Marriage Matters (15 page)

Twenty-six

T
he weeks leading up to Rome seemed to fly by. The night before her trip, Kristine sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, reorganizing the suitcase that she’d packed weeks before. It was such a thrill to pull out everything and double-check, just to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

Kristine’s hands hesitated over the lace underwear sets she’d tucked into a side compartment. She’d thought it would be fun to bring them along, considering Italian women probably wore something more glamorous than white cotton under their clothes. Kevin wouldn’t even be there to see them. What was the point?

The thought prompted her to scoop up the entire collection and dump it back into a drawer. Pressing her palms on top of the dresser, she stared at herself in the mirror. The king-size bed she and Kevin shared loomed behind her, like some reminder that everything would be just fine. But when?

Before flying out for work the night before, her husband had given her a quick kiss on the lips and a smack on the bottom, like she was his workout buddy or something. “Have fun in Rome, Firecracker,” he said, grinning. “Give ’em hell.”

Hardly an inspiring
bon voyage
.

Walking back over to her suitcase, Kristine focused on checking off items on her packing list. Had she remembered the notecards for the speech she’d give at the Valiant luncheon? Yes, of course, but maybe she should . . . Her cell phone rang, interrupting her train of thought.

“Hey, Mom. What’s going on?” Kristine waited for the inevitable tirade about Rome. That she shouldn’t be going without her husband, she should rethink all of this and please, wouldn’t she just reconsider? June had been on good behavior but Kristine knew better. Her mother always had something up her sleeve.

“I need you to come over.” June’s voice was pinched and worried.

There it
was.

“Of course you do,” Kristine sang. “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help with a little . . . neighborhood matter.”

“Let me guess.” Kristine perched on the edge of the bed. “Your neighborhood needs me to sit in the house with you until the plane leaves for Italy. Without me on board.”

“I do not appreciate this cheeky attitude.” June’s voice trembled slightly. “If you don’t want to help, I suppose I’ll be forced to handle it on my own.”

Kristine hesitated, looking at the phone. June did sound upset. Either her acting skills had improved or something really was wrong.

“Mom . . .” Kristine glanced at her watch. It was only eight, but she had to be at the airport by ten in the morning. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m not exactly dying to drive back into town right now . . .”

“Damn,” June said, sounding truly distressed.

“Damn that I’m leaving,” Kristine asked, “or damn that you won’t be able to call and torture me for a whole week?”

“Damn that you’re leaving. I’ll miss you this week, but have fun.” June sounded distracted. “Alright, I love you. Get some rest. I’ll call Bernice.”

It wasn’t a trick. June really did need help. Zipping up her suitcase, Kristine got to her feet. “Hang tight, Mom,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

Throwing open the door, June said, “You made it!” In the light of the hallway, Kristine could see that her mother’s hair was rumpled, her eyes slightly manic. Without giving her a hug or even a second look, June did a U-turn and stomped back down the hallway and into the kitchen.

What on earth was going on? She hoped Charley hadn’t done anything too out of line. The time he’d planted those black tulips, June had paced the house and plotted revenge tactics for a week.

In the kitchen, Kristine stopped short. The kitchen table, the stove and the counters were covered with camouflage clothing. Sweatpants, sweatshirts and stocking caps. There was even a camouflage tent in the center of the room. June stood at the kitchen window, clutching a pair of gigantic binoculars and spying on Charley.

“Mom . . .” Kristine was baffled. “What the heck?”

Setting down the binoculars, June thumbed through some items on the counter, then thrust a pair of camouflage coveralls at Kristine. “Put these on. We’re going on a mission.”

“Hold on just a second.” Kristine dropped the coveralls onto the table. Their metal buttons clicked against the wood, then they swished onto the floor. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what is going on.”

Who knew what type of crazy scheme June was hatching? Kristine was not about to do something that could get them both arrested the night before she was supposed to leave for Italy. In fact . . . maybe that was June’s plan. She would not put it past her mother to get them both locked up in a jail cell “for Kristine’s own good.”

“Mother,” she said. “I am going to Italy tomorrow. Whether you like it or not.”

“For heaven’s sake, stop being so self-centered.” June’s voice was sharp. “You love to travel. Go to Italy. See if I care.”

Kristine looked at her mother in surprise. “Then . . . what on earth is going on?”

“I am
trying
to stop a great tragedy.” June handed over the heavy binoculars. “Take a look.”

Baffled, Kristine walked over to the window. She turned the cold metal dials of the binoculars until the scene across the way blurred into view. Her mother’s friend Rose stood in Charley’s kitchen, radiant in a turquoise pantsuit. She fluttered around Charley like an exotic bird.

Something warm and hopeful flickered through Kristine’s chest. “Mom, do you have a crush on this man?”

When Kristine’s father died, June had been so devastated that she swore she’d never love anyone ever again. Whenever Kristine brought it up, June just laughed. “Why would I waste my time cooking and cleaning for some man?” she always said. But June’s obsession with Charley seemed a little beyond neighborly concern.

“Mom.” Kristine kept her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time. Dad would want you to be happy.”

“What are you
talking
about?” June’s arms flapped up and down. “You are missing the point entirely! This is a neighborhood matter. You see, Rose has wanted to live on this street for years.” Flouncing over to the table, June yanked on a pair of camouflage hunting pants. They were at least two sizes too big and she rolled up the cuffs. “I would not put it past her to marry Charley Montgomery just to get her hands on that house.”

“I see,” Kristine said. Peering out the window, she squawked, “
Aack!
They’re kissing.”

“What?”
June dashed across that room so fast that she could have set a world record. She took the binoculars out of Kristine’s hands and trained them on the kitchen. After a long moment, she scowled. “That was not funny.”

“No. It was very telling.”

“You are getting the wrong idea,” June said, pulling a black cap over her head. “I simply want to know what is going on. I can stomach Rose in small doses but not as a neighbor. I would rather cash in my grave reservation today.”

Kristine laughed. “Well, don’t do that.” Reaching for the binoculars, she surveyed the situation. “No offense to Rose, but she has had a ridiculous amount of plastic surgery. I can’t imagine Charley would go for her.”

“Rose is a slut and Charley is a man.” June sniffed. “I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t.”

* * *

“Mother, come back here.” Kristine’s whisper was high pitched with worry. “I don’t like this!”

June rolled her eyes. She had successfully hung a rope ladder over the edge of Charley’s fence and was in the process of climbing over the wall and into his garden. There was no turning back now.

“Seriously,” Kristine insisted in a voice much too loud for a covert mission. “This is not safe.”

The only thing that could possibly make this unsafe would be if Kristine blew her cover. “Keep your eyes peeled,” June whispered. “If they look like they’re coming outside or even looking out the windows, just whistle.”

The night was a little bit chilly, so June doubted that Charley would, in fact, bring Rose outdoors. There was no telling, though. The man was a sycophant. He might get a sudden urge to impress her by showing off his feeble flower garden.

“I can’t whistle,” Kristine said. “Can I just snap?”

For heaven’s sake, was it really that complicated?

“Just let me know if they’re coming,” June whispered. She lowered herself to the ground, her exposed ankle brushing against the sharp thorns of a rosebush. Stealthily, she moved across Charley’s garden, letting the light from the kitchen window be her guide.

The outline of Charley’s fountain was her first marker. When June reached it, she stopped and placed her hand on the cold stone, breathing heavily. She relished in the sensation of standing in the center of his garden, the scent of jasmine in the air. It was just like the good ol’ Garden War days.

“Mother,”
Kristine called again.

“Shh!”
June ducked behind the fountain, tugging her cap lower on her head. Honestly, where had Chloe been when she’d called? June flattened her body against trees and bushes, creeping her way toward the open window. Suddenly, Rose’s laugh rang out through the night.

Bull’s-eye.

Ducking underneath the window, June scrunched up her lips and listened.

“You were a pilot?” Rose crooned. “That is simply fascinating. I find pilots incredibly attractive.”

“Oh, you flatter me.” Charley chuckled. “Most women I know believe pilots are cocky.”

“I like a cocky man,” Rose said.

June sniffed. A cocky man indeed. If only she had a tape recorder, she would play back this shameful conversation for everyone they knew.

“Oh, dear.” Rose’s tone became low and intimate. “Why are you rubbing your shoulders? I understand you do quite a bit of work on your garden. Does that make you sore?”

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back across the linoleum floor. Frustrated, June stared up at the high ledge of Charley’s window. What could she . . .
Aha!

A white plastic bucket was tucked neatly into the bushes by the door. Grabbing it, June flipped it over, climbed up on top and peered over the edge of the windowsill. For the briefest of moments, she caught a glimpse of Rose kneading away at Charley’s shoulders. Although the man had a slightly bewildered look on his face, he certainly had not bothered to push her away.

A coldness settled in her chest. Just as she’d determined that she’d seen all she needed to see, the plastic bucket started to collapse beneath her. The movement was slow at first, then it seemed to buckle and sink. June felt a hot clutch of panic in her heart. She was going to fall.

Desperate, she fumbled for the nearest thing she could reach. This happened to be a rake, the very one that Charley leaned against the edge of the sliding glass door each evening before he went inside. Unfortunately, it wasn’t stable.

The rake swayed and teetered beneath her grip. June stumbled off the bucket, the rake dropping to his low brick patio with a loud clatter. At the motion, lights blazed across the yard like something out of a prison movie. From across the garden wall, Kristine snapped frantically.

“What was that?” Rose’s voice was frightened.

June heard heavy footsteps cross the kitchen floor. “I’ll go find out.”

There was no time to run. Instead, June pressed herself against the side of the house, next to the drainage pipe. If Charley were to step out of his back door and look around the yard, he would most certainly see her. The camouflage she was wearing would do little to help her blend in.

The back door scraped open. June squeezed her eyes shut tight.
Oh, dear.
If Charley caught her sneaking around his house, she would have some serious explaining to do. The man was so close she could practically hear him breathe. After a moment, he gave a little chuckle and went back inside.

“Well, aren’t you going to go out there?” Rose asked.

“No, no. It’s most likely a wild animal playing outside. That happens a lot around here.”

“It could be a burglar,” Rose pressed.

Listen to the man!
June wanted to shout.
He said it was nothing
.

Charley’s voice was amused. “I’m not concerned.”

As the sound of his voice became muffled, June realized he’d turned away from the door. She was amazed to discover her heart was actually jackhammering in her chest. A heart attack would not be good. Especially on Charley’s back porch.

“Oh, Charley.” Rose’s voice was silky. “You’re so incredibly brave.”

June rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, Rose,” he said. “For your compliments and the dinner. It was lovely but I do have to confess, it’s getting awfully close to my bedtime.”

“My goodness, you’re right!” June could easily imagine Rose making a big deal out of looking at her diamond-encrusted Rolex. “You simply must call me a car.”

June knew the exact layout of Charley’s kitchen, from a few too many spy missions with the binoculars. His phone was connected to the wall on the opposite side of the windows, so that meant he would have to face the other direction to place an order with the cab company. Even though the motion lights were as bright as the sun, June knew this would be her best chance to make a run for it.

Grabbing the smashed bucket under her arm, June darted across the yard. She paid no attention to the proper path, trampling goldenrods and jack-in-the-pulpits with every step. At the edge of the fence, she whispered, “Catch,” and threw the bucket over the fence. With a speed that would make a squirrel proud, she scrambled up the ladder and over the wall.

“Mother, what happened?” Kristine ripped off the camouflage sweater and straightened her shirt. Her eyes were wide and frightened. “Did he see you? I was snapping as loud as I could.”

“Of course he didn’t see me.” June worked to catch her breath. “But I will tell you this. Rose sounded desperate and Charley is not interested. I don’t think she’ll be moving in anytime soon.” And because June was happy she had accomplished her investigation without getting caught, she gave a little victory dance.

Kristine laughed, pulling her into a hug. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”