скачать книгу бесплатно
That’s the way it had been for the bathroom and the kitchen. Layer after layer and layer. It was entirely possible there weren’t even any walls left, that the entire house was held together with varying colors of floral wallpaper—each layer seemingly more butt ugly and more steam resistant than the last one.
Steam, keep steaming, scrape.
She got off another piece and tried to hold on to the reminder that one day this would all look as if it weren’t stuck in the seventies. One day she’d be able to finish off the walls and the floors, and clear out the boxes so that she could see a sign she wanted to see.
For Sale.
Steam, keep steaming, scrape.
But on the scrape segment of this particular square inch of space, Claire heard something that had her climbing off the step ladder. It wasn’t Ethan, either, because she could see him. He was sitting nearby creating a toy-car postapocalyptic scene on the floor.
Claire stepped around Ethan and looked out the screen portion of the front door. She’d left the actual front door open to catch the semicool breeze.
Uh-oh.
This was an unholy alliance if ever Claire had seen one.
Livvy, Daniel and Trisha.
All three of them had just exited their vehicles and were strolling toward the front porch. Claire was sure there was a joke in there somewhere: a blond Realtor, a brunette lawyer and a redheaded wedding planner all walk into a house...
But she couldn’t quite come up with a punch line that would ease the sudden knot in her stomach.
Claire had known Livvy was on her way because Livvy had called to say she’d be there sometime that afternoon. But the other two certainly hadn’t given her a heads-up. Too bad or she would have been somewhere else. Anywhere else.
If Claire had still been in third grade, such wimpiness would have earned her the chicken-dookie label, but it was a label she would proudly bear if she could have just delayed this meeting with Daniel.
Thankfully, Livvy had brought wine with her.
Claire put her steamer and scraper aside, opened the screen door and steeled herself for this visit.
Livvy went ahead of the other two, teetering up the limestone walk on sparkly silver heels so thin she could have picked her teeth with them. They matched her sparkly silver pants and top stretched around her latest boob job. Like with her husbands, Livvy liked to trade up in bra sizes every couple of years.
Claire wasn’t sure exactly what Livvy’s natural hair color was. That, too, had changed frequently over the past eight years since they’d bought Dearly Beloved together. Today it was I Love Lucy red with threads of acid green and was piled on top of her head like a volcanic eruption.
Somehow, Livvy made it all work.
“Vee!” Ethan squealed, and he rushed out to greet Livvy. She scooped him up, spun him around and made piggy snorting sounds while she kissed his neck.
Ethan laughed like a loon, and Claire lapsed into a smile despite that abdominal knot. Yes, Livvy always made it work not just with her son and hair but also with everything else. Livvy created magic.
“I’ve got something for my favorite boy,” Livvy announced. She set him back down on the porch and plucked a silver toy car from her cleavage.
Another squeal from Ethan. Another laugh. God, he was such an easy kid to please. Despite the car stash he already had on the porch and in the house, he obviously thought this one was special.
“And this is for you, Claire. I stopped at the grocery store for this.” Livvy held up a bottle of wine, the sweet, cheap stuff they both favored. She gathered Claire into her arms, smacked a kiss on her cheek and added in a whisper, “These two saw me in town, and I wasn’t able to shake them.”
Of course, Livvy didn’t actually whisper it softly enough for Daniel and Trisha not to hear her. Which was probably Livvy’s intent all along. She played a little passive-aggressive with people she didn’t like.
“Claire,” Trisha said, obviously taking Livvy’s cue and hugged Claire, too. She looked as if she were about to head off to a photo shoot for Chanel number whatever. Smelled like it, too. “We came to check on you. To make sure you weren’t wallowing in your grief.”
“No wallowing,” Claire assured her, sounding as genuine in her response as Trisha had been with the comment.
No genuineness whatsoever.
Daniel stayed back, waiting his turn, and when Trisha stepped away, he moved in for his own hug. “Good to see you, baby,” he said in a real whisper, and he went in for a kiss. Not a cheek smacker like Livvy, but the real thing.
Claire felt her muscles go stiff. Felt that knot in her stomach tighten. Nerves, she assured herself. Not repulsion.
Daniel stepped back, taking in everything with a sweeping glance. Her shorts and top. Bare feet. Ethan’s car menagerie. The boxes she’d been sorting through. The bits of wallpaper stuck to her hair and face.
“I thought you’d be further along in clearing out this stuff,” he commented.
Daniel started a lot of sentences with those three words, including the contraction—I thought you’d. Anything that came after that would almost certainly be a drawled dressing-down that he would then punctuate with a smile.
Right on cue, he smiled.
Livvy wasn’t the only one who liked to play the passive-aggressive game.
“I’m making progress,” she assured him though it didn’t look like it at the moment.
This latest round of boxes was mostly paper—more calendars, magazines and old bills. Claire had put some rocks and terracotta pots with dead plants on top of the various piles to keep the wind from blowing anything away.
“Did you find the letter?” Livvy asked. She had plopped herself down on the porch with Ethan and the cars and didn’t seem to notice the way her question snagged Trisha’s and Daniel’s attention.
“What letter?” the pair asked in unison.
Claire had to shrug. “It was just something Gran mentioned on a calendar. But she never gave me a letter.” She waited to see if either of them knew anything about it, but Trisha had moved on to checking her phone and Daniel was more interested in observing her half-up, half-down ponytail.
“I thought you’d have called me by now,” he said. The smile came just as the now was slipping from his mouth.
The mess on her porch actually came in handy. “I’ve been busy.”
He made a sound that could have meant anything and picked up the folder beneath the pot holding a dead spider plant.
“How’s Ethan doing with the Little Genius kits?” Since Daniel had been the one to recommend them, he clearly had an interest in them.
Claire made a so-so motion with her hand.
“Maybe I can give it a try. Sometimes boys respond better to a man’s voice.”
She would have liked to challenge that, but Daniel did do a lot of reading about child development. More than she did.
Daniel took the picture on top, van Gogh’s Starry Night, and he held it up. “Ethan?” Of course, he had to repeat it because Ethan was bashing his new car into the old ones. By the time he’d said Ethan’s name four times, Daniel’s voice was more of a bark.
“Remember the FUN! part of this,” Claire mumbled to herself.
Ethan finally realized he was being summoned and looked at the picture. “Money!” he yelled.
“He means Monet,” Claire translated.
“No.” Daniel drew that out a few syllables, probably not nearly as frustrated with Ethan as he was with not proving the point about that whole male-voice thing. “Try again.”
“Riley!” Ethan shouted. And no Ri-wee, either. This was very, very clear.
Trisha and Daniel turned to her so fast that Claire heard necks pop. “Riley’s been working with him on these?” Daniel’s question sounded a lot like a jealous accusation.
Which it probably was.
“Of course not,” Claire answered. “Riley’s recovering from his injury. He doesn’t have time to play with Ethan.”
Daniel looked at her as if he expected her nose to start growing. But it wasn’t a lie. It’d been three days since Riley’s visit, and he certainly hadn’t played with Ethan then. Riley had fixed Ethan’s car and then left looking as if he was about to collapse from the pain.
“Give me that.” Livvy craned her long, lithe body up enough to snatch the picture from Daniel. She didn’t even have to say Ethan’s name to get his attention. “Okay, see this.” She held up the toy van.
Claire nearly confessed that she’d already tried that, but she decided to watch and see how this played out.
Livvy tugged off one of her shoes, wiggled her toes and put the van right next to all that wiggling.
“Van Gogh!” Ethan squealed.
Claire laughed.
But Daniel huffed. “How does that help him, giving him a clue like that?”
“Seriously? It helped because he got it right.” Livvy put her shoe back on, plucked another car from her cleavage—a candy-apple-red Mustang—and gave it to Ethan. “Here’s your prize for guessing right.” That brought on more squeals of delight, more giggling.
More huffing from Daniel.
And a bitchy look from Trisha. “What else do you have in there?” Trisha tipped her head to Livvy’s boobs.
“A picnic basket.” Livvy stood and patted Trisha’s arm, and Claire could almost feel the condescension coming. Livvy looked at Trisha’s breasts, which were impressively sized but looked more like fried eggs when compared with Livvy’s. “Maybe you can try growth cream on them or something. Then you’ll have a place for a Lunchable or maybe just some Goldfish crackers.”
Time for some interference since Trisha was no doubt gearing up her bitchy-response generator. Claire looped her arm around Livvy’s waist. “Livvy and I will get some iced tea.”
Trisha must have taken that as a call to arms because she followed them, leaving Daniel and Ethan on the porch.
“Are you falling for Riley again?” Trisha asked the moment they were out of Daniel’s earshot.
Claire kept moving toward the kitchen. “That’s an are-you-still-beating-your-wife question. Because you’re assuming I’ve fallen for Riley before.”
Claire had, but that wouldn’t help her win this argument, and if she started losing too much ground, Livvy would step in and try to win the argument for her. It could turn into a catfight. Not an actual one, but there’d be some name-calling and shouting. Something that Claire didn’t want Ethan to hear.
“Riley won’t be as good with Ethan as Daniel,” Trisha added as if it were gospel.
And, of course, if Riley was indeed with Ethan and her, then he wouldn’t be with Trisha. That’s really what this was all about, but Trisha skittered out of there before Claire could remind her of that. Trisha probably hurried so she could tell Daniel he needed to watch his back, that he had some competition.
Livvy unscrewed the wine bottle, dumped a generous portion into a glass measuring cup that she took from the drying rack in the sink. “You want a side of backbone to go with that slice of milquetoast?”
Claire didn’t have to ask for clarification. Livvy was talking about Daniel’s and Claire’s reactions, or Claire’s lack of reaction, to each other.
“I can’t imagine you ever having sex with that guy,” Livvy added.
Claire skipped a glass and drank right out of the bottle. “Daniel’s really good-looking.”
“So is that painting by van Gogh. Doesn’t mean it’d be great in bed.” Livvy downed half a glass of the wine in one long swig. “Was he ever a great?”
“Of course.” Claire had more wine. Figured she’d regret what she was about to say but said it anyway. “If I grade it on a curve.”
Livvy leaned in and lowered her voice to a real whisper. “Never grade a fuck on a curve, Claire. Never.”
And with that screensaver-worthy advice, Livvy gave a satisfied nod.
Probably because Livvy knew she was right. Still, there were other things more important than sex. Like being with a man who hadn’t had a hole blown in his shoulder. A man who would go back for another hole-blowing as soon as he could.
Gosh, that was a dismal thought. One that ate away at that safety net she’d spent too long building around herself.
Since it seemed as if Livvy was about to dole out more advice, Claire went on the offensive. “How are things with the albino? Did his pinkeye clear up?”
Livvy had more wine before she answered. “It didn’t work out. He said my tits were hard as rocks.”
“They are.” Claire went to the fridge, took out the pitcher of iced tea, a juice box for Ethan and some glasses. “Hugging you comes with risks. I think you inverted one of my nipples once.”
“Ha-ha. I’m not arguing with you, but he said my tits bruise his chest when I’m on top.”
That wasn’t an image Claire wanted in her head. Too late. It was already there. “So, you’re not going to see him again?”
“Nope. I have another date next week. I’ll call you afterwards and tell you all about it. Come on. Give them their tea so they’ll get the hell out of here and we can have a good visit.”
Livvy helped her with the glasses, and they made their way back to the porch. Trisha and Daniel were having a whispered conversation, but they broke away as if they’d just been caught picking their noses.
“Is there a problem?” Claire asked.
Daniel cleared his throat. “I thought you’d want me to correct Ethan. I told him not to keep crashing the cars.” He paused, gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Because it might bring up old memories for you.”
Maybe it was the rush of sugary wine to her head, but it took Claire a moment to make the connection. He was talking about the accident that’d killed Riley’s parents. “Uh, I know the difference between a toy car crash and a real one.”
And thankfully Ethan seemed to get that, too, because he kept playing his crashing game, which pretty much shot that theory about boys listening better to men.
Maybe that’s what put Daniel in such a sour mood, but Claire was betting it had to do with the gossip floating around about Riley’s visit to her place. And the other five-hundred-pound elephant on the porch—gossip about why Ethan looked so much like the man whose name her son loved to squeal. Whatever it was, it caused Daniel to slip his hand in Claire’s and maneuver her to the other end of the porch. Away from the metaphorical elephant. Away from Livvy and Trisha, too.
Of course, since Livvy and Trisha weren’t actually talking to each other, and the porch was only about ten feet wide, this likely wasn’t going to be a private conversation.
Or one that she especially wanted to have.
“Look, Daniel, Riley will be going back soon, so there’s really no need for us to discuss him.” There. She’d gotten that order of backbone after all, and it felt good.
“I don’t want to talk about Riley. I know you’re not interested in him and haven’t been since high school.”
