Bentleys Buy a Buick (That Business Between Us Book 5)

by Pamela Morsi

  “Are you interested in cars?”

  The kid was honest enough to shrug.

  If a person doesn’t grow up around guys who work on cars, then they never really learn anything about them. That was as true of Tom as it was of Briscoe. When he first went to Job Corps, the only thing he’d known about cars was how to drive one. He wouldn’t have pursued the career if Cliff hadn’t been interested and urged him in that direction. But he’d learned. And he’d gotten good at it. Better than Cliff, better than lots of guys who grew up with a wrench in their hands. Briscoe couldn’t be much older than Tom was when he worked on his first engine.

  “Do you have any skills you can bring to my shop?” he asked the kid.

  Briscoe looked momentarily disheartened, immediately followed by a reaction that was part defiance, part defensiveness.

  “I’m not stupid,” Briscoe stated with matter-of-fact directness. “And I’m not afraid of work. I dropped out of high school, but I thought about studying for my GED.”

  Tom barely managed to stifle a grin. Thinking about studying wasn’t much of a recommendation. Still, the kid had gone ahead and married his girlfriend, just on the advice of a stranger. Maybe there was something there, something teachable, that a guy could work with.

  “I’ve been kicking around the idea of taking on some help,” Tom admitted. “But I’ll have to talk it over with my wife. She and I are partners in this business, and I count on her to be the levelheaded one and keep me straight.”

  Briscoe nodded.

  “Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know what she thinks.”

  The relief and elation in the kid’s eyes was evident.

  “I’m not promising anything,” Tom clarified.

  “I get it,” the kid said. “I’m not big on promises anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Chapter 15

  THE TEARS HAD DRIED ON Erica’s cheeks, but her heart still ached. The catharsis of confessing all her fears aloud was freeing, but her sister wouldn’t allow her to wallow in her tears.

  “You’re talking crazy,” Letty told her. “Tom is not cheating on you. He loves you. This is all about those stupid women at your job.”

  “I know it’s about them,” Erica admitted. “But that doesn’t explain why he lied. Remember that comic’s line, ‘just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you.’”

  “I’m not saying they’re not out to get you,” Letty said. “But I am saying that Tom would never be a part of anything he knew would hurt you.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself,” Erica admitted. “But what if I’m one of those wives who never saw it coming? One who gets completely blindsided by infidelity?”

  “Oh,” Letty said, feigning agreement. “You might be one of those wives as opposed to being a wife like our mom who always sees it coming even when it’s not even on the horizon. I think she subconsciously encourages the men in her life to be unfaithful.”

  “She doesn’t do that.”

  “I think maybe she does,” Letty said. “If you enter a relationship already planning for the breakup, I think the outcome is inevitable.”

  Erica thought maybe her sister had a point, but they weren’t talking about Ann Marie and her two-timing husbands. Her mother’s love life was like an ongoing soap opera. Erica’s marriage was a happily-ever-after. She didn’t live from crisis to crisis.

  “What am I going to do, Letty?” she asked. “I love him. I don’t want to lose him. But I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

  “Forgive him? Erica! Get ahold of yourself. You don’t know that there is anything to forgive. I highly doubt it. And you should, too.”

  “But what about the lie and the flowers and the credit card and the shower? How do you explain all of that?”

  “I can’t explain it,” Letty said. “I don’t know anything about it. But Tom does and you’ve got to talk to him.” They had already covered this ground a couple of times. Letty was absolutely convinced that a heart-to-heart talk between husband and wife would solve everything. And the sooner that happened, the better for all concerned.

  But Letty hadn’t heard the sound of Tom’s voice as he lied to Trish. Erica had heard it. She’d heard it perfectly. And the last thing in the world she wanted was to hear it directed at her.

  Letty was sure it was all a simple misunderstanding that could be cleared up.

  Erica hoped, desperately hoped, that her sister was right.

  But knowing for sure required taking the risk. Risk was fine for Letty or Ann Marie. Erica didn’t take risks. She didn’t like them.

  What would happen if she confronted Tom and he confessed all? What would she do then? She would have to forgive him or leave him. Those were the only choices a wife had. And even if she chose to forgive, could a woman ever really do that? She wasn’t sure.

  Even more frightening was the realization that it wasn’t all up to her. What if she confronted Tom and he was relieved to confess? What if the only thing keeping him at home was his fear of hurting her?

  “Letty, it’s just not as simple as you make it out to be,” Erica hedged. “Marriage is a lot more complicated than you think.”

  “What I think is that you’re letting silly gossip and mean-spirited nastiness poison what should be a happy, fulfilling time for you.”

  “My husband is lying. There is no excuse for that in a marriage,” Erica stated without equivocation.

  “Oh, really?” Letty said, sarcasm evident in her voice. “Then what about the money that you’re secreting away? Mom is so proud of you for that. But in my book it sounds the same as a lie.”

  Erica didn’t get to comment on that. When she glanced up she saw Quint standing in the doorway. The side of his face had pillow marks, as if he’d taken his anger to his room, only to fall into an accidental nap.

  “Oh, hi, Quint.”

  She was still seated on the kitchen floor. Hurriedly she wiped her cheeks to make sure that no telltale signs lingered there. Her son silently looked around the kitchen.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asked finally.

  Dinner? Somehow she’d forgotten about dinner.

  “Got to go,” she said into the phone, one second before hanging it up. She stood and hurried to the refrigerator, casting one quick glance toward the clock. Tom would be home in ten minutes. This morning she’d planned to bake chicken, but it was too late for that now. She pulled open the pantry and rooted around for a moment, considering one thing and then another. Finally she pulled out a dusty jar of bargain red sauce.

  “How about spaghetti?”

  “All right!” Quint responded enthusiastically and pumped his fist in the air.

  Erica managed a wan smile as she retrieved her pasta pot from the bottom cabinet and began filling it with water. Quint came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her legs.

  “I’m not mad at you anymore, Mom,” he said.

  “Good.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, of course not. Why would I be mad at you?”

  Quint didn’t quite answer that question, but his response suggested his reasoning.

  “I’m...I’m sorry I made you cry.”

  Erica shut off the water and knelt down to take her son in her arms.

  “You did not make me cry,” she assured him. “I made myself cry.”

  “How come?”

  “I...I...” Erica searched for the right answer. One that was true, but didn’t draw her son into an adult world he didn’t need to understand. “Someone said something at work and it hurt my feelings.”

  Quint’s eyes widened. “Was it a bully? We learned all about bullies in kindergarten. Bullies like intimidation her son said with great emphasis on the large word.

  “No, not exactly a bully,” Erica assured him. “Just a gossip.”

  “Is that worse?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But maybe it is just as bad. A gossip spreads stories that may or may not be true.�
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  Quint’s brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t spread around stories that aren’t true,” he said. “You’d get in trouble for that in first grade.”

  “Yes, I suppose you would,” Erica said.

  “Maybe you should get in trouble when you do it at work, too.

  Her son’s wise advice put an actual smile on her face.

  “I think you may be right about that,” she told him. “Do you want to set the table for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Tom was a bit late, making her last-minute dinner right on time. He arrived home, loving and happy and normal. He came into the kitchen to give her a big hug and a kiss. She turned her head slightly, pretending distraction, to insure that his lips made contact with her cheek and not her mouth. If he noticed, he didn’t indicate it.

  “Dinner smells good,” he said. Then he nuzzled her neck. “You smell even better.”

  “Quint set the table,” she said. “And he had a short nap, so he’s probably going to have some energy.”

  “Quint, have you got energy?” he called out. “Can you loan me some?”

  He was talking and laughing with Quint, feigning a sword fight with an invisible light saber as he headed in to take a quick shower.

  At least he’s washing up at home, Erica thought to herself.

  Over dinner Erica could hardly eat. She still felt shell-shocked. She closely observed her husband, looking for signs of duplicity, indications of guilt. She didn’t see any. This should have comforted her; instead it made her wonder if he was better at hiding his feelings than she’d thought. Or perhaps his conscience didn’t prick him. After all, he’d been raised among addicts and criminals. With no moral foundation, he could be completely unconcerned with vows of fidelity or the basis of trust.

  You’re talking about Tom, here, your Tom, remember.

  Letty’s word sounded loud in her memory. The rabbit hole where her thoughts were headed bore no resemblance to the man she’d been in love with for ten years. He was the most honest, conscientious, trustworthy man she’d ever met. And none of that was out of habit. It was out of deliberate choice. If he had become involved with another woman, there would be nothing casual or careless about it.

  She watched him eat his unmemorable, mediocre meal with the gusto of a man who labored for a living. He was so carefree and full of life. He didn’t seem at all like a man who was risking his marriage.

  “So this kid came in this evening and asked me for a job,” he said.

  “A kid?” Quint asked eagerly.

  “Not a kid like you,” Tom clarified. “A kid like a teenager.”

  “Oh, you mean figuratively a kid,” Quint said.

  “Yes,” Tom agreed, smiling at his son. “Figuratively he’s a kid. But I actually want to hire him. I wanted to get your thoughts on it.”

  Erica’s thoughts were a quick, knee-jerk no, but she managed to keep from voicing that aloud. She tried to refocus her attention from marital catastrophe to the subject of conversation, their business. Tom was thinking of hiring a new employee. Employees were necessary to the business, and without them the business couldn’t grow and thrive. But they were also a liability. Hiring meant employees got paid even if receipts were off or payments went uncollected. In a bad month it would be Tom and Erica who would have to scrimp by. The guys who worked for them would receive their usual wages.

  “Do you think the business can support another guy?” Tom sighed and shook his head. “Barely,” he said. “We’re doing about what we did last summer.”

  Erica nodded slowly. If the shop was putting through the same amount of work as a few months ago, then there was no explanation for all the overtime Tom was putting in. “Do you think he could be a help to you?”

  Tom shook his head. “Not anytime soon. The kid doesn’t know anything about cars.”

  Erica’s brow furrowed. “Then he’s not the kid to hire. There are tons of teenagers with experience.”

  “I know,” he agreed. “But I think I like this one.”

  Why hire someone who wouldn’t cut down on the workload? That didn’t make sense, unless Tom wanted the workload to continue to be an excuse.

  “I met this kid right here, on our street,” he said. “His car broke down.”

  Erica listened to the story, but her thoughts were swirling again. Why did everything he said feel suspect? Why did she search every word for hidden meaning? Because there was a lie between them, and she was too much of a coward to confront it.

  “He reminds me of myself,” Tom said. “Not that he’s anything like me. I guess I identify with his ignorance. I’ve been as dumb as he is now, and I know how far he’s got to go.”

  Tom chuckled at that. Erica could barely manage a smile.

  “He’s got a wife and newborn baby to support, so it’s not like he’ll be out partying at night and hungover at work. Of course, a guy can be just as tired after walking the floor with a colicky baby.”

  Erica nodded.

  “I think it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have more staff as backup in case things change in the future,” he said. “If one of the guys left us tomorrow, it would take time to replace him. It would be best to have another pair of skilled hands to count on. We can’t afford more skilled hands, but we can get willing hands a lot cheaper. If the kid can listen to me and follow directions, at least I could count on that.”

  “Do you think one of the men might be leaving?” she asked.

  That’s when she saw it. A blush rushed to his cheeks, and there was a hesitation in his speech as if to deliberately avoid stammering.

  “No, no, of course not.”

  There was a lie somewhere in there. Erica saw it as clearly as she saw the uneaten spaghetti on her plate.

  “Hector was off the wagon for a few days,” he said. “He’s sobered up and back to work now. So that’s good.”

  Erica nodded. Tom still couldn’t quite meet her eyes. There was something there, and it wasn’t about Hector.

  “And you know how hard it is to keep Gus on task, even at best of times.”

  It wasn’t about Gus, either. There was a lie that was eating at Tom, and Erica was scared, really scared, that she might already know what it was.

  Ask him. Ask him. Ask him! her rational brain demanded. The worst thing is not knowing. Not knowing for sure. But she was too afraid to take the chance. What if he confessed? He was a terrible liar. What if he just blurted out his infidelity, his betrayal? Could she forgive him? Could their marriage ever be the same? Or would she have to do what her mother had always done? Would she have to destroy it all to keep her self-respect?

  Ask him! the voice in her head screamed at her. It’s better to know. Don’t be that woman who looks like a fool. The one who lies to herself.

  “He’s not going to work at my desk, is he?” Quint piped up. “Even if I like him, I gotta have my desk to do my homework after school.”

  Tom chuckled, and the tension across the table shattered.

  Of course he’s not going to confess in front of Quint. She wouldn’t even want him to. She would talk to him later. She would talk to him when they were alone.

  “I couldn’t let him have that desk,” Tom assured his son. “That desk is for you and me. Briscoe would be working out in the shop.”

  “Okay then,” Quint said, and then looked toward his mother. Erica realized that both of them were waiting for her to comment.

  “Hire him if you think that’s the thing to do,” Erica said.

  “I do. I do think it might help.” The overlay of deception was back in her husband’s voice, but it evaporated as he talked about his new hire. “It would certainly help him,” Tom said. “I wonder all the time what my life might have been if I hadn’t learned how to do something to earn a living.

  Erica nodded absently.

  “All I have—our home, our business, even you and Quint—would never have happened if I hadn’t learned a trade,” Tom said. “It’s scary really, when you think abo
ut it. How the direction of your life can just turn on a dime, and everything that happens thereafter is totally dependent on what you chose to do in that one situation, in that one moment. If I hadn’t learned how to work on cars, I never would have stopped to help you. And without you, nothing else could have happened.”

  Erica watched his face and listened to his voice. There was nothing false or insincere in either one of them. He did love her. She was certain of it. And he valued her. But he still could have made a mistake. Did one mistake mean a change in life trajectory was unavoidable?

  With her mother it had been. Yet despite all the family challenges Erica had had growing up, having Letty as her sister had made her childhood worth living. She would never have traded her for a “normal” family unit.

  After dinner Tom and Quint cleaned the kitchen together. It sounded as if they were having a lot of fun that included a water fight. She could hear Tom’s deep laughter, and her son was screeching with joy. She would never do anything to put a wall between those two. It was as much a vow as a call to action. She wanted this family, and she wasn’t willing to let anything destroy it.

  Erica was supposed to be working on her presentation for the EMR workshop, but her thoughts were so scattered that she quickly gave up. She took Tom’s laptop from the coffee table and tried to distract herself with what had become her secret pleasure during the past few weeks—looking at washing machine reviews on the internet. She tried to get into the excitement of shopping. She was actually going to buy something she wanted and needed, but the concerns that continued to nag at her stole all of the pleasure out of her potential purchase.

  Having had a nap before dinner, Quint was not easy to get to bed. They let him stay up an extra half hour. He showered forever and then talked Tom into reading him chapter after chapter.

  Erica looked at websites on Tom’s laptop until she thought she could write a thesis entitled: Washers: A Comparison of Prices and Features on Standard Models.

  When she couldn’t read another word about high capacity or spin effectiveness, she found herself reading news headlines and checking activity on the social networks.