The Rebound Effect

by Linda Griffin

  “I couldn’t stay out late,” she hedged.

  “Just dinner,” he agreed.

  She took a deep breath. “Monday would be okay, but I work until seven on Mondays.”

  “Do you know the perfect place?”

  “What—you want me to choose?”

  He laughed. “No, I mean that’s what it’s called: the Perfect Place. It’s a nice restaurant in Powell City, very good food, and obviously the management isn’t at all modest. It won’t be busy Monday evenings, so—eight? I’d pick you up at seven-thirty?”

  “I guess it would be all right,” she said cautiously.

  “Great! I’ll make a reservation. Sorry about calling you at work.”

  “It’s okay.” She gave him the address.

  “See you Monday.” He hung up, and Teresa resumed cleaning and dressing the wounds of a battle-scarred tomcat. She tried not to think about what she might have gotten herself into.

  At lunchtime, she called Alix and asked if she knew anything about a restaurant called the Perfect Place. “The perfect place for what is the question,” her friend replied. She promptly Googled it, but found only a coffee shop in South Africa and a restaurant in Italy. “My advice is to dress up, but be a little standoffish. I’ll call you with a ‘babysitting emergency’ at eight-thirty—you should know by then how it’s going.”

  “What would I do without you?” Teresa asked.

  Chapter 2

  Teresa wished Alix was there Monday evening when she was trying to decide what to wear. Alix believed in dressing to dazzle, but she didn’t want to be overdressed if the Perfect Place turned out to be casual. Frank had said “nice”—did he mean upscale, or just pleasant? If she wore something fancy, he would be disappointed when she later proved to be a T-shirt and jeans girl—but he had already seen her that way.

  She chose her best outfit—a cream silk dress with long sleeves and a moderately low neckline. She added a silver locket and the silver-and-pearl earrings Brett had given her for Christmas. She put her hair up, with a few stray locks over her ears so it wouldn’t look too severe. While she was fussing with it, Aiden brought her a handful of beads from one of his craft projects. “Pretty in your hair,” he signed and for emphasis said, “Pretty,” with a slight roll of the r.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” she said and kissed him as a reward for the good speech effort. She took a few of the beads and threaded them into her hair to humor him. She fully intended to take them out as soon as Alix and Sasha picked him up for the sleepover, but they actually looked very appropriate. He had even chosen the right colors—silver, white, black, and red.

  The first thing Alix said was, “Oh, I like the beads.”

  Teresa patted Aiden’s back. “My son is a fashion guru.”

  “That was your idea?” Alix asked him. “Smart as well as handsome!” She turned back to Teresa. “You look great,” she said. “I hope he’s worthy of it.”

  Aiden had been too excited about the sleepover to ask much about Teresa’s plans, but now he inquired, “Mama go party?”

  “No, just dinner. If you decide you don’t want to stay with Sasha, tell Alix to call me and I’ll pick you up. I won’t stay out late.”

  “I won’t call,” he signed indignantly. “I not baby!”

  “I know, I know, you’re—”

  “Six!” He said it aloud, nailing the tricky x sound.

  She bent swiftly to kiss his forehead. “He doesn’t let me get away with anything,” she complained.

  He and Sasha disappeared into his room to get his backpack, and Alix said, “Keep your wits about you, Terror. You look good enough to eat, but don’t let him.”

  Teresa laughed. “He’s not the big, bad wolf,” she said.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Alix advised. “Don’t let him get you drunk or high. Keep an eye on your glass.”

  When Alix and the children were gone, she wavered a bit—maybe she was too dressed up. If he showed up in dungarees, she would die of embarrassment. But he had said “nice,” and if it was jeans-friendly he should have said so. It would be a definite sign of incompatibility, and she could forget him and his nice smile.

  She was contemplating lipstick shades when the doorbell rang. Frank McAllister’s stock immediately went down—didn’t he know any better than to be early when a woman was getting dolled up? She hurried to the door, flustered and annoyed—and it wasn’t him.

  Brett Devlin stood on her small porch. He looked nervous—and very neat, his shirt pressed, his hair combed, as if he was as anxious to make a good impression tonight as she was. He had one hand behind his back and didn’t seem to know what to do with the other one. Exasperated, Teresa snapped, “Didn’t I make myself clear?”

  He raised his hand in a calming gesture. “Yes, you did—oh, Jesus, you’re all dressed up. You’re going out already?”

  “It’s none of your business what I do,” she said curtly.

  “Okay, okay—I was just surprised. I mean, you look really nice and everything. I just—”

  “You’re not welcome here, Brett. I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

  “Have a heart, Reesie. I said I was sorry.” The misery in his voice hurt, but she steeled herself to maintain her righteous indignation.

  “I’m not your Reesie anymore. I don’t need you to say you’re sorry. I need you to be sorry enough not to do any more damage.”

  “Damage…? Okay, obviously my timing stinks. I’ll call first next time.”

  “There’d better not be a next time.” She stepped back, ready to close the door.

  “Wait, wait,” he said, “I found this—” He brought his hand out from behind his back and held up a shopping bag with a long box sticking out the top. According to the lettering on the end she could see, it contained a remote-controlled helicopter.

  “You can’t buy your way back into my favor. You hurt me, and you hurt Aiden. It’s a good thing he isn’t here—”

  “I know; I saw him with Alix. Please, I want him to have it. You don’t have to tell him it’s from me. I saw it, and I knew he’d love it.”

  “It’s too old for him. He’s six, not eight.” She tapped the box where it said Ages 8-up.

  “Oh, come on, those are guidelines. He’s a smart kid, and he’s almost seven. I had stuff like this when I was six.”

  “They didn’t make stuff like this when you were six. It’s sophisticated electronics. You have to leave.”

  “Please, Teresa. I made a mistake, but—”

  “I don’t have time for this.” She closed the door in his face and didn’t watch to see if he left. She went back to the bathroom and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. There was no point in doing this if she couldn’t relax and enjoy herself.

  She glanced out the front window at exactly seven-thirty, and Frank was getting out of his car—a new, dark blue Acura SUV, which probably cost more than her annual salary. SWAT officers made good money—or he was willing to go into debt for a fancy car. He got points for punctuality, anyway. He wasn’t wearing jeans, but slacks, jacket, and tie. He looked smart, but not too formal, so her dress should pass muster.

  She waited for him to ring the doorbell and counted to three before she answered it. High school tricks—she was out of practice. He smiled as soon as he saw her. “Hi, Teresa. Wow, you look great.”

  “Not so bad yourself,” she said. “I wasn’t sure—I’m more of a jeans-type girl.”

  “Yeah, I figured you were, but you cleaned up real nice.” He grinned. “This is a cute little house—is it yours?”

  “It’s a rental,” she said. “I don’t make a lot of money. ‘Cute’ is an overstatement, but at least the roof doesn’t leak.” She locked the door—she didn’t usually bother, but he was a cop and might think it was stupid not to—and preceded him down the walkway to his car.

  “You’re a veterinarian?” he asked.

  “No, I’m only an assistant. I’d like to be, but I couldn’t afford to finish col
lege.” He opened the car door for her. “Nice car,” she said.

  He nodded toward the old pickup in the driveway. “That your ride?”

  “Yes. It’s not pretty, but it runs.”

  “That’s the important thing.” He made sure her skirt was clear, closed the door, and went around to the driver’s side. The interior of the Acura was even more impressive, with luxurious upholstery, comfortable seats, and a dashboard full of high-tech gadgetry. It still had traces of new-car smell.

  “I guess the PCPD pays well,” she said.

  “I can’t complain,” he said, “and I’ve made some good investments. Of course, we all took a hit when the economy tanked.”

  “I don’t know anything about investments,” she said. “Putting my paycheck in the bank is as daring as I get.”

  He laughed and started the car. “It’s a crime how little savings accounts pay these days,” he said. “You said the boy’s father—”

  “We’re divorced,” she said.

  “Child support?”

  “No. It’s a long story. Actually, it’s not a very original story—high school sweethearts, got married too young, grew apart. And he blamed me—not because Aiden was deaf, but because he wasn’t diagnosed sooner. He thought we overlooked early signs because I was too protective. I won’t say any more—nothing’s worse than listening to a woman bitch about her ex. Have you ever been married? You don’t live with your mother, do you?”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not that guy. Yes, I was married once.”

  “What happened?” she asked casually, but when he didn’t answer right away, she added, “None of my business.”

  “Well, Teresa,” he said, “She up and died on me.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  “I’m sorry too; I didn’t mean to sound flippant. It’s just—you don’t stop minding, but you stop having to be dramatic about it. It is what it is.”

  “Anyway, I’m sorry. I guess I’m lucky. I haven’t lost anybody yet.”

  “Do your folks live here?”

  “In the city now. The land I grew up on is leased to an apple grower.”

  “Will you inherit it?”

  “Probably not. More likely it will be sold to pay their debts.”

  “Are you close to them—your parents?”

  “Not as close as I’d like to be. They love Aiden, and we do Christmas and so on, but I think they’re disappointed in me. They liked Gene, my husband, and Brett too. They’re starting to think I can’t hold on to a decent guy.”

  “Or maybe they can’t hold on to you,” he said. “You haven’t found the right one yet, that’s all. Fair warning, Teresa: I’m the tenacious kind.”

  “I stand warned. It’s not always a good thing, though.” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but he was surprisingly easy to talk to. “Brett—the guy I was dating—showed up at my door a few minutes before you did.”

  Frank frowned. “If he’s harassing you, you could get a restraining order.”

  “I don’t need one. It’s not like that. Good thing, because if I did need one, it would be just a piece of paper.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said. “A lot of my work begins with a domestic violence call.”

  “Really? Not hostages and bank robberies?”

  “Not usually. Mostly drunks with weapons, threatening family members or the neighbors. Or we serve high-risk warrants, stuff like that.”

  “Or dig up bodies,” she said.

  He laughed. “And you were up on the hill watching me sweat? Maybe I wasn’t the only one who liked what I saw.”

  “My boss thought you were hot, anyway. You said before you’d had your eye on me—where did you see me?”

  “Different places, always with the schoolteacher.”

  “Actually, he drives a truck for an orchard now.”

  “What did he want today?”

  “He had something for Aiden, but I didn’t take it.”

  “Was it serious with you two?”

  “Yes. I thought so, anyway. We talked about getting married, about him adopting Aiden. Cheating wasn’t the worst thing he did. He got close to Aiden—they were buddies—and then he betrayed us. Aiden isn’t over it yet.”

  “Are you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m tough,” she said, “and I’m not six and isolated by deafness.”

  “So you’re not one of those who think deaf kids aren’t broken and don’t need to be fixed?”

  “Well, he’s not broken, but he is limited.”

  “You don’t agree with the people who say learning to speak is an insult to Deaf culture?”

  “ASL is a language and has its own literature—poetry and plays—and I guess you can build a culture on that, but I don’t see anything wrong with being bilingual. It’s a hearing world, especially in a small town where he won’t meet a lot of other deaf kids. I guess it’s different in cities where they have special schools and clubs and support groups.”

  “Have you thought about moving to a city?”

  “I’ve even tried it, but Cougar is home.”

  “Good for you. You said you didn’t finish college, but I can tell from the way you talk you’re more educated than most of the folks around here.”

  “Oh, really? So it was my brain you were interested in?”

  He grinned. “Yes, of course.”

  Chapter 3

  The exterior of the Perfect Place was more modest than its name, a simple square building with the name in block capitals above tall windows. It had no valet parking, and Frank let Teresa out at the front door because “I wouldn’t want you to walk too far in those shoes.” She didn’t think he had even glanced at her shoes, which were low-heeled pumps, but she was glad to have a few minutes to catch her breath and think about the conversation so far. He seemed very interested in her and had said little about himself. She should have asked when his wife died. He might be out of practice too.

  He had asked a lot of questions about finances—did she own her house, the pickup, get child support, would she inherit the family farm. He had mentioned investments and the low interest rates on savings. Maybe he would try to involve her in some kind of pyramid scheme. It wouldn’t matter—she didn’t have anything to invest.

  Before she could come to any conclusions, he was back and opened the door for her. The interior was welcoming, with soft lighting, brick, wood paneling, exposed overhead beams, and lush carpet. Frank gave his name at the desk, and they were immediately conducted to a table with a white cloth, real silverware, and very comfortable chairs. Teresa was a little intimidated and looked around to make sure the other diners weren’t in formal wear. They weren’t.

  The waitress, Rachel, wore a tie. She was a pretty brunette, but Frank didn’t seem to notice. She offered them menus, poured ice water, and asked if they would like wine. Teresa shook her head, and Frank followed her lead. When the waitress was out of hearing, he asked, “Are you in AA or something?”

  “No. I stopped drinking when I was pregnant and never found a good time to start again. It’s not like I was a big drinker before. A glass of wine with dinner would be fine, but I think I’d better keep my wits about me tonight.”

  “You think I’m dangerous?” he asked, smiling. “I’m flattered.”

  She directed her attention to the menu. The prices made her a little anxious, but she assumed he could afford it. The children’s menu included macaroni and cheese, which made her think of Aiden and relax a little.

  “I can recommend the New York steak and the ribs,” Frank said. “I haven’t tried anything else, but I’m sure they’re good too.”

  She reminded herself this was a rare occasion deserving of the suspension of diet rules and chose the lobster linguini. Rachel brought warm bread and took their orders. Conversation had been easy in the car, but now Teresa had to look into those intense brown eyes, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “Let’s see,” he said. “What am I supposed to ask on a first date? No
t your sign—favorite color?”

  “Blue.”

  “Me too. I knew we’d have something in common. Pet peeve?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “People who take driving too casually. It’s a very dangerous occupation, requiring your undivided attention.”

  “Hard to do with kids in the car, though,” he suggested.

  “Yes, but it’s the kids in the car who make it most necessary.”

  “I can tell you’re a good mother,” he said. “It’s too bad you have to work. I’m sure stay-at-home moms give kids the best start, but it takes a certain kind of woman to pull it off these days.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “A rich one.”

  “Or one who’s getting the support she deserves. Your ex-husband—”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Okay, let’s try another one. What do you want out of life?”

  She considered. “For my son to grow up happy and healthy. It’s my turn. What’s your pet peeve?”

  “Men who don’t appreciate a woman like you.” His bold look, more than the words, made Teresa blush. He was so emphatically male he made slender, bespectacled Brett look like a boy. Maybe that was the problem—Brett wasn’t mature yet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “Okay, here’s one—movie trailers that tell too much.”

  That led to a lively discussion—most egregious previews, favorite trailers, movies they had both seen or wanted to. It continued even after dinner was served, and somewhere along the line it came to be assumed they would spend their second date in a movie theater.

  The food looked and smelled wonderful. Teresa told herself she’d better enjoy every bite. She wasn’t likely to continue dating someone who took this sort of thing for granted, so it was a one-time opportunity. She wasn’t sure whether to cut the pasta or twirl it like spaghetti and wished she had chosen a less complicated dish, but Frank had ordered the same entrée, and she could follow his lead. He cut the pasta with his fork, and she breathed a secret sigh of relief. The lobster was fresh and tender, the linguini buttery, the wine sauce perfect.

  “Like it?” he asked when her mouth was full, and she could only nod enthusiastically. He laughed and took another bite. “Me too—this might be my new favorite. Don’t forget to save room for dessert, though.”