by Dee Ernst
Lily sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “Of course I do. But I don’t read that kind of unpleasantness. Organized crime.” She sniffed again. “I need to get dressed. If you both would excuse me, I’ll be upstairs.” She turned, and, with great dignity, left the room.
I looked at Ben and burst out laughing. “I can’t believe her.”
Ben was shaking his head and chuckling, his beautifully formed shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe her either. God, what a summer this has been, with that old lady.” He straightened up and looked at me. “You look terrific, by the way. I really like your hair short like that.”
I was so flustered that I almost dropped my coffee cup. “Thanks, Ben. It’s good to see you, too, because Brian really is coming over here, and I could use a little moral support.”
He spread his arms wide. “Well, I’m here. Let me run upstairs and check out the work they’ve been doing, then we can sit and wait for him together.”
We didn’t wait long. I puttered around the kitchen, had a conversation with a sulky Lana, and had barely settled into the living room with a magazine when I heard the front door open.
Brian came into the living room, saw me and came to a stop. “Mona, what a surprise. I didn’t know you’d be here. Lily didn’t mention it.”
“Well, it is my house, Brian.”
“Of course. It’s just that you’re usually at the shore house.”
I smiled. “Yes, I am. Which makes me wonder why you didn’t try to contact me there to let me know you were coming by today.”
He smiled broadly. “Mona, don’t talk like that. It makes it sound like I need your permission.”
“Permission would have been good, Brian. You don’t live here any more, remember? And all your things are in the garage, which is open. There is no reason for you to be in this house at all, especially since you never told me you’d be here, and didn’t even bother to ring the doorbell.”
He was still smiling, but his eyes narrowed. Not a good thing. “You’re becoming quite the bitch about this whole thing, aren’t you?”
“Not at all, Brian, but we’ve both paid our lawyers lots of money to work out a settlement, and in the division of property, this particular property is going to be all mine. And everything that’s in it. Anything that’s yours is outside, where you should be. I don’t think they’d like it if we messed around with all their hard work.”
Brian sighed and stuck his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Mona, don’t get too stuck on all that legalese. I’m sure we can renegotiate if we want to.”
I’d stood up and walked over to him. “I don’t want to. Renegotiate. I like things just as they are. Your stuff is in the garage. I’ll be happy to help you move it into the car.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Mona, did I tell you your hair looks great short like that? In fact,” he leaned in. “You look great altogether. Very sexy.” He reached out and put his hand against my cheek. “I’d forgotten how hot you could look.”
I stepped back from him, suddenly shaky. I had not expected anything like this. “What do you want, Brian?”
His smile turned. “What are you offering, babe?”
“Nothing.” My voice was pitchy. I hated that. “Nothing at all.”
His smile vanished. No more Mister Nice Guy. “There are a few things I forgot about, that’s all. Small stuff. I’ll just get them and leave.”
“Like what?”
“Like the print in the bedroom. The Audubon. That was my father’s.”
“It was a gift from your father. To me. For my birthday. It’s mine and you can’t have it. And that certainly isn’t a small thing. It’s worth thousands.”
He sighed, lifting his shoulders. “Yeah, well, what about the mirror in the den, you know, the one we bought in Napa?”
“You mean the Art Deco Antique that I bought in Napa? That’s also worth a fortune, and it’s also mine.”
“I’m starting to think that maybe it isn’t.”
“Then call your lawyer and tell him about it. Then he can call my lawyer, and they’ll hash it out for a few weeks, and I’ll still get it because I kept the bill of sale because it had the appraisal on it, and it’s in my name only.”
“Bitch isn’t even the word, Mona. You’re – “
“Brian, I think you should leave now.”
“Listen, Mona, this is still legally my house, and I can walk into it and be in it for as long as I like, because I still have certain rights. And you’re still legally my wife, so watch your mouth, because I can still do what I want with you, too.”
I was suddenly frightened. Really. Who was this man? I think at that moment I would have cut off my little finger to have Mickey come lumbering out of the kitchen. But I didn’t need Mickey. I had Ben.
She pulled away in terror, running for the stairs, and suddenly Phillip was there, his dark cloak whirling behind him as he hurtled down the steps. He drew his sword in one swift, fluid motion, its sharp tip against Griffin’s throat. ‘Did he hurt you?’ he asked, his eyes glittering. ‘Did he even touch you?’
“Brian,” Ben said quietly, coming in from the hallway. “Good to see you. Mona, you okay?”
Brian narrowed his eyes and looked from Ben to me and back again. “Got the plumber on your side?” he said in a nasty tone.
Ben spread his hands. “Side? Are there sides, Brian? I though the two of you had settled everything quite amicably.”
Brian leaned in to me and whispered, “You screwing him too?”
I stepped back, angry and shaken. “Leave, Brian, before I call my lawyer and see if I can arrest you for something.”
Brian lifted his shoulders, then dropped them as he turned away. “Whatever, Mona. I’ll get my stuff from the garage. There’s nothing here I want anyway.” He slammed the door behind him.
Ben crossed over to me and put both his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yep. Fine.”
“Why don’t I go and help Brian with whatever moving he needs done. You stay right here, alright?”
I nodded again and he left. I sat back on the couch, and after a few minutes Lana came up on my lap. A few minutes later, she jumped back down again. Olivia came by, and in the manner of all kittens everywhere, started chasing a dust mote in the most adorable way possible, quite distracting me until Ben came back in.
“Well, he’s gone. Where’s Lily?”
I shook my head. “No clue.”
Ben disappeared upstairs, then returned a few minutes later. “She was watching Brian from her upstairs window. She wished Mickey had stayed.”
I though about it. “Me too.”
Ben laughed. “No, you did fine without Mickey. Look, it’s early for lunch, but let’s go and get some coffee or something. What do you think?”
I looked up at Ben. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all week.”
We ended up taking Ben’s truck to a diner where I was suddenly, ravenously hungry and ordered French toast with eggs over easy, hash browns, sausage and coffee. Ben ordered coffee and a muffin. A blueberry muffin. How cute.
“So, how’s your summer going, Mona,” Ben asked when the waitress had left.
I looked into my coffee. This was my fourth cup. I’d have to think about cutting back. “It’s going okay, I guess. The girls are all fine, having a great time, as usual. The book is going along really well. I’m almost finished with a first draft.”
“Wow, that is great news. Congratulations, Mona. But what does that mean?”
“It means I’ll send the manuscript off to my agent, she’ll give me ideas about what needs to be changed, and then hopefully I’ll have something worthwhile by October.”
“I’m sure it will be terrific.”
He was so sweet. “I’m also dating. Trying to, anyway. It’s not going so well.”
Ben sat back. “Anthony mentioned something about that. What’s been going wrong?”
I sighed. “I think it’s b
ecause I have rotten taste in men and keep picking the wrong ones to go out with. It’s all Miranda’s fault. She wants me to practice on men I already know, but apparently I only know sex fiends and whack jobs.”
“Well,” Ben said easily, “you know me.”
The waitress set our plates down in front of us, but I didn’t even notice. Yes, I did know Ben.
“That’s right,” I managed at last, starting to shovel food into my mouth. I felt like I hadn’t eaten in a week.
I knew Ben.
“So,” he continued, breaking off a piece of muffin, “maybe this could be one of your dates.”
I almost stabbed myself in the cheek with my fork. “A date? With you?”
“We’re out, and eating, and I’ll be willing to pick up the tab. What do you think?”
I stared at my plate. On a date with Ben.
Now I may or may not have mentioned it, but I had done a lot of fantasizing about Ben. In all my imaging, however, not even one scenario involved food. Maybe grapes, ice cream, or strawberries dipped in chocolate, followed by champagne. There was the warm honey and – never mind. The point is I never pictured us on a normal, let’s-grab-a-bite kind of date. And as fate would have it, suddenly we were on exactly that kind of a date, and I was eating a breakfast big enough to feed the entire defensive line of the Green Bay Packers.
“I’ve been up since four-thirty this morning, which is why I’m so hungry.” I explained. “ If this were a normal date, I would have stopped after the French toast.”
He laughed . “Not to worry. I’m flush.”
I had to decide how to act. I’d had dozens of conversations with Ben, all comfortable and usually a little flirtatious, but what about now? Was I still allowed to flirt? Should I be serious? I took a leap.
“Well, then, we have to talk about date stuff.”
“Like what?”
I stared at him. “Don’t you know? I mean, you must go out all the time.”
He was stirring lots of sugar into his coffee. “No, not really. It’s hard to find somebody to, you know, connect with. There had to be a spark, you know? Something to pique the interest.”
“Do I pique your interest?” I blurted.
He looked at me evenly. “You are by far one of the most interesting women I know.”
‘And I burn for you, every inch of my being. I can’t stand it. I must have you.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Please, do not deny me any longer.’
“Is that because of my myriad of plumbing problems?”
He laughed again, and chewed more muffin. “Partly. I must admit, professionally speaking, your house represents a major challenge. But you’re a funny and smart woman. And you’re a writer. I find that fascinating. I love to read, mostly non-fiction, and I just can’t imagine having the ability to put down words on paper in such a way that holds the mind, captures the imagination. It’s a great gift.”
I would have preferred his being fascinated by my dark and sexy eyes, or perhaps my sweetly irresistible mouth, but hey, from Ben I’d take anything.
I had to say something. It was my turn. “Thanks for saying that. It means a lot to me. I take my work seriously. It feels good to be appreciated.”
He smiled. “So, is this good date conversation?”
“Yes, it is.”
“So, do you mind telling me why you felt the need to leave the shore at four-thirty to meet Brian?”
I set down my fork. I needed to take a break from chewing anyway. “Lily sent me an e-mail that he was coming, and she did sound a little nervous, and I really didn’t trust Brian. Things had been going too smoothly, you know? I figured he might try something, if for no other reason than to piss me off. And I was right. If I hadn’t been there, he might have tried to take stuff, and I would have hated to put Lily in that position.”
Ben grinned. “If you hadn’t been there, Mickey would have broken all of Brian’s fingers, and it would have made Lily’s day.”
I laughed. “Yes, you’re right.”
He put his hand over mine. His skin was rough but warm, and my pulse, I’ve got to tell you, went through the roof. “You’re a real class act. Brian is and was a jerk, and you did just fine, Mona.”
“You were my back-up, though. Thanks.”
He pulled his hand away. “We make a good team,” he said lightly. I almost swooned.
“D’ya think?”
“Course. Are you finished? Because I do kind of have to be someplace else.”
“So that offer to spend all day, and night if need be with Lily, was for Mickey’s benefit?”
“He really scared me,” Ben said, his voice suddenly serious. “I think he had a gun.”
“I think you’re right. Okay, I’m done, let’s go.”
He paid the bill and we drove back to the house. He pulled up in front of the driveway, and as I opened the door, he spoke.
“So, when is the divorce final?”
I shut the door then leaned against it, my head in the cab. “Sometime in the fall. Maybe by Christmas. It’s all about reaching a financial settlement, and Brian is getting picky. We don’t have a date yet, but I should know soon.”
He nodded. “Well, maybe I’ll see you before then. I hope so. We should keep the team together. Good luck. And have a good rest of the summer.”
I stepped away from the truck, and he drove slowly away. I stood and watched until the road was empty.
Ben and I. We’d had a date. And it had not been a disaster. In fact, he said we should keep the team together. Which proved there was nothing wrong with me after all.
Chapter Ten
Some days at the shore are perfect – clear skies, cool breezes, the bracing smell of salt in the air. Some days are not. Some days, the humidity is so high the air weighs a ton, the sky is beige and seems to press down on the ocean, and all you can smell is fish. Days like that, the girls hide in their air-conditioned rooms and watch soap operas. I usually lie out on the back porch and sleep over a not-so-good book.
It was that kind of day, just at the end of July, when, half-dozing, I heard a tentative voice say hello. I opened an eye. There was a figure standing outside my screened porch door. I opened the other eye.
He was a very nice-looking man. Tall, maybe six feet. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, great forearms, with dark hair and eyes, even features, well-shaped eyebrows. Not traffic-stopping, but definitely worth a second look.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but the front door was open, so I figured somebody was home, but no one answered the bell. I just came around back. Did I scare you?”
I say up and yawned. “No. Excuse me. It’s the heat. We’re all stupid today.”
He grinned. He had a great smile. He was wearing long, khaki shorts and a polo shirt. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Stupid is what I usually do best. I’m Mitch Wallace.”
“Hi, Mitch Wallace. What can I do for you?”
He shrugged. “Well, my sister thought I should come over and introduce myself.”
“Your sister?” I frowned, thinking, then it hit me. “Mitch? Mitchell? You’re Vicki’s brother Mitchell?”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
I struggled out of my chair. “Well, hi.” I opened the screen door. “Come on through.”
I was suddenly aware that I had bad humid-day hair, was wearing no bra under my tee shirt, and that I’d been snoozing in my own sweat for a while. I ran my fingers through my hair, hit three snags and gave up. “I’m Mona. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink of something? I’ve got a pitcher of Mojitos in the fridge.”
He nodded and sat. “Sounds great. Thanks.”
I went into the kitchen, pulled out the pitcher, took a quick side trip to the bathroom and groaned at my reflection. I had big red crease marks on my cheek from sleeping on the rough chair cushion, and my lips were very chapped. I was also glowing. Think severe exposure to radiation-type glowing. I splashed water on my face, gargled, and tried not to think about my frizzy hair or floppy breasts.
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br /> I went back into the kitchen, put the pitcher and a couple of glasses on a tray and hurried back onto the porch. I poured us both a drink, and took a big gulp. “You’re not what I expected,” I told him. “I mean, you’re nothing like your sister.”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “No man-boobs.”
I froze for a moment, then laughed. “Yes, there’s that too. But you don’t look alike at all.” I wanted to add that he didn’t look like a still-living-with-the-folks-type loser who sold comics for a living, but I wanted to be tactful.
He sipped his drink and looked thoughtful. “Well, with Vicki, you have to make allowances. We actually resemble each other quite a bit. Or at least we used to. But she’s changed her nose, her teeth, dyed her hair, wears colored contacts and has had work done to her face. A lift or peel or something.” He grinned again. “She calls it creative use of available technology.”
“Well, good for her. Go down fighting, I say. Do not go gently into that good night.”
He frowned. “Isn’t that Dylan Thomas?”
I nodded. “Yes. It’s one of my favorite poems.”
“But wasn’t he talking about death?”
I nodded again. “Death, old age, it’s the same thing. They’re going to have to drag me kicking and screaming.”
He lifted his glass in salute. “Here’s to kicking and screaming.”
I took another gulp. “Amen to that. So, you’re down visiting Vicki?”
He shook his head. “Just stopping by on my way south. I deal in animation art on the side, and there’s a guy in Virginia with what sounds like an amazing collection of stuff. Animation stills, drawings, that sort of thing. His father used to be a background artist for the Fleischer brothers.”
“Oh?” I asked politely. “Should I know who they are?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. Unless you were a big fan of Gulliver’s Travels when you were a kid.”
