A Family Affair

by Fern Michaels

  The following morning, Trish was up at the crack of dawn. She followed her normal routine, and when Zack arrived, she was ready, dressed in mint-green capris, sandals, and a white linen blouse.

  The days passed quickly as Trish showed Zack Las Vegas. They ate on the fly, they gambled, they took in a show, and she introduced him to Ernie and Bella and the kids. They had a picnic on the patch of grass in her little garden. And then it was time for Zack to leave.

  “I can’t believe how fast these past few days have gone by. I so enjoyed your company, Zack. Don’t be a stranger now, and I promise to be a better e-mail pal. Call when you’re bored. I’m getting to the point where I’m tired of hearing my own voice. I’m thinking of getting a dog or a cat. What do you think?” Trish asked as she pulled to the curb at the airport.

  “Go to the SPCA. They’re always looking for people to adopt. Just stand there, and the animals will find you. I have a cat from the SPCA. I call her Tootsie because that’s what they said her name was. She sleeps on my bed, on the other pillow.”

  “A cat, huh?”

  “Go figure!” Zack laughed as he got out of the car. Trish popped the trunk, and he hefted his bag out. They stood for a moment before Zack hugged her and planted a big kiss on her cheek. “I had a really great weekend. Thanks, Trish.”

  “Call when you get home safe and sound,” Trish said, clearly flustered.

  “Yes, Mother,” Zack drawled. He waved as he swept through the door someone was holding open for him. Trish waved back.

  On the way back to her town house, Trish let her thoughts roam. She’d had such a good time this weekend. She realized what a recluse she’d become. It was time to do something about that. Even if it was just deviating from her pattern of living. Maybe she needed to start grilling instead of relying on the Crock-Pot every day. Maybe she should work in the garden late in the day instead of early in the morning.

  Maybe she needed to get a job.

  It hit her then, what Zack had said. She sat bolt upright behind the wheel and took the next turn off the highway, which would take her to the SPCA. She did exactly what Zack had told her to do. She stood still and looked around. When a mangy cat approached her, hissing and snarling, she dropped to her haunches and defied the animal to either bite or scratch her. It did neither. It simply lay down at her feet. Trish bellowed at the top of her lungs, “I’ll take this one!” From there, she went to the dog kennel and did the exact same thing. When a skinny, big-eyed dog walked on wobbly legs over to her and looked up at her, she smiled. “Okay, fella, guess you’re mine, too.” She bellowed again, “I’ll take this one!”

  An hour later, she had both animals in her car. They both stank to high heaven. She headed right for a vet who was three blocks from where she lived. She lugged both crates into the office, explained the situation, and said, “I’ll wait.”

  To pass the time, she walked next door to a pet store that was attached to the veterinary office and loaded up her trunk with gear. Everything a dog or a cat would need forever. She eyed the dog food, bought a small amount, not liking the way it looked. “Looks like rabbit poop,” she said to the salesgirl.

  “Yes, but it’s good for them,” the young woman responded.

  “My mother used to cook chicken livers for our dog,” Trish said. The salesgirl winced.

  Trish thought about her earlier promise to give up on the Crock-Pot. Not so fast. She could now put it to better use. She could cook for the two animals and make sure she got veggies into them, along with pure meat or chicken and no preservatives.

  Damn if she wasn’t on a roll.

  Trish was back in the vet’s office just as one of the aides was walking the dog and the cat out to her on leashes. “Here they are. Daisy put up a bit of a fuss, but she’s superclean now, with all the fleas gone, and Stanley didn’t have any fleas. We gave them their shots, so they might sleep when you get them home.”

  “Is Daisy the cat?” Trish asked inanely.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That means you’re Stanley,” Trish said, scratching the dog behind the ears.

  Trish paid the bill as the girl took both animals out to the car.

  Trish made one more stop. She pulled into the driveway of Kickin’ Stickin’ Chicken and bought a whole chicken to go. Then she got six cod filets. Daisy and Stanley howled and hissed the rest of the way home as they fought to get to the boxes, which she’d put under her legs so they couldn’t reach them.

  The next several hours passed in a nightmare as Trish struggled with all the gear, feeding the animals, setting up the litter boxes, and putting down pee pads until the dog could get the hang of things. By five o’clock, she poured herself a giant glass of wine and sat down to try to enjoy it. She gobbled a chicken leg and wondered if she’d made a mistake in getting two animals. Especially two who didn’t seem to like one another all that much.

  Two hours later, owner and animals were sacked out on her couch. Daisy was purring, and Stanley was snoring gently. Trish was on her second glass of wine and feeling absolutely no pain.

  The three of them slept on the couch that night. For the first time since returning from Dubai, Trish did not talk to the wooden box, nor did she weep over the dark curl of hair.

  Hours later, Stanley licked her face to wake her. Trish bounded off the couch and raced to the kitchen door. Both animals barreled outside and beelined for her flower beds. She was about to yell at them to stop but stopped herself. They were just flowers, and the dog and cat needed to do what they needed to do. Her life was now changing, thanks to these new responsibilities. She’d lay down some rules soon, but for the nonce, the animals had to feel like they belonged. They were both back inside within minutes, looking at her with soulful eyes.

  “Ah, yes, food. Okay, we have some chicken and fish left.” The animals watched her as she prepared their food, never taking their eyes off her. “You don’t ever have to worry about food, so just take your time.” So much for her little speech. The two of them virtually inhaled the food, and Stanley even burped.

  Trish talked to them as she pulled out her Crock-Pot and dumped in a frozen rump roast. Next went the carrots and some new potatoes and string beans. By six o’clock, there would be enough food to last the animals a few days.

  Routine. She needed a routine. It would come, she was sure.

  While she showered and dressed for the day, the two animals spread themselves across the doorway. Protective mode. That was what her mother used to say. She said, “When you’re in the shower, you are the most vulnerable, and an animal knows it. That’s why they guard the door.” It made sense, because the moment she stepped out of the shower, the animals got up and went exploring.

  And this, Trish Holiday Mohammed, this is your new life. She thought she could hear Malik laughing somewhere in the distance. Or maybe it was Zack who was laughing. She couldn’t be sure; she just knew she liked the sound of it.

  Back downstairs, the animals played and tussled with the toys she’d bought them while she called everyone she knew to tell them about her new roommates.

  Zack laughed his head off as he offered pointers on cat care. “Cats are fiercely independent, so just let her do her thing until she settles into your routine.”

  Emma giggled, then laughed outright. “Did you buy a pooper scooper?” she asked.

  Soraya and Rashid said, “Send me some pictures so I can show them to the kids.”

  Ernie whistled to show he approved of what she’d done, and said he and Bella would dog-sit if she ever needed a sitter. She said she would definitely need one come November, when she went to New York for the reunion.

  And thus the routine began. Life moved forward, and before she knew it, life was pleasant, ordinary, and filled with laughter.

  Before Trish knew it, summer was gone, her lovely flowers nothing but brown stalks. Her patch of grass was full of holes. Stanley was a digger. She didn’t care. All she knew was that both Stanley and Daisy loved her, they were happy, and th
at made her happy.

  Three days before it was time to leave for New York, Trish tried what she called “another dry run,” which consisted of taking both Stanley and Daisy to Ernie’s to see how they would do. The outcome was spot-on. The kids cuddled and loved them, and Bella walked Stanley three times a day. “You can leave with a light heart,” she was told.

  And then a surprise came by way of FedEx from Dubai, compliments of Soraya. It was a dress for the reunion.

  The ladies still had your measurements, and I asked them to make you something that would blow everyone’s socks off. I hope you like it.

  “Wow!” was the word that escaped Trish’s lips. The dress was plain, almost severe. It shrieked, “Designer label.” It also bellowed, “High-end, pricey, one of a kind. You will be a knockout and the envy of everyone in the room.” At the bottom of the extra-large box was a pair of shoes, nestled in tissue paper. A perfect match. But there was more—a matching beaded purse that was so exquisite, it made Trish’s eyes water.

  Trish raced upstairs and ripped off her clothes. All she could do was ooh and aah as she twirled this way and that way. It was all just perfect. The dress, while severe in style, was soft and clung to her slim frame. It fit her like a glove, and she absolutely loved the pumpkin-colored material. Perfect for fall.

  And then a horrible thought hit her. She couldn’t wear these things to a simple friendly reunion. The other women wouldn’t be wearing things like this. They were all mothers with kids, who didn’t spend money on themselves. How could they when they had to save for college, make mortgage and car payments? There was no way she could show up looking better than they did. She wasn’t a show-off and never had been. If anything, she was a plain Jane, and who was she trying to impress, anyway? Zack?

  Trish stripped down and packed everything back in the box and put it on the top shelf of her closet. Maybe someday she’d wear it. Someday far in the future.

  Dressed in a dark brown suede skirt, the white suede boots Soraya had gotten her, and a white cashmere sweater, Trish walked into the room Zack had reserved at the Ritz-Carlton. She wore pearl earrings as her only jewelry. She fit right in with the other wives, whom she liked on sight. Within minutes, they were all comfortable with one another. Everyone but Zack and Trish was a couple. An hour was spent looking at all the kids’ pictures, followed by comments on how this one looked older since last year. And then this was followed by what sports the kids played, what recitals everyone participated in. Trish basked in it all, glad to be a part of it.

  Trish’s eyes filled when Zack got up and clinked his glass for everyone’s attention. He told a few stories about Malik, when they first met one another, he the rube from the farm, Malik with the dark skin in a strange land. There was laughter, some tears, and toasts to the greatest guy who had ever walked the face of the earth. Trish almost lost it right then, but Duke’s wife squeezed her hand tight, and she was able to smile and nod in agreement that yes, Malik was the greatest guy ever to walk the face of the earth.

  The evening ended on a high as one by one the other guys, Malik’s dearest friends, shared their particular memory with her.

  When it was over, Zack walked her out to the curb, where the doorman hailed a cab for her.

  “I’ll see you for breakfast. The others are all heading home for a day-late Thanksgiving with their parents and siblings. I was hoping we could take a drive to Princeton to see your sister.”

  “I’d like that. Yes, let’s do that.”

  “Trish, you okay? Tonight wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

  “No, no, it wasn’t too much. I’m okay. I’m really okay, Zack. I’m so glad you invited me.”

  “We should do this more often. You know, getting together.”

  “I’d like that, too. Let’s plan on it, okay?”

  Zack smiled. “Does that mean one of these days you’re going to ring my doorbell and say, ‘Here I am’? Meaning, of course, that the girl I’ve waited for all my life finally found me and knocked on my door.”

  Trish laughed. “Ya just never know.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Zack full on the lips. Zack thought he’d been kissed by a butterfly. He said so.

  “See ya,” Trish said, getting into the cab.

  “You betcha,” Zack said, grinning.

  Trish turned to look out the window, then burst out laughing when she saw Zack pump his fist in the air.

  “Nice going, honey.”

  “Yeah. You had a hand in this, didn’t you, Malik?”

  She heard the laughter, soft and gentle. She smiled.

  “Be happy, Trish.”

  “Okay.”

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Copyright © 2014 by MRK Productions

  Fern Michaels is a Registered Trademark of First Draft, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013920825

  ISBN: 978-0-7582-8494-5

  ISBN-10: 0-7582-8494-2

  First Kensington Hardcover Edition: May 2014

  eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-296-6

  eISBN-10: 1-61773-296-6

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: May 2014