The Perfect Family (23 page)

“If kids can write one kind of paper, they can write another.”

“Spoken like someone who hates to grade these.”

His eyes twinkled. “Now there’s the smart, sassy woman I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately, Mag. I’ve wanted to ask about it, but I was afraid I’d offend you.”

“You wouldn’t offend me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re like a mama lion about her cubs.”

Mike would hate that Damien could read her so well. It felt intimate even to her. “How do you know this is about my family?”

“Intuition.” He winked at her. “We psychology types have ESPP.”

“ESPP?”

“Extra sensory perception about other psychologists.”

She laughed out loud. Not only was Damien an excellent professor of psychology with an artistic bent, he had a great sense of humor.

Sheila Stone, the psychology department secretary, came to the doorway. “Hi, guys. Some of us are going over to Jinx’s for cocktails. They opened a glassed-in porch area and we’re christening it. Want to come?”

Damien gave her a killer smile. “I’m already in.”

While Maggie thought about the offer, she pretended to straighten the light green spring dress she’d bought on a recent shopping trip with Gretta. “I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Family stuff?” Shelia asked.

Glancing at the phone, she thought about whether or not she should go with her colleagues. Mike was at dinner with clients. Jamie was out with some friends. Brian had baseball practice. And she’d had lunch with Caroline—she saw her sister almost every day—so she was at loose ends tonight. “No, no family stuff.”

Damien got to his feet. “You should come.”

Sheila echoed the sentiments and left.

“Come on, Mag. It’ll relax you. No heavy stuff preying on your mind. Nobody to be responsible for. We’ll have drinks and argue about what’s wrong with education today.”

The offer was too good to resist. What would she do with her evening anyway? Go home and sulk about her problems? “All right. I’ll call and leave a message for the guys.” When Damien didn’t move, she said, “I’ll meet you there.”

“No way. You’ll duck out. If it isn’t private, I’ll stay right here.”

“It’s not private.”

Punching in her home number, she waited for the answering machine to pick up. She listened to the boys’ message, which they changed periodically, often depending on the weather:
We’re all out in the sun.
We’re probably skiing
.
We went to Florida
. Once in a while they groused
Mom’s making us clean the house
. This time, both boys joked about school’s end and Brian’s graduation. Her heart felt heavy at how carefree they sounded. This particular tape was made before Jamie’s disclosure.

After the beep, she said, “Hi, it’s me, Mom.” Hmm, was that her identity in the house? “I’m stopping for a drink after work with people from the psych department. I’ll probably beat all of you home, but just in case, I didn’t want anybody to worry.” Then she added, “I love you.”

When she hung up, Damien’s face was full of approval. “What?”

“It’s cool. That you say
I love you
on a phone message.”

“Is it so unusual?”

“Even better that you think it isn’t.” He held out his arm in a courtly gesture. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you a glass of your favorite Chardonnay.”

*

“I think we can come to terms on the turnaround time,” Mike told Jeremy Connors, the man who would decide on a five-million-dollar job for Mike’s company. “Our reps are formalizing the schedule, but it’s a go.”

This meeting would end with dinner at the Landings, a swank restaurant in downtown Rochester, and hopefully cinch the deal Mike had been orchestrating for months. At least work was going well.

Connors was about sixty, with distinguished looks that reminded Mike of Lucas Crane Sr. “Let’s see the bottom line.”

From beside him, Laura put statistics up in a PowerPoint presentation. Mike said, “Notice the fall delivery dates, Jeremy. No other company is going to be able to beat them.”

It took another hour to convince Connors, but the deal was closed and Mike was feeling good when six o’clock rolled around.

Connors stood. “We’ll meet you two at the restaurant.”

You two
. Laura had not been invited to dine with them. He asked her with a casualness he didn’t feel, “Would you be able to join us, Laura?”

She sent him a dazzling smile. The tip of her chin made her hair fall attractively over her hazel eyes. “Yes, but my car’s in the shop today. Can you give me a lift?”

Connors left ahead of them to make some calls and Mike faced Laura. “I’m sorry you got roped into this.”

“Truthfully, I’m glad to be invited. I know I’m only your administrative assistant, but I worked hard on this account, too.”

Mike hadn’t asked her to dinner because he didn’t want to encourage any kind of socializing with her. Lately, as if she sensed trouble between him and Maggie, she’d made more outright comments like, “You’re the
best
father. I
love
how you treat your employees. You look
great
today.”

“I’m sorry about that. I thought you’d have more exciting things to do. A date maybe?”

“I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

Too bad.

“Is the ride okay?” she asked.

“Sure. I have to call home first, but I’ll be ready to go after that.”

Without asking, she leaned over and picked up the phone. This close, he could smell some pretty perfume on her. She dialed his number and handed the receiver to him. As she straightened up his conference table, the answering machine came on. He said, “Thought I’d catch you, Maggie. I’m heading out to dinner. Hope your day went well. See you later.”

“Not home?”

“No. She has a four o’clock class. She’s probably still with students.”

Laura’s smile was female, flirtatious. And flattering. “I guess it’s you and me.”

“And Jeremy Connors, his lawyer, and his VP.”

“You held your own with them, Mike. I’m amazed at how nobody intimidates you.”

The compliment felt good. So did her approving perusal as he shrugged into his taupe sports coat.

His wife hadn’t looked at him like that in a long time.

*

Maggie dragged herself into the house at nine that night. The boys’ car was gone, but Mike’s Pontiac was parked in the garage. Normally, work dinners ran later than this.

He was on the deck, sitting in the black and gray patio furniture they’d brought out of storage as soon as the weather warmed up. Drink in hand, he stared at the backyard but swiveled around at the sound of a screen sliding open. The light breeze ruffled his hair and chilled Maggie’s bare arms.

“Hi.” She smiled at him. “You’re home early.”

“You’re not.” His tone was cool, distant. He was still dressed in his the taupe blazer she always thought looked sexy on him.

“I was—” She started to defend herself, but halted midsentence. Suddenly, she was weary of walking on eggshells around everyone in the house. “I left a message.”

“I know. I heard it when I got in.”

“When was that?”

He sipped his drink, but didn’t take his eyes off her. The skitter of a squirrel running up a tree and the crickets chirping in the distance filled in the silence before he added, “A while ago.” He scanned her outfit, his expression unreadable. “You wore your new dress.”

“Uh-huh. To school today.” Sitting down opposite him, she tried to determine his mood.

He studied her with that piercing gaze of his. The boys used to squirm beneath it when they were young and had been in the wrong. “So, you went out with
people
from your department.”

“Yes. I said I did on the machine.”

“Who was there?”

“The usual suspects.”

“Who?”

She drew in an exasperated breath. “Look, Mike, if you have something to say, say it.”

“Was Damien Kane with you?”

“He was part of the group, yes.”

“Did you spend most of your night”—he glanced at his watch—“the three hours since you left the message, with him?”

She had, of course. She’d tried socializing with others. But Damien always seemed to be at her elbow with a drink, or some appetizer the restaurant had served to their group. “I spent the entire time with the nearly dozen coworkers who came along to celebrate Jinx’s new addition.”

“How much did you have to drink?”

Sliding to the edge of the chair, she snapped, “I’m your wife, Mike, not your child. I won’t be questioned like one.”

“That much, huh?”

“I had three glasses of wine over four hours. I also ate.”

“You ate?”

“People have been known to do that.”

“With who?”

“Stop it! If you’re angry at me, don’t be searching for excuses to show it. Come right out and tell me you hate the way I’m handling this situation with Jamie.”

He waited only a beat. “I hate the way you’re handling this with Jamie.”

“Well,” she said silkily, “I hate the way you’re handling it, too. So that makes us even.” She stood abruptly. “Don’t ever question me like this again about my whereabouts.”

He threw back his chair. It hit the railing so hard the sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet backyard. “Fine, but I want to know if this is how you’re going to handle the trouble between us?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Are you going to deal with the distance between us, the strain in our lives, by turning to another man?”

“There is no other man.”

“Kane has been after you since he set foot on your college campus. I’ve seen him sidle up to you at parties. The few times he’s called here, he’s been overly chummy with me. Last fall, at the kick-off picnic, he wrangled being your partner in almost every event.”

Since what Mike said was true, she didn’t bother to deny it. “And what did I do, Mike?”

“Nothing.” He arched a brow. “Yet.”

“Go to hell.” She stalked into the house, marched upstairs, got ready for bed, and slid under the covers. Her guess was that Mike would sleep on the couch.

He did.

At five the next morning, she awakened to find him creeping into the room. She’d slept horribly, as she always did when they went to bed with an argument unsettled between them. Rolling over, she faced him. He closed the door and leaned against the wall. A neighbor’s outside lamp was on and a sliver of light slanted in through the blinds. His face was haggard, flushed with fatigue. He crossed to the bed. Sat on the mattress. Bent over and kissed her.

Makeup sex. His hands brushing down her hair. Cupping her breasts. Sliding to her thigh with urgency. She’d been on the other side of the jealousy issue, so she knew what he was feeling. Women at Mike’s workplace flirted with him at company events, and other times, too, she suspected. Afterward, she couldn’t wait to get him alone.

The silk she’d worn to sleep in slipped off her like water. His lips roamed everywhere. He covered her body with his.

The tone of their contact changed to one of raw desire. She felt it rush over her and clung to him. For a while, little else mattered.

Maggie stretched out on her bed, exhausted from the tension between her and Mike, despite the tenderness of their lovemaking a few nights ago. When Jamie got in after school, he peeked into her bedroom and asked if she was all right. She told him she just hadn’t gotten enough rest lately. Amazing how lies fell freely from your lips when life has shifted out of focus like a camera lens you couldn’t quite get right no matter how many times you adjusted it.

The phone rang and Jamie answered it. From downstairs she heard, “Mom, it’s for you.”

“I’ve got it.” She picked up the extension by her bed. “Hello.”

A cough on the other end. “Maggie, this is John Miller.”

John Miller. Did she know a John Miller?

“Darcy’s brother.”

Darcy Miller Larson was Maggie’s best friend in high school. Maggie had a crystal-clear memory of one Christmas in Cornwall long ago, when she’d gone over to visit Darcy. She’d stood outside the Millers’ quaint stone house, which resembled a Thomas Kincaid cottage, with the snow falling around her, looking through the window, watching Darcy, her mother, father, and brothers gather around their fireplace. Maggie had known a longing so strong for a family like that of her own, it almost leveled her. And she thought she’d created it, the perfect family of her dreams.

Darcy had dropped out of college to get married and still lived in Cornwall. She and her husband Dick had three kids. Their boys were close in age to hers.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” John was saying.