Marriage Matters (12 page)

Nineteen

W
hen Chloe woke up the next morning, snuggled deep in her comforter, her hand was on her breast. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. She’d actually been in the middle of a dream, kissing the man of her dreams. She sighed, trying to figure out who it was. He seemed familiar. In fact, he seemed a lot like . . .

Aaaack!

Bolting awake, Chloe sat straight up and the comforter fell off her shoulders. The kiss she was dreaming about was the one that started at the door of her apartment. With Ben.

“No, no, no, no, no.” She hit her hand against the down comforter. It made a tiny puffing sound, like a deflated wedding dress. Whiskers, who was curled up in a warm little mound at Chloe’s feet, shifted in her sleep.

“Whiskers, wake up,” Chloe whispered. The whispering was necessary, on the off chance that Ben could hear her through the wall. “This is a serious crisis. Wake up.”

Whiskers lifted her head. Those pretty yellow cat eyes stared as though to say,
You’re waking me up? I thought we had an understanding about that.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “but how stupid can I be?” Scooping up her cat, she pulled the furry little body close to her chest. “Whiskers, I kissed Ben.
Ben.
”

Whiskers let out a strangled meow, squirming.

“Don’t meow at me.” Chloe closed her eyes tight, remembering the way his arms had felt around her. “I kissed Ben. And Ben kisses
every
body.”

This was not good. Their friendship had relied on the fact that Chloe
wasn’t
everybody. She wouldn’t bang on his door at three in the morning, begging him to open up. She wouldn’t sit by the phone, praying he’d call. And she certainly wouldn’t fall in love with him, expecting to be the one who would finally make him change.

“I’m blaming it on the alcohol,” Chloe told her cat. “I had too much wine, we both did and . . .” She flushed, thinking of the way Ben pushed her up against that door. The way he’d smelled, like rosemary and garlic and the seventh grade. Her heart pounded at the memory.

Just then, there was a thump on the other side of the wall. Chloe froze, realizing that the only thing separating her from the man who had turned her body to water was a thin piece of plaster. She drew the comforter back up to her chin and pulled Whiskers in tight.

“How could I have been so stupid?” Chloe buried her face in Whiskers’ fur. The cat squirmed wildly, then escaped. She stood at the end of the bed, looking highly offended, her fluffy white hair askew.

“Great,” Chloe said, tossing up her hands. “Thanks a lot. But at least you’ve prepared me. Because that is exactly how Ben’s going to react.”

* * *

As the sun shined down through the trees, June sat on her haunches, tugging at an especially hard-to-extract weed. The oxidation crew had toned down the glare on the gazebo and she was overjoyed to spend the day in her garden once again.

“Oh, you think you’re so strong,” June told the weed. “Just you wait. I am going to tear you out of this ground faster than you can say—”

“Giving it a talking to, June?” a voice asked.

June was so startled that she let go of the weed and fell back on her bottom. “Oooph.” The grass was slightly damp and the moisture seeped through the thin fabric of her gardening shorts.
Drat.
She would have to go back inside and change. Assuming she could get back up. Her body had landed in a very precarious position indeed.

Charley eyed her with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I am perfectly fine.” The truth was, June had landed on a tree root in a way that could require a trip to the emergency room, but she was not about to admit that in front of this man.

“Are you sure?” Charley put up a hand, shielding his eyes from the sun. “You look like you’re stuck. Do you need a hand?”

June let out an enormous sigh. She was not stuck, but getting out of this position was going to require some grunting and groaning that she would prefer he not witness. “I am perfectly fine,” she said. “The gazebo looks good. Thank you so much. What can I help you with now?”

Charley leaned against the fence, as though settling in for a long chat. “That friend of yours, she’s quite a character. She didn’t believe me when I said I enjoyed her strudel, so she’s insisted on bringing me another one.”

June peeled off her gardening gloves. Flexing her fingers, she said, “Oh?”

“Yes.” Charley looked puzzled for a moment, as though remembering the details of that night. Then he smiled. “Since Rose is your friend, I thought you could tell me what she prefers to drink? I didn’t think to offer her anything, last time.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” June said. Of course, everyone who was anyone knew that Rose Weston drank Manhattans, with two maraschino cherries. “I believe she’s a teetotaler.”

“A teetotaler?” Charley looked genuinely alarmed. “Oh, boy. I probably would have served her a drink and she would have slapped my face. She seems like a feisty one.” As he said this, his blue eyes danced in a way that she did not appreciate. “Thank you, June.” He turned away from the fence, his form slightly stooped in the summer sun. Whistling, he headed back toward the house.

Gingerly, June placed her hands on the grass and gave a slight shove. Her legs splayed open like a crab just as he turned to say, “You sure you’re okay?”

June lowered herself back to the ground. “Just wonderful.”

When the man finally decided to go inside, June slid her cell phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. It was strictly for emergencies—she did not want to cook her brain with radio waves on a regular basis, thank you very much—and she was relieved to see that it was in fact charged. Her daughter answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Mom. What’s going on?”

June stretched out her legs. The sharp, shooting pain in her bottom was gone, so that was a good sign. Nonetheless, she whispered into the phone, “Don’t worry, but I might have to go to the emergency room.”

Instantly, Kristine’s voice was worried. “Oh, no. What happened?”

June could hear people chatting in the background, as though the store was busy. Even so, it dawned on her that when Kristine picked up, she’d sounded upset.

“Is everything alright?” June asked.

“Mother. You just called me to tell me you might have to go to the hospital. What do you mean, is everything alright?”

A cardinal dropped down into June’s birdbath. It splashed around, flashing its bright wings and chirping happily. “Oh, I’ll be fine. Stop dillydallying and tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. Just . . .” Kristine sighed. “Kevin’s not going to Rome. He would rather save his vacation time for a hunting trip. So, I’m going alone.”

The bird rose up in the water, waving its wings. Droplets of water shimmered in the sunlight.

“What?”
June barked. “That is absolute foolishness. Didn’t you get my note?”

Charley came back outside. Since she was still sprawled out on the ground, June leaned her head back as though trying to catch some rays. He went back to fertilizing his shrubs but she could tell he was still keeping an eye on her, which was very annoying.

“I mean it, Kristine,” June whispered. “Did you tell your husband about what I said? About the young man in your store?”

After Chloe’s remarks about how good-looking this man was, June decided to perform a little reconnaissance. She dialed up The Places You’ll Go,
asking for Ethan. An oily voice on the other end of the line had said, “This is he.” June dropped the receiver in its cradle as though it were a snake and took a cab to Lincoln Park.

With the meter running, she darted up to the window and peered inside. She received a couple of funny looks from the patrons, considering she was decked out in an enormous hat and sunglasses, but the disguise was important. Kristine would kill her if anyone mentioned the fact that her mother was skulking around.

The moment June spotted Ethan, she felt a twinge of fear. The man was much too attractive for his own good. Plus, he moved around the place like a panther. If Kevin wanted to hunt, he might want to set his sights on a new target.

“I don’t like this, Kristine.” June shook her head. “Not in the least.”

“Mother,” she groaned. “I am not going to talk about this with you at work. Now, do you want me to call you an ambulance or not? I have to go.”

Giving a tiny grunt, June used every ounce of strength she had to push herself up to her knees. The movement startled the bird in the birdbath. With a flash of scarlet feathers, it darted up to the tree and chattered angrily.

“Oh, I’m fine.” June got to her feet. She patted her hair, just to let Charley know that she was having no trouble at all. “It’s you who I’m worried about.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Kristine said, her voice wry. “I’ve got everything under control.”

Twenty

A
lthough June was certain that, on some level, Kristine did have the situation with Kevin under control, June still took a cab out to the suburbs later that afternoon. She wanted to have a little chat with her son-in-law.

Kevin certainly would not be open to this, unless he was a captive audience. Considering he did not have any dental appointments on the book, she decided to corner him at the juice bar next door to his gym. Kristine always said he finished off his workout with a protein smoothie, so June was hedging her bets.

She was perched on a red stool at the juice bar, sipping her second apple and carrot juice concoction, when he finally walked in. He was dressed in a sweaty T-shirt, a pair of navy blue jogging shorts and ridiculously large white tennis shoes. As she swiveled on her stool to face him, Kevin’s face fell.

“
This
is my son-in-law,” June told the barista. Before he arrived, the tattooed girl behind the juice bar made the mistake of asking June how her day was going. Boy, had she gotten an earful.

Kevin gave the barista a cheerful wave. “How ya doing, Myra. Can I get a protein smoothie? With banana and some of that world-famous chocolate?”

Myra shrugged. It was obvious that she, too, didn’t understand why he would send his wife off to Italy with another man. “I’ll have to go into the back to get bananas.”

Kevin clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Can’t wait.”

The barista sauntered into the back room.

Kevin chuckled, leaning against the bar. “June, you really are something else. Only you could think it’s acceptable to stalk me at a juice bar. So. Let’s get this over with. What did I do now? And if it’s horrific enough to warrant a trek to the suburbs, why hasn’t Kristine talked to me about it herself?”

June hesitated, thinking back to the first time she’d met Kevin. It had happened over the summer break, during Kristine’s third year at college. Eugene had been delighted to meet him.

June had not.

One of June’s fears in allowing her daughter to attend an out-of-state college was the risk that she would meet someone and fall in love without giving June a say in the matter. And like it or not, June’s say
did
matter.

That first time Kevin walked through her front door, June was shocked to see that he was a big brute of a boy. He smelled like the outdoors and wore ill-fitting khakis and a faded sweater. It was obvious that he lacked the means to support her daughter, if the situation came to that.

Since Kristine poked a finger into her back like a pistol, June extended her hand and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words came out stiff, probably because they were a blatant lie.

A huge smile split across Kevin’s face. To June’s horror, he tackled her and lifted her up off the ground. “It’s awesome to meet you,” he said. “Kris talks about you all the time.”

“Put me down this instant.” The words came out as a hiss. “And don’t you
ever
put your hands on me again.”

Kevin froze. Face flushed, he dropped her back to the floor. Then he squared his shoulders and looped an arm around Kristine.

Fine,
his face seemed to say.
Then I’ll put my hands on your daughter instead.

Eventually, June and Kevin came to an understanding. This happened around the time she realized that, even if he wasn’t the man she would have chosen for her daughter, Kevin loved Kristine and would do anything for her. It troubled June that somewhere along the way, his attitude seemed to have changed.

Draining her apple and carrot juice, June set it on the counter. “I simply want to know why you are sending my daughter to Italy. Alone.”

Kevin grabbed a straw from the container on the counter and began to fiddle with it. The man was always doing something with those hands. If they weren’t pawing at her daughter, they were rumpling Chloe’s hair, flipping through the sports section or playing with a nearby item. June wished that for the purpose of conversation, the man would just hold still.

“Things are complicated right now.” Kevin wadded up the wrapper and shot it at the trash can, as though it were a basketball. “I can’t go. I have too many responsibilities.”

June sighed. “Kevin, you have a responsibility to your family.”

“I’m well aware of that.” His face flushed. “Chloe’s in grad school. I’m responsible for that. Kristine has her store. I’m responsible for that. We have a mortgage, I’m responsible—”

“Okay, okay,” she said, irritated with his theatrics. “Have you seen the man she’s planning to travel with? He has a hungry look about him, Kevin. I don’t like it. I don’t think it’s appropriate for my daughter to travel with someone like him, alone.”

“Kristine’s a big girl.” He reached for another straw wrapper. “She can take care of herself.”

“Kevin.” June gripped his muscular arm. “She might not need your protection, but she needs your attention. She needs
you.
You’re her husband. Step up.”

After a tense moment, he said, “Let me look at some things and I’ll . . . I’ll see what I can do.”

“You will?” June’s heart leapt. If Kevin decided to go to Italy, it would make her daughter so happy. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“I’m not making any promises, June.” His eyes seemed tired. “I just said I’d see what I could do.”

“As long as you make an effort,” she told him. “That’s what counts.”

The barista must have been listening at the door because she chose that moment to walk back in, carrying a creamy smoothie in a to-go cup. Handing it to Kevin, she said, “Fourteen seventy-four.” Off his confusion, she nodded at June’s juice. “She said you were buying.”

Kevin shook his head, pulling his wallet out of his mesh shorts. “Of course she did.”

“Thank you, Kevin.” June hopped down from the tiny stool. “I mean that.”

Kevin’s face broke into that goofy grin. He reached for a napkin from the counter. After spitting on it with a loud, horrible sound, he leaned forward and wiped the wet, warm thing across June’s upper lip.

“Aack!”
Furious, she wiped at her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“You had a carrot juice mustache,” he said. “And I hate to tell you this, June, but orange just isn’t your color.”