by Nina Howard
Wow, she knows her shit, Victoria thought. She was sure that any lawyer who worked for legal aid must have gotten their degree online, suddenly Victoria felt like she had won the legal jackpot.
“Okay!” Victoria said a bit too loudly. Mike looked up from ‘Michigan Avenue Woman’ magazine and raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what we can do for you Vicky,” Mercedes tried her best to be grave. “Your situation doesn’t look good. The FBI usually has all of its ducks in a row before they get to this point. And your friend there doesn’t look like he’s going to let anything slip by.”
“I’ll get this all to you as soon as possible. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Really, I can’t thank you enough. Thank you,” Victoria said, pumping Mercedes hand. She was so grateful she didn’t even feel like tackling the “Vicky” thing.
Mercedes got up to walk Victoria to the front door. “After I get a better idea of what we’re dealing with, we’ll assess the situation.” She handed Victoria her business card. “Here’s my email address, it’s the best way to contact me. As you may have noticed, I never answer my phone.”
As Victoria walked out of the door, with Mike following behind her, Mercedes walked up next to the receptionist, and they both watched the pair leave.
“Gloria, if this one doesn’t get me to quit, you need to make sure someone fires me,” Mercedes said, shaking her head.
###
Mike trotted to catch up with Victoria as she walked out of the office.
“How’d you do?” he asked.
“You’re FBI. Figure it out,” she was getting tired of having him around.
“She didn’t look like a lawyer. Did you see her degree?” he asked.
Victoria had thought the same thing. The receptionist looked more scholarly than Mercedes Flanagan.
“I don’t think you’d know what a real lawyer looks like,” she said.
“Where are we headed now?” Mike asked.
“What happened to you walking a block behind me? Isn’t that in the Secret Agent Handbook?” Victoria was getting crabby.
“Special Agent,” Mike corrected.
“I wonder how many kids dress up as ‘special agents’ for Halloween. Those costumes must be big sellers.”
“They are, but you just never see them. We’re supposed to be hard to spot.”
She looked up at him. “I hate to tell you, Towner, you’re not doing a very good job.”
He feigned being insulted. “Oh, and I’m wearing my best black sunglasses.”
“Those do look official. What are they, Ray Ban?”
“These are a highly technological piece of equipment that have been in top secret development for the past decade.”
“Okay, Get Smart. I’m impressed.”
So she does have a bit of pop culture appreciation after all. Mike was warming up to her. “Me too.”
As they stopped at the corner to wait for the light, Victoria felt him checking her out. Not in a very professional way. The light changed and she took off, leaving Mike and his witty repartee at the corner. He jogged across the street to catch up with her, knocking into commuters on the way.
“Hey, slow down! I’m not as young as I used to be,” he called.
“Did it ever occur to you that I wasn’t waiting for you?”
“Impossible!” He waited for some kind of response and got none. “Oh, come on, can’t we be friends?”
Victoria stopped in her tracks. “Friends? Friends? You come into my house, frighten my children, scare the hell out of me, take everything I own, stalk me halfway across the country and won’t leave me alone? Now you want to be friends?”
She started to cross the street, and barely missed getting hit by a bus. Mike stood and let her go. He had to admit, when you looked at it that way, he did come off as a major shit. Problem was, he just didn’t feel like one.
CHAPTER 11
Looking at her mother’s bicycle leaning against the chain link fence, Victoria couldn’t stomach the humiliation of riding it home. It was almost criminal the way her shoes were scraped up on the way to town, and she wanted to keep the damage at a minimum. Instead, she lazily walked the bike home, daring to walk though the commercial district to see what had changed since the 70s.
Charming to it’s core, Tenaqua had spurned the suburban sprawl that had engulfed some of its neighbors. No strip malls or dollar stores for this picturesque town. Even the McDonalds was housed in a tasteful faux-tudor storefront with nary a neon yellow M to be seen. It amazed Victoria that while the town had changed, of course, in the twenty years since she had left, so much was exactly the same. The same grocery store where you could buy anything and put it on your ‘house account’, the same sporting goods shop that sold the middle school gym uniforms that Victoria hated, the same needlepoint store, which astounded Victoria to think that there was enough business in needlepoint to stay open for thirty-plus years.
The town wasn’t stuck in a total time warp. The shoe store - it had to be new because the one Victoria remembered sold Bare Traps and Dr. Scholl’s - had a display featuring some of Victoria’s old friends: Stuart Weitzman, Kate Spade and Pedro Garcia. No Blahniks or Loeffler Randall, but she was in a fly-over state after all. A surprisingly inventive display in a darling woman’s boutique featured mannequins with globes for heads and video iPods imbedded in their hands. Victoria didn’t need to see a label to recognize the designers. She could spot a Stella McCartney dress at 50 feet. She had seen this particular one front row at Stella’s show in Paris last fall.
The local book store listed their calendar of visiting authors. There was an upcoming lecture featuring an ex-first lady, a book reading given by Oprah’s latest author-of-the-moment and a plug for the book club’s latest selection: Poor Girl in Richietown. Hah! She could have written that one herself.
She walked by a little wine bar that had cafe tables set up on the sidewalk. Three women sat sipping white wine. One of them was dressed in a beautiful suit - she could tell it was Burberry even though it thankfully was missing the telltale plaid accents - the other two were dressed in standard-issue workout clothes. Did these women ever dress properly? For God’s sake, it was after 6:00. All three, however, were sporting rings that twenty years ago would have been deemed vulgar. She was surprised that they could lift their tiny hands with those big rocks tied to them. None of them had food in front of them. Victoria looked at their oversized wineglasses and was weak with envy. For the wine, and maybe just a little bit, for the girlfriends.
Victoria fingered her own wedding ring. Trip had given her his grandmother’s engagement ring when he proposed. It had been a complete surprise - he had taken her to Graff to browse ‘for fun’, so when she opened the box that held a vintage filagree diamond surrounded by sapphires, it took her breath away. She had never had anything that was ‘heirloom’ and loved that it was in Trip’s family. She always thought she’d give it to Posey when she got married - something old and something blue - though the way things were looking she’d have to hock it before that day came.
###
When she got home from her brutal day downtown, all Victoria wanted to do was to lie on the sofa and eat. Instead, Parker and Posey came bursting through the door, excited about their day at school.
“Mom! We’re going to have a play,” Posey said, with just the hint of a lisp as her front tooth was loose, hanging by a thread. “We’re going to do ‘The Wizard of Oz!’” she could barely contain herself. “A real play on the stage and everything! I want to be a munchkin.”
Victoria considered for a moment that she had never screened “The Wizard of Oz” for her children. It must have been another dose of childhood memory compliments of Lumi. Her contribution so far seemed to be reruns of ‘The Simpsons’ and ‘Friends’.
“Parker wants to be the Cowardly Lion, but he’s embarrassed. I think he’d be a good lion, don’t you Mommy?” Posey asked.
Parker’s hair had grown in the fe
w weeks that they’d been here, and fell just over his eyes. He looked more like Trip than ever. He would make an adorable lion.
“Lions are fierce,” Victoria said as she made little claws out of her hands. She had been watching reruns of ‘Project Runway’ and thought she was so hip to be incorporating the word ‘fierce’ into her vocabulary.
“Mom, the lion is a coward,” Parker spoke to her like she was an idiot. “I hate cowards. They run away from everything. Do I have to be in the dumb play?”
“Of course not. Remember, that lion started out a coward, and got brave at the end,” Victoria didn’t like the reference to cowards. Is that what he thought of Trip?
“Whatever,” Parker said as he left for the kitchen. He would have never dared speak to her like that in New York, now it seemed that all their New York ways had sailed off to sea. Probably to the Caymans.
“Are munchkins brave, mommy?” Posey asked.
Victoria hugged Posey and pulled her onto her lap. “They’re the bravest!” she said, not feeling very brave herself. She could learn a thing or two from this little munchkin.
###
After dinner, Victoria followed Parker and Posey’s lead and brought her plate up to the sink. Her mother raised an eyebrow, then decided it was best not to push it. She understood that Victoria had to do things at her own pace. It was a baby step, but it was a step in the right direction. Victoria was awkward standing in the kitchen, and Barbara wanted to head her off before she headed back to the sofa and TV.
“Vicky, honey, would you be a doll and take Fritzie for a walk?” she asked, not turning from the sink.
Victoria looked around. Bud had snagged the prime spot in front of the TV and was watching Wheel of Fortune at an unbearably high decibel level, her mother was up to her elbows in dishes, and Parker and Posey had disappeared. Walking the dog seemed like the most attractive option.
“Ok. Fritzie! Walkies?” She loved to rev the little dog up, who went completely berserk upon hearing anything that even closely resembled the word “walk”. Fritz dutifully came running, his little nails clattering across the tile kitchen floor. Why couldn’t they do something about that? Mimi Steinhope had little rubber covers made for her dog so he wouldn’t mark her hand-hewn walnut floors. Victoria grabbed his leash off the hook near the back door and bent down to hook his collar. When she tried to stand, she nearly lost her balance, and had to grab the door handle to help hoist her upright. I need the walk more than the dog, she thought.
Victoria stood on the front doorstep and did a quick scan to see if Mike or his “work truck” were anywhere to be seen. She saw that the coast was clear, she started on her way. Just as she turned a corner, she headed right into Mike.
“Don’t you sleep?” she asked.
“It’s 6:30. A little before my bedtime,” he said. “Are we going for a walk?”
Fritz started pulling at the leash, jumping up and down upon hearing the word ‘walk’.
“Trying to,” Victoria said, pushing past Mike.
Mike cheerfully caught up, though Victoria insisted on walking one step ahead of Mike. The three of them walked along for the next block and a half, Victoria leading, Fritz behind her and Mike just behind Fritz. They paraded up the block, Victoria not giving in and Mike not giving up.
They passed a house where a woman was kneeling, planting flowers in a bed next to the driveway. Victoria didn’t even give the woman a second look, she kept marching forward. Fritz, on the other hand, had other ideas. He wandered over and went nose to nose with the woman on her knees. Fritz stopped and wouldn’t budge, leaving Victoria no option but to stop as well.
The woman was bottle-blonde, in her mid-40s by Mike’s guess. She was wearing a very deep V-neck jersey top and skin-tight pedal pushers. Bending over it was easy to see her breasts swinging above the flowers as she worked. Victoria noticed that Mike didn’t feel a need to look away from the woman’s cleavage.
“Well, hello puppy!” the woman exclaimed as she looked up to see who was attached to the dog. Fritz nuzzled his nose in her blouse, deep into her cleavage.
“Fritz! Bad dog!” Victoria cried as she pulled Fritz out of the dark hole. “I’m so sorry. It’s not my dog.”
“He’s adorable!” the woman said as she stood up, brushing the dirt off her pants.
If her breasts seemed impressive when she was bent over, they were downright overwhelming upright. She looked at Victoria and a flash of recognition passed over her face.
“Vicky? Vicky Patterson? It’s me! Martha Morrison! Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Martha teetered on her high heeled mules.
Victoria inwardly cringed. “Martha, of course,” she said with her coolest reserve. Anyone who knew Victoria knew would know when she used that voice that the person she was talking to was socially crucified. Martha Morrison was voted Most Likely To Do Anything in high school, and from the looks of things, she hadn’t changed much. Victoria was surprised that she even knew who she was, now or then. Martha didn’t spend a lot of time with the girls.
“You look exactly the same - I would have known you anywhere,” Martha said. For someone who had spent the good part of the past 30 years working on reinventing themselves, that was the cruelest cut. “How are you?”
Miserable, Victoria thought. “Fine, thanks.”
“When did you move back to town?” Martha asked.
When my husband left me in a pile of dogshit bigger than what Fritz is about to leave on your lawn. “Oh, a few weeks ago,” Victoria answered.
“You sure did land yourself a handsome husband,” Martha cooed.
Victoria thought for a split second that she was talking about Trip. Martha was looking Mike over with an expert eye, and she clearly Martha liked what she saw.
“Oh, no! He’s not my husband,” Victoria cried.
“Really?” Martha almost purred the word as she looked Victoria up and down. What, Victoria thought? You think I’m having an affair? A chubby housewife wearing sweatpants and no makeup? Hardly the look of someone in the throes of a clandestine relationship.
“No, no,” Victoria couldn’t miss Martha’s inflection. “This is Mike, he’s a --” she hesitated for a minute, “a friend. Just friends, that’s all.”
Martha looked Mike over anew. “I’m divorced,” she told Mike in a half-whisper, as she wrinkled her nose and smiled. She gave Mike her hand, “Martha Morrison. Sooo nice to meet you.”
“We really have to be going. Mike?” Victoria gave him a glaring look.
Mike smiled charmingly at Martha, “It looks like we’ve got to run. Really great to meet you.”
Victoria was three paces ahead of him, dragging Fritz behind her.
“No, it was great to meet you!” Martha cried as she watched Mike catch up to Victoria.
They walked for a minute without saying anything. Mike couldn’t contain himself. “Nice girl,” he said.
“Nice girls, you mean,” Victoria answered. “I swear to God, not a soul knew me in high school and now that I’m back suddenly it’s like old home week. First Scott, now Martha. I’ve got to get out of this town.”
“Who’s Scott?” Mike asked.
Shoot! She didn’t mean to bring Scott up. “Some guy I went to high school with. They’re everywhere. Didn’t anybody leave this town?”
“Some people like where they grew up.”
“Hah. You’re not living in your hometown.”
“They wouldn’t have me. It was all worked out in an agreement with the Pennsylvania State Police.”
“Hilarious,” she said. “You are the cops, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Please. That hurts. Never call me a cop. I’m a highly trained agent,” he said, feigning dismay.
“Did you ace the dog walking class?” she asked. “Tough duty.”
“It has its perks.”
“Oh, like Martha,” Victoria was just a bit miffed that Martha was all over Mike.
“Yeah, like Martha,” he said sarcastically.
They walked in silence for a bit, and then Victoria blurted out, “Are you married?” She had noticed he didn’t wear a ring, but didn’t know if that was part of his uniform.
Like the sunglasses.
“This line of work doesn’t really lend itself to long-term relationships.” He had his fair share of women back in New York, although only for one or two dates. In fact, he hadn’t had a long-term relationship since Brooke. Sometimes he missed it, though work filled the void nicely.
“I don’t think I’d like my husband to be following unsuspecting women around 24/7.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. She didn’t want to talk about her husband.
Mike ignored the reference to her husband and laughed. “It can be a deal-breaker. Especially when I have such intriguing subjects on my watch.”
“You probably have a woman in every port,” she said, hoping it wasn’t true.
“Jealous?”
“Of the sketchy women in your life? Hardly.”
“Too bad. I think you’d look good in jealous.”
“I look much better in Gucci, thank you.”
“I bet you look good in almost anything,” he said. Again, he was looking at her in a way that made her feel flush. Neither of them knew where to go with this, so they just walked in silence all the way back to The Brewster’s house. They stood awkwardly in front of the house for a moment, and then Victoria said, “Well, goodnight.” They did that clumsy little dance when two people don’t know which way to go. When she finally got a clear path, she shot up to the door. She turned just as she opened the door. Mike was standing on the sidewalk, smiling, and waved to her. It was kind of sweet. She raised her hand and went inside.
She shut the door and pressed her back against it. She was flushed, and a bit breathless. What was that?
Bud looked up from the TV when she came in. “That walk sure looks like it did you a world of good. Really got your color up,” he said.
