Marriage Matters (7 page)

Nine

K
ristine stood up eagerly when she heard her husband’s key in the door. It was Wednesday night, which meant Kevin was back from the first part of his week. He’d fly out again tomorrow afternoon.

There would only be a short period of time to repack a new suitcase for him, sort through the dirty clothes and put in fresh shirts, razors and toiletries. Chloe teased her about doing this, but it was Kristine’s way of staying connected to her husband while he was out on the road. Besides, he wouldn’t know how to fold a shirt if his life depended on it.

“Hey, Firecracker!” Kevin strode across the room, his arms open. Kristine fell into the hug. She’d always loved the way he smelled, like lemongrass and musk. “Did you miss me?” He kissed her on top of her head. “I missed you. Cried myself to sleep every night. Like a baby.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see that.” She tilted her head back to look at him.

When their eyes met, his face split into a grin. Even though Kevin’s sandy brown hair had some gray in it and there were a few wrinkles around his eyes, he looked just like he did when they’d first met.

“I’m starving.” He looked past her toward the kitchen. “Did you make Philly cheesesteaks? Fried onions?”

“Try a grilled chicken salad.” Considering Kevin ate at airports and chain restaurants for the majority of the week, Kristine did her best to pump him full of vitamins at home.

“Sounds healthy,” Kevin sang, giving her a light smack on the bottom. After grabbing his favorite water glass out of the cupboard, there was the familiar
clink-clink-clink
of the ice machine then a whoosh of water. Such a silly thing, but just hearing the sound made her happy to have him home.

Kevin grabbed the salads and headed down to the den. Kristine gathered up silverware and followed him. He was already watching the sports station on their sixty-inch flat screen. She would have preferred for the TV to stay off, but she’d given up hope on that years ago.

“Kris, this looks great.” The plate was piled high with fresh spinach, portobello mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, red peppers, goat cheese and grilled chicken. Popping a tomato in his mouth, Kevin said, “How was your weekend with the girls?”

“Fun.” She settled into a brown leather chair and flipped up the footrest. “Chloe is doing way too much, as always. And June was as socially inappropriate as possible, whenever she got the chance.”

Kevin grinned, taking a bite of chicken. “Figures.”

The relationship between Kevin and June had been rocky from the start. He thought June was a “pretentious busybody,” while she thought Kevin was an “overeager ex-jock.”

“What else?” Kevin said. “You went to that French restaurant for our anniversary, right?”

Kristine flushed, staring down at her salad. “Yeah . . . How was your week?” Immediately, she felt guilty. Why couldn’t she just say she’d had dinner with a coworker and they’d talked travel?

Glancing at her athletic husband, Kristine knew why. If she told him, she’d probably do or say something to clue him in on the fact that Ethan had linked his arm with hers. Then Kevin would show up at the store and tell Ethan exactly what would happen to his arm if he tried anything like that again.

It was definitely not a topic worth bringing up. The trip to Rome on the other hand . . . that was something worth telling.

“So, I do have big news.” She set her salad on the coffee table. “Something exciting.”

Kevin’s mouth rounded into an O. “You got me an eighty-inch flat screen for our anniversary.”

She shook her head. “Nice try.”

“You’re a secret lottery winner and finally decided to tell me?”

“I wish.”

Kevin’s eyes danced. “June annoyed the air marshal and they threw her out of the airplane?”

Kristine laughed. “
No
. Give up?”

Digging back into his salad, Kevin took a few enthusiastic bites. “Tell me.”

“I won a trip to Rome,” she said. “At the end of next month.”

Kevin set down his salad, clearly surprised. “Rome, Italy? Or Rome, Georgia?”

“Italy, you goof.” Kristine still couldn’t believe she was going to Italy.

“That’s so great, Kris,” he said. “How’d you pull that off?”

“Oh, I didn’t.” Kristine felt another flash of guilt. “Someone in the store entered an essay contest. But since I own the place, I’ll get to go for a week and speak at this big-deal conference.”

“Well, that’s really cool.” Reaching for his salad, Kevin added, “Maybe the Pope will show up to your speech. Or that guy from
Gladiator
.” He hit Pause and the TV blared back on.

“Wait.” Kristine took the remote out of his hand and hit Pause. “There’s something else. I . . .” Her stomach flipped with nerves. “I . . . I want you to come with me.”

Kevin’s forehead scrunched up. “Honey, I can’t just take off with barely any notice. We’ll do it another time.”

“I knew you’d say that. So . . .” Kristine pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and dropped it on the coffee table. “I want to cash this in.”

Kevin read the note. “The IOU?” He laughed. “Kris, no. This is for a pair of diamond earrings or a spa day or something. Not to guilt me into doing something I can’t do.”

Kristine’s heart sank. The last thing she’d buy would be a pair of diamond earrings or a trip to the spa. Didn’t he know her at all? But the real issue wasn’t even that. It was the fact that he wasn’t going to go. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and he wasn’t even going to
consider
it. Sitting back in her chair, Kristine felt her eyes smart.

“Kevin, we need this,” she said, her voice low. “Our marriage needs this.”

“Our marriage?” Kevin looked at her like she had three heads. “What do you—”

Maybe it was time to tell him the truth.

“The other night,” she said, “I spent our anniversary sitting in a wine bar, wishing I was having a conversation with you about things that matter to me.”

Okay, fine. Maybe an abridged version of the truth.

“You’re mad that I wasn’t here for our anniversary.” Kevin turned to her, giving her his full attention. “I know. I was upset, too.”

“Not
mad.
I just . . .” Kristine picked up a crouton and rubbed it between her fingers until it crumbled. “I miss you,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I miss spending time with you. Please just think about it, okay?”

The Pause button must have expired, because the television snapped back on and football highlights roared through the den. Kevin held her hand, staring at the television with a troubled look on his face. “Absolutely. If that’s what you want.”

There were many things she wanted. She wanted her husband to look at her the way he had when they’d first met. She wanted to spend the weekends with him, trying new restaurants or going on getaways, instead of just recovering from a hard week of work. But most of all, she wanted him to want these things, too.

“I really want you to come with me to Rome.”

Kevin’s eyes were still trained on the football field. “Let me just think about it, okay?” Briefly, he squeezed her hand then let it go.

Kristine let out a breath and reached for her salad. Clearly, the conversation was over.

Ten

T
he summer sun beat down on June as she stood outside, sweeping the sidewalk. More than one neighbor had peeked out in the past hour to see what she was up to. Probably because sweeping was something June simply did not do.

Well, let them stare. She was not about to miss the arrival of Rose, who, according to Bernice, was planning to pay a visit to Charley. With a casserole. Wearing that bloodred lipstick.

The tramp.

It was perfectly fine with June if Rose wanted to establish a reputation. She was welcome to go after every widowed—
or married—
man in town, but when it came to June’s neighbor, such behavior was wildly inappropriate. What if Charley actually fell for her tricks? If that happened, Rose would eventually take over Charley’s garden and spend every waking minute trying to outdo June. Charley might even start saying things like, “Why, your blooms are the best in town, Rose.”

Oooh!

June swept furiously. Within seconds, sweat was pouring down her face. Apparently, the sun did not stop shining simply because she decided to spend a little time working on her front sidewalk, which was a shame. She leaned against the broom to catch her breath. While doing so, she noticed for the hundredth time that her legs were covered in inky varicose veins. So many of her friends had gotten that surgery to make them go away, but June was wary of anything that had to do with needles.

“Grandma, what are you doing?” a familiar voice demanded.

June practically jumped out of her skin. Turning, she came face-to-face with her granddaughter. Chloe was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans with that ratty-looking book bag thrown over one shoulder. Her curly brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail.

“Hello, darling.” June kissed her cheeks as though they were at a cocktail party. Her granddaughter smelled like pink bubblegum, even though she did not appear to be chewing any. “How are you?”

Chloe eyed her. “It’s a thousand degrees out here. Have you finally lost your mind?”

June blinked. “I’m just keeping the sidewalk nice.”

“I can see that,” Chloe said. “But A, you don’t sweep. B, this sidewalk is perfectly clean. Which leads me to C. You are up to something.”

June sighed. She hated the way these schools taught deductive reasoning. “The sidewalk is clean because I’ve
been
sweeping. You should have seen it before I started. It was a mess.”

“Hmmph.” Chloe watched her closely.

June leaned against the broom and decided to change the subject. “You are a lovely distraction. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just got out of class.” Her granddaughter yawned. “On my way to work. The usual.”

June nodded. The kid’s gym where Chloe worked was only five blocks from June’s home. Not that she would ever set foot inside it. If children weren’t related to her, June wasn’t interested, thank you very much.

Chloe glanced at her watch. “Can we go inside? I’ve only got twenty minutes to grab a snack. I need some fuel or those kids will tear me apart.”

“Oh.” June gave a desperate look around. “Um . . . You go ahead. I just want to . . .”

“Grandma!” Chloe said. “Seriously. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, of course. I am simply concerned about a rumor I heard.” Leaning in close, June whispered, “If you must know, my neighborhood is in great danger.”

“That’s it.” Chloe whipped out her cell phone. “I’m calling Mom.”

“No,” June cried. What did the girl want? A full report right here in the middle of the sidewalk? “Chloe, I feel fine. I—”

Just then, June spotted Rose. She was strutting down the sidewalk, decked out in a pair of white shorts, a white polo shirt and tiny pink scarf around her neck. The wind blew just slightly and the scarf flitted in the wind. The whole spectacle reminded June of those music videos Kristine used to watch when she was in high school.

“Toodle-loo,” Rose called, waggling her fingers. “Isn’t this a beautiful morning?”

Swooping in, Rose kissed June hard on each cheek. June practically choked on the overpowering scent of lavender perfume.

“Hi, Rose.” Chloe squinted in the sun. “You look nice.”

“She does not,” June barked, taking in Rose’s outfit. There was no trademark taffeta to be seen. In fact, Rose’s shirt was . . . “That’s a golf shirt!” This was deeply disturbing, as Rose did not play golf. But Charley did.

“Why, yes.” Rose smoothed down the front of the shirt, her augmented breasts shifting with the motion. “I thought I’d take it up again. I’ve always played a little,” she said, “over at the club.”

June eyed her, suspicious. “I don’t remember you ever mentioning that.”

“Well.” Rose appeared to check her lipstick in the foil cover of the casserole. “Perhaps you’re losing your memory.” Looking up, she blinked her cat eyes. “Getting old can be a bitch.”

“You can say that again,” June muttered.

“It’s been lovely chatting with you, but I am actually here to pay a visit to your neighbor. I believe he lives . . .” Rose made a big deal out of scanning the magnificent brownstones, before pointing at the one right next to June’s. “There.” She gave a happy sigh. “What a lovely home.”

With that, Rose swept away in a cloud of perfume. As she pranced up Charley’s steps, her legs perfectly tanned and varicose free, June leaned against her broom like Cinderella.

June watched as Charley answered the door. Silver hair shining, he listened closely to Rose. Throwing one last sly look at June, Rose slipped through Charley’s front door.

June’s heart sunk. “It is truly unbelievable,” she said, picking up the broom, “that someone over seventy could be such a complete and total hussy.”

Chloe studied June. “Interesting. Very,
very
interesting.”

“What?” June did not like the way her granddaughter was looking at her. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing.” Chloe shrugged. “I’m not saying anything at all.”

Eleven

“I
hate you!” Mary Beth Gable screamed.

Chloe closed her eyes and counted to ten. Even though she loved her job at Tiny Tumblers,
the kid’s gym, there were days when she just wanted to rip out her hair. Today was one of those days.

“Mary Beth,” she sighed, getting down on one knee. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt Asher. But when you hurt someone, you don’t laugh. You apologize. So, please say you’re sorry.”

Asher, pale and nervous by nature, let out a sniffle. Chloe put her hand on his back. The poor thing would be traumatized for life, all thanks to Mary Beth. The four-year-old hellion had decided it would be a great idea to leap off the monkey bars and use Asher as a landing pad.

Chloe was across the room when it happened, sanitizing the mats. The moment was awful, like watching a cheetah taking down a gazelle. Poor Asher had screamed in fear and promptly wet his pants. After tracking down dry clothes for Asher and giving him an ice-cream bar, Chloe was doing her best to get Mary Beth to apologize, but the little girl refused.

“Mary Beth.” Chloe kept her voice low and calm. “Please say you’re sorry.”

Mary Beth put her hands on her hips, debating. She was dressed in purple leggings and a pink and purple T-shirt that read,
My dad can beat up your dad.
Chloe doubted that the little girl would indeed be so confident if she actually did meet Chloe’s father.

“No.” Mary Beth stomped her feet. With each stomp, her tennis shoes lit up. “No, no, no, no, no, no,
no.
”
Then the little girl made a move to kick Chloe in the shins.

“Hey!” Chloe jumped back just in time.

Shaking her head, she wondered at the textbook aggression. Mary Beth was obviously from a broken home. Chloe would love to get a look at her father, just to see who was raising such a monster. Of course, he was never there. Mary Beth was dropped off at Tiny Tumblers
by nannies and rarely the same one.

Since this particular approach to getting an apology wasn’t working, Chloe decided to switch tactics. “Asher.” She turned to the little boy. “Do you want an apology for what happened?”

Asher squinted through his tears. Mary Beth narrowed her eyes.

He shook his head. “No.”

Chloe looked at him in surprise. “Asher, you can’t let women walk all over you.” The sentiment reminded her of a similar speech she’d made, back when Ben was in the fifth grade. “You need to stand up for yourself. Say,
Mary Beth, I want you to apolo—
”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Chloe leapt to her feet. To her absolute horror, Dr. Gable was standing on the red, blue and yellow mats, his hands on his hips. He wore yet another tweed jacket, as well as a light blue shirt. This time, his stupid ascot was pink and patterned with light blue diamonds.

“What are
you
doing here?” Chloe demanded.

Hopefully, he was not here to tell her off. First of all, that would be a little creepy, considering Tiny Tumblers was her place of employment. Second of all . . . that would actually be
really
creepy, since he was at her place of employment. How on earth did he know where she worked anyway?

Chloe felt a jolt of fear. Mary Beth and Asher were always the last kids to get picked up. Sneaking a peek at the glass door that led out to the busy street, she hoped their parents or a nanny would show up soon.

“Look.” Chloe kept her voice steady, so as not to frighten the children. “I’m sorry I called you a name and slammed your office door. But you can’t be here. This isn’t the time or the place—”

Dr. Gable looked at Chloe as though she were nuts. “I’m here to pick up my daughter.” He placed a hand on Mary Beth’s shoulder. “And I’m not pleased that she seems to be so upset.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “
You’re
Mary Beth’s father?” Looking back and forth between the two, she suddenly saw the resemblance. The two shared the same high forehead, curly hair and olive complexion. Not to mention the same air of entitlement and stinky disposition.

“In that case, I’m glad you’re here.” Chloe’s tone was indignant. “Your daughter was bullying this child. She’s upset because I was asking her to apolo—”

At this, Mary Beth let out an ear-piercing scream.

“It’s okay, honey.” Dr. Gable patted her shoulder. “Settle down. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Even Asher seemed offended by this.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “But you are a psychologist.”

“So?”

“So, you . . .” She squeezed her hands together, trying to remain calm. “More than anyone else in this city, should know that it is completely inappropriate for a four-year-old to bully another child and receive a reward for her behavior.”

Dr. Gable opened his mouth as though to argue.

Chloe pointed at Asher. “Your daughter
attacked
this child.”

Asher gave a dramatic sniffle.

“This is the third time this month I’ve seen that type of behavior from her. It’s completely unacceptable and . . . and highly dysfunctional. If it happens again, I will have to ask you to withdraw her from Tiny Tumblers
.
”

Mary Beth’s eyes went wide. She shoved her thumb in her mouth.

Dr. Gable was outraged. “All over some ice cream? If I want to get my daughter some ice cream, that’s up to me.”

Chloe considered the wrinkles around his eyes. Dr. Gable had to be about ten years older than her but he had no right to act so superior. He obviously had no idea how to raise a child.

“It’s not about the ice cream.” Stepping forward, she lowered her voice so that only he could hear. “But if you want to raise a little serial killer, that’s up to you.”

Dr. Gable turned a bright purple, which clashed horribly with his pink ascot.

Chloe got back down on one knee and regarded Mary Beth. “I really want you to come back and play with us. So, from now on, I am going to trust that you’re going to be a big girl and stop hurting other people, okay?”

Mary Beth considered this. Finally, she nodded.

“Mary Beth.” Dr. Gable’s tone was sharp. “Go get your bag.”

Chloe kept her voice deliberately gentle. “Take Asher with you,” she said. “Hold his hand.”

Chloe watched the two figures stomp across the room toward the colored cubbyholes. Getting to her feet, she regarded Dr. Gable with disdain. The air felt thick between them.

“A little serial killer?” he said, indignant. “I can’t believe you said that. And you plan to have a career working with children?”

“An ice cream?” she shot back. “I can’t believe you said
that.
And you actually have a career where you give other people advice?”

Dr. Gable studied her for a long moment. Finally, he shook his head. “Look, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He let out a hearty sigh and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “About this and . . . that day in my office.”

Chloe blinked. “Oh.” There was a lengthy pause. “Really?”

Dr. Gable adjusted his ascot. “Yes. We got off on the wrong foot. Initially, I had invited you to my office to discuss a long-term plan for your grant application. But I didn’t expect you to be a day early. And I really didn’t expect you to catch me singing. I was . . . embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

Chloe was stunned. “Is this some sort of reverse psychology?”

“No. It’s an apology.” Dr. Gable seemed to shift in his shoes. “That day, you surprised me. Not just by being early but with your confidence. I didn’t expect that from a student.”

“Grad student,” Chloe clarified.

He smiled. “There you go again. Grad student.”

Chloe smiled back.

“Look, I’d like to make it up to you. Would you let me take you to dinner?” The furrow between his eyebrows deepened. “Let me clarify that I will not write you a letter of recommendation for that grant. In my professional opinion, you lack the time or experience to do it justice. Perhaps it’s something to revisit in a couple of years, but not now. Either way, the invitation to dinner still stands.”

Wait. He was asking her out on a
date
? Yes, he’d been a total jerk in his office but . . . She blushed, remembering the close fit of those green sweatpants.

“What about Saturday night at eight?” Dr. Gable asked. “Does that work for you?”

Was this actually happening? She thought back to watching him up on the stage, speaking to her school. Was that same man
really
asking her out?

“Uh . . . ” Chloe swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Great. I can pick you up . . .”

“Here,” Chloe blurted out. She certainly didn’t want this man to witness her crappy Wicker Park apartment. Or go through the third degree with Ben.

“Daddy!” Mary Beth sprinted across the room, Asher closely behind. Obviously, all was forgiven. “Come on. Let’s go to the park.”

Dr. Gable got down on one knee. “Daddy has to go back to work.” He kissed her on the head. “But maybe we can get away with it for a few minutes before I drop you off at Miss Marshall’s.”

Chloe hoped that Miss Marshall was ninety and had warts all over her face.

Getting to his feet, Dr. Gable studied Chloe for a long moment. Something passed between them. A spark, an understanding, a challenge . . . She didn’t know what it was. But she was suddenly very interested to find out.

Chloe felt her cheeks flush. “It was good to see you, Dr. Gable.”

“Geoff,” he said, smiling. Taking Mary Beth’s hand, he headed for the door. “See you Saturday.”

Once he left, Chloe realized that her legs were trembling. Literally shaking with nerves. She really needed to stop drinking so much caffeine.

“Miss Chloe?” Asher’s pale, serious face stared up at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, doll.” Chloe put a hand on his tiny shoulder. “Just fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Asher let out a world-weary sigh. “But I guess it’s just one of those things I’ll understand when I’m older.”

Chloe laughed. “I don’t know about that, kiddo.” Through the front window, she watched Mary Beth and
Geoff
disappear in the stream of people walking over the bridge. “I hate to tell ya this, but even when you get older, there are still a lot of things in life that are not easy to understand.”