Assault and Beret

by Jenn McKinlay

  I lifted my leg so she could clearly see my pointy-toed shoe in the light of the streetlamp above us.

  Viv heaved a sigh as if she was being tortured. I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her down the sidewalk. I was appalled. I mean, how were we supposed to stay on the moral high ground with the opposite sex when she pulled stunts like this?

  I dreaded asking, but I figured I’d best be prepared. “What exactly did you say to him when you dumped him?”

  She tipped her chin up in full-on defensive mode. “I told him I felt that the marriage had gone as far as it could go and I was leaving.”

  “And you just left?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I let go of her arm but kept walking. When we had talked about her marriage before, I had assumed, wrongly apparently, that it had been because of an actual thing, like he left the toilet seat up, or the toothpaste cap off, you know, real issues for the newly married set. But no, she just freaked out and left.

  “Was the sex that bad?” I asked. Truly, I couldn’t think of any other reason why she’d do what she did.

  “No, quite the opposite, it was lovely actually,” she said. “He is very well equipped—”

  “Please stop,” I said. “I have to eat dinner with this man.”

  We continued walking. I was relieved that Viv didn’t try to bolt again. But now I was confused. If the sex wasn’t bad, and they were having a lovely time like Viv said, then why did she leave William? It made no sense. Of course, this was Viv—point A to point B with her was seldom in a straight line.

  “If it wasn’t the sex, why did you dump him?” I asked. “Because, even though I only met him for a short while, he seems like a really nice guy, and in case you haven’t noticed, the planet is in short supply of those at the moment.”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged.

  “Oh, come on!” I slapped my hand against my upper thigh. Normally, I had much more patience for Viv’s artistic side, but right now with an excruciatingly awkward dinner impending, I really was out of empathy.

  “What do you want me to say, Scarlett?” she asked.

  She stopped walking and plunked her hands on her hips. Her coat was as baggy as the rest of her outfit but at least it looked appropriate given the cold weather.

  “Something that makes sense,” I snapped. “Let’s do a quick review, shall we? Reasons for ending a relationship include but are not limited to he’s a lying cheating rat bastard, he doesn’t get your motor humming, you discover he has an addiction like drinking, drugs, gambling or video games. Less on the scale of bad but still relevant would be he’s a slob, he lives with his mother, he’s in debt up to his top shirt button, he has poor hygiene, am I missing anything? Did Will have any of those things? Even one?”

  Viv gave me a sad look. “No.”

  “Then why did you leave him?”

  “Because it was too good to be true,” she said. “He was too good to be true. Because there weren’t any of those issues you just rattled off on your breakup grocery list.”

  “That makes no sense,” I said.

  “Scarlett, love at first sight is . . . codswallop,” she said. I opened my mouth to argue but she held up her hand, stopping me. “There is no such thing as a perfect man or a perfect relationship. There has to be something wrong with the person and with the two people coming together. There have to be obstacles to overcome, communication to hammer out, there need to be disappointments, arguments and churlishness, because those things lead the way to compassion, empathy and generosity. You can’t have one without the other. If a relationship is perfect, there is no place for it to go.”

  I stared at her. Sometimes the genius that my cousin is sneaks up behind me and wallops me upside the head. She was right. There were always two sides to every coin, especially in a relationship where there are two personalities to blend.

  “Just so I’m clear,” I said. “You’re telling me you broke up with him because it was too good and too perfect.”

  “Now you’re catching on,” she said.

  “Don’t you think that, given time, you might have gotten on each other’s nerves?” I asked. “Maybe you just didn’t give it enough time.”

  “I tried to be a bother, I gave it my all,” she said. “But he never got upset or irritated. He just adjusted around me and whatever wild hair I had going. I knew we were doomed.”

  I glanced at my phone. We were near the restaurant. I looked up and checked the addresses. Sure enough, just up ahead was Chez Robert.

  “Well, I guess now you’ll know for sure if it really was too perfect,” I said. “We’re here.”

  Viv paled. Given that she was already pretty pasty, this washed her out even more. During our scuffle, her hair had slipped the bun she’d mashed it into and her curls fell down about her shoulders in a riot of blond loveliness. It helped soften the severity of her clothes.

  I glanced at the restaurant and saw the maître d’ through the glass front door. I imagined this place usually had seating outside on the patio but the cold made it prohibitive. Too bad. I felt Viv would fare better if an escape route was at hand.

  I took a deep breath and stepped toward the door. I pulled the long handle and the magical scent of good food plumed out the door to enfold us in its intoxicating lure. Okay, the drama between Viv and William aside, I was really looking forward to dining in a posh French restaurant.

  Will must have alerted the staff that he was waiting for us. We were greeted warmly by the maître d’, who escorted us into the dining room without pausing to ask us where we wanted to sit, if anyone was joining us, or anything.

  The restaurant was all white tablecloths, candlelight and soft music. The murmur of voices and the clink of silverware on plates was a steady background cadence as we crossed the room behind our guide.

  When we got to the far corner, it was to find William standing beside a round table tucked into the corner. He was looking very handsome in a dark blue pinstripe suit with a pewter-colored dress shirt, open at the throat.

  He looked right past me at Vivian and I glanced behind me to make certain she didn’t bolt out of the restaurant. Yes, I would have executed a flying tackle if I had to. Mercifully, she wasn’t staging a runner, rather, when her gaze met William’s, she stumbled to a halt and fidgeted with the handle of her purse.

  Her mouth opened as if she would say hello, but nothing came out. She stood frozen with her big, blue eyes devouring the man in front of her as if she had been pining for him all these months apart.

  Had she? I had no idea. All I knew was that the air between them positively crackled with tension, and I was pretty sure it was the good sexy kind and not the bad “they are about to choke each other out” kind.

  “Viv, you look . . . beautiful,” he said.

  I could tell he meant it, despite her best efforts at being frumpy. Viv blushed a bright pink, making her even lovelier.

  Still, she didn’t speak and William turned to me, although it looked as though he had to force himself to do it, and said, “Scarlett, you look lovely as well.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Viv?”

  She hadn’t moved and other diners were beginning to stare. Slowly, as if she had to remind herself of how it was done, she put one foot in front of the other.

  The maître d’ pulled out a chair for me, while Will did the same for Viv. She stared up at him as she took her seat and I could see the doubt on her face. I knew without asking that she was wondering if she had done the right thing when she left him. Well, we had all of dinner to figure it out.

  Chapter 8

  “Gretna Green,” I said. “Really? I thought that was just some made-up fluff out of a Jane Austen novel.”

  “Oh, no, since the mid-eighteenth century, when the age for marriage was changed to twenty-one, couples have been hopping the border into Scotland to tie the knot.
Back then, the Scots only required a person to be sixteen and to have two witnesses, much easier back in the day,” Viv said. “And dreadfully romantic.”

  “So, it really is an elopement spot and you two ran off there?” I asked. I knew it and yet it still stunned me, although why, I don’t know—this was Viv after all.

  We were two bottles of wine and several courses into our meal. The wine combined with fine French cuisine had mellowed us all considerably, and Will finally broke down and, with a nod from Viv, told me the finer details of their elopement.

  “Yes, we did,” he said. He lifted his hand as if he would put it on top of Viv’s where it rested on the table, but he clearly thought better of it and snatched up his fork instead.

  We had already enjoyed grilled scallops with celery saffron sauce, white asparagus with dried pomegranate, and now we were working our way through tarragon-spiced salmon on a bed of mushroom and spinach risotto. It was amazing, and I was so glad we were savoring each course as it gave us plenty of time to deal with the ginormous elephant in the room, namely, that two of our threesome were married, and as yet, I had no idea what they were going to do about it.

  “Do you remember driving up there in the middle of the night?” William asked Viv.

  “Of course,” she said. She ducked her head. She actually looked shy. Then she laughed. “We left London at midnight and drove the five and a half hours straight through, except for that dodgy loo stop in Manchester.”

  William burst out laughing. “You came tearing out of the bathroom, screaming because you were sure that someone had tried to break in.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” Viv scolded but her blue eyes were twinkling when she turned to me. “It was a rat, a big one.”

  Behind her back, William was holding his thumb and index finger up where I could see, indicating that the “rat” was about the size of a kiwi. I snorted. Viv whipped around and saw him and lightly slapped his shoulder.

  “Oh, you,” she said.

  It was the first time she had touched him and they stared at each other with an awareness that was impossible to miss. Feeling very much like a third wheel, I figured I should probably excuse myself and go for a nice walk around the block in the bitter cold. Oh, joy.

  My self-sacrifice was stalled when William’s pocket started to chirp. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and silenced the ringer. He looked at the display and frowned. He was obviously not eager to speak to whoever was calling.

  He glanced at us with regret. “I am so sorry; I must take this.”

  “Of course,” Viv said.

  I nodded.

  He rose from his seat and took his phone out to the lobby. I watched as he put the phone to his ear. He was pacing by the front door, back and forth. He was too far away and his voice was too low for me to pick out any words, but it was apparent that he was not happy, as in, super unhappy.

  Viv was watching him, too, but the look on her face was vastly different than my speculative gaze. She watched him with eyes that sparkled, lips that were parted, and with a flush on her skin that screamed she was a woman in love. Oh, sweet chili dogs! Now we had a situation.

  “Viv,” I said her name. She didn’t respond. “Viv.”

  Still nothing. How could she be oblivious to me, her cousin?

  “Hello, in there.” I waved a hand in front of her face. “Anyone home?”

  Viv waved me away with a frown. She met my gaze and the dewy, puppy love expressions were gone, replaced by one that was more normal for Viv in regards to me, irritation.

  “What is it?”

  “Are you still in love with him?” I asked.

  “What?” she cried. “How can you ask such a thing?”

  The waiter, who was very attentive but not at all as forward as David from the bistro in our neighborhood, pity, interrupted what I was about to say as he cleared away our last course and brought another. It was a cheese plate and it was beautiful.

  Our waiter explained that these were cheeses from a local fromagerie and identified them as Brie de Meaux, Coulommiers, Merle Rouge and Brie Noir, which is an aged Brie with a black crumbly rind. Also on the plates were several small loaves of freshly baked bread and an assortment of berries and jam.

  As soon as he left, I helped myself to some cheese and bread. It was a fortification for the conversation ahead. I swear.

  “Viv, when you look at him, you look like you want to run away with him all over again.”

  “I don’t,” she said.

  There was a hesitation in her voice. I knew I didn’t need to point it out because she pressed a hand to her chest as if she heard it herself.

  “Really, I don’t,” she said. “It’s just . . .”

  Her voice trailed off and I knew it was time to remind her of why we were here. First, I took another nibble of cheese. Smooth and creamy, with its soft-ripened rind, I was in heaven, so it was very hard to focus on the task at hand. I took a sip of wine.

  “What happened to your leaving him because everything was too easy, too perfect, that there was no balance to the relationship, no struggle?”

  “I said that?” she asked.

  “Less than an hour ago,” I said.

  “Huh, fancy that,” she said.

  Her gaze darted past me to the man in the lobby. I turned around just in time to see William pocket his phone, but instead of coming back to our table, he pushed out the door.

  “Is he leaving?” I asked Viv.

  “So it would seem,” she said. She frowned.

  I watched him walk outside to the corner. I wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it. I craned my neck and leaned halfway across the table.

  The couple at the table near us exchanged a glance but I didn’t care. I wanted to know what Will was doing. Would he really leave us? Was this his revenge for Viv ditching him? Take us out to a nice restaurant and then stick us with the bill? I wondered if I should chase him down.

  I’d lost more dignity over lesser situations. I glanced back at the cheese plate. I really didn’t want to leave it behind.

  “Is he meeting someone else?” Viv cried.

  My head snapped up. Now that would be even worse than sticking us with the bill. I craned my neck again to get a gander out the window.

  Sure enough, a car and driver pulled up to the curb outside the restaurant. This was no mean feat in one of the busiest streets in the neighborhood. I watched as the tinted window in the back rolled down.

  Will stood with his arms crossed over his chest and frowned at the passenger. If the person in the car was trying to intimidate William, it wasn’t working. His cheeks were ruddy, either from the cold or his temper, it was hard to tell, but he looked very forbidding in that moment.

  “Oh, my,” Viv sighed.

  Obviously, I was not the only one who noticed.

  “Well, at least your husband hasn’t run out to meet another woman,” I said. The angle of the streetlight overhead cut into the car just enough for me to see the sleeve of a man’s suit coat.

  Will made an impatient gesture and I tried to read his lips. I suspected they were speaking in French because I couldn’t decipher a word of it. It was easy to read the body language, though. William was furious.

  “There’s that,” Viv said. “What do you suppose is the issue?”

  “Well, he is in the insurance game as an investigator,” I said. “Maybe he has an unhappy client.”

  As if aware that he was the subject of our scrutiny, Will turned back to the window and caught us blatantly watching what was happening. In our defense, he did leave the restaurant without telling us what was happening. Isn’t it natural that we should want to see what had become of him?

  He seemed to get that. With his back to the car, he opened his eyes wide and made a gesture like he’d like to strangle the person in the car. Viv snorted.


  “I forgot how funny he is,” she said. She waved at him and he smiled before making his features stern and turning back to the car.

  “So, should I get used to thinking of him as my cousin-in-law?” I asked. “Oh, man, what are you going to say to your parents?”

  No, Viv’s mom and dad, who lived up in Yorkshire, had no idea that she’d tied the knot. Do you see how frustrating she can be? Even her parents didn’t know about Will. I swear it’s like living with someone who works for MI-5. I gave her a side eye. Could she possibly . . . Would that explain . . . Nah, that’d be ridiculous, right?

  “I’m not going to say anything,” she said. “I mean, I’ve only been reacquainted with him for an hour. I have no idea how this is going to work out.”

  “So is an annulment off the table?” I asked.

  “Nothing is off the table,” she said.

  I took a sip of my wine. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, the case of the missing husband is solved. What happens now is up to the two of you.”

  “Do you think—I mean, I know he said he wanted to give the marriage a go but do you think he meant it?” Viv asked.

  She looked vulnerable, and I glanced out the window to see Will turn on his heel away from the car and stride back toward the restaurant. He had seemed sincere when I tracked him down at his office but did I know him well enough to determine whether he really meant it or if it was just a whim? No, I didn’t. Still, Viv looked so fragile, I wasn’t up to crushing her when I knew she had so much going on inside of her right now.

  “He seemed very sincere when we talked,” I said. “And he seems to be trying to put his best face on.” I gestured to the table and the restaurant around us.

  “He does have a nice face,” she said.

  “I hope you’re talking about me and not the waiter,” Will said as he rejoined us at the table.

  Viv looked flustered but I laughed. William really did have an easy charm about him, which was so good for Viv as she tended to get caught up in her creative fevers and forgot to eat, or sleep, or laugh.