by Lee Hollis
Sandra knew he asked about her every time he called the house because she could hear the boys filling him in with what she was up to, how despite the surge of support, Sandra had ultimately decided to resign as the PTA president. She didn’t want to be a distraction, or in any way become the focal point when it should always be about the well-being and education of the students. And although Principal Hicks remained in his position, his reputation had been severely diminished when the truth about his affair with Chelsea Portman came to light via some intrepid local reporters. His wife, Alice, left him and Chelsea ultimately dumped him. His job at the school was the only thing he had left to cling to, so he was holding on to it with all his might, despite the rumors that the school board was actively looking for a replacement to start next fall.
Sandra puttered in the kitchen, where her homemade Bolognese sauce bubbled in a pot on the stove as she boiled water in another to cook some fettuccini she had just made in her old-fashioned Italian-made pasta machine. She checked the wall clock. Her dinner guests were five minutes late. She opened a bottle of cabernet to let it breathe and set about whisking her own Italian vinaigrette dressing in a ceramic bowl for the salad that was chilling in the refrigerator.
The doorbell rang.
She heard Jack on the phone in the living room. “Dad, I’ve got to go. Okay, I’ll tell her.” After he hung up, he called into the kitchen. “Dad sends his love.”
She couldn’t help but smile.
That man was never going to give up.
“Get the door, will you, please?” Sandra called back.
As she picked up a small spoon to taste the dressing, she heard Jack open the door and greet their guests.
“Ryan, your pookie sweetie honey is here!” Jack yelled up the stairs.
She heard Vanessa laugh as Ryan pounded down the steps to greet her, probably ignoring his brother because he was too busy trying to steal a kiss.
“Is your mother in the kitchen?” she heard Maya ask.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Go on in. I’ll be in the living room watching TV with the volume really loud so I don’t have to hear these two suck face.”
Maya appeared in the kitchen. “Sure smells good.”
“It’s nothing really. Just a simple pasta and sauce. It’s my go-to-meal when I get home too late to whip up something fancier.”
“Busy day?”
“Still dealing with the fallout. I thought I’d have a lot more free time after I resigned as PTA president, but it turns out Al Pacino was right in that Godfather movie. Every time I try to get out, they pull me back in!”
Maya chuckled. “And I thought the politics in Washington were bad enough.” But then she caught herself. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“It’s fine. Really,” Sandra said, pouring some wine into two glasses and handing one to Maya. “Stephen and I are talking . . . occasionally . . . at least when I forget to check the caller ID and just pick up the phone.”
Maya grinned. “That’s something.”
“And how are you? How’s business?” Sandra knew not to ask specifically about Frances. Vanessa had told her that her mother was still struggling and still hurting, so Sandra kept it vague so as not to tear the Band-Aid off the wound.
Maya sighed. “Fine. Until this week. Remarkably I just got two cases. Nothing too earth-shattering. An identity theft and another suspected infidelity case.”
“You’ll never go broke chasing after cheating spouses,” Sandra said with a smile.
“Let’s toast to that,” Maya said, raising her glass of wine.
They clinked glasses and each took a sip.
“That’s good,” Maya said.
“I’m glad you like it. I have two more bottles. I hope you came here in an Uber.”
“No, but as luck would have it, Vanessa has an impeccable driving record, at least for the four whole months she’s had her license.”
Sandra set her wine down on the counter and stirred the Bolognese sauce with a ladle.
They gossiped some more about the goings-on at school, and they were on their second glass of cabernet when Sandra started to suspect Maya was dancing around something she wanted to talk about. Sure enough, by the time Sandra reached for the bottle to refill Maya’s glass that she hadn’t even finished drinking yet, Maya had apparently worked up the nerve to finally come out with it.
“I was wondering . . .”
“Yes?”
It looked like she might lose her nerve.
“Maya, what is it?”
“I wasn’t going to ask you about this tonight, but maybe it’s the wine loosening me up.”
“Well, keep drinking then. You’ve got me intrigued now.”
“It’s just that . . . these last few days I’ve been thinking a lot about you and me, and even though I hate to admit it, I miss you hanging around.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. Just as soon as I get through divorcing Stephen, but only if the kids approve.”
Maya laughed. “You know where I’m going with this.”
“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”
“I need your help.”
“God, I’ve been waiting so long for this!”
“Hold on. It’s not like I’m offering you a full partnership or anything. . . .”
“I understand.”
“It’s just part-time for now, and the pay is really low. . . .”
“That’s fine. Stephen’s still paying all the bills.”
“Good, because I may even have to defer your paycheck for a while, at least until I can catch up financially and get the business back in the black.”
“I certainly can help with drumming up more business.”
“So you’ll do it?”
Sandra paused. “You know what? I’ll have to think about it.”
“Really?”
“Of course not! I’ll do it!”
Maya shook her head. “I totally knew you would jump at this.”
Sandra raised her wineglass. “Let’s toast to our new partnership.”
Maya pulled back her glass. “You didn’t hear me. This is not a partnership. I’m the boss. You work for me.”
“I heard you,” Sandra said as she smiled and walked out of the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready! Hey, guys, guess what? Maya asked me to join her private investigation firm! We’re going to be partners!”