Importance of Being Urnest

by Sandra Balzo

  ‘I did,’ he said into my ear. ‘And don’t think I’m unaware of the fact you’re surreptitiously rubbing Frank slime onto my jeans.’

  Hearing his name, Frank looked up from where he’d been nuzzling the dirt ball on the sidewalk. Even he seemed loath to pick it up, though given his hand was his mouth, that was doubly understandable.

  ‘Blame him,’ I said, indicating Pavlik. ‘He’s the one who threw it under the bush.’

  Frank’s tail waved.

  ‘He loves me,’ Pavlik said. ‘I can do no wrong in his eyes.’

  I lifted the jacket and moved the bag aside before settling down next to him, jacket over my lap. ‘Nor mine. What a beautiful day.’ I ran my hand over the buttery leather of the jacket and sighed.

  Pavlik took the thing away from me and hung it over the porch railing. ‘If you’re going to fondle anything, fondle me.’

  ‘Gladly.’ I slid closer to him, laying my head on his shoulder and my hand on his thigh. ‘I do love your jacket, but I love you …’ I stopped.

  ‘More?’ Pavlik cranked his head around and down so he could see may face. ‘Why are you afraid to say it?’

  ‘I’m not.’ I sat up and met his eyes. ‘But it’s kind of a … door.’ I’d almost said Pandora’s box. ‘Once it’s opened it leads to a whole lot of other doors.’

  ‘Like marriage?’

  ‘For one.’ I laid my hand on his cheek. ‘I do love you. I think you know that.’

  He put his hand over mine. ‘But?’

  ‘But I feel like I’ve just now gotten my feet under me after the divorce. You know, so I can stand up on my own.’

  ‘And you don’t want to give up your independence.’ Pavlik’s eyes were a cloudy gray as they bored into mine. If he was trying to figure me out, good luck. I was as confused as he was.

  ‘I don’t know if that’s it. I don’t think so. But I do know I don’t want to lose you.’ I kissed his lips lightly.

  After a moment, they responded and then got more forceful.

  I was pressed back onto the steps and Pavlik’s hand was up under my shirt when the sound of toenails up the steps was followed by a bounce/plotch, bounce/plotch.

  A muddy tennis ball landed on my bare belly where the shirt was hiked up.

  I jumped up. ‘Oh, God, Frank. You have the worst timing.’

  Pavlik was laughing as he stood. ‘They do have a way of worming their way in, don’t they? Muffin’s the same.’

  The sheriff had adopted a toothless pit bull rescued from a dog-fighting ring they’d raided when he was on the job in Chicago. Not fit for fighting, the pit pup was kept for breeding purposes. It was probably the only reason she was alive. That and Pavlik.

  ‘How’s Muffin doing?’ I was holding up my shirt so it wouldn’t touch the muddy sludge on my stomach.

  ‘Not good,’ Pavlik said, his eyes darkening. ‘She’s fourteen and feeling her age. Sleeps a lot and when she’s awake she’s not herself. I’ve taken her to the vet but he says it’s just age. And what she went through before I got her. He doesn’t think it’ll be long.’

  I let my shirt fall. Much as I complained sometimes about Frank, he had been a lifeline after the divorce and, from what little Pavlik had said about his own split, I knew it had been the same for him. ‘You gave Muffin thirteen happy years – time she’d never have had if you hadn’t taken her home that day.’

  ‘I know.’ There was a trace of moisture in his eyes, something I’d never seen before. ‘It’s just hard saying goodbye. Or maybe knowing when to say goodbye.’

  ‘Is she in pain?’

  ‘Not that I can tell, which is why I haven’t wanted to …’ He let it trail off.

  I laid my hand on his arm. ‘Is she all right by herself? We could go get her and she could have steak with us.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ Pavlik kissed me on the forehead. ‘But Tracey insisted on taking her home this past weekend. Susan’s not working, so there’ll be somebody at home if something happens.’

  Tracey was Pavlik’s twelve-year-old daughter with his ex-wife, Susan. After the divorce in Chicago, Susan had moved to Southeastern Wisconsin for a job opportunity and Pavlik had followed, wanting to stay close to his daughter. As luck would have it, Susan’s job hadn’t panned out and she’d moved them back to Chicago. Pavlik, already in his own newly elected role as Brookhills County Sheriff, had stayed.

  I hoped I’d been at least partly responsible for that decision. ‘Muffin was well enough for the drive down to Chicago?’

  Pavlik looked surprised. ‘They’re back in Milwaukee – I didn’t tell you that?’

  Not likely I’d forget, especially since Pavlik and I had just gone through a traumatic – if short-lived – break-up. My suspicious nature would have glommed on to Susan’s return as the possible cause. Not that I’d so much as met the woman to assess the threat level. I kept my voice casual. ‘No, when did that happen?’

  ‘I found out just before we left for Florida, though at the time I didn’t know why. I was too ticked at Susan for bouncing Tracey back and forth like this to ask. The one saving grace is at least now they’ll have to stay put.’

  ‘Susan’s taken a job here?’ For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what the woman did.

  ‘More like taken a husband with a job here.’ Pavlik snagged his jacket and flipped it up over his shoulder before picking up the grocery bag.

  Now I was certain Pavlik hadn’t told me any of this. ‘Susan’s getting re-married. Are you all right with that?’

  ‘Sure, why wouldn’t I be?’ He’d pulled open the screen door to the house and now he turned back. ‘I’m happy for her.’

  That’s what all we divorced folk say. Well, except for me, who’d been slightly less accepting when my dentist husband had announced he’d been drilling his hygienist and was leaving me to marry her. All pretty much in the same breath.

  But it had been a lot to digest in a short amount of time.

  Kind of like when Pavlik did a 180 – or a full 360, really – first dumping me and then asking me to marry him all within forty-eight hours, which made me wonder if there was a connection. ‘So, Susan moved back and then broke the news?’

  ‘What news?’ He continued into the house.

  ‘That she’s getting’ – I caught the screen door just before it could slap me in the face – ‘married.’

  ‘Oh, that. The wedding invitation with a plus-one was in the mail when I got back.’ He slipped the jacket over the door knob of the front closet.

  ‘Ouch, that’s cold.’

  He shrugged. ‘Like I said, I didn’t give her much of a chance when she called to say they were back. I was on the way to pick you up for the airport.’

  ‘What about Tracey?’ I asked, following him and the groceries into the kitchen.

  ‘I think Susan wanted to tell me herself.’

  By way of an impersonal wedding invitation. ‘I mean, how does she feel about the guy her mother is marrying?’

  I hadn’t told Eric about Pavlik’s proposal, not because he’d object but because he’d push me to accept. I mean, the kid loved his dad but Pavlik treated Eric like an equal and an adult. Plus, he had a gun and a badge. How do you say no to that? And yet …

  ‘… Says he’s nice enough,’ Pavlik was saying.

  ‘Sounds like what Eric said about Rachel.’

  ‘He was wrong on that score.’ Pavlik should know, since he’d put Rachel away.

  ‘Yes, as it turns out.’ I got a bottle of red wine out of the cupboard, along with two wine glasses.

  Pavlik was unloading a butcher-wrapped packet of meat and a bakery box that had a smudge of chocolate on the side.

  The perfect man. Why was I even hesitating?

  A buzz, and the sheriff reached into his jeans pocket for his phone. He read the message and slipped it back. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You have to go?’ Log that under ‘dumb question.’

  ‘A guy we’ve been looking for just turned up at
his brother’s place. Time to go smoke him out, much as I’d rather spend the afternoon with you looking smoking hot.’ He pulled me toward him and kissed the top of my head before letting go to retrieve his jacket.

  ‘Be careful,’ I said as he slipped it on.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t want me to rip the jacket?’

  In truth, I wasn’t sure why I said it. ‘You got it.’

  ‘I know that I have,’ he said, taking me in my arms. ‘But it’s you that I want.’

  With that, the sheriff let me go and bounded down the porch steps.

  SIX

  ‘His ex-wife moves back to get married and his dog is dying,’ I told Sarah as we cleaned up from the next morning’s commuter rush. ‘I think there’s a connection.’

  Sarah scooped beans from the container labeled Kenyan AA into the grinder, spun the dial to ‘drip’ and pushed the ‘on’ button. ‘Please don’t tell me you think the ex-wife is poisoning the dog.’

  ‘Why would I think that?’ I shoved a plastic bucket under the chute just as the freshly ground coffee started to spill out.

  ‘You said they’re connected,’ she said, repositioning it.

  With effort, I ignored the grounds now glancing off the edge of the container and onto the counter. ‘I didn’t mean that Muffin’s failing health and Susan’s marriage are connected. Though her moving back here and the wedding certainly are. I was talking about Pavlik’s proposal.’

  ‘You can grind coffee yet you can’t form a coherent sentence.’

  ‘You’re grinding the coffee,’ I pointed out. ‘And making a mess of it, I might add.’

  ‘Done,’ she said, turning off the grinder. ‘Now explain yourself.’

  ‘It’s not hard to understand,’ I said. ‘Pavlik’s feeling alone. Besides needing a plus-one for the wedding.’

  ‘He doesn’t have to marry you to take you to a wedding unless it’s his,’ Sarah said. ‘I assume you’re going to watch the ex get safely hitched?’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it. I’ve only met his daughter Tracey once and never even laid eyes on Susan.’

  ‘Time to meet the family, huh? Wonder how he’ll introduce you. I’m betting it won’t be as his plus-one.’

  I thought about that as I swept the remaining spilled coffee grounds from the counter and into my hand. ‘Good point.’

  ‘If you’re nice, you’ll let him say “fiancée,”’ Sarah said, holding out the waste basket.

  I deposited the grounds and clapped my hands above it. ‘I’m not sure that’s being nice. I don’t want to mislead anybody, especially Pavlik.’

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ She returned the basket to its place under the sink.

  ‘I ask myself pretty much every day. But in this case, I assume you mean why won’t I marry Pavlik?’

  ‘You care about him, right?’

  ‘Of course I do. I even told him I loved him yesterday.’

  Sarah turned, astonishment on her face. But not for the reason I’d expected. ‘You’ve been together for what – two years? That’s the first time you’ve used the “L” word?’

  ‘In my defense, he only said it for the first time in November. And that was when he was breaking up with me. And then, again, when he asked me to marry him.’

  Sarah didn’t seem to think it was important. ‘So you said you loved him and …?’

  ‘No “and.” More of a “but.”’

  ‘Figures. “But” what?’

  ‘But I still wasn’t sure about marriage. That I’d just gotten—’

  The sound of sleigh bells interrupted both my lame explanation and whatever Sarah would have said to counter it. Christy burst in. ‘Did you hear? Hannah’s mother died.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. When?’

  ‘Yesterday morning, after Hannah brought them both home. I guess Celeste was watching television on the couch and fell asleep. Or at least that’s what Nancy thought until she tried to rouse her and couldn’t.’

  ‘Is that why nobody picked up when Hannah called home?’

  ‘I guess Nancy was so shook up that she couldn’t find the phone to call for help. The poor woman was nearly hysterical by the time Hannah walked in the door.’

  ‘Are – or were – Nancy and Celeste a couple?’ Sarah asked. ‘I started to ask but Maggy thought it was rude.’

  As if that ever stopped her. An elbow to the ribs had been effective, though, as I recalled. ‘I just don’t think it’s anybody’s business, one way or the other.’

  ‘You know I’m not judging, Maggy,’ Sarah said. ‘I was just curious.’

  It was true. Both that Sarah wouldn’t judge and that she was curious – aka nosy.

  ‘Hannah refers to them as “partners,”’ Christy said, ‘though whether she means partners in the boutiques or domestic partners, I don’t know. I believe they kept separate finances, in any case.’

  ‘However would you know that?’ And I thought Sarah was up in everybody’s business.

  ‘The purchase of the house was in just Celeste’s name, for one thing. And when Hannah and I were talking about what she’d do if she couldn’t care for Celeste or Nancy anymore, she said her mother has plenty of money but that Nancy’s social security wouldn’t go very far.’

  ‘You’d think if they were life partners it would have been share and share alike.’ By which I meant Celeste wouldn’t let Nancy die destitute while she had private care or checked into the country club of nursing homes. Or maybe a cruise ship, a la Vickie.

  ‘Exactly. But whatever the relationship, it was deep. Hannah says Nancy is absolutely devastated. That’s what happens to committed partners, you know – one dies and the other’s life light is dimmed. I know that’s the way it would be for Ronny and me.’ She put her hand over where her life light presumably was.

  ‘Sounds to me like Hannah is the one whose light should be dimmed,’ Sarah said. ‘She should have never come back here after the old lady got sick.’

  ‘Nancy told Hannah she was fine, just coming down with the flu, and encouraged her to come back,’ Christy said. ‘And, besides, Nancy’s not the one who died.’

  ‘Give the woman a break, Sarah,’ I said. ‘She couldn’t have known.’

  ‘Hannah doesn’t like to talk about it,’ Christy said, ‘but I understand it’s been a long haul since her mother started failing.’

  ‘She did tell Oliver that Celeste got confused sometimes,’ I said, ‘like Gloria.’

  ‘She wasn’t even at the closing – the attorney had to sign the documents for her.’

  At the mention of the closing she hadn’t taken part in, Sarah’s expression darkened further. ‘Even more reason her daughter should have stayed home with her.’

  Empathy is not one of my partner’s strong points.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Christy said indignantly. ‘Hannah takes – took – care of her mother and Nancy all day, every day. One time she runs out to get a cup of coffee—’

  ‘And an old lady dies,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?’ I asked.

  ‘At least I got up,’ Sarah said, turning. ‘Which is more than I can say for Hannah’s mother.’

  ‘My goodness,’ Christy said as she watched Sarah disappear into the back room. ‘What does Sarah have against Hannah?’

  ‘She’s nice and people like her?’ Not to mention she didn’t need a real-estate agent for a house sale and purchase. Which meant Christy should watch out, too.

  ‘You mean Sarah’s jealous? But she certainly shouldn’t be. People like her, too.’ She thought for a second before adding, ‘Mostly.’

  Not being able to add to that, I just shrugged.

  ‘It’s true, though, that the people who bluster the most are the ones who are insecure. I’ll have to keep that in mind when I’m dealing with Sarah, poor thing.’

  Christy would be the ‘poor thing’ if Sarah got a whiff of pity off her. Compassion and understanding ticked my partner o
ff, too.

  ‘Can I get you something?’ I asked Christy.

  ‘The brew of the day would be lovely but I’ll take it in a to-go cup,’ Christy said. ‘I want to be at the mortuary for Celeste.’

  ‘That’s kind of you,’ I said, lifting a pot to pour her coffee.

  ‘Well, to be fair, it’s my job.’ Christy was slipping bills out of her wallet. ‘But if I can help, I’d like to do that. Now that Hannah and Mort are dating—’

  ‘They are? I don’t remember them so much as speaking to each other yesterday.’ Not to mention that Mort had to be nearly twenty years older than Hannah.

  ‘It’s new, so I think they’re keeping it on the cutie.’

  Cutie. ‘The QT, you mean?’

  Christy frowned. ‘It’s not cutie? Like isn’t that cute?’

  ‘No, just the initials Q and T. Short for “quiet.”’

  ‘Really?’ Christy’s face was puzzled. ‘Why not just Q? I mean, if you’re going to use the first and the last letter, why skip the three in the middle? Besides, QT is two syllables, so it’s just as easy to say “quiet.” That’s two syllables, too.’

  ‘I … well, I don’t know.’

  ‘No matter.’ Christy seemed satisfied she’d stymied me. ‘I introduced Hannah to Mort the day she moved in and thank the Lord. Not only did she tell me the position was open at the mortuary, but he was the first person she called when she found Celeste dead.’

  I had no idea what you do if somebody just ups and dies a natural death. Most of my bodies met an untimely – and unnatural – end.

  ‘Mort notified the doctor,’ Christy continued, ‘and then arranged to move Celeste to the mortuary, before Nancy could get even more upset.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I’d feel about dating a mortician.’ I hadn’t really meant to say it aloud, but there it was.

  Christy cocked her head, not so much in the ‘I don’t understand’ way, as the ‘I’m ready for a fight and waiting for you to make the first move’ way. ‘What do you mean?’

  Trying to suppress the ‘yuck’ factor, I said, ‘I know that Pavlik deals with death on a daily basis, too. And you can add violence and criminals to that as well. It’s just that I hope Celeste’s death won’t … shadow their relationship.’ Lame, but heartfelt. Kind of.