She waved and let herself into the quiet house. Without turning on any lights, she slipped upstairs. There was no sense in going back to bed. She wasn't even that tired. Her mind was already racing with all the things she needed to do if she was really going to buy that property. In her bedroom, she undressed and then stepped into the shower. She took her time under the warm water, washing and conditioning her hair, shaving her legs. She couldn't stop smiling. Last night was one of the best nights she could remember having in... forever.
She chuckled to herself. And who would have thought it could have been with her husband? The husband she was separated from? But somehow Jake seemed different to her now. More like he was in their college days, but still different. Witty, charming, thoughtful. Kind of like an aged wine?
She stepped out of the shower and grabbed for a bath towel.
"So how was it?"
Marcy jumped at the sound of Phoebe's voice and clutched the towel around her dripping, naked body. "Phebes! You scared me half to death." She slid the towel around to tuck in the end above her breasts so it would stay put and reached for a smaller towel to wrap up her hair.
Phoebe was stretched out on her bed, still made from the previous day. And Marcy had a feeling her sister had been listening for her to come in. There was no way she was going to get away with saying she hadn't been out all night, she was just up early.
"Well?" Phoebe probed. She was wearing a pair of gym shorts and a skin-tight tank top.
"Well, what?"
"Did you have a nice evening?" Phoebe's tone said everything. She wanted to know if Marcy had enjoyed having sex with Seth in his bachelor pad on the bay.
Marcy stood in front of the sink and, glancing in the mirror at the reflection of her sister, reached for her toothbrush. "I had a very nice evening, thank you." She didn't know why, but she didn't want to share her time with Jake with anyone else. She cared less about Phoebe thinking she was sleeping around than she cared about her and her husband's privacy.
Looking at her sister sprawled on her bed, Marcy knew that if she was even going to consider asking Jake to move back in, Phoebe was going to have to be out of here first. There just wasn't room in this house for two women, not two women who were so different. Even if they looked the same.
"How'd that job interview go yesterday? At a crab house, right?"
Phoebe sat up on the bed, leaned against the headboard, and picked up the book Marcy had been reading. When she saw it had to do with parenting teenagers, she dropped it with disinterest. "It went well. They're probably going to offer me the job."
"That's great!" Marcy brushed her teeth, glancing in the mirror again. "You don't sound excited."
"It's a crab house, for God's sake, Marcy. I used to own a seafood restaurant, and now I'm going to manage an effin' crab shack?"
"You'll look cute in the short shorts and shirt tied under your bosom," Marcy teased.
Phoebe didn't laugh as she climbed off the bed. "Look, I'll find a job."
"I know you will because your unemployment has got to be running out soon." Marcy leaned over the sink, rinsed her mouth, and came into the bedroom. "Right?"
Phoebe walked out, sour-faced. "I'm going out to have a cigarette."
Marcy stuck her head out the door into the hallway. "Thanks for watching the kids last night. Katie has a softball game tonight, but I'll take her. We'll probably go out for dinner afterward, so if you have something to do, go ahead."
She wanted to shout after her that she should feel free to start looking for a place to live. It might take weeks to find something this time of year in her price range. But she bit her tongue. She had already riled her sister enough this morning. And if she went to the bank later in the week to apply for the loan, she was going to have to rile her even further.
With that unpleasant thought, Marcy padded barefoot down the hall to Ben's room and opened his door. "Hey, sleepyhead."
"Mom?"
She could barely make out his form in his bed in the dark room. "I thought you might want to go have breakfast with me at the diner?"
He kicked off his sheet and scratched his bare belly between his boxer shorts and T-shirt. "So early?"
"I have to get some tests done at the hospital first, but I thought you might like to tag along. I think Katie is baby-sitting today."
He sat up. "Could we go to the Big-Mart too?"
She smiled. "You bet" She closed his door and went down the hall to the next. "Katie?"
The teen groaned and rolled over, taking her pillow with her to cover her face. "Just a few more minutes."
"You said you wanted to be up by six-thirty so you could have a shower."
"I know," Katie moaned. "We're taking the kids to some kiddy amusement park today. The Schmidts will be here at seven-thirty to get me."
"Just think of that big fat paycheck," Marcy teased her daughter. "But you'll be back in time for your softball game, right?"
"I'm taking my uniform. They said they'd drop me off so you can meet me there." Katie was still talking through her pillow, her voice muffled. "Then I think I'm going to Emily's to spend the night. That okay?"
Marcy frowned. She was really looking forward to the game and having dinner with the kids tonight. She thought she might ask Jake to join them. But she knew better than to try to put herself between Katie and her friends. It caused nothing but hate and discontent.
"That's fine. Let me know before you leave."
Marcy closed the door behind her and headed back to her bedroom, pulling her towel off her head as she went. Before the accident, a day this full had been daunting. Sometimes she used to feel as if she was dragging through mud, taking the kids here and there, running to the grocery store, attending their various athletic events. She had blamed it all on how fat she was, how unhappy she was with her life. Perhaps her weight had had something to do with being so tired all the time, but looking back, could she have been depressed and not even realized it? If so, exactly why had she been depressed? A good job, a loving husband who didn't spend more money than they made and who came home faithfully to her every night? Two healthy, happy children who did well in school and knew the difference between a smoke detector and a carbon monoxide detector? She shook her head. Had she been crazy?
* * *
Alex, one of Jake's co-workers, poked his head through Jake's office doorway. "Your wife's here. Coming up the hall." He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Jake.
"She's hot. Wearing a skirt like that with legs like hers." He winked. "Ought to be illegal in this state."
Chuckling at his own joke, Alex disappeared down the hall.
Jake checked his watch. It was only nine-thirty. Marcy had had some medical tests this morning at the hospital. He hoped everything was all right.
She walked into his office.
"Mar—" The minute he saw the short white skirt and the swing of her hips, he realized it wasn't Marcy. Same eyes, same face... almost. The plastic surgeon's work truly had been incredible, but this wasn't his wife. "Phoebe."
He was surprised she was here, but not that Alex had gotten her and Marcy confused. People in town were mistaking the two sisters for each other all the time now. He was disappointed a little, though, that it wasn't Marcy. He hadn't expected to see her until Katie's ball game tonight, but he'd just been sitting there at his desk daydreaming about her.
"Hi, sweetie." Phoebe came around his desk, placing a paper cup of gourmet coffee and a bag from the local bakery in front of him. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
She was wearing a strong perfume that was too earthy for his taste, too musky. He preferred Marcy's subtle floral scents. He glanced at the pastry bag, wondering what the hell she was doing here. "Uh, thanks."
"Hazelnut high-test, two creams, one sugar, and a cream-cheese bear claw. I got the last one because I know how you like them." She parked her shapely butt on the edge of his desk, stretching her long legs out in front of him.
He kept his gaze on h
er waist up, sure he'd catch a glimpse of more than he needed to see if he wasn't careful. Phoebe didn't always wear panties. And Alex was right. Her skirt was short this morning, even shorter than usual. "Is... is Marcy ok?"
"Everything doesn't always have to be about Marcy, Jake. I know she thinks so, but we only perpetuate that. I came to see how you were." She opened the pastry bag and pulled out the bear claw, arranging it on a napkin for him.
He had no idea what she was talking about. "How I am?"
"You've been really good about this whole break-up with Marcy, but I know you have to be hurting. You don't deserve what she's doing to you. I know she's my sister and I love her and I don't mean to speak badly of her, but..." She lowered her head.
Jake was still lost as to what Phoebe was talking about and he didn't have time for her dramatics this morning. He had a lot of work today, and he intended to walk out of this building at five o'clock, come hell or high water.
Talking to Marcy last night, he realized he had to take part of the blame for her unhappiness the last few years and his own apathy toward her and their relationship. He'd spent too much time behind this desk and not enough with his wife and kids. And when he had been at home, he'd been too busy putzing around the yard or watching a ball game on TV when he should have been playing ball with his family or taking his wife out on a date. He should have sensed Marcy's unhappiness a whole lot sooner and tried to help her figure out what was wrong. He wasn't willing to take all the blame; part of it certainly had to rest on her shoulders, but he felt like it was fair to share.
"Phoebe, what are you talking about?" Jake tried not to sound as irritated as he felt.
"I mean this thing with Marcy and that Seth guy. I know you knew they were dating, but..." She stopped and started again. "But now—"
"Now, what?" Had something happened last night that Marcy hadn't told him about? Was that why she had called him to come get her? Had this Seth character tried to—-Jake felt his face grow warm and his hands clenched instinctively into fists. He wasn't a violent man, but if that guy—
"I shouldn't say." Phoebe shook her head. "I've already said too much. I should go."
She lifted her butt off its perch. This close to her, he could see fine lines starting to appear around her mouth and eyes. She was beginning to age, and it seemed as if it was happening quickly.
"I'm trying to find a job, you know. Trying to get out and a place of my own. Marcy says she wants me out." She gave him a sad smile. "And I understand, she wants her privacy to... well, for whatever reason."
"Phoebe—go back to last night. What happened to Marcy last night?"
She demurred.
It might have worked for some women, but he wasn't buying.
"I shouldn't," she simpered.
He narrowed his eyes. "Tell me."
"Well..." She sighed, as if ashamed and then shook her head. More dramatics. "She stayed out all night, Jake." She grabbed his arm, rubbing it. "I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you she's sleeping around, but I'm caught between wanting to be loyal to my sister and not wanting to see you get hurt."
He almost grinned, but was able to control it. Phoebe must have caught Marcy sneaking into the house this morning and assumed she'd been out with the real estate guy. She obviously thought Marcy had spent the night with him, and Marcy hadn't told her any differently.
Jake didn't know why, but that tickled the hell out of him. Made him feel good; as if he and Marcy had a little secret together.
Jake reached for the coffee. "I need to get to work," he said gruffly, mostly because he was afraid he might laugh out loud. And it wasn't fair. Phoebe had been nothing but good to him. He didn't know what he would have done without her all those months, if she hadn't been there to help with the kids and the house.
She squeezed his shoulder. "If you want to talk or... I don't know, grab something to eat, you know you can call me, Jake. You've got my cell phone number." She moved toward the door. "I know it must get lonely there by yourself in that condo."
He pressed his lips together and nodded. Phoebe walked out, and Jake grinned the rest of the morning.
* * *
"Marcy Edmond," an older woman in a pale green smock announced.
Marcy patted Ben's knee. "I just have to get this blood test and one more test, then we can go have breakfast. You wait here."
He nodded and went on zapping some creature on his hand-held video game.
"Good morning," the woman said, waiting for Marcy at the door that led into the lab area of the hospital. She wore a name badge that said "Volunteer. Hi, my name is Madge."
"Good morning."
"This way, please."
Marcy followed her down the hall, and they halted at the third door on the left.
"Alan will take care of you." The receptionist dropped the lab request sheets on the corner of the counter and headed back up the hall to her desk.
Marcy ducked into the small room and took her seat on the chair that reminded her of one of those old-fashioned school desks. The phlebotomist turned around, and she realized she recognized him. He was the same person who had taken her blood in the hospital before she was released. He had a friendly face. "Good morning."
He smiled and reached for several glass tubes in a tray. "Good morning. It's nice to see a smiling face around here. You know, I'm not the most popular guy around town, especially first thing in the morning."
She laughed. He was an attractive man in his thirties, probably, with blondish brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a white lab coat open with tan trousers and a yellow oxford shirt.
"Oh, I don't know why you'd say that." She flipped down the arm ledge of the chair and offered her best vein.
"Because I use big needles on people." He turned to face her, putting on latex gloves. "People are funny about that. They holler. They faint." He reached out and gently pressed two fingers in the crook of her elbow.
"I promise I won't do either."
He grinned and pulled the rubber strap from his lab coat pocket. "Can you make a fist for me? Good." He tied off her arm and grabbed the syringe from the counter behind him.
Marcy's gaze strayed to the many colorful posters on the wall of the small lab. One showed the types of blood and what percentage of the population had each.
"Little stick," he told her.
She didn't flinch.
He filled four glass tubes of blood, removed the syringe, and placed a cotton ball over the tiny drop of blood that oozed from her skin. "Hold that up there for just a sec while I get a Band-Aid." He lifted her arm in the air.
Marcy followed his directions, watching him as he placed each vial of blood in a compartment in a tray on the counter.
"Scooby Doo or boring brown?" he asked.
She laughed. "Definitely Scooby Doo."
He opened the Band-Aid, and as he placed it in the crook of her elbow, he met her gaze. "You don't remember me, do you?" He had a nice voice. Not feminine, but gentle. It reminded her of Jake's voice.
"Actually, I do. You took care of me when I was here in the hospital, right?"
He smiled. "I saw you almost every day for three months. I always do the morning rounds on the wards before coming down here to the lab." He smoothed the Band-Aid in the crook of her elbow and tossed the wrapper in a trash can. "I have to tell you, I've been working here for ten years, and you're the closest to a miracle I've ever seen. I was really pulling for you. We all were."
"That's nice of you to say." She got up. "Obviously, I'm happy it worked out."
He chuckled with her. "Well, have a good day, Marcy. Just follow the blue line. It will lead you to the waiting area to get that CT scan."
"Thanks." She followed the blue line, and a receptionist behind a glass window asked her to have a seat, saying it would only be a minute. As Marcy sat and picked up a gourmet food magazine from a table, she debated whether she needed to go back and get Ben.
"Mrs. Edmond?"
She glance
d up to see a man dressed in a county paramedic uniform; she didn't recognize him. "Yes?"
"Sorry, I'm sure you don't remember me. Kevin James. I was there the day of your accident. My partner and I... we were one of the first on the scene."
She chuckled. "No, sorry, I can't say I do remember."
He shook his head, grinning at her. "You know, I see medical miracles all the time." He brushed back his sandy blond hair. "I know that happens, but..."
"Yeah, I know." She smiled back. "Pretty amazing."
"Mrs. Edmond." A technician appeared in the doorway. "We're ready for you."
Marcy dropped the magazine on the table, rising. "Nice to meet you, Kevin."
He nodded, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and continued along the corridor. "You have a good day."
"You, too."
Marcy followed the technician back to the CT scan room and they had her in and out of there in twenty minutes.
The CT scan Dr. Larson had ordered completed, she returned to the waiting room. "You ready to hit the road?" she called to Ben.
He bounced out of his chair, grabbing her purse she had left with him for safekeeping. "Can we go to the Big-Mart first?" He hurried in front of her, headed for the glass doors leading out into the parking lot.
"I was thinking we would eat first. I'm starved."
"But, Mom—" He pushed through the door just as someone was trying to come in.
"Whoa there!" Chief Drummond stepped back, letting Ben push through.
"Ben, you need to watch where you're going." Marcy hurried through the door, behind him, grabbing her purse off his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Claire. You know a man. Always barreling ahead without looking to see where he's going."
"Sorry," Ben said sheepishly, studying Claire in her uniform. "That a real gun?"
Claire smiled down at him, resting her hand on the butt of the revolver in a holster on her hip. "Sure is, and I bet you're such a smart guy that you know never to touch a gun. You see one, you find an adult."
He nodded. "Did you know, Chief Drummond, that twenty-seven percent of all handguns are illegal?"
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