Happy Hour (5 page)

Who would do this?

The person in the car behind her laid on the horn. Danielle jerked,
glancing in her rearview mirror, and yanked the wheel.

This could not be happening. This was a joke, a cruel joke. But as
Danielle read over the papers again, she realized this was no joke.

Her husband wanted a divorce.

God, the traffic was a mess today. Probably an accident. Someone who’d
had too much wine visiting the local wineries. Thank God, Jamie Evans’s exit
came before she reached what might possibly be a grisly scene. Sighing as she
turned her Volvo SUV onto her street, her stomach coiled. It had been one of
those days that started out kind of depressing, then with an ironic twist
turned into massive excitement. Now hope filled her, causing her to wonder if
the day would end on a high or low note. It all depended on the little bird.

That morning her six-year-old daughter, Maddie, while eating her silver
dollar pancakes and watching
Charlie & Lola,
said, “Mommy, what is
that noise?”

Jamie came from behind the kitchen counter where she’d quickly tried
wiping up the coffee grounds that Nathan had spilled in his early morning rush
to make coffee. Already dressed for work, Jamie needed to get Maddie to kick it
into high gear. “What noise, pumpkin?”

“At the door. Don’t you hear it?”

Jamie walked to the French doors where she heard a faint repetitive thud
against the pane. She opened up the door and gasped. “Oh. Oh, no.” Jamie knelt
down.

“What is it, Mommy?” Maddie swung around in her chair and bent over her
mother. “What is it?” she demanded again.

“It’s a baby bird! It must’ve fallen out of its nest.” Jamie looked up
into the eaves of the patio overhang and spotted the remnants of a bird’s nest.
The baby sparrow flopped pitifully against the window. Jamie gently scooped it
up. “You poor thing. Maddie, go out to the garage and get that cage we had for
Bunny. It’s in the corner by Daddy’s camping stuff. Can you carry it?”

Maddie nodded, her dark curls falling into her blue eyes. 

Maddie went to get their old rabbit’s cage while Jamie examined the baby
bird. It didn’t seem badly injured, but it was certainly a bit frightened. She
was an animal lover, but no expert, and she knew nothing about birds.

“Here you go, Mommy.” Maddie bounded in and set the cage down on the
kitchen table.

Unsure of what to do, and racing against the clock, Jamie told Maddie to
sit down and she handed the bird to her. “Don’t squeeze. Hold it there like
that.” She grabbed the morning’s newspaper, shredded some of it, put it in the
cage, and took the bird from Maddie and placed it inside. She then hooked up
Bunny’s old water bottle, and after washing her hands, took out some crackers
and smashed them into small bits and placed them on a paper plate for the bird.

“That’s all we can do for now,” Jamie said. “We have to get you to school
and me to work.” She sat down in the chair next to Maddie. “Listen sweetie,
we’re going to hope that our little friend here lives so it can get better and
we can turn it loose, but I don’t know for sure if it will get better. I can’t
promise you. I want you to know that.”

“I want to keep it.”

“I know. Let’s see how it does. Okay? Now run on upstairs, wash your
hands and brush your teeth. We have to haul booty.”

Jamie
thought about the baby bird off and on all day, her fingers crossed that it
survived. She’d put the cage out on the back patio where it would have some
sunlight, but also a little shade from a couple of hanging ferns. Now as she
pulled into the garage, Jamie’s fingers were still crossed.

Please let it be alive. Jamie had such good news to share with
Nathan—thus the exciting part of the day. After working at
The Wine Lover’s
Magazine
for seven years, today she had been promoted to editor-in-chief!
Yes! Yes! It was a position she’d coveted for quite some time and through
diligence and hard work, she’d made it. She’d finally arrived.

She glanced to the back seat, where Maddie lay half asleep. Jamie got out
of the car, grabbed her briefcase, and started to lift her little girl from her
seat.

“Hi, Mommy.” She rubbed her eyes and looked up at her mom, her baby blues
innocent and sparkly. “The birdie!” she said, remembering. She was wide awake
now and out of the car, heading for the back door.

“Wait, Maddie. Wait, wait, let Mommy go first.” Too late. The back door
off the garage wasn’t locked and Maddie was through it before Jamie reached it.
She made it to the patio as quickly as possible and sighed when she caught the
smile on her daughter’s face.

“Look, Mommy! It lived. Can I touch it?”

“No, babe. Leave her be.” Jamie peered into the cage and could see that
the bird appeared much better and had eaten most of the crackers. What a great
way to end the day. Now Jamie could go ahead with her celebration plans for the
evening with Nate. If the bird hadn’t made it, Jamie knew that they would’ve
had one unhappy child on their hands in need of a night of
comforting—comforting that typically meant sleeping in Mommy and Daddy’s bed
and taking
all
of the bed while Mommy and Daddy scrunched up into their
corners.

“Let’s leave the bird alone and go in and fix some dinner. Daddy will be
home soon.”

“I want to watch it.”

“Maddie.”

Her daughter frowned. “Five minutes.”

Jamie held up her hand. “Five and don’t touch her.”

“I wanna name it. I wanna name it Lola, like on
Charlie & Lola.
”

“Lola it is.”

Jamie walked back into the house, leaving the door open. The lemon scent
of cleaning products hit her now that she knew Lola seemed to be on the mend.
The housecleaners! God bless them. Today had been their day. Friday was Jamie’s
favorite day because she knew she’d return home to find the morning mess gone
upon their return. Bliss!

“When is Daddy going to be home? I want to show him Lola,” Maddie
hollered from the patio.

“Any minute!” Usually Nate made it home first. He must have gotten caught
in traffic. Maybe he stayed late? No, he would’ve let her know that by now. He
had to be in traffic. He’d show any minute. Time to pour two celebratory
glasses of wine and let it breathe. Then get Maddie’s dinner started so she
could get her daughter to bed early, new bird or not. Jamie had plans for her
husband.

A little
celebration. And what went with celebrations? Veuve Clicquot
.
What a good idea. It was their favorite champagne. After the wine and
after
Maddie was tucked in her bed, the Vueve
would be exactly what tonight
called for. And the little black silk number from La Perla that Jamie purchased
the week before would be icing on the cake.

 “I’m hungry,” Maddie whined, walking back into the house. “Lola is just
sitting there.”

“It’s probably best to leave her alone. I’ll put her in the laundry room
soon. The sun is going down. We don’t want her to get cold.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry? You’re hungry? Wait a minute. I thought your name was
Madeleine or Maddie, but Hungry? No. I don’t think so. Unless. Wait! Wait,
wait, wait, wait.” Jamie shook her head in exaggeration. “Did you change your
name?” She picked up her dark curly-headed daughter, whose eyes were exactly
like her father’s—eyes that could melt any heart like chocolate on a hot day
and make a person feel gooey all over.

Maddie giggled. “No, Mommy. I
am
Maddie. I want to
eat
.”

Jamie set her down and bent to her level, finger on her cheek. “I think
that can be arranged. What do you say about some Mac and cheeeeeeezzze?” Jamie
wiggled her eyebrows in Groucho Marx fashion, a maneuver that always elicited
the same reaction from her daughter—laughter and an eye roll. “Don’t you go
rolling your eyes at me, Madeleine Elise Evans.”

“You’re so silly, Mommy.” She bobbed her curls. “Plain old silly!”

“I can take silly. But don’t you dare call me old. Okay, remember I said
that Daddy will be home soon. So hop, skip, and jump out of your school clothes
and I’ll run a bath for you. Then get your jammies on and your dinner will be
ready. And tonight I’ll even let you watch a movie in your room on my laptop.”

Maddie frowned. “Why do I have to put my pajamas on so early? And can
Lola sleep in my room?”

“It’s already after six-thirty. And did you not hear what I said? A movie
in bed? How about some popcorn too?”

“What about Lola?”

Jamie closed one eye and looked like she was really thinking about it.
“I’ll see what Daddy thinks about that.” She went to the clutter drawer (the
one everyone has in their kitchen, save for Martha Stewart) and dug through it
until she found some matches. A little wine, a little candlelight. Ooh, and wait
a minute. A takeout menu from Arrivederci’s. Perfect.

“I wanna’ watch
Zach and Cody
.”

“Deal.”

“Mommy?”

“What, sweetie?”

“Why do I always have to stay at daycare? I hate staying so late. I’m the
last one.
Always
.”

Ugh. Shot through the heart. The kid would make one heck of a mother
someday. She had the guilting thing already down pat. But how could Jamie blame
her? It was true that most evenings Maddie was the last one to get picked
up—usually one minute before six o’clock. Mrs. Sheffield, the after-care
provider, would regularly place her hands on her hips, furrow her already
furrowed brow, and remind Jamie that for every late minute she would be charged
five dollars.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Next week, I promise, I will come early every day.”
The editor-in-chief position should provide some kind of privileges, like
working from home, or leaving early on occasion.

“Good, because Mrs. Sheffield smells like farts!”

 Jamie tried hard not to laugh. “Maddie, the term is gas or flatulence.”

“Mrs. Sheffield has horrible flatulence.” Maddie wrinkled up her nose,
and rolled her eyes again.

“Upstairs now. Bath! I’ll be up to run it.”

“I can do it. I’m a big girl.”

“Apparently. You and your potty language. Go then!” Laughing, Jamie
kicked off her shoes by the couch and glanced around her tastefully decorated
family room. The entire house was tastefully decorated, thank you very much to
those brilliant designers who do model homes. Jamie may have lived in a tract
home, but not just any tract home. This was Napa Valley and a million dollars
for a tract home was not unreasonable. The home came with that old California
architecture—arches and sconces and all that chic stuff, plus a wine cellar. In
Napa, even tract homes have wine cellars. They do if they cost a bundle, anyway.

Jamie went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She ran
her fingers through her blonde pixie haircut, giving it a little mussed-up
look, then opened the drawer full of makeup and rifled through for the red
lipstick that Nate liked on her. After that she lined her hazel eyes with black
liner—voila, the vamp.

Walking back into the kitchen, she looked at the clock again. She called
the restaurant and placed an order for shrimp scampi and chicken parmigiana.
She started the pot for Maddie’s mac ‘n’ cheese and then went to the wine
cellar, pulled the Vueve
,
and set it on ice.

The water stopped running upstairs. Maddie was splashing around and
singing a made-up song about Lola the birdie. Jamie smiled, shaking her head
and went around her family room lighting candles—all perfectly placed and in
various sconces and candlesticks. She would have never picked any of this stuff
out on her own. Decorating was not her forte, but she sure loved looking at it.

When Jamie heard the garage door go up and the engine of Nate’s Range
Rover pulling in, she sighed. Her husband. Her soul mate. Her best friend in
the world. She couldn’t help smiling thinking of the night to come.

She picked up the wine glasses and tried to strike her most seductive
pose, which probably looked more like she’d already had a few drinks rather
than the sex kitten persona she was going for.

The back door closed and the tapping of Nate’s hard-soled shoes echoed
off the tile floor. Then they stopped. He must have been putting his briefcase
down. A few seconds later he rounded the corner and she smiled widely, holding
out a glass for him. “Hey, hot stuff.”

He didn’t say anything. His normally clear blue eyes were red and his
dark hair was disheveled, as though he’d been running a hand through it. He did
that when he was upset.

“You okay? Looks like you’ve had quite a day. Lose a big case?”

He shook his head. “No, babe. I didn’t lose a case.” He took the wine
from her and sucked it down like water.

Her stomach sank. “You’re scaring me. What is it? You didn’t lose your
job, did you?” She laughed nervously.

He shook his head again and looked at her as if he was about to cry. Nate
didn’t say anything. He just looked at her.

“Honey? What? What is it? Talk to me. Please.”

Tears now slid down his face. “I didn’t want to do this. I swore I’d be
strong and wasn’t going to lose it and frighten you, but, Goddammit.
Goddammit!”

Impatience that now turned to fear gnawed at Jamie’s gut. “Nate, what the
hell is going on?”

He took her hand. “Where’s Maddie?”

“In the bath. What is going on?”

“I saw Robert Kurtz today.”

“Yeah, so?” Her stomach sank. “You have lunch with him sometimes, right?”
Jamie asked, knowing that Nate was referring to an old college buddy of his.
“You see him sometimes. What? Why is that a big deal?”

“No, Jamie. I
saw
him. I saw him as a patient. I didn’t go back to
Dr. Riggs. He’s retired now.”

She closed her eyes and tried wrapping her mind around what Nate was
telling her, but it didn’t make sense. No. It couldn’t. Robert was an
oncologist.