Nearlyweds (14 page)

“It’s none of your business!” Nick exclaimed.

“No, go ahead and answer,” I told him. “I’d really like to know. Are we getting married again or not?”

Another long silence. Then: “We already got married once.”

“That means no,” I translated.

“That does not mean no!” Nick insisted.

I hugged myself tighter and asked, “Well, does it mean yes?”

“It means we’ll talk about it tomorrow.
Alone.
”

“Goodnight, Nick.” I slammed the door.

T
oday was a good day,” I announced to David when I arrived home from the office on the Monday after Thanksgiving. “The waiting room was full of kids who picked up nasty bugs over the holiday weekend, but none of them belonged to Kelly Fendt.”

David looked up from the newspaper. “Do you think she finally decided to listen to reason? Or just switched pediatricians?”

“Hey. Whatever. I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.” I dropped my bulging leather tote bag on the kitchen table, then glanced around. “Where’s the dog?”

David returned his attention to the paper. “In the basement.”

“David!” I hurried across the kitchen toward the basement door. “It’s cold down there, and damp! How long has he been
down there?” I heard pathetic whining and scratching; the second I turned the knob, Cash heaved his considerable weight against the door and came barreling out. He circled the table at top speed, slipping and sliding on the freshly waxed linoleum (thanks, Renée).

“Hey buddy!” I kneaded the loose skin at the scruff of the dog’s neck. “Poor thing, locked up in the dark all day.” Cash threw himself on his back, begging for a belly rub. “Honestly, David, what were you thinking?”

David hunched over behind the folds of newsprint. “It wasn’t my decision.”

“Don’t try to pin this one on your mother. It’s your house!”

“Yes, and she’s our guest and the dog scares her.”

I put my hands on my hips and regarded Cash, who was wriggling upside down, all four feet pedaling in the air while his tail thumped against the cabinet with the rapid-fire precision of a machine gun. “This dog scares your mother?”

Only the top of David’s hair was visible over the Arts and Living section. “She says shelter dogs are unpredictable. And after what happened Thursday night…”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are going to have to get over that. Thursday night was a fluke. He was in a new place with new people; he had an accident. If you must blame someone, blame me for not making sure he did his business before I took him inside. He had a bowel movement. He didn’t rip out her jugular.”

“I see your point,” David conceded. “But my mom says—”

“I washed the blankets, I said I was sorry, what more does she want?” I frowned, surveying the unusually quiet house. “Where is she, anyway?”

“At her bridge club. The roads were icy, so Henry Reynolds offered to give her a ride.”

I shook my head. “That man is a glutton for punishment.”

My so-called husband finally lowered the newspaper, took off his glasses, and started rubbing his forehead. “She says she doesn’t want to be alone with the dog while you and I are off at work. She says he growled at her.”

“Really.”

“Yes. Now, I grant you that she can sometimes be a little, uh…”

“Insane?” I suggested.

“Oversensitive,”
he amended. “But it’s possible, Erin. He could have growled. We don’t know anything about his history, or why his owners gave him up. Honey, sometimes dogs just snap, you know? They’ll be fine one minute, and the next…”

“What’d she do, sit you down and make you watch
Cujo
on your lunch break?”

“Honey, you know I’m on your side. But I’m not going to call my mother a liar and force her to spend all day with a dog that terrifies her. I’m just not.” He held up a hand when he saw my expression. “And luckily, this doesn’t have to start another huge fight between us, because he’s not even our dog.”

“That’s right,” I said hotly. “He’s Stella’s, and I promised her I’d take good care of him. And barricading him in the base
ment all day—where we store all kinds of paint cans and chemical cleansing agents that could poison him, by the way—is not taking good care of him.” I stalked back toward the mudroom and grabbed his leash. “Come on, Cash, you deserve a walk.”

“Erin…”

“What?” I clipped the leash onto Cash’s collar, then looked expectantly up at David. “What?”

His hazel eyes were bleak. “Please don’t be mad.”

To my surprise, I realized I wasn’t angry. The initial flash of irritation had passed and left in its wake something much scarier: resignation. “I’m not mad,” I told him, pulling on my leather gloves. “But I’m not stupid, either. This is the way it’s always going to be with Renée. You’re always going to side with her.”

“That’s not true,” he protested, but I cut him off.

“Apparently, I have to decide if a three-way marriage with you, me, and your mother is something I can live with. At the rate we’re going, we might as well bring her down to the courthouse to sign the marriage license right under my name.”

“Is that a threat? You’re not going to remarry me now?”

“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I love you, but there’s a reason they say three is a crowd.”

When I returned from the walk, my mood had improved and my biceps were aching from trying to rein in Cash, who pulled like a sled dog on the leash. A maroon Oldsmobile was parked
on the curb by our mailbox, so I could only assume that Renée had returned from her bridge club with the long-suffering Henry Reynolds.

“Hello,” I called as Cash tugged me through the doorway.

“Oh Erin, dear, you’re back.” Renée rushed into the entryway to give me a hug and kiss, after which she made a big show of cowering from Cash, as if his fangs were dripping blood. “Just in time to meet Mr. Reynolds.”

“Call me Henry.” A stocky, affable man in his sixties stepped forward to shake my hand. In his preppy khakis and brown leather bomber jacket, he looked a little like a New England version of Harrison Ford—so why did Renée spurn him every time he asked her out?

“Pleased to meet you.” I yanked the leash as Cash sprang up on his hind legs and nuzzled Henry’s neck. “As is the dog.”

Renée’s hands flew to her face. “Oh my word, David, do something! Better put him back in the basement.”

“Nonsense.” Henry playfully cuffed Cash’s muzzle. “He’s a good boy, barely out of the puppy stage. Aren’t you, boy? Aren’t you?”

Cash wagged his tail so hard that he toppled sideways onto the carpet.

My mother-in-law hid behind David, peering over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Renée, he’ll be fine.” Henry laughed, then winked at me. “Women, eh?”

I smiled back. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Erin. Renée never mentioned that her son was married—”

I shot David a look.

“—but I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon.” He turned back to Renée. “A pleasure, as always, madam. And if you change your mind about that movie on Friday…”

“I won’t.” Renée didn’t crack a smile. “But thank you for the ride.”

“Jeez, Mom,” David admonished as he closed the door behind Henry. “Why won’t you give the guy a chance?”

“He seems nice,” I chimed in. “Very mellow.”

“Mellow. Bah.” Her mouth puckered. “I don’t date, David, you know that.” She surveyed our home with a satisfied smile. “I have everything I need right here. Now, I have a surprise for you.” Renée looped her arm through David’s. “Henry gave me a gift certificate to the White Birch. Dinner for two.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” I said. “When do you think you’ll go with him? What about this weekend?” Maybe I could slip Henry a few extra bucks to keep her out all night, and David and I could break out the new lingerie I’d bought on Black Friday.

Her eyebrows snapped together. “I told you, I don’t date. He’s not the first male to try to turn my head with baubles and trinkets. Presents like this are entirely inappropriate.”

Foiled again. “So you gave it back to him?”

“Of course not.”

David nodded wearily. “So what are you proposing?”

Renée pressed the gift certificate into his hand. “I’m proposing that you two newlyweds have a date night.”

He gaped at her. “Really?”

She beamed. “Of course. You’ve hardly had a moment alone together since I moved in, and I know how you love the duck at the White Birch. Now run upstairs and change.”

I tried not to look stunned. “Wow, Renée. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling.” She reached up to pat my cheek. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve been such a gracious hostess.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t detect the slightest trace of sarcasm in her voice. So I raced up after David, who took the stairs two at a time.

“Can you believe this?” He charged into our walk-in closet and grabbed the first jacket and tie he saw. “You, me, the White Birch…and best of all, no Mom!”

“I know.” I took my time selecting a black wool skirt to pair with a clingy blue top that Stella had helped me pick out at the mall. “This is really nice of her.”

He yanked his sweater off over his head. “She’s probably going to use this as leverage to guilt-trip us for the next year, but who cares? Tonight, I get you all to myself. Alone at last!”

“Mmm.” I threw him a saucy grin. “Maybe it’s time to test-drive my new black lace thong.”

“Does this mean you forgive me for banishing Cash to the basement?”

“I might.”

“What if I promise to let him lie around in our bed all day, watching soap operas and eating bonbons?”

I laughed. “Maybe I’ll go commando.”

His hands slid down to my hips. “We could just skip dinner and you can have your way with me right here in the closet.”

He kissed me, I kissed him back, and just as we were about to start rolling around on the carpet, Renée’s voice drifted in: “David? David, I need you.”

“Damnit.” He broke away and headed toward the stairs, clutching his shirt and tie in one hand. He paused in the doorway, turning back to me with a hot, carnal stare he hadn’t given me since we left Boston. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes or I’m coming back up to finish what we started here.”

I fished a black bra out of my underwear drawer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

In record time, I changed, swept my hair up into a French twist, and dabbed on perfume and eyeshadow. Exactly five minutes later, I was shrugging into my long black dress coat in the front hall. “Be good,” I told Cash. “We’ll be back soon.”

David rounded the corner, and I caught his hand in mine. “This is really great of your mother to do. Really generous. I know I’ve said some bitchy things these past few weeks, but I may have misjudged her, I admit it…” I broke off when I saw his expression. “Oh no. What now?”

Before he could answer, Renée strolled up behind him. She had her coat on, and a fresh coat of lipstick.

Son of a…
“What a surprise, Renée,” I choked out. “Are you going out, too?”

She clutched her sequined black evening purse. “Well, dear, I wanted to stay home and let you kids enjoy yourself—”

“And we appreciate that,” I cried. “We do! So we’re just going to—”

She shook her head sadly. “But I can’t stay here.” Her voice dropped to a sepulchral whisper. “I forgot about the dog.”

“Honestly, Mom, the dog will be fine,” David snapped.

“You say that, but you weren’t here when he growled at me.” Renée fluttered her eyelashes like a Southern belle who’d laced her corset too tightly. “I won’t feel safe all alone with him.”

Inspiration struck. “You could ask Henry to come over,” I suggested. “I’m sure he’d be glad to protect you.”

Her face was like stone.

“Renée.” I forced a smile. “I know you and Cash got off to a bad start, but he’s a pussycat, I promise. Casey gave me some chew toys for him—we’ll just toss him a few and he’ll be good as gold all night.”

My mother-in-law and I locked gazes in a staredown for a few seconds before I relented. “Okay, okay, you can put him down in the basement if you’re really that scared.”

“But what if he got out somehow?” She tugged her collar up around her chin. “Imagine if you came home and that dog had killed me. How would you feel then?”

A deafening crash came from the next room, followed by a series of frenzied yelps.

I skidded into the kitchen on my high heels to discover that Cash had overturned the stainless steel trash can and was strewing coffee grounds, banana peels, and empty yogurt containers all over the floor.

“You see?” Renée crowed. “He’s a menace. Who knows what he’ll do next?”

David ran his hand through his hair as he surveyed the wreckage. “That’s the spirit, Mom. The glass is half-full.”

“I’m only thinking of you, dear. You and your safety. Now come along, let’s go to dinner. The reservations are for seven thirty.”

I picked up a sodden paper towel and dropped it back in the trash can. “Reservations?”

“I called while you were getting dressed,” she cooed. “To make sure we’d get a good table.”

“Well, we can’t leave until I clean this up.” I pushed up the sleeves of my new shirt. “It’s Monday night; we’re not going to need reservations.”

David rested his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll take care of this.”

My mother-in-law tapped her foot and glanced at her watch. “Well,
I’m
ready to go. I’m positively famished.”