Chris looked disappointed, but he swallowed it. “Okay,” he said, and then was out of the room as fast as he’d entered it.
“Great kid.” Derek smiled fondly, watching the boy’s exit. He shook his head and chuckled. “Endless energy.”
“Uh-huh. Except the energy doesn’t extend to brushing his teeth, washing his face, or even dressing properly.”
“So I’ve noticed.” He opened the liquor cabinet and held up a vodka bottle with a questioning look. She shook her head. He rummaged in the grocery bag and withdrew a jug of her favorite grapefruit juice, then held it up with a second questioning look.
She looked at it, reconsidering, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He left with the ice bucket. She heard the noisy rattle of ice cubes, then he returned, mixed two drinks and crossed the room to hand her one. She sipped, and then looked up in appreciation. “You haven’t lost the knack. You can still make an excellent drink without measuring anything.”
Connie was sitting in the charcoal-gray recliner with her feet up. He took the end of the gray and white striped sofa, stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. “Thanks to my years at bartending. I did everything waiting for my big break.”
“I remember.”
“I smelled something cooking in the kitchen. What is it?”
“Macaroni and cheese.”
“Umm. I like the way you make that.”
“That’s one of the few things I made that you liked. Or would even eat.”
He was silent for a moment, and she wondered if he was going to do the gallant thing and refute that statement or the wise thing and let it go.
“That’s because it was one of the few things you made that was actually edible,” he said mildly.
She’d taken a sip of her drink. She laughed, causing herself to choke, and he grinned.
“It’s good to see you again, Connie, and to hear you laugh. It seems strange to be sitting across the room from you like this, yet it feels natural, too.”
Connie looked down at her drink, saying nothing. She couldn’t have said it better, but she didn’t want to turn this into…
She frowned to herself, unable to finish the thought. Turn it into what?
“You’re just as pretty as I remember,” he said. “Still a perfect ‘five-foot-two, eyes of blue’. And I notice you let your hair go back to its natural color. You never liked auburn, but red looks good on you.” He flashed bright white teeth in a quick grin. “Matches your fiery temperament.”
He waited, probably for a reaction. When he got none, he went on. “And you lost some weight. Maybe eight or ten pounds. You couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and five right now, tops.”
She wore an oversized white t-shirt and loose-fitting navy shorts. The only other garment he’d seen her in was the too big, shapeless robe, yet he’d accurately guessed her weight. Apparently, he’d gotten quite an eyeful last night, despite the bubbles.
He gave her a long, slow-building grin, and she knew he’d read her mind. She returned his gaze, but not the grin.
After a leisurely sip from his drink, he introduced another topic. “Kristy told me you were teaching first grade last year. How’d that go?”
She allowed a smile. “I was apprehensive at first, very much so. I’d never taught kids that young. But I loved it, and I’ve been assured of the same grade in the fall.”
“Good. It’s great that you and Kristy maintained your friendship. I’m glad that we...well, that our breakup didn’t influence your friendship.”
She shrugged. “We go back a long way. She’s the closest thing to a sister I’ve got.”
He appeared thoughtful as he changed position. Placing his right ankle over his left knee, he stared at his black loafer. “We disappointed them, both Kevin and Kristy.”
“We personally didn’t disappoint them. But I’m sure the fact that our marriage failed did.”
“Yeah.” He swirled his drink, then looked up with a half smile and changed the subject again. “How’s Barry doing? Met the girl of his dreams yet?”
She laughed. “Which one? There have been so many—girls and dreams both. My brother is a happy and confirmed bachelor. He likes the field way too much to ever settle down with one woman.”
“How about you? Have you met anybody…interesting?”
She held up the copy of TV Guide she’d been reading, with Derek’s picture on the cover. “The life of a celebrity is an open book. You’re doing so well you’re being considered for prime time. And, despite the hopes and dreams of many a fair maiden, you remain a confirmed bachelor.”
Derek didn’t look pleased. Evidently he hadn’t grown comfortable with the fame that was now his or the publicity that went along with it. “Uh-huh,” he said. “But we weren’t talking about me. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“No, I didn’t,” she agreed.
They each let the silence stretch. Then he smiled and again went on to something else. She’d never known him to be short on conversation. “Chris and I thought we’d go out tomorrow morning, early, and then play it by ear after that.” He waited a beat. “Are you agreeable with that? I might be spending as many as three or four days here.”
She shrugged. “You’re already here,” she said, tone noncommittal.
From the twins’ room came a loud thump and a happy squeal. Right on time. She put her glass down and stood. “We’ll eat as soon as I get them up. If we wait any longer, my macaroni and cheese will be as dry and crusty and brown on the bottom as my eggs.”
Chapter FiveThe fast-disappearing sun had turned the sky a light orangey-red and low-lying clouds had taken on a purplish hue that evening when Moose cruised by the convenience store in his vintage ’65 Mustang. The automobile was freshly waxed, royal blue, and the engine purred. This was his second time around the block today, and Max had also driven them by once in his rundown, dark-green pickup. Neither of those vehicles had been used in the actual robberies, however. Each time a different automobile had been borrowed, and then returned before the owner realized it was missing. A lot of cars were left unlocked—or the window partially down, which amounted to the same thing—and a person might as well leave a key in the ignition as hide it under the mat or behind the visor.
Moose braked for two kids on bikes racing across the street. Neither boy had looked to either side. The bikes continued at full speed, then stopped at the store’s entrance, effectively blocking the doorway, and the kids dashed inside.
“Dang kids,” Max muttered. “Don’t they have anybody to teach them how to ride a bike? And manners. I’d like to teach them some manners.”
Moose drove past the store without comment.
Max stared straight ahead as thoughtfulness replaced his irritation. “So what do you think?”
“Still can’t find sign of extra security.”
“Hayworth wouldn’t pay for it,” Max said with a snort. “My worry was the police might get wise and do it on their own.”
Moose signaled for a left turn. “Doesn’t look like they did, unless they’re smarter than we are. And that’s a distinct possibility.” He executed the turn, traveled two blocks, then parked in the lot at a medical building. The car’s windows were rolled down, and the scent from an orange tree next to the entrance of the premises wafted through the car.
“Yep,” Max agreed. “Sure is.” He’d nicked himself shaving that morning and absently fingered the cut on his chin. Despite Petey’s intellectual limitations, he was more careful when shaving himself than his supposedly smarter brother. Max shot a sideways look at his friend. “You sure you want to go through with this?” He heard the doubt in his voice and figured it showed in his face.
“We’ve been through this, old buddy.” With his gaze on the windshield, Moose let out a sound that was half sigh and half laugh. “I already told you I’m in it. Don’t worry about me.” Then he glanced across the seat and met Max’s eyes. “You want to hit them again today?”
“Tomorrow’s soon enough. Three times ought to get the point across. That he either gives the thing back to me, pays me for it, or there’s more misery than this that I can heap upon him.”
A loud snore from the back interrupted them. Petey sat in the middle of the seat, legs splayed, head back and mouth open. He let out another loud snort, and Max stretched his arm over the seat to gently shake the man’s knee. Petey rolled his shoulders, turned his head, closed his mouth, and the snoring ceased.
“He doesn’t have to go with us this next time, you know,” Moose said, eyeing the sleeping form.
“Yeah, I thought about that, too. But we started out as a group of three and need to continue that way. Got to be consistent. The kid will be all right. But I won’t insist he hold the gun if he doesn’t want to.”
Moose’s face creased into a wry, but fond, smile. “The kid. He just turned thirty.”
“And still only a kid. That’s all he’ll ever be.” Max faced front. “And Hayworth knew it. He was well aware of that fact, and deliberately took advantage of it.”
The other man eyed his friend’s profile, then also faced front. He turned the key in the ignition and flicked the headlights on. “After tomorrow’s hit, then what?”
“Let him stew for a couple days. Then go pay him a visit.”
“Figure out yet how you want to approach him?”
Max knew what was being asked but didn’t have an answer, so he replied literally. “Use the door knocker if he’s got one. If not, ring the doorbell.”
The big man snorted out a laugh as he steered the Mustang into traffic. “Should work.”
Chapter SixA sound awakened Connie. It wasn’t yet daybreak, and the dark house was silent except for a grating, low-level buzzing that sounded suspiciously like an alarm clock. Then it was abruptly cut off. Glancing sideways at the luminous clock, she scowled. Derek was one of those heavy sleepers who needed to set his alarm at three-thirty in order to get up at five. In the two years she’d slept next to him, that peculiarity had cost her sleep and driven her nuts.
She felt her frown growing as she wondered how to handle this—and resented that she had to deal with it at all since she was no longer married to him. The alarm would continue to blast at ten-minute intervals, he’d continue to press the snooze bar, and the irritating routine would go on and on until someone else put an end to it.
But Christopher shared the room with his uncle, and the child was excited about the fishing trip. He’d get Derek up.
Hopefully, the same way he did yesterday.
Connie turned onto her side and snuggled into the pillow. When the alarm sounded the second time, she turned onto her other side. The third time, she rolled onto her back and stared at the dark ceiling. So maybe Christopher was also a hard waker-upper.
Wearily, and more than a little annoyed, she considered her options. She could put cotton in her ears. She could give up, get up and go make coffee. She could go into Derek’s room and pour ice water over him.
The fourth time the alarm went off, a different one followed it that she had to answer. A baby was awake and complaining. Disgusted, she got out of bed.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll break his fishing pole. I’ll hit him with his blasted clock.”
Connie struggled into the robe. One sleeve got twisted, and that just made her madder at Derek. She remembered to hitch the garment up over the belt before she tied it. By the time she got to the twins’ room, both babies were awake. Andy was fussing, but Abbie was all smiles and giggles and jumping up and down. Connie watched her from the doorway, not nearly as ready to meet the day as the baby girl evidently was. She went to Andy first, cooed softly and rubbed his back. He quieted, and she knew he’d go back to sleep if she could settle Abbie down.
But Abbie didn’t want to settle. Completely ignoring her aunt, she continued her morning calisthenics with growing enthusiasm. At least she wasn’t fussing to be let out of the crib. Yet. As Connie backed out of the room, Abbie got onto all fours and started pulling the blankets and sheet free from one corner of the bed. Her dismay growing in direct proportion to her niece’s energy, Connie called Derek a bad name under her breath.
She went to the room next door.
“Hi, Annie Connie,” Christopher said brightly.
Derek snored.
Connie switched the light on, forced a smile for Christopher, then went to Derek’s cot and gave him a hard shake. “You’ve awakened one niece. Two nephews. And one ex-wife. Now, for crying out loud, will you please…get…up!”
She waited. He didn’t stir.
“He’s asleep,” Christopher explained.
She glanced his way but didn’t trust herself to speak. Her gaze returned to Derek and she tried to push him off the cot. He mumbled and pushed back.
The sudden clattering in her ear made her jump. She picked up the clock, resisted the urge to throw it at the wall, and switched it off. Still holding the clock, she looked down at the sleeping man, and it took all her will power not to conk him with it. Instead she replaced it, very carefully, on the chair that served as his nightstand.
Next door, Andy was no longer fussing or sleeping. He was carrying on a spirited conversation with his sister. Defeated, Connie looked at Christopher. “Want breakfast?”
He nodded eagerly.
She motioned toward Derek. “Can you wake him up? I don’t care how. Jump on top of him again. It worked yesterday.”
He frowned as his gaze traveled from her to his uncle and back again. “But I might break that bed too.”
“Go ahead.” Then, catching herself, she drew in a deep breath. “Excuse me, Chris.”
She waited a beat, searching for patience, and finally found some. “This bed isn’t going to break. And I’ll take full responsibility anyway. Just wake him up. Somehow. Anyhow.”
Chris continued to hesitate, his expression pained as his gaze flitted between his uncle and his aunt. Then his face cleared, as if he’d come to a decision and thereby conquered his worry. “But it’s not nice to do that,” he explained patiently. “He told me it’s not nice to wake somebody else up just ’cause you’re awake.”
Connie’s teeth ground together.
Derek opened one eye. “Can’t you two go someplace else to talk? Trying to sleep here.” The eye closed and he rolled over.
“See?” Christopher said triumphantly. Then, looking horrified, possibly because his voice was so loud, he put his finger to his lips as if to shush himself and his aunt.
Connie spun around. She gripped the edge of Derek’s cot with both hands and tried to tip it over.
“Annie Connie!”
Derek sat up and stared at her. He looked confused.
She straightened up and stared back. “You just saved your life.”
She headed for the kitchen and the coffee pot.
A short while later, Derek came to the kitchen doorway and looked in at her, appearing uncertain of his welcome. “Sorry,” he said.
Connie put her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist. She stared at him.
“You think the twins will go back down?” he asked timidly.
“Sure. In two or three hours they’ll be ready for an early morning nap—a very early morning nap.”
“I really am sorry.”
Connie drained her cup and then stared at it, wondering if she had time for more caffeine before she had to deal with the twins. She was awake, and yet she wasn’t.
Derek came all the way in. He poured coffee for himself, then refilled her cup. “I’ll make breakfast. If the babies start clamoring for attention before you’re ready for them, I’ll take care of them.”
“Gee, thanks.” Her voice held a definite lack of appreciation.
He laid out breakfast plates. Christopher appeared, and Connie did a double take. His shirt was buttoned correctly and neatly tucked into his pants. His pants were zipped. He wore matching shoes, on the correct feet, and he’d even combed his hair. He looked like a model poster child.
“What happened?” she asked without thinking.
He bared his teeth. “See? I brushed.”
“Good,” Derek said. “Isn’t that good, Aunt Connie?”
“Very good,” she said, squinting at the child. Surprises, even good ones, were difficult to absorb when one didn’t have enough sleep.
Derek put two perfectly fried eggs onto Connie’s plate. Sunny side up, yolk both liquid and intact. Connie tried cooking her eggs like that every Sunday morning and hadn’t gotten it right yet. Derek slipped the spatula under the third egg and placed it on Chris’s plate, then replaced the skillet on the stove and cracked more eggs into it.
Christopher picked up his fork, and then paused. “Do I have to brush my teeth again after I eat this?” His frown made him look normal again.
“Of course you do,” Derek said offhandedly. He pulled the bacon cooker out of the microwave, put the slices on a plate, added a stack of buttered toast and set it on the table. Connie cut into her egg and waited for the inevitable argument, glad it was Derek’s problem. He deserved it.
“Okay,” Chris said agreeably.
Connie choked on her egg, and her ex-husband helpfully pounded her on the back.
* * *
Dawn was breaking when Derek reentered the kitchen. Bright sunlight shone through the window above the sink, creating a warm strip that reached Connie’s arm. He stood silently and watched her wash Andy’s face. She looked up, thinking he was ready to go and wanted to apologize one last time. She was surprised he wasn’t out of here yet. She’d received the impression he was dawdling, but Christopher had taken his cue from his uncle and wasn’t chomping at the bit.
“Why don’t you go with us?” Derek asked.
“Huh?” She paused, one hand holding the baby’s fingers and the other grasping the washcloth. “You want to take the twins and me on a fishing trip?”
Abbie slammed both hands palm down onto her highchair tray and let out a happy shriek.
Derek laughed. “Good timing, kid.” Then, looking back at Connie, he lifted his shoulders. “Why not go? Thanks to me, everyone’s already awake. And I’ve got more than enough food.”
Second Thoughts Page 3
