The Perfect-Perfect Plan

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hannah

  After hanging up the phone from my mother, I follow the wonderful aroma emitting from the sack Phillip has brought in. He helps situate me at the small dining table, propping my crutches on the adjacent chair.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asks while I busy myself with spreading out the food.

  “Water please.” He gets us each a bottle from the fridge and then he sits opposite me. Our conversation is casual. “The food is great,” I remark, noting the restaurant’s name on the carton. “I’ve never tried this place before.”

  “It’s down Hulen,” he tells me.

  There’s a Chinese place in Montgomery Plaza where he lives. I find it odd that he drove all the way down Hulen to pick up the food. “Long way to go for pickup,” I can’t help blurting out.

  “I know. But this place is so much better.”

  “It is good,” I agree after taking a few more bites. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Phillip has been overly kind to me. He has been with me ever since the accident … right by my side.

  Is there a reason? Is he keeping an eye on me?

  When I remember that he left me for several hours yesterday to run some errands, I begin to wonder what those errands were. Did he come into my apartment and, if so, for what purpose? Why am I suddenly so paranoid? I realize how stupid I’m being because he must simply know I’m not in any shape to do anything or go anywhere. He must be sticking with me because he cares. Right? Even so, I find myself doubting his true motives.

  “Did you get all of your errands run yesterday?” What I want to say is where the hell did you go, and did you come into my apartment?

  “Yes. I work with two other pulmonologists in the Pulmonary Care Center, an affiliate of Harris Hospital. I met up with them for lunch to shift some of my appointments over to them. I managed to clear my calendar for tomorrow. Unfortunately, I still have a few appointments on Tuesday.” He looks at me and frowns. “I’m hoping you’ll be fine to be on your own by then.”

  Not only were his errands legitimate, but they were also about taking care of me. I was being paranoid. I look at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you for rearranging your work for me. I do appreciate it. And I will be perfectly fine by Tuesday,” I say with absolute positivity. “If not, I’ll call my mom to come up. Besides, I need to get back to work on Wednesday, so I’d better be self-sufficient by then.”

  “You should be … but only if you stay off your leg. Stop getting up to answer the phone,” he admonishes me.

  I roll my eyes at him. “Okay, okay. You caught me up and about. I’ll be quicker next time.”

  He laughs and all my paranoid feelings evaporate. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking.

  Once we’ve eaten, he wants to get my leg elevated, so we return to the living room and watch another movie together. While I’m sprawled out on the couch and he’s crammed up on the loveseat, Lucy ventures in. My cat is an excellent judge of character. She pauses when she notices him and then glances at me with her big round golden eyes, as if wanting to know why he’s here.

  “That’s Phillip,” I remind her in a soft voice as she sits on the floor to carefully examine him, her gaze still coming back to me.

  “Hey Lucy,” Phillip says getting her attention and then he holds out his hand for her to sniff.

  She inches cautiously toward him and just when she’s ever so close, she darts behind the sofa. It bothers me to no end. She’s generally a friendly cat, unless she’s at her food bowl. So why is she so spooked with Phillip’s presence?

  “She’s being shy,” I tell Phillip, trying not to make a big deal of it. But inside, I’m concerned.

  “What happened to Morris?” I ask remembering he supposedly loved cats and his big yellow tabby used to sleep with him. Did he kill him? Is he a cat killer? My mind is going in strange directions.

  “He developed a tumor and couldn’t be saved.” He pinches his lips together as if it’s a painful memory.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer in condolence, wondering what is wrong with my thought processes. “So, you never had another pet?”

  “No. By then I was in college, then medical school, then internships, then residency, and now beginning a practice. My profession takes up too much time and it just never seemed right to have a pet I couldn’t devote more attention to.”

  I’m putting too much into my cat’s instincts. It’s true that Lucy never liked Marcus. But maybe she’s only remembering how much Marcus couldn’t stand her. He was always yelling at her if she got a hair on his suit, or if Lucy wanted to sleep with us. It occurs to me that Lucy may see Phillip as a threat to my relationship with her. She may be thinking, Mom, seriously, you’ve brought another man into our lives. Now I feel bad for her. She may not only be resenting Phillip’s presence, but me also for letting him come into our home. I just need to give her some time. Lucy will come around. And if she doesn’t take to Phillip, then I’ll tell Phillip we’re done.

  Sometime during the end of our second movie, Lucy dares to come out from behind the couch. She gives Phillip a hateful look and me one too. Then she saunters past us with her tail twitching as she heads into the kitchen. I hear the crunching sound of her eating, then the lapping sound of her drinking water. Afterward, she disappears back into my bedroom.

  Time, I tell myself. Give it some time.

  Later that night, Phillip searches through my linen closet and finds what he needs to make himself a spot on the couch. He won’t be comfortable there as he is a tall man. For a moment, I consider inviting him into my bed. I’m in no shape for having sex so it would be purely platonic. However, it just seems weird to be sleeping in the same bed with a man I’ve only just met and never kissed, not to mention I’ve pictured him rummaging through my apartment and killing cats. I believe the couch is more than enough for now.

  He helps me into bed and then disappears to the living room. An hour later, Lucy crawls from underneath my bed and makes herself a spot next to me.

  “I love you, Lucy,” I assure her, petting her across her fuzzy back. “I’ll choose you before Phillip. You have nothing to worry about.” I hate that thought. It makes me a cat lady. Shouldn’t I be looking for a romantic relationship over a cat? “But you need to give Phillip a chance. Will you do that for me?” I stroke her fur and she purrs in return.

  Everything seems normal and friendly on the surface, but underneath I have a nagging feeling. And even as I ask my cat to give Phillip a chance, I think about those misplaced items. I wish I would’ve had time to have asked my parents about them. What if it wasn’t them? What if someone else has been in my apartment? I think about my bike belt containing my apartment key and that Phillip had kept up with it during my hospital stay. But why would Phillip have been in my apartment?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Douglas

  After our pool party, I have dinner with my kids. And once Angela gets them ready for bed, For the second night in a row, I read them a bedtime story. When I am leaving Henry’s room, he says, “Dad, thank you for teaching me that cannonball. That was a lot of fun.”

  “I liked it too,” I tell him genuinely. “Well, goodnight son.”

  “Dad … uh … I was wondering if you could go with us tomorrow to Dinosaur Park. Uh, uh, I know it’s your workday and … uh. It’s okay if you can’t.”

  I look back at Henry’s pleading face. “Yeah, why not? I think I can work it in.” Henry beams a smile across the room that warms my heart like a comforting blanket on a cold winter’s night. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, Dad,” Henry says and pulls the covers up to his chin.

  Angela follows me out and gives me the details. I ask if she can delay the trip by one hour while I clear my calendar, and she agrees. Apparently, I have walked her to her bedroom because she has paused outside a closed door. “Is this you?” I ask, now knowing that it is the room between Henry and Sophia.

  “Yes,
this is me.”

  “Well, goodnight then,” I say, feeling slightly awkward.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, opening the door and disappearing inside.

  Once her door closes, my feet take me to my own bedroom. Carol is already in bed. She is propped against the headboard with a pillow behind her back. Her lamp is on, illuminating a designer clothing catalog. I don’t know why it surprises me that she is still shopping. You’d think I would’ve learned by now.

  “Did you fix it today?” she asks over the top of her magazine.

  “No. I spent the day with the kids in the pool.”

  Her brows fly up to her hairline. “You … with the kids … I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, I did. I taught Henry how to do a cannonball and helped Angela with Sophia’s swimming.” She gives me an incredulous look. “It was fun,” I add. “Maybe you should spend more time with the kids.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She pauses for a moment as if waiting on me to burst out laughing and tell her I’m pulling her leg.” You’re not serious, are you?”

  “Yeah I am. I mean why did you get pregnant and have babies if you didn’t want them?” This is the first time I have ever broached this subject. I did not want any kids. It was Carol who insisted.

  She doesn’t say a word. In fact, her lips are clamped so tightly together they are turning blue. She has a secret. How big and how long has she kept it?

  “Tell me Carol. Why did we have kids?” I give her a stern look, one that says spill it or things will never be fixed. “Carol,” I say in a low guttural tone, one that urges her to speak.

  “There’s a secondary trust fund my parents set up for any grandkids they might have. We only had Henry at the time of their passing. But for each child I give birth to, five million dollars is placed into a trust for them. The remaining funds revert to a cancer treatment center. I couldn’t handle more than the two, or we’d have more … up to five kids according to the terms of the trust.”

  “Handle more?” I question. “You’ve never paid either of them a moment’s attention.”

  “Not hands on,” she barks. “I’m talking about my figure. I couldn’t risk losing it. It’s hard enough to maintain as it is.”

  I grunt. “So, you gave up fifteen million dollars to keep your figure?”

  “It’s the kids’ money anyway. Why take the risk any more than I did?” She smirks. “I did all I could for them. How much have you put aside for their future?”

  My hands ball into fists, my teeth clench, and my jaw tightens. I want to pummel her face right now so badly I can hardly see straight. “Maybe there’d be a lot of money there for my kids if you weren’t spending me to death,” I growl in a low, furious voice. “Why don’t you stop throwing money away on frivolous things and maybe spend some time with the kids … or even get a job.” I hold my breath after that one, waiting for the explosion.

  “A JOB,” she screams in complete shock. “No. No way. You go fix it. You hear me. GO. FIX. IT!”

  Angry as hell, I turn my back to her and storm into the bathroom. After taking a piss, I strip off my clothes and hurl them, one piece at a time, against the bathroom wall. I have so had it with Carol. I don’t know why I thought I could live the rest of my life with her. I can’t stand her for one second more.

  Naked in front of the mirror, I realize my sunscreen did a decent job, except where I couldn’t reach my back. In those unprotected areas, it is flaming hot and red. In a few days’ time, it will be peeling unless I try to combat the issue.

  I go through the medicine cabinet, throwing a bunch of Carol’s ointments, gels and an Armageddon supply of Botox on the floor in the process, until I come to some aloe vera lotion. After squirting some in my hand, I realize I still cannot reach my back. Dammit!

  I rinse my hand and go back to Carol. “Hon, can you put some of this on my back?”

  “No,” she says and pops a wrinkle in her magazine, not even bothering to look up.

  “Fine, bitch,” I say to her. In my mind I have called her much worse. But to her face, I have never called her anything derogatory. Hopefully, you will see that as another of my redeeming qualities. After all, Carol is a lot to put up with.

  I stomp across the room to the door.

  “Are you going to fix it?” she asks.

  I stop and glare at her. I am in nothing but my underwear with a tube of aloe vera gel in my hand. Exactly what does she think I could possibly fix right now? “No, I’m going to whack off.” I hold the tube up like it is a lubricant and then I stride out the door.

  Two seconds later, I am back in the door. I grab my pants from the bathroom and yank them on and head back through the bedroom.

  “Now are you going to fix it?” she asks.

  I walk out, slamming the door behind me.

  At first, I consider asking Henry if he’ll rub some of this crap on my back. But then I find myself outside Angela’s closed door. I’m not sure this is a good idea, but I find myself knocking on the wooden frame. “Angela, it’s me. Are you asleep?” I softly ask.

  For the first time, I consider Angela’s door in relation to mine and Carol’s and wonder if Angela might have heard us yelling. Carol and I rarely yell. Hell, we rarely cross paths. But for some reason, I hope Angela didn’t hear. And even more so, I hope our children didn’t hear.

  The door barely cracks open. “What is it, sir? Has something happened with Henry or Sophia?”

  “No … uh.” My tongue becomes thick in my mouth. “Would you be so kind as to place this gel on my back? I seem to have sunburned myself a bit today.”

  “Oh,” she gasps. “Uh...”

  This is so awkward. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Does Leonard live here too? I’ll get him to help me.” I have no idea how much of my staff lives on premises. All I do is write the checks.

  “Leonard and Millie live in the servant’s quarters,” she advices.

  “Oh.” I realize if I would’ve called Millie to heat up my duck the other night, she wouldn’t have had far to travel. “I had no idea. So, Leonard lives with Millie?” I find it shocking that Carol’s driver is cohabitating with our chef.

  “They’ve been married for over thirty years,” she tells me.

  “Oh,” I say again. I really need to pay more attention. You’d think I’d know something like that. But Leonard and Millie have always acted very professional, even when they were in the same room. I suppose Carol knows since she hired them. I do recall that they have the same last name though. So maybe I should’ve known. “Well okay then. I’ll go find Leonard.”

  As I turn around to leave, she opens the door a little further. “They’re both asleep by now. Why don’t I help you?”

  My gaze holds hers. “Okay, if you’re sure. I don’t want this to be weird or anything.”

  “No, sir,” she says and gestures for me to come inside.

  Now that she has allowed for my entry, my eyes rove over a white silken robe snuggly wrapped around her, leaving her ample bosom fully contoured. The hemline falls just below her butt checks, exposing well-shaped legs leading down to bare feet. Quickly diverting my gaze, I peer across the room and find my eyes lingering on her bed, one that she directs me to.

  After taking a seat on the edge, she climbs up behind me and takes the tube. I hear the gel as it squirts into her hands and then she rubs her hands together. Hell no, this isn’t awkward in the least.

  “This may be a little cold,” she warns as she places her hands against my red-hot back. “You most certainly got some sun today, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t reach back there,” I say, getting a pleasant whiff of minty aroma.

  The cool lotion feels good on my hot back, but nothing like how wonderful her hands feel. I can’t remember when I was last touched by a woman. It would’ve been Carol though. Believe it or not, I’ve never cheated on her. I know Carol has other men and I’m not sure why I’ve never had
sex with anyone else. Maybe deep down, I believe in the sanctity of marriage. Shut up! I know you think a murderer can’t have deep feelings. But I do.

  A lot of emotions go through me as Angela covers every square inch of my burned skin. For just the teensiest moment, I want to kiss her. And it is all I can do to keep Goliath restrained. Can you imagine how awkward things could get? Besides, there are enough potential criminal charges that could be filed against me without an employee filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against me.

  “Thank you so much, Angela,” I say when she hands me back the tube.

  “Goodnight, sir,” she says, keeping things professional as I leave the room.

  “Well, that was quick,” Carol points out when I return only a few minutes later. Then she chuckles. “What’s the matter? Is Little Dougie anxious these days?”

  “Goliath,” I correct. I cannot stand it when she refers to my male appendage as Little Dougie.

  “Ha!” she laughs, the sound quick, like a bark. “Maybe he is in your dreams.”

  “I guess you should know. You’ve slept around enough, haven’t you? You whore.”

  She stops looking at those expensive clothes in that damn magazine. “Excuse me,” she says, her brows shooting up.

  “You heard me.” I keep on going until I reach the bathroom. The lubricant lands with a thud on the floor next to the other items and I drop my pants and kick them off. Then I return to find Carol giving me a hateful look. I crawl in next to her and make sure that my back faces her direction.

  “Are you going out later to fix it?” she asks.

  “Not tonight,” I growl.

  “When?” she pushes.

  “Tomorrow night,” I tell her, just so she will shut the hell up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Douglas

  “You’re up bright and early,” Millie remarks as I enter the kitchen. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “What time will the kids eat?”