The Opposite of Wild (8 page)

Daisy removed her arm from Liz’s shoulders and pulled the magazine in front of her face.

“Can you just tell me what position he played?”

Daisy turned a page with a snap.

Liz pressed on. “You should at least consider contacting the guy for child support.”

Daisy slapped the magazine down in her lap. “I think I told you before that this is none of your business,” she hissed. “I’m
handling
it, and I don’t need you sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“I’m just trying to do what’s right for the baby,” Liz said. She put a hand on Daisy’s arm. “And you.”

Daisy shook her off. “Well, don’t!” Her voice carried across the waiting room.

A few women looked over, and Liz put a hand up with a smile that said,
No problem, go back to your pregnant lives.

Liz turned to her sister. “Why don’t you want the father to help?”

Daisy’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Because I don’t need his help! Now butt out!”

“Daisy Garner,” the nurse called.

“Here!” Daisy pushed up from her seat.

Liz followed behind feeling guilty, knowing she’d pushed Daisy too far.

~ ~ ~

The next day Liz drove Maggie to her knitting group in a meeting room at the Clover Park Library. At least she knew Ryan wouldn’t need to show up here. Maggie couldn’t get into too much trouble knitting. The man was so unnerving. She still didn’t know what he’d meant about her being fire and ice. She’d been thinking about it for days. She was neither of those things. And she certainly wasn’t uptight. That still pissed her off. She could have fun and “let loose” as he said. She danced quite freely in her apartment, didn’t she? And she always had fun hanging out with her friends.

She pulled into the parking lot.
Why am I obsessing over this? I don’t have to prove anything to him.

Maggie carried a huge tote bag along with her purse into the library meeting room.
Her sweater must really be getting big.

“Good morning, ladies,” Maggie said to the three women already gathered there. “This is Liz. She just learned to knit.”

Liz smiled and waved. The women were all close to Maggie’s age.

“This is Shirley, Barbara, and Pat,” Maggie said, taking a seat at the long table.

“Nice to meet you.” Liz pulled out her scarf, which was getting longer and, puzzlingly, wider. It seemed she had to knit a lot more now to finish a row.

“Would you look at that!” Maggie exclaimed. “Liz, you’ve made progress.”

“Thanks,” Liz said modestly.

Just then, an Amazon woman with pinched lips and a white crew cut arrived with a much shorter, plump woman wearing her gray hair in a bun.

“Oh, good, we’re all here,” Maggie said. “Diane, Pam, meet Liz. She’s only been knitting a few days.”

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” pinchy-lipped Diane intoned as she took a seat next to Liz.

“Very nice,” Pam said, bobbing her head with approval, her gray bun already slipping from its knot. She had enough sweetness to take the sting out of Diane’s sour.

“Thanks,” Liz said, picking up her knitting. The other women pulled out their projects, and a few minutes were spent exclaiming over everyone’s progress since the previous week. There was a poncho, a complicated multicolored blanket, a cardigan, a pair of striped socks, and an adorable baby sweater for Pam’s new granddaughter.

“Awww…” Liz said
.
She decided her next project would be a sweater for her nephew. She worked with renewed enthusiasm on her scarf.

“I heard your sister got herself in the family way,” Diane said, looking down her nose at Liz. “How nice for your family,” she added with all the sincerity of the devil himself.

Liz narrowed her eyes. “It is nice. Thank you.”

“Watch yourself, Diane,” Maggie warned.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, and there was just the click clack of needles working back and forth. Liz was just starting to relax again when Maggie asked, “Who’d like a drink?” She pulled a bottle of white wine out of her giant tote bag along with a stack of plastic cups.

“Maggie, it’s ten a.m., and this is a public place,” Diane said, lips pinched so tight they were white.

Maggie ignored this and began pouring cups of wine. She handed one to Liz.

“I’d better not, Maggie,” Liz said. “I’m driving us home.”

The other ladies looked nervously at each other.

“It is against the rules,” Pam said softly. “We’re not supposed to have food and drinks in here. Miss Smith could kick us out.” She glanced nervously at the door. Miss Smith had been librarian so long some people thought she came along with the building back in 1896. No one was quite sure of her age, but she was eagle-eyed—thanks to both reading and prescription glasses—and her hearing rivaled only dogs’.

“So let her try!” Maggie said, raising her glass in a defiant toast. “We all pay taxes to this fine institution. Please, help yourself, ladies.” Maggie indicated the cups of wine.

Nobody moved.

Liz and the rest of the ladies went back to their knitting. Maggie alternated knitting and drinking. The conversation turned to the Clover Park Women’s Club charity dinner and whether or not they should have paper or linen napkins.

“Who cares?” Maggie barked. “Get the paper napkins to save money.”

“But we have environmental concerns too,” Barbara said. “That’s what we’re trying to balance.”

“New topic!” Maggie declared. “Should our next Ladies’ Night Out include strippers? Discuss!”

The ladies’ mouths opened in shock.

Miss Smith poked her head in the room, her beady eyes glaring through cat’s-eye glasses. “Ladies! Please keep it down in here.” She eyed the plastic cups. “This is your first warning. Food and drinks are prohibited in the library. Please either remove them or remove yourselves to another location.”

“Oh, hold on to your skirt, Gretchen,” Maggie said.

“Maggie O’Hare!” Miss Smith shook her finger. “This is your second warning! Quiet down or else!”

“I’ll take care of it, Miss Smith,” Liz said.

Miss Smith huffed. “Thank you, Liz.” The woman gave them all one final look of warning and left the room.

Maggie grinned. “I say yes to strippers.” She finished her wine and took another.

Liz leaped up and quietly shut the meeting room door. She returned to the table and stared at the remaining five cups of wine. Should she take them away from Maggie? Drink them herself? She didn’t want to embarrass her—

“Yoo-hoo!” Maggie called, pushing open the window. “We could use some men in here!”

Liz leaped out of her seat. Maggie turned, a huge goofy smile on her face.

“Maybe we should go,” Liz said, taking the older woman’s arm. “You don’t seem to be much in the mood for knitting today.”

“You’re right,” Maggie said, grabbing her knitting and stuffing it in her bag. “I quit! And you ladies need to get a life!”

A collective gasp went through the room.

“I never!” Diane exclaimed, her hand on her heart.

“Well, you should!” Maggie declared with gusto before making a grand exit, nearly knocking over Miss Smith, who was rushing back in. She’d probably parked herself right outside the door, just in case.

“We’re leaving, Miss Smith.” Liz quickly gathered her things and followed in Maggie’s wake. “Nice meeting you all,” she called over her shoulder to the shocked group.

“Nice meeting you too,” Pam called. “Take care.”

“You ladies will also have to leave,” Miss Smith announced. “Drinking in the library is strictly prohibited.”

“I wasn’t drinking!” someone exclaimed in outrage.

“You were an accessory to drinking. I won’t let the Clover Park Library turn into party central.”

Oh, geez. Maggie got them all kicked out.

Maggie was moving with great purpose and speed toward the convertible. Liz hurried to get there first, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Maggie shook her finger at Liz. “Life’s too short to be sitting in a library,” she said, slurring her words, “arguing over stinking napkins.”

Liz nodded, though she thought it had been a very nice group of women. Except for Diane. She refrained from commenting on the insult Maggie had hurled at her friends. Or the fact that they’d all been kicked out. Wine could have a strange effect on people. She started the car, and Maggie punched the button to lower the roof.

As soon as the roof was down, Maggie lifted her arms into the wind. “Be free!” she hollered. Liz caught a glimpse of a cream ball out of the corner of her eye.

She glanced back and saw the yarn bounce into the back seat. She’d untangle it later. As she drove Maggie home, Liz’s thoughts circled around what, if anything, she should do about Maggie. She wondered if this was the sort of problem she should call Ryan about. She quickly decided against it, not just because she wanted to avoid him. There simply wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

She wondered if the whole town would be gossiping about Maggie and her drunken tirade, for it would be a tirade by the time Diane worked her way through the gossips. She wondered if she should search Maggie’s house and hide all the alcohol or if it was a one-time thing.

By the time she pulled into Maggie’s driveway, she decided to just talk to her openly and honestly to figure out what to do next. She looked over. Maggie was snoring.

Liz smiled. She’d let this one go.

Chapter Eight

The rest of the week with Maggie went smoothly. She had a hangover and had sworn off alcohol. They’d gone back to convertible drives for excitement and fun. Best of all, Liz hadn’t run into Ryan. She couldn’t quite believe it, though she had made sure they were home earlier this Thursday to avoid him on his weekly grocery run. She hadn’t needed to call him, and her stress level had gone to zero.

And now it was Friday movie night with Daisy. Her sister had worked an earlier shift today at Garner’s, so they had some sister bonding time.

The doorbell rang. She peeked through the peephole. Ryan holding her paycheck! She’d told him to mail the check!

She opened the door and stepped outside, shutting it behind her. Daisy was in the living room setting up the movie, and she didn’t want her to witness any embarrassing Ryan incident.

He handed her the check. “Not going to let me in?”

“I’m having a movie night with Daisy.”

“You know I’ve met Daisy before. She was only a grade behind me.”

“Thank you for the check.”

He put a hand on the doorframe above her head and leaned close. “Gran says she’s having fun with you.” His silky voice sent shivers through her.

“Yes,” she breathed. He was so close she could see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes framed by those long lashes.

He grinned. “So you do know how to have fun.”

She stiffened at his teasing tone, whirled around, and grabbed the doorknob. He placed a hand over hers on the knob. She looked at his large hand covering her smaller one, and her heart seemed to stop and lurch painfully forward. “I’m not a puzzle,” she told him quietly. “I’m not fire and ice. You just don’t know me.”

“I think I do.”

She could feel the heat of his body on her back. If she turned around, she’d be in his arms.

“If you hand-deliver my next paycheck”—she scrambled to think of a suitable threat—“I’ll-I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” His breath was hot on her ear.

“I’ll dump ice on you!” She slipped inside and shut the door. Again she heard his low laugh as he walked away. She wanted to rip open the door and yell at him some more, but stopped herself because she didn’t want Daisy to see the insanity he provoked in her.

“Who was that?” Daisy asked.

“Ryan just dropped off my paycheck,” Liz said, heading straight to the kitchen for the movie snacks. She needed to give her cheeks a chance to lose their permanent blush from whenever Ryan was around. She did some deep breathing until she felt calm again. At least one thing was going well—she and Daisy had gotten used to living together over these last two weeks. As soon as the movie was over, she’d enter her paycheck into QuickBooks and they could see how much of a dent they’d made into Daisy’s debt so far.

“I made some guacamole to go with the chips and salsa,” she called to Daisy. “Do you want anything else?” Daisy’s appetite was never-ending now that she was eating for two.

“That’s plenty, thanks,” Daisy said.

Daisy had picked a comedy,
Bridesmaids
. Her pregnancy had made her too sensitive to the high-octane scenes of her usual thrillers and horror flicks. It was a relief for Liz. Daisy’s type of movie would’ve kept her up all night. She loved romantic comedies and relationshipy dramas.

Liz carried in the healthy snacks—she’d even bought the baked tortilla chips—then went back for their water and napkins. Finally, she settled on the sofa next to her sister and smiled. “Ready.”

Daisy hit play on the remote. Liz munched on chips and guacamole while the opening credits scrolled down the screen.

“Mmm, you should try some of this guacamole,” Liz said. “Avocados have folic acid, which is good for the baby’s nervous system and brain, plus vitamin B6, which is also good for their brain and tissue growth.” She’d read about it in the
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
book that had become her baby bible. Daisy had yet to crack open any of the pregnancy, birth, or child development books Liz had picked up at Book It for her.

Daisy nodded absently and watched the screen, looking serious as Kristen Wiig did her best to escape what looked like a regular booty call with some dignity. Liz laughed as she got caught on top of the locked gate that now swung open.

She glanced over at Daisy, who still hadn’t cracked a smile or touched any food. “Is something wrong?”

Daisy hit pause and stared straight ahead. “I’m going to New Mexico on Sunday.”

Liz dropped the chip in her hand as a terrible, sinking feeling washed over her. Daisy was a runner. She always had been, at the first sign of trouble. Like when she’d dropped out of college after one bad grade in precalculus and disappeared to a kibbutz in Israel for two years. And they weren’t even Jewish. Or the time she’d told off her boss at the pet grooming salon, lost her job, took off for who knew where, and showed up six months later, broke and begging her parents for her old waitress job back. But Daisy was going to be a mother. She’d said she was turning over a new leaf. Surely, she’d put the baby first.