The Real Thing

by Linda Rettstatt

  “It’s the city. I admit I miss the garage. Parking is a challenge.” He handed Rob one of the cans of soda. “Sit down.”

  Rob reluctantly sat on the sofa. “Did you buy this furniture?”

  “Nope. It came with the place. I know, it’s not the greatest, but it’ll do.” He sat opposite his son in the recliner and set the can on a coaster on the coffee table. “Rob, you’re almost an adult, so I’m not going to talk to you as if you’re eight years old. Your mom and I have hit a rough patch. We don’t seem to want the same things right now. Sometimes when that happens, it’s best to take a few steps back and get perspective. I chose to move out for a while to do that.”

  “You mean you and Mom don’t both want to be married any more?” The crack in his son’s voice grabbed his heart. The kid was scared and trying to be brave.

  “I know this is confusing and a little scary. Heck, it confuses and scares me, too. Grownups don’t always have the right answers. Sometimes we’re walking around in the dark for a while. I love you and your sister and your Mom more than anything. I don’t want a divorce. I want your mom and me to find our way back to each other.”

  “How are you supposed to do that when you live in different places?”

  “Temporarily. Just for a little while. Do you remember when you were little and we went to that circus in Monroeville? Remember the house of mirrors? They distorted everything. And the closer you got to the mirror, the more distorted the image became. It’s like that. I can’t see things clearly right now and the closer I get, the harder it is to see.”

  “It’s Mom’s fault, isn’t it? She spends all her time in her office, writing those books neither of you will let me read. And she wears that get-up, like she’s somebody else. Janelle DuMonde. Why can’t she just be Jane Devereaux and write? It’s like she wants to be someone else, not one of us.”

  Mitch stood and moved to the sofa to sit beside his son—the little boy that was now nearly his height and almost a man. He put a hand on Rob’s knee. “I know this is scary for you. It’s not all your mother’s fault. It takes two to make or break a marriage. Your mom always wanted to be a writer, you know. But we got married and Kristi came along, then a few years later we had you. Well, your mom decided you two needed her more than she needed a career. Now that the two of you are grown up, she can pursue that dream.”

  “A dream that doesn’t include any of us,” Rob muttered.

  “That’s not true and you know it. Your mom’s writing has already paid for college for both you and Kristi.”

  “I don’t care about the money, Dad. You make enough for us.”

  Mitch sat back and sighed. “About that. I, um, lost my job this week.”

  “How are you going to live here, then?”

  “Look around. This isn’t exactly the Ritz.”

  Rob gave him a puzzled look at the reference too old for him to comprehend.

  “I can afford to stay here for a while. Hey, it’s a good thing. I wasn’t that happy with my job. Now I get a chance to think about what I really want to do.”

  “Great. Who are you thinking of becoming?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Are we ordering pizza or what? I’m hungry.”

  “Pizza with everything coming right up.” Mitch called the pizza shop he’d found on the corner and ordered. “Rob, everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

  He hoped. He hoped he wasn’t making a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. The outcome didn’t rest with him alone.

  By the time he dropped Rob off at home, Mitch was exhausted. Dealing with emotions wasn’t his thing. He usually left that to Jane when one of the kids was upset about something. He thought he’d handled things pretty well, though. Rob seemed to understand and, for as much as he was able, to accept Mitch’s explanation.

  He felt pretty good about the way he’d handled things until his phone rang half an hour later. “Hello?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jane demanded.

  “Huh?”

  “You told our son that I wanted a career in writing, but had to put that on hold to raise our children and, now that they’re old enough to fend for themselves, I’m pursuing that career? Are you crazy?”

  “I didn’t exactly phrase it that way.”

  “He heard it that way, like he and Kristi held me back from what I wanted to do. He’s convinced I never really wanted a family and that, now, I’ve become someone else and don’t care about him or Kristi or you any longer.”

  “That is not what I said to him. He’s hurt and he’s scared. That’s his own interpretation.”

  “He won’t even talk to me. He says he wants to come and live with you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have a tiny one bedroom apartment.”

  “Oh, great. Tell him that and he’ll be convinced you don’t have room in your life for him. Do me a favor. When you call Kristi, which you need to do soon, leave me out of your explanation for your actions.”

  The call ended and Mitch stared at the phone. He needed to better prepare himself for a conversation with his daughter or he’d screw that up, too. Two attempts to reach her went to voicemail. He finally left a message saying everything was okay, but that he wanted her to call him back as soon as possible.

  His phone woke him from a sound sleep at two a.m. “Kristi? What’s wrong?”

  “Dad? You told me call you as soon as I could. I just got in.”

  Mitch blinked and glanced at the clock. “It’s two in the morning. Where were you?”

  “I was out with my study group. What’s up?”

  He stumbled through an explanation that he had moved out of the house, trying not to direct any of the blame on Jane, and hearing the anxiety in his daughter’s voice.

  “Should I come home this weekend?”

  “No, honey. Your Mom and I are both fine.” Liar “I told her I was going to call you, since I’m the one who moved.” But I don’t feel like the one who moved. “I’ll see you next week for Thanksgiving. It’s at Uncle Dave’s house.”

  “I wasn’t planning to come home for Thanksgiving. Remember? I’m going to Ft. Lauderdale for the break with some friends. I told you and Mom. Maybe I should come home now, though.”

  He was stunned. This would be the first family holiday that his daughter wasn’t with them. “I forgot about that trip. Your mom was okay with it?”

  “Yes. She didn’t say a word about you two being separated. Oh, my God, my parents are separated.” Her voice shook. “Are you getting a di-divorce?”

  “Kristi, calm down. We’re not getting a divorce. You should go with your friends for Thanksgiving, though I’ll miss you. Do you need any money?”

  “Mom sent me a check already. Why didn’t she say anything to me? Poor Mom, she must be so upset.”

  Poor Mom? He shouldn’t be surprised. Kristi had always been closer to Jane. Other people marveled at the relationship Jane had with Kristi through their daughter’s teen years when other mothers and their daughters had daily battles. Of course Kristi would worry about Jane.

  “Your mom’s okay. I just talked to her a little while ago.” And she reamed me out for mishandling the talk with your brother. “I told her I was going to call you. She’ll probably talk with you tomorrow.”

  “I have to go, Daddy. I need to make sure Mom’s okay.”

  Kristi only called him Daddy when she either wanted something from him or when she was feeling afraid. If she called Jane at two in the morning, upset after talking with him, he was pretty sure he’d bungled this conversation as well. He could only wait for Jane’s follow-up call.

  It came at exactly two-fifty-four.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anxiety rattled Jane on Thanksgiving eve. She hadn’t bothered to buy a turkey or any of the fixings. Why go to all that trouble for one person? Kristi had wanted to change her plans and come home, but Jane had managed to convince her she was fine. Okay, so she lied and said she was flying to New Mexico to
visit her sister. Stephanie had called again to see if she needed a ride to airport. Another lie as she said no, that she would park her car there. Now she just needed to stay out of sight for the next four days. She would leave the car in the garage and stay in her office in the back of the house and write.

  By the following afternoon, Jane found herself distracted and pacing the house. Sadness draped her like a wet blanket. She should at least eat a Thanksgiving meal, which meant she had to go out and find a restaurant that was open today. After cruising around town, she headed north and found a Denny’s that sported a huge Open for Thanksgiving sign in front.

  “Just one?” the hostess asked.

  Jane nearly burst into tears at the question. She nodded.

  Two couples and a few other loners—mostly elderly men—occupied a smattering of tables and booths. Jane was led to a booth near the front window. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

  She dropped her coat and purse on one seat and then sat in the other. Snow had begun to fall—tiny white flakes drifting lazily to settle on the bushes and melt on contact with the cement. When the waitress appeared and welcomed her, Jane forced a smile. “I’ll have the turkey dinner, please.”

  “And to drink?”

  A stiff shot of bourbon? “Just water for now. Thanks.”

  The lone diners each sat hunched over his plate. The two couples smiled and chatted while they ate. She wondered if they saw her the way she saw the men who ate alone. A plate of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, milky green bean casserole, and a blob of canned cranberry sauce was slid in front of her. Tan greasy gravy covered everything but the green beans, yams and cranberry sauce. She swallowed hard and stuck her fork into the stuffing. It lifted in one huge ball.

  “Not like Mom used to make, huh?”

  The male voice startled her and she looked up. “Officer Blakely. Are you stalking me?”

  He grinned. “No, ma’am. Just taking my dinner break.”

  “Oh, so you’re working today.”

  He glanced down at his uniform. “I don’t generally wear this get-up otherwise.” He paused and then asked. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

  Jane looked around at the empty tables and booths and at the hostess who was waiting to seat him across the dining room. “Uh, I think she’s waiting to seat you over there.”

  “I’m sorry. Is your husband with you?”

  “No, he’s, uh…. Please, have a seat.”

  He waved at the hostess and slid into the seat across from Jane, pushing her coat and purse to the side. “I hate eating alone, especially on Thanksgiving. All that hype about it being a family holiday. But someone has to serve and protect.” He studied her plate. “I suppose I have to order that, too. At least the pie should be good. You go ahead. It can’t be any better cold.” He motioned to the waitress and pointed toward Jane’s plate.

  Jane forked up some stuffing and chewed. “You know, this isn’t half bad, better than it looks.”

  The waitress returned with a dinner for the officer. “Anything else?”

  “Not just yet, thank you.” He dug into the turkey and stuffing like a man facing his last meal.

  Jane watched him devour the almost-like-home turkey dinner while she picked at her food, her appetite waning.

  “Officer Blakely….”

  “Scott.”

  It seemed odd to her to be sitting across from this man who was not her husband and having dinner with him, not to mention calling him by his first name. “Okay. Scott. Are you married?”

  “Not any more.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. Neither is she. It was a mistake from the start. She couldn’t handle my being a police officer. I couldn’t handle her nagging about my being a police officer.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “No, thank God. That would have made things messy. We were only married for two years. We’re friends now, though. We kind of agreed to disagree and moved on. She’s engaged to a school teacher, though I’m not sure that’s much of a safer profession these days.”

  He nudged his empty plate aside and motioned for the waitress. “I’ll have a nice big slice of pumpkin pie with lots of whipped cream. Jane?”

  “What?” She was taken off guard by her first name coming out of his mouth.

  “Pie?”

  “Oh, sure.” Jane smiled at the waitress. Then she looked back at Scott. “How did you know my name?”

  “I saw it on your driver’s license. I also know your age and hair color, though I like the shade you’re wearing now.”

  Jane felt the flush creep up her neck. “Thanks. Are you always this friendly with your perps?”

  He laughed. “My perps?”

  “The people you stop for speeding or whatever.”

  His face paled. “If I’ve overstepped a boundary, I apologize. My mother used to say I never met a stranger. I like people. They’re fascinating. But I shouldn’t assume people like me or want to be bothered. I’ll get my pie to go.”

  “No. Please, I didn’t mean that you were bothering me. Truthfully, I hated coming here to eat alone. I was invited to my sister-in-law’s house, but my husband and his mother were going there.”

  “A little too tense, huh?”

  “Right now.”

  The waitress delivered two plate-sized portions of pie, each covered in a mound of whipped topping.

  “I’ll have coffee, black,” Jane said.

  “Me, too,” Scott said. “So, Jane, what do you do?”

  “Do? You mean like work? I’m a writer.”

  “No kidding. What do you write? Anything I might have read?”

  She laughed. “I doubt it. I guess you’d call my books spicy romance novels.”

  “My mother loves that stuff. I’ll have to tell her about you.”

  “I write as Janelle DuMonde.”

  His eyes widened. “Seriously? I have…uh…she has all of your books, can’t say enough about them. When’s the next one coming out? I’d love to get her an autographed copy.”

  Jane sighed. “Maybe never if I don’t get back on track with it.”

  Just then Scott’s two-way radio issued a call. “Oops, I’ve gotta run.” He pulled a wallet from his back pocket and deposited a twenty on the table. “This should cover it.”

  Jane slid the money back to him. “Please, let me. My way of thanking you for your service on a holiday.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I know. But please.”

  “Thank you, Jane. I’ll read one of your books.” He picked up his uniform hat and hurried out the door.

  ~ * ~

  Mitch was half way to his brother’s house in Wexford when he realized he’d promised to pick up a couple of pies. The bakery would be closed for sure. Then he spotted Denny’s. They had pie. Surely he could just buy two whole pies. He pulled into the nearly vacant lot. As he passed the front windows, he glanced inside. What he saw nearly stopped him in his tracks. There sat Jane—his wife—laughing and having dinner with a police officer. The guy looked vaguely familiar. Just as Mitch opened the door of the restaurant, the officer hurried past him and jumped into his cruiser, pulling out with lights flashing. Not wanting to chance running into Jane who was supposed to be in New Mexico, he turned right around and headed back to his SUV. How many other things had she lied about?

  Had she been seeing this guy for a while, or was he her knew character model? Was he even a real cop or just playing out one of Janelle’s scenes? Mitch wasn’t sure what to think or believe.

  He parked at the curb in front of his brother’s house and went inside hoping no one would notice the missing pies. Who was he kidding? It was Thanksgiving. Of course they’d notice.

  “Mitch, where are the pies?”

  “Hi, Mom. I, uh, got to the bakery too late last night. Sorry.”

  “But it’s Thanksgiving.”

  “I know that, but I couldn’t get pies. I’m sure we’l
l survive.”

  His mother glared at him. “Don’t you get snippy with me.”

  “I’m sorry.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see if there’s a grocery store open. I’ll be right back.”

  Stephanie came around the corner. “You’ll do no such thing. I have pumpkin cookies in the freezer and they’ll be fine for dessert. Come on in, Mitch. Make yourself at home.” She took his arm and steered him around Charlotte.

  He bent to kiss her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome. Now behave yourself and we’ll get through dinner.”

  “Where are the kids? Where’s Robbie?” Charlotte asked.

  “Robbie’s skiing with a friend and his family. Kristi is in Ft. Lauderdale with her friends.”

  “They should be here with their family,” Charlotte muttered.

  “Mom, don’t start.” He pressed his lips together to hold back his anger. “They’re growing up and they’re old enough to spend time with their friends.”

  Dave came in and shoved a bottle of Heineken into his hand.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, any new job leads?” his brother asked.

  Mitch closed his eyes, waiting for it.

  “Job leads? Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t tell me you quit your job, Mitchell.”

  “No, Mom, I did not quit my job. I was let go.” He took a long draw on the beer.

  “Because of that episode with your heart? They can’t let you go because of that. You can sue,” Charlotte continued.

  “I didn’t have an episode with my heart and I’m not suing, Mom. Lately I hated that job. I want to find something less frantic, less competitive.”

  “That won’t be easy for a man your age and with your experience.”

  A man my age? Even my mother?

  Stephanie appeared in the doorway. “Charlotte, would you help me with the gravy. No one makes gravy the way you do.”

  “Of course.”

  Mitch mouthed a ‘thank you’ to his sister-in-law behind his mother’s back.

  “I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t realize Mom didn’t know about the job.”

  “It’s okay. She’d find out eventually.”