Send Me No Flowers (12 page)

“No,” Rachel replied. “I want you to help me figure out the motive behind Drew’s suspiciously generous offer. Why would he offer a room in his house to a complete stranger?”

“Loneliness?”

Rachel grimaced at Gina. “Please. The man needs a revolving door on his house to keep his girlfriends from bumping into each other. No, I think he’s up to something.”

“But what? You told me he didn’t even like Russell.

“Well, he certainly didn’t act like it. Making snide remarks when Russell was telling his story. He even stepped on Russell’s knapsack.”

“Sounds like jealousy to me.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. We can’t agree on anything. And he thinks I’m a kook.”

“But what about that kiss?”

Rachel gazed at her friend in astonishment. “How did you find out? I never told you Drew kissed me last night.”

“Ve fake therapists have vays of making you talk.” Gina slurred, in an atrocious German accent. “Besides, you did tell me. Just now. I was referring to that kiss in the television parking lot.”

“Oh,” Rachel replied, her cheeks growing warm.

Gina tapped her finger against the magazine. “Out with it, Rach. What happened between you and the mayor last night? I want details. Lots of details. Since my love life’s in the toilet, I have to live vicariously through you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Rachel began, wondering how to describe a nuclear meltdown in her living room. “We kissed, Russell rang the doorbell and the date went downhill from there. Then they left together, leaving me alone in the apartment.”

Gina arched a dark brow. “So which one did you want to stay?”

Rachel bit her lip, wishing she knew the answer. “Neither one, I suppose. Although I still have a lot of questions for Russell.”

“You have to admit his
lost in the bush
story sounds a tad farfetched. How many entomologists do you know who disappear in search of the elusive dung beetle? For six months, no less.”

Rachel stifled a giggle that she feared was closer to hysteria than humor. “I know. But Professor Simmons called me this morning and backed up everything Russell told me. He really was missing from the camp for six months. They finally found him in that village three weeks ago. Professor Simmons even saw the piles of tree bark love letters he’d written me.”

“Wow. That’s incredible. So is Russell still a hunk?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes. In a disheveled, scholarly, rough-around-the-edges kind of way.”

Gina sighed as she fell back against the chair. “Just like Harrison Ford in those Indiana Jones movies.”

Rachel nodded. “Exactly. Too handsome for his own good. Or mine.”

“So maybe Drew is jealous. Maybe he couldn’t stand the thought of you two alone together.”

Rachel considered Gina’s theory, then voiced a theory of her own. “Or maybe he wants to use Russell to get to me somehow.”

Gina shook her head. “Men as handsome as Drew Lavery are usually not that smart. And they’re definitely not as devious as women. Maybe there’s no ulterior motive. Maybe he’s just a nice guy doing you a favor.”

“By keeping my fiancé for me until I decide if I want him back?” Rachel said skeptically.

“Ex-fiancé,” Gina reminded her.

“And you’re wrong about Drew,” Rachel continued as if Gina hadn’t spoken. “He’s one of those rare exceptions of men with both brain and brawn. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“So what about Russell? Do you want him back?”

Rachel sighed. “Besides his looks, Russell’s dedication to his career always appealed to me. I thought we’d be perfect together. But now I realize respect and admiration aren’t enough. Ever since I met...”

“Drew?”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know what I want Believe it or not, I’m a little confused right now.”

“I believe it,” Gina said. “I saw all the Twinkie wrappers in your office wastebasket. Eat enough of those, my little cupcake, and soon neither one of them will want you.”

Rachel scowled at her. “This is not helping. I need answers. Although...I think I just figured out why Drew offered Russell a place to stay.”

Gina sat up in the chair. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“It’s the boycott,” Rachel said simply, wondering why she hadn’t figured it out sooner. “He wants to use Russell as leverage. Maybe he thinks I’ll be so grateful to him for offering my ex-fiancé a place to stay that I’ll change my mind about boycotting Valentine’s Day.”

Gina shook her head. “That sounds pretty lame to me. I’m still voting for the jealousy theory. Drew couldn’t stand the thought of you two alone together, so he sacrificed his home to the cockroach king.”

“Russell is into beetles now. He even named one for me. The
Rachelona cyanella.”

“I always thought Russell was a little strange. I think you should go after the mayor.”

Rachel frowned. “The mayor is in retreat, planning his next attack. I haven’t heard a word from him since our date.”

Gina didn’t say anything. Rachel glanced over to see her staring intently at the magazine. “What is it?”

“A grenade that looks just like a pineapple,” Gina said. “Kurt loves pineapple. What if I sent him a fruit basket...”

“Forget it, Gina,” Rachel said, just as the intercom buzzed on Rachel’s desk.

She rose from the sofa, all those Twinkies rumbling in her stomach. Maybe she’d overdone it this time. She shouldn’t have eaten that last box.

She punched the button on the intercom. “Yes, Jodie?”

“I don’t believe it,” Gina exclaimed, throwing the magazine down. “He’s married! What a jerk! I knew he was too good to be true.”

The Twinkies settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Lavery? There had to be some mistake...

Rachel turned to Gina. “Can you believe it?
His mother
. He actually sent his mother to do his dirty work.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Can you think of another reason? I bet he sent her here as a spy, hoping to pump me for information. She’s probably wired.”

“Okay—now I think you are paranoid. You really think Drew would use his mother like that?”

Rachel closed her eyes, her head muddled from the events of the last few days. Her attraction to Drew completely baffled her. They had nothing in common. He was an uptight bureaucrat who only cared about the bottom line and she was a woman who dealt in emotions and followed her heart. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Then there was Russell. She still couldn’t believe he’d dropped into her life again. She hadn’t stopped eating Twinkies since his return.
What did that mean?

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Rachel muttered.

“At least you can find out why Drew’s mother is here to see you.”

Static crackled over the intercom. “
Dr. Grant?”

Rachel checked her watch. Forty-five minutes until her Transitions support group meeting. Plenty of time to interrogate the enemy. Or rather, the enemy’s mother. She pressed the intercom button. “Please send Mrs. Lavery right in.”

Gina settled deeper into the chair. “I think I should stay, just in case it gets ugly. After all, she might be here to get back at you for beating up her son.”

“I didn’t beat him up. We had a snowball fight. And I won.”

“He ended up in the hospital!”

Rachel frowned at her. “He wasn’t unconscious
that
long. The paramedics probably overreacted. Besides, he’s fine now.” At least, she hoped he was fine. The concussion had given him a case of selective amnesia. Maybe another complication had set in. Maybe Mrs. Lavery wanted revenge.

Rachel held her breath as the door opened, half expecting an older, mirror image of Drew Lavery, but with breasts. Instead a petite woman with chestnut brown hair, kind blue eyes and faint lines etched in her face stepped into the office.

“Dr. Grant?” Kate Lavery asked, looking at Gina seated in the therapist’s chair.

Rachel hesitated just a moment, waiting to see if Drew’s mother went for Gina’s throat. Then she stepped forward. “I’m Rachel Grant.”

Kate grasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “How very nice to meet you, Dr. Grant. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Please call me Rachel,” she told her, assuming it was the least she could do after sending her son to the hospital. She didn’t want to imagine what Drew had said about her. And then there were the newspaper articles and the television show.

“Rachel,” Kate echoed, letting the name roll off her tongue. “How lovely. I think one of the Detroit Lions fullbacks is married to a Rachel. I’ll have to check my book.”

Gina blinked up at her. “You have a book on the Detroit Lions football team?”

Kate sat down on the sofa. “I have several. They’re my favorite NFL team. I’ve even sold houses to a couple of the linebackers. Big, hulking men.” She smiled up at Rachel. “And so strong I think they could snap a leg in two like a toothpick.”

Rachel swallowed. Was that a veiled threat? Beat up my son again and I’ll send a linebacker after you?

Gina sat up straighter in her chair. “So do you follow all their games?”

Kate laughed. “Follow them? I’ve got season tickets. That’s the first thing I told my lawyer I wanted in the divorce. They’re great tickets, too. Right on the fifty-yard line.”

“You’re divorced?” Rachel asked, sitting down on the other end of the sofa. She suddenly realized how very little she knew about Drew. Only that he was the mayor, dead set against the boycott and a great kisser.

Kate nodded. “It got a little messy. My ex-husband sued me for joint custody.”

“Of Drew?” Rachel asked, wondering how old he’d been at the time. Or did he have younger brothers and sisters?

Kate laughed. “No, of the football tickets. He wanted each of us to take one, but he never really liked football. In the end, I prevailed.”

Gina dug into her purse. “Wow, I have to get the name of your lawyer.”

Rachel just wanted to know the reason behind Kate Lavery’s unexpected arrival in her office. She couldn’t help but like Drew’s cheerful, vivacious mother. But that didn’t mean she trusted her.

“My son is an excellent attorney,” Kate said, “but I don’t think he handles many divorce cases. Besides, he’d ask you where you got your referral. Then he’d find out I came here.”

“Why are you here, Mrs. Lavery?” Rachel asked, her curiosity finally overcoming her.

Kate smiled. “I want to join the boycott.”

CHARLIE STRODE into Drew’s living room, a brown leather briefcase swinging from one hand. “I brought those contracts you wanted to look over.” Then he tipped his nose in the air. “Is that your mother’s famous lasagna I smell?”

“No,” Drew replied, flipping on the overhead light. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Isn’t Monday lasagna night? Your mom makes the best lasagna in the world. I didn’t agree to work overtime for frozen pizza,” Charlie said, sounding puzzled as he snapped open his briefcase.

Drew loosened the tie around his collar, his mouth watering at the thought of his mother’s lasagna. Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d gotten too used to having her around. He’d have to get out the directions to the dishwasher and figure out how to use it again.

“Does this mean your mom won’t be cooking dinner for us...I mean, for you tonight?”

Drew shook his head. “Not tonight or any other night. She’s joined some new group and told me she wouldn’t be able to spend as much time here.”

“She hasn’t joined some cult, has she?”

Drew laughed. “Of course not. She’s just not going to devote herself to me anymore. She’s finally decided to move on with her life, and frankly, I couldn’t be happier.”

Charlie flinched. “You mean...no more Swedish meatballs? No more cranberry salad? No more caramel nut cake?”

“She copied out all the recipes if you want to borrow them.”

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be so cavalier about this? Your mother is abandoning us.”

“You don’t even live here. And Mom only came over here on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

Charlie sighed. “The most nutritious nights of my week.”

A blood-curdling yell erupted somewhere above them. Charlie’s eyes widened as he looked up the staircase. “What the hell was that?”

“Russell,” Drew said, shuffling the contracts in his hands.

Charlie stared at him. “Who the hell is Russell?”

Before he could explain, Russell bounded down the stairs two steps at a time. He looked bedraggled and wild-eyed, his flannel shirt hanging out of his jeans. He skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, hanging on to the banister for support.

“My
Megaloblatta longipennis,
” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with apprehension. “It’s gone.”

Drew looked up from the contracts. “Your what?”

“It’s the largest cockroach in the world,” Russell explained, pacing back and forth. “It’s from Japan and very rare. We have to call the police.”