Losing Penny (8 page)

“She was provoked. She’s easily provoked. It
comes with her hair, you know.”

Melinda tried to gather her composure then
crossed the room, her hand extended. “Well, it’s nice to meet
you….”

“Magdalena,” Drake said.

“Magdalena,” Melinda repeated.

“Magdalena,” Penny whispered, taking
Melinda’s cool, dry hand in her own. She had no idea what was
happening or why Drake was lying to Melinda.

Melinda dropped her hand and Penny sank back
onto the sofa. She pulled the quilt over her nightgown and tried
not to look at Melinda’s perfect hair and teeth and her meticulous
make-up.

“Well. This. Is. A. Surprise,” Melinda
said.

“Yes, it is,” Penny said.

Drake raised his eyebrows. “I had no idea
Magdalena was in town. She surprised me too.”

Melinda tried to laugh, but it sounded like
breaking glass.

The door thump-thumped.

“More house guests?” Melinda asked.

Drake hurried to the door. “Yes, the party
never ends.” He opened the door and Wolfgang walked in. Drake
handed him a piece of bacon.

“Don’t—” Penny began, but stopped after it
was too late.

“What is
that?”

“This is Wolfgang,” Drake said, rubbing the
dog’s head. Wolfgang finished off the bacon and gazed up at Drake
with eyes full of hope and devotion. What a traitor.

“I don’t think Mrs. Lee will be happy—”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be okay with it.”

“Really?” Melinda looked ready to burst with
frustration.

“Absolutely. We talked about pets.”

Penny decided that this man should write
fiction; he was very good at it.

Melinda composed herself, and within an
instant she returned to the poised woman Penny had always known.
“So, you’re going golfing with Daddy in an hour?” Her voice sounded
only slightly off, a little too bright and high.

Drake sat down on the other side of the sofa
with the French toast and started to eat. Wolfgang sat down at his
feet. Penny had to fight back the urge to kick Drake and her
disloyal dog.

“Of course,” he said.

Melinda’s gaze flitted from Drake to
Penny.

“It’s lovely that you could visit, Magdalena.
How long can you stay?”

“Not long,” Penny said.

“Don’t say that, sweets,” Drake said. He
turned to Melinda. “I’m trying to make her stay…forever.”

He’s a cheesy fiction writer, Penny
decided
.

Melinda laughed uncomfortably and edged
toward the door. “Well, we’ll see you in an hour. Nice to meet you,
Magdalena.” She paused. “And Wolf.”

“Wolfgang,” Drake corrected her. “Like
Wolfgang Puck.”

After the door slammed, Drake turned to
Penny. “Well, it stands to reason.”

Penny felt as if all the air had been sucked
from her lungs. “What does?”

“That you named him after Wolfgang Puck. If
you were a composer I’d have guessed he was named after
Mozart.”

“That’s what you want to talk about?” Penny
waved her fork at him. Sometime during the Melinda exchange she’d
started eating the French toast. Oh, dear heavens, no. She looked
at the now empty plate and exploded. “My dog’s name? Are you a
complete nutter?”

“You think I’m a nutter because I want to be
married to you?”

“Yes!”

Drake stood and held out his hand for the
plate. Penny sadly took note of its French toastlessness. She’d
eaten all the toast and all the berry butter.

Drake took the plate to the sink and rinsed
it off. “You’re sadly lacking in confidence and self-awareness.” He
began to load the dishwasher.

“What does that have to do with anything?”
Penny followed him into the kitchen and watched him wipe down the
counters.

“Anything? Your confidence is everything.
Don’t you know about the law of attraction?”

Penny crossed her arms and said something
that she’d never said before, “I want to talk about our supposed
marriage. I want to talk about Magdalena.”

Drake finished with the counters and started
on the stovetop. “It’s interesting, until I met you, I thought
Magdalena was my life’s worst mistake, but now, suddenly, she’s
become useful.”

“Useful? Do you often use people?”

Drake stopped wiping. “You’re twisting
things.” He pulled out a kitchen chair for her and then sat down in
one himself.

Penny hesitated. Sitting put her at a
disadvantage if she wanted to hurt him. Again.

“Just think about it. Your plan was obviously
to hide from your stalker and can I tell you that I think it is a
very stupid plan?”

Penny gazed down at him, frustration
building. “You don’t get to have an opinion.”

“Everyone has a right to their opinion.”

“Stop it. I said you don’t get an opinion and
I meant it.” Her stomach churned. Maybe she’d get so upset she’d
vomit the French toast.

He laughed. “Okay, so my opinion doesn’t
count.”

“Which means I don’t have to listen to
it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Penny—” he used his
ultra-patient professor voice again.

“No! We can’t both stay here! We’re not
married, and my name is definitely not Magdalena—who was, if I have
to remind you, your life’s greatest mistake!”

Drake looked tired. “Just think about, will
you? You’ll be safer here with me than alone. I won’t tell your
secret.” He held up his hands to ward off her next verbal attack.
“Even if you decide to end our marriage.”

“We don’t have a marriage!”

“I promise I won’t tell, either way. But your
lie—and it is a lie—will be more believable with me than without
me.”

“What do you get out of it?”

Drake thought for a moment. “Space.”

“From Melinda?”

He nodded.

“She’s beautiful.”

He nodded again. “She knows that.”

“Poor, pretty professor, trying to ditch all
the gorgeous women chasing him.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Just think about it.”
He stood quickly and looked at his watch.

“Where are you going?”

He laughed. “Weren’t you listening? I’m
golfing with Daddy Marx.”

“But…we’re not finished.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the
cheek. “I know.” He waggled his eyebrows at her before turning and
whistling as he walked out the door.

It takes 286 minutes of walking or 118
minutes of jogging to burn off the 1,040 calories in a breakfast of
French toast topped with berry butter and maple syrup.

From
Losing Penny and Pounds

Penny and Wolfgang
took the rocky path that led to the beach. Even with her iPod and
the calls of the gulls, she could hear the tinny, forced sound of
Melinda’s laughter. Obviously she had her cat eyes trained on
Drake, and Penny, aka Magdalena, was in the way. Even though the
idea of interfering with Melinda’s man-pouncing was wildly
appealing and ego-boosting, she had to be prudent.

Her sneakers hit the sand and she turned up
the music and increased her pace. She picked her way through
driftwood toward the tide-soaked sand, which made the ground more
solid and her run easier.

She didn’t know anything about Drake other
than the fact that he was handsome and charismatic, and the same
could be said for any number of stalkers. Melinda thought Drake was
worth having, but Penny and Melinda undoubtedly used different
measuring sticks when it came to…almost anything, really. Not just
men.

Not that Penny had ever had any men to
measure, except for her dad and her brother. She dreamed of an
Atticus Fitch sort of man—kind, loving, generous, a quiet gentle
wit. Everything that Melinda was not.

Penny scolded herself for being so harsh.
Melinda was no longer a teenager and neither was Penny. Undoubted
they both had changed; everybody grows up.

Penny tried not to think about those summers
living next to the Marx family, but no matter how fast her pace,
she couldn’t get away from the frumpy girl sitting behind the food
table at the Marx’s summer parties. Those were the years before the
Watchdog, the years when her hand-me-down clothes came in great big
black trash bags from the girls who attended her aunt’s church.
Richard picked through the bags, immediately tossing anything that
said, “juicy” or “sexy.” Anything too tight or too short was also
thrown out…and back then, everything was too tight. Which left her
with gifts from Aunt Mae—pink dresses, floral tops, babydoll eyelet
frights. She’d spent years hiding in Richard’s sweatshirts and
workout pants. He didn’t always appreciate this, but since she did
his laundry, he couldn’t really complain.

Melinda hadn’t been mean, she just hadn’t
seen Penny. Penny had wanted to be invisible. And now Drake, an
incredibly beautiful man, wanted to be invisible, too. He wanted to
hide from Melinda behind “Plump Penny.” But Penny could choose
whether or not to let him.

She didn’t know if it was a risk she was
willing to take. He could be another stalker, a Chester the
molester, or Ron the rapist. Penny stopped and looked at how far
she’d come. She wasn’t that fat little girl anymore, even though
she felt just the same as she’d always been.

She headed back home.

***

The shrill ring of the telephone came through
the windows. Penny sprinted across the grass and up the stairs.
Passing through the enclosed back porch, she couldn’t help notice
the sparse tidiness of Drake’s space. A suitcase and a pair of
shoes, neatly placed side by side, sat beneath the bed. It was the
only trace of him.

The door banged behind Penny and she lunged
for the big, old-fashioned phone that resembled a squatting toad.
“Hello?” her voice came out in exhausted huffs.

“Penny?”

“Kayla, thank goodness.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, but…I didn’t know. Things have gotten
weird.”

Kayla inhaled sharply. “The Lurk’s found
you?”

“No, at least I don’t think so, but someone
else has.” Because the phone had a line that kept her tethered,
Penny sat on the floor and slipped off her shoes and damp socks
while she told Kayla about Drake.

“Married?” Kayla’s voice squeaked.

“I know, crazy right?” With the phone
securely wedged between her shoulder and her ear, Penny rolled onto
her back and pushed her hips into the air in the bridge pose. “I’m
thinking of coming home.”

Kayla didn’t reply.

“Kayla? Are you still there?” Penny lowered
her hips and exhaled slowly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pen.”

Penny pushed back up so that her hipbones
pointed at the ceiling. “I can just lay low, stay at home. My plan
can still work. I can still do the Photoshop thing and the recipes
on my blog…” her voice trailed away when Kayla didn’t comment.

“Don’t come home, Penny. You know I love you,
and it kills me to have you gone, but I think you should stay there
with this Drake person.”

“You don’t even know him.
I
don’t even
know him.”

“He sounds delicious.”

“
Delicious
Drake?” Penny laughed. “Is
there something you’re not telling me?”

Kayla took a deep breath. “I went to your
apartment to water your plants and pick up your mail like you
asked…I think someone had been in there. It smelled like
coffee.”

Penny didn’t drink coffee. She abandoned the
bridge pose and sat up. Still pressing the phone to her ear with
her shoulder, she leaned into the downward dog.

Kayla rushed on. “So, I set a trap. I
sprinkled flour on your floor.”

“Kayla, that’s brilliant.” The flour would be
almost invisible on the whitewashed wood planks, but anyone walking
around would undoubtedly leave footprints. “Wow, you’re like Nancy
Drew.”

“I’m going over again tonight after work to
see if my plan worked.”

“Oh! Don’t go alone.”

“I’m not. I’m taking Troy with me.” Kayla let
out a sigh. “Maybe you should come and stay with me.”

“Sweetie, you know I can’t do that. We’d both
be Lurk bait.” Penny swallowed. “But I can find somewhere else to
stay.”

“I thought the police told you not to use
your ATM or credit cards.”

“True.” She’d withdrawn all the money she
needed to stay at the beach house for the summer. Anywhere else
would cost much, much more, and she’d need more cash.

“It’s funny,” Kayla said, “we’re assuming the
Lurk is so sophisticated that he can follow a paper trail, but
stupid enough to fall for flour on the floor.”

“Only the most brilliant think of flour on
the floor.”

“Thank you,” Kayla said.

Penny thought for a moment. “You should take
my plants to your place so you don’t have to go back over
there.”

While Kayla talked, Penny closed her eyes,
imagining her tiny apartment. She loved the kitschy kitchen, the
big windows, and the deck overlooking the canyon. Homesickness
washed over her, and she wondered how long she would need to
hide.

After Kayla said goodbye, Penny turned on her
laptop and Googled Drake Islington. She found his profile on
several social media and professional sites, which included photos,
finish times in local races, his contributions to several
charities—which she found interesting since Drake obviously had
very little money—and even a few of his poems. He wasn’t on Megan’s
Law, and as far as she could tell, he didn’t have a police
record.

None of the Googling didn’t make staying with
him wise, just less stupid.

***

They were married on Frigg’s day, to honor
the goddess of marriage. Together they drank the bridal ale. The
draught ale slid down Hans’s throat and warmed his belly. He knew
this was the beginning, but he also knew it was the end. There was
no going home after this. He was as tied to Ingrid’s land as surely
as her manuscript. She was a keeper and she would keep him.