“Mama,” my tone sharpened, “there are impressionable young girls in this room.”
“They know more about sex than you think,” Mama quipped.
“When I was their age, I knew what was what.”
Charla looked like she had something to say. I caught her eye and shook my head. “Be that as it may, I’d like to keep this conversation smut-free.”
“You would,” Mama said. “Pity.”
“What about wedding clothes?” Charla fluffed her red hair. “Where will you get your gown? How will we get everything done in three weeks? Jocelyn Brown’s sister took a whole year to plan her wedding.”
“I’m sure there’s a dress in my closet that would work just fine,” Mama said. “I’m too old to make a big fuss about this.”
“I’ll take the wedding pictures,” Lexy offered. “I’ve learned a lot from taking yearbook photographs.”
“Lovely idea,” Mama said. “Tag, you’re it.”
The myriad details of planning a wedding worried at my peace of mind. I couldn’t wrap my brain around everything that needed to be arranged. “What about food for the reception? Flowers? A cake? These people are booked a year in advance around here.”
“The church ladies will handle the food. Francine and Muriel are going to make one of their red velvet cakes. And flowers make Bud sneeze. I’ll buy fake ones from the craft store.”
She’d told her best friends before she told her own flesh and blood? I summoned what passed for a smile. “Sounds like you have it all worked out, Mama. That’s good.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but Bud and I want simple. No attendants, no groomsmen. That way it won’t cost anyone an arm and a leg to come to my wedding.”
“That wouldn’t keep us from coming, Mama. You have your wedding any way you want it to be. This is your day.”
“What about a ring?” Lexy asked. “Did Mr. Flook give you a ring?”
Mama beamed and pulled a glittering rock out of her oversized purse. The solitaire diamond and white gold setting looked high end. “He did. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Charla grabbed for the ring and slid it on her finger. It was too large for her, but her expression of feminine delight hit me hard. How long before Charla sported a wedding ring? She was fifteen now. I’d been married and a mom by twenty. She had only a few more years before college and then she’d be off living by herself. She’d be hearing wedding bells of her own soon.
“The ring is lovely,” I murmured as both Lexy and I tried it on. Mama plunked the ring on her finger. It sparkled as her hands fluttered through the air as she described Bud’s traditional proposal.
Gazing at Mama’s radiant face, I dismissed my reservations. “You and Bud deserve the best. I’m happy for you.”
And I was.
But a part of me acknowledged the naked truth. Her gain contrasted with my loss. I’d settled for less than I wanted with my golf pro. Hot affairs were exciting, but there was always that element of doubt in the back of my mind.
Where was Rafe, and what was he doing?
CHAPTER 3
* * *
My fingers gripped the steering wheel when Rafe’s voicemail clicked on again. “This is Cleo.” I grimaced at the razor-sharp edge to my voice. With Rafe sneaking off last night to do God knew what, I wondered how many women left him messages. I didn’t want to be mistaken for another woman.
I cleared my throat, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. “I called to invite you to dinner tonight. I have news to share, news I need to tell you in person. Call me.”
With that I hung up. I’d phoned him at bedtime last night, before early church this morning, and now, at midday. All the calls had gone to voicemail. Where was he? Normally he worked at the golf course on Sunday. I’d checked the club, and his Jaguar wasn’t there.
Lord.
Had I crossed a line? Was I turning into a psycho girlfriend who had to know where my boyfriend was every minute of the day? Now, now, I told myself. This was genuine concern. It wasn’t like Rafe to be out of touch for so long.
I had to face facts. He was an adult. He hadn’t been missing twenty-four hours. I should put his whereabouts out of my mind and start on my other projects for today.
Like helping Jonette with her mayoral campaign.
I exited my sedan and entered the Tavern, the Hogan’s Glen watering hole where Jonette worked. Her boyfriend, Dean, owned the seventies-style bar. Both greeted me warmly. Jackson Browne crooned a song about pretending, and I took my cue from the singer. I could pretend everything was all right.
“Are we plotting world domination today?” I slid into the booth across from Jonette, who looked young and hip in a bright-pink blouse and black slacks.
She thumbed through a sheaf of papers. “I wish.”
Dean brought me a glass of water and pulled up a chair. Today his long hair was clubbed back in a ponytail. In his black T-shirt, jeans, and boots he resembled an aging rock star.
I smiled my thanks at him and nodded at Jonette’s stack. “What’s all that?”
“Crapola from the Internet. Whose bright idea was it to fish for issues? I’ve got more issues here than I care to know about. Each voter wants their pet project guaranteed, and then they’ll vote for me. No way I can please everybody.”
“Right,” I said. “Trying to please everyone is a recipe for disaster.” I stopped to clear my throat. “And, fishing for issues was your idea. You wanted to know what ‘the people’ thought.”
Dean’s head came up, and relief shone in his eyes.
“The people are crazy,” Jonette said. “Here’s one asking the city to buy Crandall House and turn it into a museum and interpretive center. Where would I get the money to do that from the city budget? Maybe if I stopped trash pickup for ten years or so I could swing it, but everyone would be unhappy about rotten garbage in the street.”
Crandall House had been built two centuries ago by our town’s founding father. Now the family descendants lived elsewhere, and they wanted a small fortune for the house.
“Yeah. Big-ticket items like that need to go on the back burner,” I agreed. “You need to take on a few lesser causes that mean something to you. Read me the topics from the other emails.”
“A guy wants me to drill more wells because we’ll run out of water if any of the White Rock houses ever get bought. Here’s a guy wanting me to legalize medical marijuana.”
“That one gets my vote,” Dean said.
“Here’s one from that grumpy lady over on Third Street,” Jonette continued. “She wants speed bumps installed on her street because folks drive too fast past her place. And here’s someone asking if we can’t get three weekdays of trash service for the price of two.” Jonette thumbed through a few more pages, and her face lit up. “Yes! Found it! This is the issue for me. We need to establish a dog park in the city. I need a place for my puppy to play.”
“A dog park would be nice,” I agreed. “Pet owners should have a place where pets can romp off the leash.”
“I can’t imagine anyone getting upset over a new dog park,” Dean said.
“Looks like I’ve got my first agenda item,” Jonette concluded.
“We’re coming along. Tell me about the event next week. You’re holding it here at the bar?”
“Yep. Figure most folks know we’re dating, and they know where the bar is; might as well take advantage of that to get them here.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Select a menu of food we need to serve. Something classy but cheap.”
“I can do that.” My face heated. “Oh. I almost forgot. I’ve got news. Big news.”
“Rafe proposed?”
“Nope.” I waited, drawing the suspense out. I wasn’t Delilah’s daughter for nothing.
“Charlie proposed?”
Charlie was my ex. He’d recently moved next door so that he could spend more time with our girls. So he said. “That doesn’t count. He proposes eve
ry time he sees me. That’s not news, and you know it.”
“Oh!” Jonette’s eyes danced. “It’s your mother, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yep. Bud proposed. She accepted. They’re getting married in three weeks. I’m getting a lawyer in my family.”
“Wow.”
Jonette’s eyes met mine. “Wait a minute. How long have you known about this?”
“Less than twenty-four hours, but Muriel and Francine knew first,” I said to soften the blow. “They’re organizing the food for her reception. Say, that gives me an idea. I wonder if they’d do the food at your fundraiser. It could be a trial run for their new catering business.”
“We don’t have much money,” Jonette cautioned. She chewed her lip a moment. “Maybe my campaign committee could chip in to finance the snacks. Then we could spend the rest of the campaign going door to door to beat that rat-fink Darnell.”
“I’m good for twenty bucks,” I said. “And maybe Francine and Muriel would do it at cost if they could hand out brochures for Two Sisters Catering.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay with them networking at my party. Let’s see. If you, me, Dean, and Rafe chip in twenty each, that’d give us eighty. Would Charlie cough up twenty for the fund-raiser food?”
“Charlie would do it. He’d think that would earn him a spot in my good graces. But, Rafe . . .”
Jonette grabbed my hand. “What? What aren’t you telling me about the golf pro?”
I pulled away from her, hugging my middle. “It’s probably nothing.”
“You’re not acting like it’s nothing. What did he do?”
“I don’t have any idea what’s up, but my imagination is running wild. He got a call yesterday morning during my lesson and cancelled our date last night. I can’t find him anywhere today.” My lip trembled. “He’s not returning my calls.”
“Bastard.” Jonette nudged Dean. “Go beat him up, honey.”
Dean froze.
“What?” Jonette zeroed in on her boyfriend. “You know something.”
“I shouldn’t say.”
“You should,” Jonette insisted.
“Yes, please,” I urged. “Any information is better than nothing. I don’t know if he’s hurt or dead or just a jerk.”
“There aren’t too many red Jags in the county. I recognized his car at first glance.”
Jonette smacked her open palm on the tabletop. “This is worse than trying to get information out of Cleo’s mom. Where was he parked?”
Linda Ronstadt belted out a song about being cheated and mistreated. My heart raced as I waited for Dean to spit it out. It had to be another woman. Nothing else would make Dean so hesitant, right?
“I gave Tucker Harris a ride home last night at closing time. Turns out his wife threw him out of the house, so he’s living over at the Catoctin View Motel.”
What was Rafe doing on that side of town? Rumor had it prostitutes worked out of Catoctin View. Another rumor said a drug ring used the premises for pharmaceutical transactions. Any way I looked at it, Rafe’s presence at a seedy motel a little past two in the morning wasn’t a positive thing.
“Bastard,” Jonette repeated with vehemence. “Two-timing, sneaking, thieving, shithead of a loser. You demand he get tested for sexually transmitted disesases, Cleo. Don’t let him near you unprotected until he gets a clean blood test. What am I saying? Don’t sleep with him ever again. Let’s do a Lorena Bobbitt on him. He deserves having his privates hacked off for catting around. Son of a bitch.”
His likely betrayal cut me to the quick. “I can’t believe he went out and paid for sex.”
“We don’t know that he got laid,” Dean warned. “All I said was his car was there. He could have loaned his car to a friend. The car could’ve been stolen. There are many perfectly good reasons why his car might be at the Catoctin View Motel.”
Instead of cheering me up, Dean’s assertions plunged me into a volatile mood. Right or wrong, Rafe had concealed his actions. He didn’t want me to know.
I wasn’t important enough to rate an explanation.
I deserved more than that.
CHAPTER 4
* * *
Other than a quick buss on the lips, Rafe remained distant throughout dinner, confusing me further. I passed the green beans topped with peanut chocolate candies down to my ex-husband, Charlie, who’d invited himself to dinner once he sniffed my chicken and rice casserole. This whole business of him living next door was entirely too convenient for him for my liking.
Which is why he became my neighbor, to remain underfoot until I forgave him for his adultery and second marriage and welcomed him back into my bed. Not happening. I wouldn’t be so gullible ever again, which made me wonder why I sat here pretending everything was fine with Rafe.
“More chicken and rice?” I asked, passing the serving dish down to Rafe.
“Thanks.” He spooned another large portion on his plate and wolfed it down.
Men who drove fancy sports cars probably expected more out of Sunday dinner than a casserole, congealed salad, canned green beans doctored up by Mama, and store-bought rolls, but he wasn’t complaining. Worse, he acted as if nothing was wrong.
“There’s this new guy who wants to be on the yearbook staff,” Lexy said when I asked her about her week at school. “He’s a photographer like me.”
“Is he cute?” Charla asked, vibrating with enthusiasm. “Is he a freshman?”
“He is in my grade. You may have seen him. He wears dark framed glasses and has really short hair. He had on a button-down collar dress shirt on Friday.”
Charla made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Major geek. Don’t waste a minute on him. You’ll never fascinate him as much as the mysteries of the universe.”
“He’s an excellent photographer. His pictures really grab you. Everyone on staff couldn’t stop talking about his pictures last week.”
“You take good pictures, too,” I said. One of the puppies over in the puppy box started yipping. I shushed him. “I’m sure there’s room for two top-notch photographers on the yearbook staff.”
Silently, I urged Charlie to chime in and support his youngest daughter, but my ex-husband was lost in his own world. Some things never changed.
“Mom, our cheerleading captain has the cutest little car. It’s pink. Who knew they made pink cars? I want one like Liz’s car, only I want mine to be purple. That’d be way cool.”
I scooped up a forkful of chocolatey and peanuty green beans. “Got news for you, dear. Your car is a classic color. Gunmetal gray to be exact.”
“Oh, Mom. Not the beast.” Charla’s horror radiated from every fiber of her being. “You can’t be so cruel as to make me drive the Gray Beast. Everyone has already seen that car.”
“It’s a survivor, and survival’s what I want for you.”
At the scrape of a fork, I glanced over and saw Rafe’s plate was empty again. “More?”
He sat back in his chair, patting his flat abdomen. “No, thanks. I’m good. It was delicious.”
“I’ll say,” Charlie chimed in. “Marry me again, Cleo. I can’t live without your chicken and rice casserole.”
Rafe glared at Charlie. As the testosterone level in the room ramped exponentially, I sought a way to diffuse the situation. A brawl between my lover and my ex-husband would ruin my day—and everyone else’s, for that matter.
“Can’t do it, Charlie,” I said. The puppies starting yipping again. Their mother shot me a look of exasperation and slunk out of the room. “Chicken and rice comes with an expectation of fidelity.”
He gave me his best my-shit-doesn’t-stink smile. “You can’t keep holding that against me. What do you say to forgiving and forgetting?”
“Nope. I have a policy about that. No do-overs.”
“Drat. I’ll have to change my name and romance you from scratch.”
Before I could throw him out, Mama and her fiancé arrived. She’d met Bud Flook through Daddy, and Bud had been in love
with her ever since. He waited throughout her long and happy marriage to my father, and now he’d finally gotten the girl of his dreams. I couldn’t be happier for them.
“Hello, hello!” Mama breezed in, waving her diamond-clad hand through the air so that the stone flashed when it caught the light.
Rafe stood to give her a kiss. Charlie lumbered to his feet and did the same. “That’s some rock you got there, Delilah,” Charlie said. “You found a sugar daddy?”
“Better than that. I got me a husband-in-waiting. Bud and I are getting hitched at Trinity Episcopal in three Saturdays. Everyone here is invited to the wedding. No invitations will be sent.”
Charlie nodded. “Gotcha.”
Rafe inclined his head in Mama’s direction. “Congratulations to you both.”
“You gonna dance at my wedding?” Mama asked, staring directly at Rafe.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Well, then. That’s all right.”
After dinner, Rafe and I escaped to the porch swing while the kids did their homework and Charlie did the dishes. Rafe glanced at me under his lashes when I sat down in the far corner of the swing instead of snuggling up to his side.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“You tell me.”
“Nothing’s wrong on my end. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
“You’ve heard the expression ‘once bitten, twice shy’?”
He nodded.
“Charlie’s adultery hit me hard. I’ve made no secret of the fact that you’re the first person I’ve seriously dated since my divorce. I learned my lesson. I won’t tolerate infidelity or lying in a relationship.”
His expression sobered. Did he know where I was going with this? Did I know? Yes. I did. “You want to tell me why you cancelled our date last night?”
“I told you. Something came up. It was personal.”
“You went to the Catoctin View Motel.”
His jaw dropped. “You know about that?”
“I do. I can think of one very good reason a man would visit a motel known to be a hangout for prostitutes.”
3 Dime If I Know Page 2
