by Ann McMan
David looked up at him. “Tell me you recognize him.”
“Who?”
David held up the phone like it was Exhibit A in a murder trial. “Him. The ugly man in the Ethel Merman wig.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “No. I can’t say I do. Why? Do you know him?”
“Duh . . . look again. It’s Tom Greene.”
“Tom Greene?”
“Yes.” David pointed to a close up of one of the images. “Tom Greene? Short? Self-important, pencil dick? Receding hairline? Runs the local hospital like Tony Soprano? Ring any bells?”
Michael peered at the image on the tiny screen. “Jesus god . . . is that really Tom?”
“Yes, it’s really Tom. I’d recognize those ungodly fingernails any place. I knew there was something up that day I ran into him at Rite Aid.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hello? He was buying Yum-Yum Yellow nail polish. He tried to hide it beneath a twelve-pack of Clorets, but I saw it all right.”
Michael sighed. “David. That could have been for Muriel.”
“Muriel?” David flipped through a couple of images, and then held up the phone again. “You mean the King of Queens here?”
Michael took the phone from him. To be sure, there was something vaguely familiar about the butch in the leather vest who was huddled with Tom behind a barstool.
“I so do not believe this . . .”
“You and me both, bucko.” David took the phone away from him. “This is the mother lode.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you think I’m talking about?”
“I have no idea, but I do know enough to know that whenever you get that look in your eyes, it isn’t good news for somebody.”
“Damn straight.” David was busy doing something with the phone.
“Wait a minute. What are you doing?”
“A little something called insurance.”
“Insurance against what?” came a voice from the doorway. “And what are you doing with my phone?”
It was Maddie.
David wagged her phone back and forth. “Care to explain how you came by these terribly . . . eclectic photos of your nemesis, Dr. Greene?”
Maddie walked across the kitchen and snapped the phone out of his hand. “What are you talking about?” Her eyes grew wide as she scrolled through the images. “Oh, my god.”
David smiled at her. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Maddie looked incredulous. “I had no idea these were here.”
“Oh, really? Think it was some mysterious act of cyber-spontaneous generation?”
Maddie shook her head. “Syd must’ve taken these when she went downstairs.”
“Downstairs? Just where in the hell were you two staying—the Moulin Rouge?”
Maddie looked at him with smoldering blue eyes. “Will you shut up? The only place we could get into for dinner was a pub that turned out to be a lesbian bar, and it happened to be drag night.” She held up the phone. “We were as flummoxed then as you are now when we saw Tom there in his . . . cocktail attire.”
“You call that cocktail attire? He looks like Moll Flanders on crack.”
Maddie was systematically selecting, and then deleting the images. “David. You cannot mention a word about this to anyone.”
“What? Are you nuts?”
“No. I mean it. You keep your mouth shut about this.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. Not one word. Ever.”
She continued to delete images. “If you do, I’ll deny everything, and tell your mother about that time you wore her long-line girdle to the snack bar at that truck stop on I-81.”
The oven timer dinged.
Michael chuckled.
David turned pale.
Maddie glared at him.
“I think we understand each other,” she said.
David dropped his shoulders and went to get the serving tray.
“And while we’re at it. Explain to me why are there five pictures of Winston Churchill on my phone?”
Across the room on her cashmere bed, Astrid snorted twice and rolled over onto her back.
“Oh. Never mind.” Maddie put the phone into her pocket. “Let’s eat some pizza.”
MADDIE AND SYD decided to spend the seventh inning stretch outside on the front porch. It was a beautiful night, and not too cool. The moon was full, and its reflection on the pond made it look almost like daylight. They could see Pete nosing around the perimeter of the pond, probably hoping to scoop up any remnants of the pellets Henry would have been certain to drop earlier in the day when he was down there feeding the catfish.
Maddie took advantage of their few minutes alone and quickly brought Syd up to speed on what had unfolded earlier in the kitchen, including her decision to delete the incriminating images of Tom Greene from her phone.
“Well, thank god for that,” Syd said. “Can you even imagine what David might have done if you hadn’t walked in on him when you did?”
Maddie stifled a laugh. “If only you knew the number of times in my life I’ve heard exactly that same combination of words.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“This time, it seems like the odds were in our favor.”
Syd nodded. “You’re right about that.”
“But,” Maddie nudged her on the arm, “you need to tell me why you took all those photos of Tom and Muriel. When I came down into that club area to get you, you really seemed to have had a change of heart.”
“Oh, I did,” Syd explained. “But by the time I thought better of it, I’d already met Crystal, and she grabbed the phone from me and took the photos.”
“Crystal?”
Syd nodded. “Crystal Titz.”
Maddie rolled her eyes.
“I think she said her real name was Larry Kozlowski. But, apparently, she knew Amanda and Buster, and was only too happy to oblige.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I honestly think it’s to your credit that you really can’t imagine it.”
“True.”
“Tom and Muriel.” Syd sighed. “I still can’t get over it.” She looked up at Maddie. “They must be terrified about seeing us there.”
“Don’t you mean they must be terrified about us seeing them there?”
Syd nodded. “This kind of thing only happens in soap operas.”
“Well,” Maddie shifted her weight and leaned over to rest her arms on the porch railing, “I confess that I haven’t seen a soap opera since David made me watch General Hospital in junior high, but I don’t remember very many story lines about ER chiefs getting their jollies by dressing up like Lana Turner.”
“You’re being entirely too charitable.”
Maddie looked up at her. “I am?”
“I’d say so. Tom looked more like Tim Curry than Lana Turner.”
“Tim Curry had dark hair.”
Syd smacked her on the arm. “Do you always have to be so literal?”
Maddie laughed and rubbed her bicep. “I really wish you’d quit swatting me. You’re going to start leaving marks.”
“Oh? Worried about how you’ll look in the swimsuit competition, Miss Virginia?”
“Okay . . . now I know it’s time for David to move back to the inn.”
“Hush. That’ll happen soon enough, and Henry will be devastated.”
Maddie didn’t make any reply. She seemed fixated on something off in the distance. Syd tried to follow her gaze, but didn’t see anything remarkable.
“What is it?” she asked.
Maddie shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. It’s never nothing with you.”
Maddie shrugged again.
“Come on . . . tell me what you were thinking about.”
“It’s no secret. I was thinking about Henry.”
They were silent for a moment. Syd moved closer and leaned against Maddie
.
“I didn’t tell you earlier, but I got an e-mail from James.”
Syd was surprised. “When?”
“About an hour after we got home. He’s going to be discharged in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Syd drew back. “I thought he had at least another month of rehab?”
“Apparently, they think he’s ready to be discharged, or will be ready in two weeks.”
Syd backed up and dropped into one of the big Adirondack chairs. “I don’t know what to feel.”
Maddie straightened and turned around. “I know what you mean.”
Syd raised her eyes to Maddie. The white light from the moon behind her made her features impossible to make out. She looked like a shadow of herself. “What are we going to do?”
“Do?” Maddie’s voice sounded remote—like she was standing halfway across the yard, instead of two steps away.
Syd waved a hand in frustration. “He’s going to take him.”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Is that all you can say?”
“What do you want me to say, Syd? We’ve known this was coming, and now it’s here.”
“I want you to say that this is as hard for you as it is for me.”
Maddie’s frustration seemed to boil over. “Of course it’s as hard for me. I’m not made out of iron, you know.”
“Then maybe you could act like it once in a while.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Syd held up both hands. “Stop. Let’s just stop . . . right now. This isn’t helping either of us.”
Maddie rubbed a hand across her eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I know.”
Maddie fell into the chair beside her. It was the most inelegant maneuver Syd had ever seen her make.
They sat in silence. From inside the house, they could hear the faint murmur of the TV in the front room. Off in the distance, Pete grew tired of looking for fish food and took off barking at some kind of intruder.
“We need to get back inside,” Maddie finally said. “They’ll be coming out to get us.”
“In another minute, okay?” Syd took hold of Maddie’s hand. “You know something? This is exactly like that very first night I came out here. We sat in these same two chairs and struggled with finding the right things to say.”
“I remember.” Maddie squeezed her fingers. “I wasn’t struggling with what to say, though. I was struggling with how to keep myself from jumping your bones.”
Syd looked at her. Her features were clearer now. She thought she could even make out the blue of her eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“Cross my heart. I knew I was a goner as soon as your tight little butt hit the seat of that very chair.”
“Too bad we had to waste all that wine.”
“What wine?”
“The wine that Pete sloshed all over my slacks.”
“Oh . . . that wine.” Maddie laughed. “That wasn’t a waste—that was a noble sacrifice.”
“How so?”
“It got you out of your clothes, didn’t it?”
“And into yours, if memory serves.”
“You know, I never washed that sweatshirt.”
Syd looked at her in surprise. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. I didn’t want to. It smelled like you.”
Syd lifted Maddie’s hand and kissed it. “You really do have a soft center, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Maddie replied, in a sultry voice. “I’m told it’s located someplace just south of the chewy nougat.”
Syd dropped her hand. “Pervert.”
“You started it.”
Syd gave her a good once over. “I think I finished it, too.”
“You’ll get no argument from me about that. I won’t be able to cross my legs for at least a week.”
Syd laughed and sat back against the high back of her chair. “God, what a day. I wonder what the hell else can go wrong?”
Her cell phone vibrated, and she jumped about a foot into the air.
“What on earth is the matter?” Maddie asked, with alarm.
Syd dug the phone out of her jacket pocket and held it up. “My phone.” She peered down at its bright blue screen.
“Who is it?” Maddie asked.
“It’s not a call. It’s a text message.” Syd took a moment to read it, then slapped the phone face down onto the wide arm of her chair. “Oh, I so do not believe this,” she said with disgust.
“What is it?”
Syd looked at her. “It’s Doris. She’s coming through Jericho tomorrow, and she wants to see me.”
“Doris?” Maddie asked. “Doris Simon?”
“That’s the one. My erstwhile ex-mother-in-law.”
Maddie was incredulous. “What on earth does she want?”
Syd threw up her hands. “God only knows? I can only assume it has something to do with the divorce.”
“Is Jeff going to be with her?”
Syd thought Maddie sounded a bit wary.
“She didn’t mention him, so I doubt it.”
“Where does she want to meet you?”
Syd shrugged. “She said something about lunch, so I guess it’s up to me to pick a venue.”
Maddie was silent for a moment. “So you’re going to do it?”
Syd looked at her. “Do you think I shouldn’t?”
“I honestly have no idea. What do you think?”
Syd stood up. “I think I want to see if we have another bottle of Meandro that David hasn’t found yet.”
Maddie stood up, too. “And then what?”
Syd took hold of her hand and led her toward the big front door. “Then we see if you can find another creative way to get my pants off.”
Maddie just smiled and followed her inside.
CELINE LOOKED UP when Syd and Maddie reentered the parlor. The baseball game was in full swing again, but Henry was sound asleep. He was stretched out across a sofa cushion with his dark head on Celine’s lap.
“He didn’t want to go up to bed until you came back inside,” she said. “Michael and David gave up about fifteen minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Maddie walked over to her. “Let me take him on up.” She knelt down and carefully picked Henry up. He was wearing only one shoe, and the bright green sock on his other foot was hanging halfway off, too—making his foot look elongated like an elf’s. Henry didn’t wake up as Maddie carried him toward the stairs. He just tucked his head beneath her chin and snuggled in closer.
“I’ll be back after I get him down,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.
Syd picked up Henry’s discarded shoe and sat down on the sofa next to Celine. She set her cell phone down on the cushion beside her.
The sole of Henry’s shoe looked worn on one side. Syd shook her head. He was going through them faster than they could buy them. Plus she couldn’t keep him from wading out into the shallow end of the pond with them on—no matter how many times they told him to stay out of the water. This pair was covered with splotchy stains. They really needed to be thrown away. But they were his favorites, and she couldn’t find any more Spiderman shoes in his size.
“Is everything okay with you two?”
Syd looked up in surprise. She had almost forgotten that Celine was sitting there.
“I’m sorry, Celine. We stayed out on the porch too long.”
“Well, you didn’t miss much in here. David was so distracted that he couldn’t sit still. Finally, Michael told him to go to bed. He followed along in short order.”
“What’s the score?”
Celine smiled at her. “Do you really want to know?”
Syd looked down at the shoe in her hand. “Not really.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Syd angled her body toward Celine. “Did Maddie tell you that she heard from James today?”