have to get the hell off your porch too?”
She’d already opened the door by the time she remembered what she was wearing. Which was nothing more than one of Parker’s old washed-out Brooks Brothers button-down dress shirts. And a pair of panties.
“Hey!” Randy said, blinking. “I guess you’re not going to the dance, huh?”
She looked down at herself. The top three buttons of the shirt were long gone. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed the door slightly so that she could attempt to hide behind it. “Afraid not. I made other plans.”
He, on the other hand, looked positively festive. Randy wore a pair of white canvas slacks, a navy blazer, and a necktie emblazoned with Old Glory.
“Oh. I was hoping maybe you’d change your mind. You wouldn’t have to go with me. That way people wouldn’t talk. I thought we could sort of meet there.”
“That’s sweet,” Mary Bliss said. “I like your tie.”
“I like your shirt,” he said, blushing.
She moved behind the door a little more. “It was Parker’s,” she said lamely, instantly hating herself for bringing up his name.
“I’m staying home tonight,” she said then. “I’ve got food and movies, and I’m really looking forward to spending time by myself.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Positive,” Mary Bliss assured him. “Some other lucky lady will get to dance with you tonight.”
“Angela Patterson, probably,” he said darkly. “She always gets lit up at these functions and hits on single men.”
“Hey,” Mary Bliss said. “She hit on me at the harvest dance last October. I thought it was my perfume.”
“Okay,” Randy said reluctantly. “Have fun.”
She’d just gotten to the part of the movie where Harry and Sally are reunited at the New Year’s Eve party when the doorbell rang. Again.
Mary Bliss stayed on the sofa. She turned down the volume on the movie. Her car was in the garage. Maybe, if she stayed very still, whoever was at the door would give up and go away.
Five minutes later, she heard tapping at the kitchen door.
“Dammit,” she said crossly. “Can’t a person hibernate for one friggin’ night?” She padded into the kitchen. She could see the silhouette of a man through the glass in the door.
“Go away, whoever you are,” she called. “I’m not going out. I’ve got a new bowl of popcorn and two more Meg Ryan movies to watch. And I’m not budging.”
“I’ll bet you’re watching Sleepless in Seattle,” a man’s voice called back. “The ultimate chick movie.”
It was Matt Hayslip.
“I am not,” she said, rummaging around in the hall closet for something to put on over her panties. Erin’s gym bag was on the top shelf. She grabbed it and rummaged around until she found a pair of bright-green Umbro soccer shorts to slip on.
She opened the back door.
Hayslip wore a dark suit and a cartoonish cardboard Uncle Sam hat. Humm. There went that vibration thing again. And heat too. Definite heat. God, he looked wonderful. What was the word? Debonair? He stood in the doorway with his arms folded. “It’s You’ve Got Mail, isn’t it?” he asked, stepping inside, uninvited. “Why do you women love those sappy movies?”
“Why do men wear ridiculous hats to Fourth of July parties?” Mary Bliss countered. “Why do they love gun battles and car chases?”
He removed the hat and set it on her kitchen counter, smoothing his hair back down. “The hat was a party favor. Some drunk woman over at the country club made me put it on. And then she kissed me on the mouth and slipped me some tongue.”
“Red hair of a hue not found in nature? Big dangly earrings?”
Hayslip nodded. “With breasts to match.”
“That was Angela Patterson,” Mary Bliss said. “I’m surprised you left so early. She gets much friendlier as the night wears on.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Hayslip said. “That’s why I left and came over here.”
“I’m very busy,” Mary Bliss said. She opened the refrigerator and got out the bottle of chardonnay. She poured herself a glass and pointedly did not offer one to her visitor. She grabbed her bowl of popcorn and walked into the den.
Hayslip came right behind her. She sat on the sofa. He walked over to the coffee table and picked up the cases of the movies she’d rented, reading the titles on the side.
“Uh-huh,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk.
“All right, Dick Tracy,” Mary Bliss said. “You got me cold. I’m holed up here watching sappy chick movies. You even guessed which movies. Congratulations. You’re the greatest detective since J. Edgar Hoover.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me to stay and watch movies with you?” He was now perched on the edge of the coffee table.
She put the movie on stop. The credits were rolling anyway. Damn. She loved the end of that movie. But that was the great thing about a video. You could rewind and watch a happy ending as many times as you wanted. Which she intended to do. After she got rid of Matt Hayslip.
“No,” she said. “This is a private party.”
>
He cocked his head. “Why do you dislike me? Have I done something to offend you?”
“I don’t dislike you,” Mary Bliss said. “I just don’t want any company tonight. And I don’t want anybody meddling in my private affairs and going around asking a lot of questions about my late husband. I’m sure you mean well, and I’m flattered over what you said about me the other day, but it isn’t really very proper, you know, talking to me like that.”
“What? Just because I said you were sexy with that wet nightgown? Is that improper?” He raised one eyebrow. “You really have led a sheltered life.”
She stood up suddenly, spilling popcorn onto the floor.
“Now what?” he asked, laughing. “Are you kicking me out?”
“Yes,” she said, standing up. “And don’t forget your hat.”
She followed him to the back door, and before she knew what was happening, he pulled her close. He set the hat gently on the top of her head, tilted her chin, and kissed her. His free hand found the hollow in her back, pressing him to her.
Her body vibrated like a tuning fork struck with a pickax.
“Hey,” she said, pushing him away, a little breathless. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He grinned. “You don’t know? Maybe I should give it another shot.”
“Go,” she said, shoving him out the door. She locked it behind him and took a deep breath. She stood with her back to the door, her eyes closed, reliving that kiss. She could still feel the lingering heat of his lips and his hands. And then there was that mysterious hum. This was a strange, unexpected development. She had loved her husband her whole adult life, really, yet she could not remember a time when Parker’s touch had affected her this way.
When he’d gone, she did rewind Harry and Sally, but she found she didn’t have the stomach to watch the ending again. He’d ruined it for her. Damn him, calling her favorite movie sappy.
She turned off the television and went into the kitchen to lock up. Glancing out the kitchen window, she saw the sky to the east lighting up. The Fourth of July dance always ended with the Fair Oaks fireworks show.
Other years, she and Parker had gone to the dance, usually with Charlie and Katharine. Right at midnight, everybody kicked off their shoes and went outside to the pool area, to lie on the pool chairs and watch the show. She and Parker would lie side by side, holding hands, oohing and aahing along with the rest of the giddy, drunken partyers. When, she wondered, had they stopped holding hands?
She was rinsing out her wine glass when the shrill ring of the phone startled her so badly that she dropped the glass in the sink, shattering it.
Mary Bliss grabbed for the phone. She’d always hated late-night phone calls. “Hello,” she said haltingly.
“Mary Bliss,” Katharine cried. “It’s Charlie. I think he’s had a heart attack. Come quick. I think he’s dying.”
“Where?” Mary Bliss said. “Where are you?”
“My house,” Katharine said. “Hurry, dammit. He’s not breathing right.”
“Did you call nine-one-one?” Mary Bliss asked. “Are they on their way?”
“I can’t,” Katharine wailed. “Charlie’s naked.”
“Call nine-one-one,” Mary Bliss shouted. “If he’s had a heart attack it’s crucial you get him to the hospital. He could die if he doesn’t get medical help right now!”
“He’ll die right now if he finds out I let strangers cart him off to the hospital naked,” Katharine said. “Couldn’t you just come over here and help me get him dressed?”
“I’m on my way,” Mary Bliss said. “Now call nine-one-one right this minute.”
45
Charlie was sprawled across Katharine’s king-sized bed, clutching his left arm and gasping for breath, his face paler than the sheets that barely covered his nude torso. His body was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.
“How long has he been like this?” Mary Bliss demanded of Katharine, who was flitting around the room in a short black see-through negligee, trying to find Charlie’s clothes.
“Maybe ten minutes. Just since right before I called you,” Katharine said, picking up a pair of sequin-spangled shorts. “I called nine-one-one like you said. Now hurry up and help me get him into these.”
Charlie groaned loudly. Mary Bliss glanced over at him. He’d rolled over onto his side and was trying to sit up.
She ran to the bedside. “Lie still, Charlie,” she commanded. “The ambulance is on the way.”
“No,” Charlie gasped, pointing wildly at the flag shorts. “Not those.”
“Find him something else, Katharine,” Mary Bliss ordered.
“There isn’t anything else,” Katharine snapped. “He moved out three months ago, remember? I threw out or burned everything he didn’t take with him.”
She took a step closer to the bed and Charlie groaned again, shaking his head like a rabid dog. “Noooo.”
“Just put him in anything,” Mary Bliss said. She could hear sirens approaching the house. “How about one of your bathrobes?”
“Nooo,” Charlie groaned.
“Chip’s clothes! Get a pair of Chip’s pants from his bedroom.” Mary Bliss sat on the side of the bed and stroked Charlie’s forehead. “Stay quiet now, Charlie,” she said soothingly. “The EMTs are on their way. Piedmont Hospital’s not ten minutes from here. They’ll have you fixed up right away.”
Katharine ran back into the bedroom, holding a pair of khaki golf shorts. “Here,” she said triumphantly.
“Get him dressed,” Mary Bliss ordered. “I’ll go downstairs and let the EMTs in.”
“Right,” Katharine said. She flung the sheet off Charlie and started sliding the pants up his bare legs. Mary Bliss looked away, but not before she caught sight of her best friend’s own naked behind bent over her ex-husband.
“And Katharine?” she said gently.
“What now?” Katharine answered.
“You might want to put some clothes on yourself before those guys come charging in here. Unless you want to give them a heart attack too.”
The siren’s wail was right outside now. Mary Bliss ran down the stairs and into the marble-floored entry hall. She flipped on the outside light and opened the front door just as the ambulance was pulling into the circular drive of the Weidmans’ two-story brick Georgian.
“In here,” she called as the technicians ran up the walkway. “Hurry. I think he’s had a heart attack. He’s conscious, but he’s struggling to breathe, and I don’t think his color looks too good.”
The rest of the evening was a blur. She and Katharine stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching as one EMT shoved what Mary Bliss assumed was a nitroglycerin tablet under Charlie’s tongue, while another hooked him to a portable heart monitor, and still another clamped an oxygen mask over his face.
Katharine rode to Piedmont in the ambulance with Charlie, while Mary Bliss raced behind, driving Katharine’s Mercedes.
At the hospital, she found Katharine hovering near the admissions desk in the emergency room, harassing the young clerk behind the desk.
“They brought him in fifteen minutes ago,” Katharine fumed. “I want to know what’s happening.”
The clerk, a kid in his early twenties, wearing blue hospital scrubs, was on the phone. “In a minute, ma’am,” he said, rolling his eyes at Katharine but otherwise ignoring her.
The two women finally retreated to a pair of chairs nearest the desk, taking turns approaching the clerk for information every ten minutes. After they’d been waiting an hour, the clerk looked up from the phone.
“Mrs. Weidman?” he called. Katharine jumped up.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “Can I see my husband now?”
“Not yet,” the clerk said, glancing down at some notes on a chart. “They’ve got him stabilized, and they’re assessing the damage. He did apparently have a massive heart attack. They’ll move him over to the CICU in about half an hour, and you can probably see him then.”
“What’s the CICU?” Katharine asked.
“Cardiac intensive care unit,” the clerk said. “You might want to go get some coffee or something, maybe call the rest of your family, and then head upstairs. His doctor should be ready to talk to you when you get back.”
It was two in the morning. The hospital cafeteria was closed, but they managed to scrounge enough change from the bottom of Mary Bliss’s purse to pay for two cups of weak, lukewarm coffee from the basement vending machines.
“I’m scared,” Katharine whispered, as they trudged back down the corridor to the bank of elevators. “Charlie looked so awful. What if he dies?”
“He’s not gonna die,” Mary Bliss said, slipping an arm around Katharine’s shoulder. “This is one of the best heart hospitals in the southeast. And Charlie’s young. It’s not his time yet.”
“He’s fifty-one,” Katharine said. She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes, smearing her mascara and eye shadow. “Bet you didn’t know that. He turned fifty-one in June. I was so pissed at him for leaving me, I didn’t even send him a birthday card. He had dinner with Chip that night, but I wouldn’t even lend Chip money to buy his daddy a present. God, I’ve been such a bitch.”
“You were hurt,” Mary Bliss said. “Brokenhearted.”
Katharine nodded. “The bastard broke my heart. So what do I do? I give him a heart attack. Nearly killed him.”
“Hush!” Mary Bliss said, shocked. “You did not give Charlie a heart attack. He’s fifty-one, a little overweight. Didn’t you tell me he’s had high blood pressure for the last few years? All of those are contributing factors to heart disease.”
“It wasn’t the blood pressure,” Katharine said, sniffing. “It was the sex.”
“Katharine!” Mary Bliss said. “Stop!”
“It’s true,” Katharine said tearfully. “I went to that dance tonight with a whole big plan. You saw how I was dressed. I even bought myself a pair of green thong panties! I went to the club with the specific purpose of seducing Charlie Weidman. And it worked. After all these years, I knew how to push every single one of his buttons. And honey, I pushed ’em all. I flirted. I rubbed up against him, and while we were slow-dancing, I promised to do things to him that we hadn’t done since our honeymoon.”
Little Bitty Lies Page 23