by Lisa Jackson
“Come and get it,” Elizabeth called and for once her daughter complied.
Chloe ate her quesadilla at the counter and downed the glass of milk that Elizabeth poured for her. Her earlier complaint about hating milk seemed to have been forgotten. At least for the moment. She found her way to the couch and curled up in a corner as Elizabeth cleared her plate, washing off the melted cheese.
Chloe suddenly asked, “Do you miss Daddy?” Glancing over the back of the couch, she gave Elizabeth a quick sideways look, then swept her gaze back to the television.
Momentarily taken off guard, Elizabeth recovered quickly and said, “Of course I do.”
Once again, Chloe turned and looked at her mother in that scrutinizing way she always used when she wanted to see if Elizabeth was lying.
“I do miss him,” Elizabeth said as if to defend herself, which was ridiculous. But it was true. She did miss Court. At least some parts of him. “I miss him as much as you do.” She slid the rinsed plate into the open dishwasher.
“Do you think he loved me?” Chloe asked.
“Oh, honey, of course he did. Absolutely.”
“I don’t think he did,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Where’d you get that idea? You’re his little girl.” Drying her hands on a dishtowel, Elizabeth crossed to the couch and sat down next to her child. “He loved you more than anything. You know that.” Heart breaking for her daughter’s loss, she hugged Chloe close, but the girl was having none of it and wriggled free to stare at her mother.
“He loved me more than that other lady?” she asked, ignoring the television completely.
Elizabeth felt cold all over. “What lady?”
“The one he killed.”
She swept in a sharp breath. “Who’s been saying that?”
Chloe shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Tell me who’s been saying that,” Elizabeth insisted, seeing red that someone was heartless enough to say malicious things to her child.
Chloe shrank into herself. “Nobody,” she whispered.
“Your father loved you, Chloe. Don’t ever think he didn’t.”
“You don’t have to be so mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m just—”
“Mad,” Chloe insisted.
Elizabeth let out a frustrated breath. “Okay, but I’m not mad at you.”
Chloe sent her a disbelieving look as Elizabeth’s cell rang loudly, vibrating against the counter.
Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet and walked rapidly to the kitchen, snagging the phone and catching sight of Deirdre’s number on the display. With a last look at Chloe, who’d turned back to the TV, she answered, “Hey, there.”
“Did you see Jade today?” Deirdre asked without preamble. “She said she was going by the office.”
Elizabeth’s attention was still on Chloe, but she nodded and said, “She did. I had a client though, so we only talked for a few minutes.”
“Bummer, ’cause she’s not available tonight, either.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got an idea. Bring Chloe over to our house. I have a babysitter. We’re all going out to the Barefoot Bar tonight for dinner.”
Elizabeth wrenched her attention to the conversation with Deirdre. “Sounds great, but I can’t. It’s a school night for Chloe and we’ve already eaten.”
“I’ve already eaten,” Chloe corrected, her bright gaze back on Elizabeth as she sensed with unerring accuracy that plans were afoot. “You haven’t.”
“Come on, Elizabeth,” Deirdre urged. “Get over here.”
“You know you don’t all have to try so hard to make me feel included,” Elizabeth protested.
“Is that what we’re doing? Gee. And I thought it was just that I had this brilliant idea to be with all my friends.”
Chloe was off the couch and staring at Elizabeth, her expression pleading.
“I don’t know . . .” Elizabeth weakened.
“Come on over,” Deirdre insisted. “You can ride with me and Les to the bar.”
Ahh . . . the husbands were going. Of course. Elizabeth tried to beg off, not wanting to be a fifth wheel again, but Deirdre was having none of it. Nadia was going to be there and some other people, too. What other people? Elizabeth wanted to know, but Deirdre was already hanging up, as if afraid Elizabeth would change her mind again.
Despite her better judgment, half an hour later Elizabeth and Chloe were on their way to Deirdre’s house. Chloe had brightened considerably and was keeping up a nonstop chatter as if afraid Elizabeth would change her mind given too much time to think about it. Her daughter wasn’t wrong. All Elizabeth wanted to do was climb into bed and drag the covers over her head. Maybe this is what Chloe needs.
She glanced down at her skinny jeans and tailored blue blouse. A black sweater coat lay in the passenger seat. The Barefoot Bar in Newport Beach had an outside patio with a concrete floor lined with sand. Several fire pits were clustered around the area, each with curved benches and Adirondack chairs. In the summer, the place was completely packed and it was impossible to cadge a seat, but the cool temperature would likely deter the crowds. At least that was Deirdre’s contention.
Chloe was dropped off to play with Deirdre’s sons, Chad and Bryan; the kids were left in the care of a nanny Deirdre shared with another woman. As Elizabeth slid into the backseat of the Czurskys’ dark gray Mercedes, she listened to Deirdre and Les extol the virtues of the food at the Barefoot Bar.
“You’ve had dinner there,” Deirdre stated to Elizabeth as if it were fact, half-turning her face toward the backseat.
“No, I’ve only been to the patio bar.”
“You’re kidding. It’s great. You’ll see. Fresh seafood. Great salads.”
“Steaks, too,” Les put in.
Elizabeth thought about her dwindling bank accounts, but didn’t say anything as Deirdre and Les enthused about their favorite restaurant. No matter what Peter Bellhard had alluded to about Court’s finances, there was no secret stash of money. Court may have fooled Whitney, but the truth was he spent anything he made and nothing much was left. Elizabeth determined that she would just order a garden salad or soup, something not too expensive. She wasn’t all that hungry, anyway.
While the valet took the keys of their car and parked it, they walked through the reception area and outside to the patio. The Eachuses and Hofstetters were already there. Nadia, looking harried, was just arriving, a few steps behind them. “Kurt blew me off at the last minute,” she said, clearly unhappy. “It’s like I don’t even have a husband half the time.” She heard herself and stopped short. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” she said, abashed.
“Don’t even think about it.” Elizabeth waved off the apology. As they met up with the other couples, Elizabeth was introduced to the other people Deirdre had mentioned. Actually, it was really just one other person, as Deirdre introduced her to Gil Dyne, who worked with Les.
Dyne was a widower, it turned out, and Elizabeth sensed he’d been invited to even out the couples because she was coming as a single and everyone had expected Nadia’s husband to show. Already it was happening; she was the odd woman out. Elizabeth cringed inside.
No wonder Deirdre hadn’t taken no for an answer.
Elizabeth was almost glad Nadia’s husband hadn’t showed. It kept her from having to be Gil Dyne’s almost date.
All in all, it was irritating as hell, and it was all Elizabeth could do to smile through it and remind herself that her friends meant well, that they were just trying to help her through a rough transition.
Still . . .
“I heard about your husband,” Gil said to her.
She wanted to sink right through the patio. She didn’t need this, probably not ever.
“I know how difficult the first few weeks are.” He had a friendly face and a nice smile, but he stood a little closer to her than she would have liked. “How’re you getting on?”
She shot Deirdre a warning loo
k, but Deirdre pretended not to notice. “I’m working my way through it,” she said to Gil as Nadia, who had been mingling with the others, joined them. Thank God.
The waiter came by and she ordered a glass of white wine, but when the waiter returned, Gil insisted on paying. Of course. She protested mightily, but he swept away her objections. He made no effort to buy Nadia’s drink, however, even though she was standing right beside Elizabeth and had ordered at the same time.
It was uncomfortable and awkward.
Twenty minutes later, she finally found an opening to move away from him and with Nadia in tow, whispered, “I hope Deirdre doesn’t think this is a date.”
Nadia was a few inches taller than Elizabeth and when she hazarded a glance at Gil Dyne, one of the outdoor lights caught the icy blue of her eyes. “Men prey on single women.”
“Oh, I think he’s just being nice,” Elizabeth said. “Deirdre told me she invited him.” It was strange to think of herself as a single woman.
Nadia took a long swallow from her wineglass. “If you ever need anything, call me. You have my number.”
“Thanks, yes.”
“I mean it,” she pressed.
Elizabeth nodded. She didn’t know how to tell her friends that she was a little overwhelmed by everyone’s eagerness and urgency to help her, that she just needed time alone. To process. To consider her future. To come to grips that she and Chloe were alone in the world.
At that moment, Deirdre swept up to them and said in a conspirator’s voice, “I shouldn’t have invited him, I know. But Gil’s a good, good guy, and he’s got loads of money. Loads.”
What’s that got to do with anything? Elizabeth thought, then remembered confiding to her friends about the state of her finances. Obviously, a mistake.
Deirdre continued slyly, “You know, he might not look like it, but he could buy and sell half the people I know.”
Good guy . . . Her words reminded Elizabeth of GoodGuy and she had to force out a smile and a noncommittal response.
Not so Nadia, who asked suspiciously, “What happened to his wife, then?”
Deirdre gave her a long look. “What do you mean?”
“I heard it was suicide,” Nadia said.
“Oh, I’m so sick of that. Monica would never.” Shaking her head, Deirdre said, “It was a pill overdose. A mistake. That’s all.” She was clearly annoyed with Nadia.
But Nadia wasn’t about to give up. “There was a question about it. That’s what I heard.”
“Can anyone join in this conversation?” Tara asked. Her husband Dave was with Bill and Gil standing near a fire pit. Les, too, staring at the flames, stood near the men.
Elizabeth noted that Vivian was at the bar ordering more drinks.
“Gil’s wife, Monica Dyne, died of a drug overdose,” Nadia said to Tara. “Deirdre says it was an accident, but—”
”It was an accident,” Deirdre snapped.
“There was a question about it.” Nadia spread her hands, her lips pressed tightly together. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Girls, girls,” Tara said, then grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and pulled her away. “You looked trapped.”
“I was trapped. Thanks for the rescue. Deirdre seems to have invited Gil so I could meet him.”
“It’s way too soon for that.”
“No kidding.”
“I never knew Deirdre was such a matchmaker.” Tara guided Elizabeth away from the patio and fire pits to stand near the front door.
Elizabeth said, “Peter Bellhard stopped by my open house today.”
“You’re kidding.” Tara looked scandalized.
Elizabeth gave her the gist of what Bellhard had said to her, finishing with, “There’s no money and no insurance.”
Tara sighed loudly.
“Anyway, I’m all for full disclosure if it gets Detective Thronson off my back.”
“Yeah, but what do you have to disclose that you haven’t already?”
Elizabeth shook her head, then looked at her closest friend. Could she trust her with her thoughts, crazy as they were, about wishing Court dead? Could she? “Tara . . . there’s something I should tell you.”
Chapter 17
“What?” Tara asked, looking at her expectantly over the top of her glass of wine.
Before Elizabeth could answer, Vivian sashayed up to them, leading a waiter who held a tray of tropical drinks. “Maui Wowies, the drink kind,” she announced. “I’ve ordered some pupus, too. Don’t start making potty humor jokes,” she warned loudly to the men who were paying no attention to their conversation.
“You were saying?” Tara asked Elizabeth.
“Nothing.” The moment had passed and it was crazy, anyway.
“Gil’s buying,” Deirdre said as one waiter set the tray of drinks down and another placed a huge tray of different appetizers, from teriyaki sticks to broiled pineapple wedges to sticky rice balls to fish tacos, next to it. Elizabeth had sampled some of the fare the one time she’d been to the bar, but she’d planned on just having a salad or soup and even the thought of either of those didn’t stir her appetite. But seeing how everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to choose as if she were the guest of honor, she felt obligated to pick up one of the chicken teriyaki sticks and nibble at it.
As soon as she chose, the women made their selections, then the men descended on the food and drinks in a ravenous horde. Maui Wowies or no, Elizabeth had already decided she wasn’t going to switch from her wine, but Gil Dyne brought her one of the glass mugs filled with pinkish-purple liquid and garnished with a spike of mango and a wedge of the white pulp, black-seeded center of dragon fruit. She’d set her glass of wine on one of the scattered tables flanking the benches and Adirondack chairs. She placed her half-eaten teriyaki stick on a napkin beside it and accepted the mug, though she had no desire to drink from it.
“Thank you,” she said, finding a spot at the end of the benches.
Immediately, Gil took the nearest Adirondack chair. The flame from the fire pit threw shadows on the faces but not a lot of warmth so Elizabeth wrapped her sweater coat closer around herself, glad she’d swept it up from the car on her way inside.
“I hear you’re a member at Fitness Now!” Gil tried as another conversation opener.
“Well . . . yes.”
“I lived there after my wife died. Worked out all the time. I don’t remember seeing you there, but then, I haven’t noticed anything for a while.”
“My husband was the one who really used the club.” She felt obligated to at least take a sip of the drink, which was heavy with guava and passion fruit, a little too sweet for her liking.
“You use it, too,” Vivian said, moving to a seat on the other side of Gil. “We’ve been there together a lot.”
Overhearing her, Tara moved closer. “We used to all go to classes together when we first met each other. But now, well . . . kids, work, and life have gotten in the way.”
The couple that had been sitting on the other end of Elizabeth’s bench saw that they were being taken over by another group and moved to a different fire pit, so Tara grabbed the nearest spot next to Elizabeth. Nadia sat on the other side of her and Deirdre came to stand nearby while the husbands found chairs on the far side of the fire pit.
“Is that the one off Jamboree?” Nadia asked. Since she hadn’t been with their Moms Group from the beginning she’d missed out on joining Fitness Now! at the time the rest of them had.
Deirdre took a large sip from her drink and nodded. “But it’s Jade who was the real workout fiend in the beginning, and in between her pregnancies, too. She still makes me feel like such a slacker.”
“I might have to join,” Nadia said.
“Where is Jade?” Tara asked.
Deirdre replied, “Oh, I tried to get her and Byron to come, but she said she had some family thing.”
“She’s feeling very pregnant, too,” Vivian said.
“We all know what that’s like,” Deir
dre agreed.
“Well, I’d better join the men,” Gil said, getting up from his chair, which was a welcome diversion as it covered up Deirdre’s gaff. Nadia acted like she hadn’t heard her comment, which helped cover the awkward moment.
Gil’s gaze lingered on Elizabeth as he circumvented the fire pit to join the guys on the other side and she couldn’t help but worry that Gil was thinking about her in ways she wasn’t ready for. He’d bought the drinks, and she was pretty sure he’d buy her meal when they went in to dinner if she let him, but she didn’t want to give him any encouragement. She felt out of sync and weird. Court had only been gone a week but at times, it felt like ten years. How could that be?
“You’re missing him,” Nadia suddenly said, her gaze on Elizabeth’s face.
“Who?” Elizabeth responded, startled.
“Your husband.”
“Of course she’s missing him,” Deirdre said. “It’s weird to be alone all of a sudden.”
“It’s been a weird week,” Elizabeth agreed. Suddenly, she just wanted to go home.
Before she could say anything, the maître d’ came and told them their table was ready. They all rose and moved toward the dining room, but Elizabeth wished she’d brought her own car. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I might have to blow off dinner. I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
“A pu pu pooper,” Les said, and Deirdre rolled her eyes at him.
“Oh, come on,” Deirdre said. “We barely got here and we’re your ride.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll take you home,” Gil put in.
That was the last thing she wanted. “Oh, no. Thank you, but I can call a cab.”
“Let me drive you,” Nadia said, but Deirdre insisted, “You have to stay just a little while longer. Please. It’s a four hour minimum for the nanny, so let’s use it up.”
