Mike had no appetite. Either for his lunch that waited on the rolling tray or for Bill’s gift. Why would Kassie be at the Westin? He replayed what she said her weekend plans were supposed to be before he’d gotten sick.
According to her, she was supposed to go to the Red Sox game, and then they were going to have dinner that night. She’d planned to fly down to Washington, D.C., to meet with her clients at Georgetown. Okay, so she would’ve had her bags packed for that trip.
Wait a minute. Teresa mentioned she had seen Kassie with her suitcase when she went to clean on Friday. She’d told Teresa she was going to stay with a friend. But she didn’t say where. Maybe her friend was visiting for the weekend, and Kassie kept her company at the Westin.
But why do that? We have plenty of room at our house. Maybe Bill was right.
He reached for the cannolis.
24
Defense Team
After a quick room service breakfast and a shared shower, Chris grabbed the Red Sox hat he’d bought in Venice, and they headed off to see Kassie’s parents and uncle. Their graves, that is.
“We should take my car,” Kassie said. “And I’ll drive.” She’d always shuddered at the prospect of driving with a guy next to her in the passenger seat. In her experience, most men behaved badly— barking directions, criticizing her speed or lack thereof. Chris was different. If he drove, she’d navigate, and vice versa. And they’d keep their opinions to themselves.
“Why your car?”
“You’ll see.”
The backseat of the Mercedes was no longer black leather, but rather a rainbow blanket. Violet, yellow, pink, and white tulips and hyacinths filled the space and the air.
“I swung by the florist on my way back from the house. I just love flowers.”
“No shit.”
“Thought we’d take the scenic route to Newburyport,” Kassie said as she made her way over to Route 1A. “You’ll want to see Revere Beach and Marblehead Light. They have great antique stores in Marblehead. If they’re open, maybe we could pick up something for the apartment. Something that’s ours.”
Chris didn’t take her up on the suggestion. By the time they’d driven through Salem and Kassie waxed poetic about the witch trials, he was sneezing like one of the dwarfs.
“The flowers?”
“Allergies,” he said between sneezes.
“Hope you’re not allergic to cats.”
“Nope. Had a cat myself growing up. Her name was Kassie.”
She reached across and clawed his arm.
“Let’s find you a drug store.”
Stopping for a lobster lunch in Rockport was a lifesaver. It got Chris out of the car and away from the flowers, and they found a family-owned local drugstore that had a good selection of antihistamines and tissues. In the time it took for them to eat and admire the often-filmed red fishing shack, the two antihistamines Chris downed with a glass of beer had kicked in. Once back in the car, Kassie pointed the car straight toward Newburyport.
As they pulled into the sprawling cemetery which was naturally busy on Easter, Kassie felt a pang of guilt.
“I haven’t been here in a while.”
“How come?”
“I guess I was too busy planning my great escape from Mike. Worried my mother would talk me out of it.”
“A voice from the grave? You’re kidding, right?”
“Do you think it was a coincidence I found out just yesterday she was in cahoots with Mike to decorate his office while I was off canoodling with you in Venice? Fluke? I think not.”
“Canoodling? Is that what you Yankees call it?”
“Shush. Ya know, Chris, they say there are no coincidences in life.”
“I believe in coincidences.”
“Good for you. I believe in signs. Just like Uncle Dan was watching out for me yesterday, my mother’s watching now and trying to communicate.”
“You honestly believe that? Or did the drive through Salem cast a spell on you?”
“You laugh. Just wait.”
Locating her family’s tombstones took no time at all. Years before, the O’Callaghan’s had purchased several contiguous plots of land near a young oak tree, which had grown into a massive oak tree that as of that spring had not yet bloomed. Under the barren tree rested a statue the O’Callaghan men had commissioned of a man with a shit-eating grin on his face, sitting upright on a bench, wearing a Red Sox hat, holding a can of beer in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Despite the objections by the O’Callaghan women for obvious reasons, the statue remained as a guidepost for the living and the dead.
“I thought your mother remarried after your father died. Why is she buried here?” Chris helped unload the flowerpots.
Kassie explained her mother insisted she be buried next to the love of her life. Kassie’s father.
She arranged the plants around the several tombstones, having a friendly word or two with each grave’s occupant until she got to her mother’s. She looked toward Chris in silent appeal.
“I’m just gonna take a walk around. Won’t be far. Give me a high sign when you’re ready to go.”
Kassie knelt down in front of Patricia O’Callaghan’s headstone, pulling her jacket around her as a slight breeze swept by her and rustled through the grass.
“Hey, Mom. How ya doing? I’m okay. Hangin’ in there. Finally told Mike I want a divorce. Imagine that. I heard you two had a little arrangement. How come you never told me? You thought I’d be angry? Well, you’re right.”
As she spoke to her mother, Kassie tidied up the ground around the tombstone littered with twigs, dead leaves, and even cigarette butts that had accumulated over the harsh New England coast winter.
“I wish you could tell me why you stood up for Mike time and time again when you knew how freakin’ unhappy I was. Were there other secrets you kept from me? Well, here’s one I kept from you. There’s a man in my life. His name is Chris, and he’s here with me now.”
A sudden gust of wind knocked over the pot of tulips she’d placed next to the tombstone. “I gather you know that already.”
Resigned to the fact she’d never understand the strange bond between her mother and Mike, Kassie stood, clapped her hands to shake off the dirt, and ended her visit with a silent prayer for her family, for herself, and for Chris.
She was about to return to the car, but stopped and gazed at the crystal blue sky. She prayed aloud for Mike, “Oh, please God, let him be well and leave the hospital tomorrow. It’s time for us both to move on to happier lives before it’s too late. . . and we end up here.”
Kassie saw Chris walking back and tilted her head toward the car. As she made her way past other departed souls, she reached into her bag to get her car key.
“Ouch.” Kassie sucked on the paper cut caused by the Fed Ex receipt from her mother’s attorney. Freaky.
Back at the car, Chris wrapped his arms around Kassie, squeezed tight, and kissed her forehead. She gave Chris the package of antiseptic wipes and told him to remove the plant residue on his hands.
“Don’t touch your eyes,” she said as they settled in for the ride back.
“Yes, doc. Hey, that’s an idea. How about we play doctor when we get back to the hotel? I’ll let you examine me. All over.”
Kassie reached over and massaged between his thighs. “Like that?”
“Uh, huh. But two hands on the wheel, young lady,” he said, returning the gesture.
I was wrong. They’re all the same.
Chris reclined his seat and pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes. By the time they’d reached I-95, he was out like a rock. All he needed was a can of beer and a fishing pole.
They had two hours to kill before meeting Annie for dinner in Arlington. It would be sort of a coming out party for them. The first time socializing with friends in public, especially in the Boston area. Under different circumstances, Kassie would have been nervous about whether Annie would approve of Chris. But with so much shit swirling
around her and so much to tell Annie, she had no energy to spare.
“We need to clean up this mess and start packing,” Chris suggested, looking around the suite. “We’ve gotta get out of here in the morning.”
Clothes were draped on every chair, shoes were scattered and mismatched, and the number of electronic devices and their chargers made the room look like an FBI sting operation. Kassie had labeled all of her chargers with green tags so not only did she know which were hers, but she also knew which devices they belonged to.
“Aren’t you excited, Kassie! We’re moving into our apartment tomorrow.”
“Right. You pack. I need to call Mike.” Kassie walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
“Alrighty then. Have it your way.”
Before calling Mike, Kassie sat on the bed gathering her thoughts. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail was a saying she’d once heard and adopted it as her personal mantra throughout much of her career. She was determined not to screw this up any more than it already was. And she would not let Mike take her down a path on the phone that would best be taken in person.
Here goes nothing.
“It’s about time,” she heard Mike say.
“How are you doing today? Better I hope.”
“We need to talk. Are you on your way here?”
“No. Tomorrow. Do you know what time you’ll be released?”
“Mid-morning.”
“Then I’ll be there nine-ish. We can talk then.”
“What’s this horse shit about a divorce, Kassie? You’re acting crazy.”
Don’t take the bait. She didn’t respond. She hoped the silence would speak for itself.
“Where have you been all day?” Mike changed the subject.
“Newburyport.”
“What, you buying a plot for me?”
“Don’t be an ass, Mike. You’re not dying.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Goodbye, Mike.”
Kassie collapsed on the bed with one arm crossed over her eyes holding back the tears. She could hardly recognize the person she’d become. Once upon a time Bad Kassie was a joke. Lately, a bad joke. Was she as callous as she must’ve sounded to Mike? Is that why Chris defended him?
Remember the end game. Divorce and freedom. Mike could make her life miserable if she antagonized him. No way could she let that happen. She picked up her phone.
“Hi, Mike. Sorry I cut you off.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m not crazy. I want to know about the woman in New Mexico.”
“I’ll explain tomorrow. It was a long time ago.”
“The envelope was postmarked last December. Four months is not that long ago. And the money. What about the money?”
“What money?”
“The fifty-two hundred dollars that’s in your bureau.”
“What the hell?”
Mike ended the call.
When Kassie returned to Chris, the living room no longer looked like a bomb hit it. He’d made great progress packing his things and had moved on to hers. Her shoes were aligned and the clothes she’d slung around the room were folded in a pile on the couch.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?” Chris whipped out his earphones.
“Mike asked me if I was buying a cemetery plot for him today. What a jackass.”
“I’m sure he was kidding.”
“There you go again. Please don’t,” she said. “If you keep defending him, I’ll have to start calling you Little Mike.”
25
What’s in a Name?
The Easter dinner crowd with sugar-hyped kids and screaming babies had waned such that the neighborhood restaurant became recognizable again as a venue for mostly mature adults seeking a good meal and friendly conversation.
Annie was already seated when Kassie and Chris arrived.
“There she is,” Kassie told the hostess as she matter-of-factly grabbed Chris’s hand and hustled to meet her best friend. Double-cheek kisses all around as Kassie introduced Annie to Chris, Chris to Annie, and they took their seats at a round table in the middle of the room.
“Not very cozy, huh?” Annie said. “Sorry. I know you’d prefer a corner. It’s the best I could get. Easter, ya know.”
“We’ll manage, I guess.” Kassie shrugged. “I see you already got the wine list.”
Though eager to bring Annie up to speed on the events of the weekend, she restrained herself. After they’d ordered a bottle of pinot grigio to accompany scallops for her and Annie, and a Guinness for Chris who opted for steak tips, she let loose and hijacked the conversation and the evening. At least she tried.
“I’d like to make a toast. To friendships.” Kassie lifted her wine-glass to Annie. “To the future.” She winked at Chris. “And to freedom.” She patted herself on the chest.
“To friendships, the future, and freedom,” they said, lifting their glasses in unison.
“And speaking of freedom.” Kassie tapped the table. “I have news. I told Mike I wanted a divorce. Aren’t you proud of me, Annie?”
“Wait a minute.” Annie looked first at Chris, then Kassie. “Should I be? I thought Mike was in the hospital.”
“He is,” Chris said, shaking his head.
“You asked him for a divorce anyway? Kassie, come on. You’re better than that. What did he say?”
“Not much. She didn’t stick around to find out.”
“Did you tell him why?” Annie looked at Kassie first, then Chris.
“She gave him fifty-two hundred reasons.”
Kassie’s head swung back and forth as though she were witnessing a tennis match.
“All right, you two. Quit ganging up on me.” She raised both hands signaling she was giving up. “It’s bad enough when you’re attacking me one-on-one. Two-on-one is just not fair. And not right. I know what I’m doing.”
Annie raised her eyebrows. Chris touched Kassie’s shoulder, removing a blond hair off her black cashmere sweater.
“I’m not the cold-hearted bitch you’re both making me out to be,” she whispered. “Am I?”
“That depends. I’m just surprised you didn’t wait until he was out of the hospital. What did Chris mean by fifty-two hundred reasons? You only need one. He’s a cantankerous bully, a selfish bastard.” Annie giggled. “I guess that’s two. I could go on.”
“Well, we always knew that,” Kassie said. “But this weekend I discovered I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. He’s also a lying bastard.”
“Once a bastard, always a bastard, I always say. What’s he lied about now?”
“I think he’s got a woman on the side.”
Annie about choked on her wine. “That’s hard to believe, but if true, what a whoop that would be. Why do you think he’s screwin’ around?”
Kassie waited until the waiter opened another bottle of wine, and then she brought Annie up to speed.
“Do you think the money and the woman are connected?” Annie said. “Mike doesn’t travel that much, right? Maybe he flies her here when you two are off doing your thing. Maybe he suspects—”
“No way he knows about Chris.” Kassie shook her head and twirled her glass of wine.
“Don’t be so sure. You should be ready for anything when you see him tomorrow,” Chris said as excused himself to go to the restroom.
“He’s gorgeous, Kassie. Those Bradley Cooper blue eyes. And he adores you.”
“Not Daniel Craig?” Kassie split the remaining wine between them. “Let’s change the subject.”
“So, tell me, Chris what are your plans?” Annie asked when he returned.
“Simple, I guess. Move into the apartment in Charlestown tomorrow. I’m sure Kassie’s told you about that.” Chris signaled the waiter for the check.
“Yes, she did. Did you get a job?”
“What are you his mother?” Kassie chirped at Annie.
“That’s okay. I’ve got a freelance gig lined up, I think.
I have a final interview this week to secure it. I’m excited. It’s a great opportunity for me.”
“Where?” Annie asked.
“In Cambridge. Near here, I guess. Ricci and Associates. You know it?”
They couldn’t get back to the hotel fast enough. Kassie was soaked. She’d sprayed her wine across the table and knocked over not just one but all three glasses of water. Annie and Chris were spared the waterworks. Kassie took the brunt of the deluge. Two waiters rushed to her rescue with cloth napkins and offered to move them to another table. No need. They were leaving anyway.
Kassie laughed so hard she was a human cliché. Her tears melted her black mascara, forming unflattering raccoon eyes. She headed straight for the bathroom, peeled off her wet clothes, and buried her face in a hot washcloth.
“Glad you think this is funny,” Chris said. “That’s my big opportunity going down the tubes. What am I supposed to do now? Bow out?”
“No way. He doesn’t know about you and me. And doesn’t have to know.” Kassie waved the washcloth at him.
“He will after you move in with me tomorrow.”
Kassie wrapped a robe around her and sat on the bed.
“Or have you changed your mind, Kassie Ricci.” Chris crossed his arms and leaned against the bedroom door jamb.
“Oh God.” She buried her head in her hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me your real name?”
“O’Callaghan is my real name. I never took his. You never asked what my married name was. Even after this morning at the cemetery.”
“My brain was in a fog this morning. It never occurred to me—”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to work for Mike’s company?”
“I didn’t know. Obviously. Guess we should’ve talked about it.”
“You guess? Why didn’t we?”
“You were too busy practicing your divorce speech, and I was too busy closing things down in San Francisco. You knew I was working through an agency. Beyond that, it just never came up.”
“My bad.”
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