Soaring (58 page)

Even though I didn’t know what drove me to check, I was glad I did it if only to know there actually wasn’t anything suspicious about it. That said, I wouldn’t have minded if there was something meaty to sink my teeth into so the guys would could demand a decent kitchen.

But it was what it was.

And therefore I’d give it some time seeing as there hadn’t been much since my last efforts bore fruit. Then I’d get some of the other MFD wives, girlfriends and husband-boyfriend (as the case may be with Misty) together to sort out a fundraiser for a new kitchen.

All we needed were appliances and cabinets. With Mickey’s foreman skills, the boys could do the fitting.

And with my skills at fundraising, that would be easy.

“Thanks, sweets,” I said to Robin.

“Major letdown,” she replied. “I was hoping for something juicy. Amelia Hathaway exposes corruption in a small town in Maine.”

“Personally, I’m glad there
is
no corruption in a small town in Maine since I live here.”

“I hear you,” she replied, and when she did I heard the smile in her voice. Then she asked, “Hey, since I got you, Lawr called me while I was at Pilates. I’m gonna call him after I get off with you, but do you know why he’s calling?”

At her news, my heart skipped a beat.

“I…can’t imagine,” I lied.

“Maybe he’s coming to town,” she said absently. “Usually when he comes to town, you’re here so I know through you and you set up the fun. Now you’re not here.”

“Maybe,” I hedged.

“Hope he’s coming and I love it that if he is, he thought of me even without you being here. He’s one of the three good ones, the other two being my dad and, hopefully, your hottie.”

I loved it that she loved that, and I loved it that she thought that about Lawrie.

“My bestie and my big bro, getting together even without me. Love that too,” I stated benignly but, if only to myself, leadingly.

“I just hope he doesn’t bring the ice queen,” she mumbled.

I decided not to reply.

“Anyway, I’ll give him a buzz,” she finished.

“Good, sweets. Now I gotta go. Plans with Mickey and his kids.”

“Wonderful, darling. I’ll let you fly.”

“All right. Talk to you later.”

“You too. Have fun,” she bid me.

“Thanks. Let me know what Lawr says.”

“Will do. Later.”

“Later, Robin.”

We rang off. I grabbed a scarf from a shelf, the jacket I wanted from a hanger and dashed out of my walk-in in order to grab my purse and keys, lock up and run over to Mickey’s.

* * * * *

“All right, we’re officially running late!” I called.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Two seconds!” Cillian yelled from the bathroom.

I was standing at the end of the hall at Mickey’s, staring at my watch. I turned my head, however, when I heard a door open.

I saw Aisling step out. “Go without me, Amy.”

She then stepped back in and closed the door.

Shit, we were supposed to leave that very minute. Now, what was I going to do with Aisling?

I wondered this even though I wasn’t surprised about Ash’s decision not to join us.

Mickey, with what he’d hoped was good timing—Aisling coming out to be with the family and take care of me on Wednesday night—had taken the opportunity to try to have his sit down with her the night before, Thursday.

This did not go well. There’d been a drama with some shouting, some, “There’s nothing bothering me,” which, after Mickey pushed, segued to, “
You’d never get it, Dad!
” more shouting and some slammed doors. She’d then calmed down but when she did she’d clammed up.

I knew all this because Mickey had given me a full report.

Now, I was taking the kids into town to attend the town council meeting, which would hopefully end with a vote approving a full-time firefighter. This being the first step toward Bobby feeling the department was in good shape, thus he was okay to leave, making Mickey the chief.

Mickey wasn’t at home with us because he was at a meeting at the firehouse. The fire inspector’s report had come in, disturbingly confirming that the fire at Mills jetty was arson. It was not the MO of any other such fires in Maine, but upon sheriff Coert receiving the report, he’d investigated and found that similar fires were started in Nevada, Colorado, Wyoming and Minnesota.

Thus, there was possibly an arsonist in Magdalene and the boys at MFD were getting a full briefing from the chief and the sheriff and we were joining Mickey in town for the council meeting, something which all the members of the department (save the ones on duty) were attending.

Something, in order to get there in time to settle in and get seats, we should be seeing to.

I stared down the hall, trying to come up with a game plan, when Cillian walked out of the bathroom.

My body jolted at the sight.

“What do you think?” he asked, pointing to his head, which had hair that looked wet but all of it stuck up on end like he was in the middle of a cartoon electrocution.

“Uh…” I mumbled, not knowing what to say since what I thought wasn’t good.

“It’s got the wet look now but it’ll calm down when it dries,” he informed me.

I had experience with this, considering my son went from not caring about his appearance to being all about it, this in the expanse of about two weeks. Thus I knew that men’s hair with product that was going to dry did not stick up on end like that.

“How much did you use?” I asked as he sauntered toward me, his gait like his dad’s, except cute rather than hot.

“About half a pudding cup,” he answered.

Oh dear.

“Just to say, kiddo, you’re supposed to use about the size of a dime.”

He’d stopped in front of me, and at my words, his eyes got big. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. You use as much as you did, it’s gonna dry just like that.” And take about three washings to get it out, something I decided not to inform him of at that time since we should be leaving.

“Crap!” he yelled, turned and ran back down the hall.

“Cillian!” I called after him just as the bathroom door slammed. “We need to leave!”

“Two secs!” he shouted back.

“Shit,” I whispered, deciding Aisling first, Cillian second, when the doorbell rang.

“Get it, Amy!” Cillian hollered.

Nothing from Aisling.

“Shit,” I repeated, moving to the door.

I opened it and saw on the stoop a pretty, petite, curvy woman with dark blonde hair who was perhaps five years older than me. She wore attractive clothes, had a great handbag and was staring at me like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hi. Can I help you?” I asked politely.

“You’re Amy,” she replied strangely breathily, like she was winded because she showed up at Mickey’s door after a five K run.

My head twitched at the knowledge she had that knowledge and I confirmed cautiously, “Yes.”

She continued to stare at me, taking me in, then looked away only to look right back and announce, “I’m Rhiannon.”

Oh
shit
.

“Um…hi,” I repeated.

“Is Mickey here?” she asked.

“No, he’s in town. Meeting at the firehouse. I’m taking the kids in to join him for the town council thing.”

“Right, right. I forgot,” she mumbled, shifting, fidgeting. She then dropped her keys, bent quickly to pick them up and straightened, not looking at me. “I’ll call him.”

“Do you want me to tell him you came by?” I asked.

“Yes, yeah, that’d be good,” she answered, making as if to turn but not doing it and instead saying to me. “Um…thanks.”

“Do you want to say hi to the kids?” I offered quietly.

She looked beyond me, pain gathered in her features, released and she glanced at me before she looked to my shoulder. “No. I don’t want to delay you. I’ll call them too.”

“It’s no problem,” I lied, since it was considering we were already late.

She looked to her watch then to my shoulder. “Council meetings begin at six thirty so I’d probably just make you late. That’s okay. I’ll see them soon.”

“All right,” I said, still quietly.

“Um…yes, well…” She shifted again as if to turn away, shifted back, didn’t reach my eyes, and said, “Well, ’bye.”

“’Bye, Rhiannon. Nice to meet you.”

That was when she looked me right in the eyes and I again saw the pain.

That didn’t sit great with me not only because of what might be behind it but because it wasn’t fun seeing she had it.

“Yeah, Amy. Nice to meet you too.”

I forced a smile.

She attempted to force one back but before she succeeded, she turned and hurried down the walk toward her car in the drive.

I watched her, rattled by that encounter, but only for a second before I closed the door, partly so she wouldn’t catch me watching her, mostly because I
really
needed to get the kids moving.

I dug my phone out of my purse and texted Mickey,
Running late. Will text when we’re on our way.

I gave him only that. The news about Rhiannon could wait.

I sent that and I hurried to Aisling’s door.

It had a poster of a band on it and the good news about that was it was not a boy band. In fact, it shared the knowledge she had excellent taste in music.

I knocked, put my hand to the knob and opened it, poking my head in.

I’d never seen her room. The door was always closed.

Now I saw it had been a little girl’s room, all pink and purple and flowery, but that evidence now lay beneath a lot of clutter, a bunch of spent clothes strewn everywhere, a TV with piles of DVD boxes all around, an unmade bed and a liberal coating of more band posters.

However, there was one other poster. A movie poster. A movie poster that, in its aloneness as a movie poster in Aisling’s room rather than it being one of many, concerned me.

The poster was for the River Phoenix, Lili Taylor movie that had come out decades before.

Dogfight
.

My eyes swept back, taking in a plethora of makeup and hair stuff on top of her dresser, all of it coated with a visible layer of dust, and I saw her in bed amidst the mussed sheets (as well as discarded clothes), back against the headboard, book in her hands.

Before I could say a word, she told me, “Dad won’t mind.”

I stepped in but not far. “I think he will, blossom. This is a big night for the department and I’m thinking that your dad would never ask you kids to go to a boring town council meeting unless it meant something to him. And anyway, we’re getting dinner after.”

“I can get something to eat here,” she told me.

“You can but my guess is we’re not only going out to dinner after because we’re all together and it’ll be too late to cook anything, but because he’s hoping to have something to celebrate.”

“You and Cill and Dad can do that without me,” she replied.

I took another step further into her room, doing it carefully, but not very successfully, to avoid the layer of clothes covering the floor. “We can, but your dad won’t want us to. He’ll want you there.”

She lifted her chin. “Am—”

Abruptly, I jerked my head to the movie poster. “Have you seen that movie?”

Her eyes darted to the poster, to me, then to my stomach. “Yeah. Own it.”

“An old movie for you to be into,” I prodded.

“Yeah, well, my brother wants to be a fighter pilot because of an even older movie,” she pointed out accurately. “We’re a movie family.”

This could not be denied.

“Something in that movie that speaks to you like Tom Cruise speaks to your brother?” I pushed, but did it on a smile, hoping that would work to get her to open up to me, but doing that not thinking it was a probability.

I was correct.

Her gaze came to mine. “Well, yeah.
Obviously
.”

It was far from obvious to me.

She said no more.

This was not good.

“What, honey?” I queried. “What does that movie say to a girl like you?”

She looked away.

My phone in my hand chimed.

I looked down at it and saw Mickey’s return text,
Got it. See you soon.

I looked back to Ash. “Ash—”

“Here it is! Better?” Cillian asked from behind me.

I twisted and watched as he leaped into the room, landed right on clothes (and didn’t care) and threw his arms out.

His hair was now slicked back like an Italian movie gangster.

“Much better,” I lied.

He looked to his sister. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Not goin’, Cill,” she replied.

He stared at her. “You are.”

“I’m staying,” she told him.

“You’re goin’,” he told her.

“No, I’m not,” she returned.

“Yes, you are,” he shot back then snapped, “This is a big thing for Dad.”

“I’m—” she began.

But I cut her off. “Going. Up, Ash. Now, blossom. We shouldn’t keep your father waiting.”

“But I—”

“Please, honey,” I whispered. “He trusted me to get his kids there and now I’m asking you to please help me do what he asked of me.”

It was a complete gambit, me playing the new-girlfriend-being-tested card. Mickey would never do that to me.

But I was hoping she cared enough about me, me with Mickey, and her dad to think that it was
me
who wanted to make sure I gave her dad what he wanted and she’d go along.

“All right, whatever,” she mumbled, pushing away from her headboard.

I hid my sigh of relief.

“I get shotgun in the Rover!” Cillian cried and raced out the door.

She trudged toward me and I watched her do it, wondering what was crushing Mickey’s pretty girl.

I wouldn’t find out that night but I had to do something.

So I caught her hand and held it firm so she stopped trudging and looked up at me.

“Something’s up with you and I don’t want to make something that’s obviously bad any worse, but I do want you to know it’s worrying your dad. It’s worrying me. He wants to help you get beyond that something and I want the same thing. I told you once you can talk to me about anything. I’ll say it again. Anytime, Aisling. Anything. You need me, I’m there.”

“Okay, Amy,” she replied and I knew she did it just so I’d shut up.