Marriage Matters

Thirty-one

Chloe scanned the crowd at Dave & Busters, trying to spot her father. Not a difficult task. Kevin was the only six-foot-two grown man happily firing basketballs at an electronic basketball hoop.

Growing up, Chloe had loved the lazy summer nights she’d spent with her father, playing basketball in the driveway, playing catch in the backyard or tossing around a football. Even if he was disappointed by the fact that her football career would never go further than the front yard, he still tried to instill a passion in her for the game. Each year, he got them season tickets to the Bears.

Chloe loved those games. Feeling the cold metal of the bleachers, snacking on popcorn, drinking hot cocoa . . . The games were a priority and there had only been one time, in high school, where something became more important than that time with her father.

On that day, a friend called and asked her to go to the Water Tower. A boy they both liked was going to be there. Did she want to come? It took about a half-second for Chloe to say yes.

When she told her father she was ditching the game, he looked at her like she was a stranger. “But . . . we’re going to see the Bears.”

“Dad,” Chloe scoffed. “Come on. I’d rather not spend the day bored out of my mind.”

The hurt on his face, even though he tried to hide it, pierced her through the heart.

The following week, she joined him for the game. Even though he didn’t say a word about the week before, he cheered louder than usual, rattled off even more sports statistics and when the game was over, made a point of buying them matching T-shirts. On the car ride home, he’d ruffled her hair.

The Bears had been a tradition that had lasted just past high school. Chloe wished there was still time to see a game but there just wasn’t. Maybe someday, but for now, a quick dinner at a sports bar would have to do.

“Dad,” she called, waving.

Kevin glanced over. “Hey! Hold on. Just need to . . .” He made the last three shots. Then he rushed over and tackled her, lifting her high in the air. “How’s my girl?”

“Put me down,” Chloe laughed. “People are staring.”

Kevin dropped her to the floor, chuckling. Mussing her hair, he said, “You look smart. Like you learned a lot today.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. She’d stayed up until four studying and only made it through the day with the help of diet soda. “I look exhausted. But I did just take my first midterm. I might have passed.”

Thanks to Geoff, the test had been pretty easy. For two nights straight, they’d met at his office and prepared. There had been a few moments of relatively tame hanky-panky on the couch, and she did make him sing some shitty 1930s music, but mainly, he helped her study.

“Good,” Kevin said. “I’m proud of—”

An eight-year-old boy with a cowlick pushed past them, shoving money into the basketball machine. As the balls dropped with a clatter, Kevin eyed him like a bug. “Do you want me to physically remove that kid so we can play a few rounds?”

“Dad, stop that.” Chloe laughed. “He’s just a little boy.”

Kevin pretended to glower. “He’s a punk. I guess we could play air hockey instead.”

Chloe and her father used to play air hockey in their basement for hours, back before Ben broke the table. He’d accidentally dumped an entire cup of Mountain Dew into the console. She had never admitted that to her dad, even though he’d been looking for the culprit for years.

“Can we eat? I kinda have to hurry because I’m supposed to meet my . . .” Chloe coughed. “Boyfriend. After this.”

Kevin was already walking over to the hostess stand but he stopped short. “Boyfriend? Is it serious?”

She grinned. “Who knows?”

Her father eyed her for a long moment. “You know, you have to warn me if I’m going to have to pay for a wedding. And I want to meet this guy, first. No running off to Vegas.”

Chloe laughed. “Stop it. It’s serious, but . . . it’s no big deal.”

Since most of the dates with Geoff had included Mary Beth, it had started to become obvious to her that he wasn’t looking for a short-term fling. Plus, he kept talking about their relationship in future tense. The whole experience was completely different from the college guys she’d dated. Or that disastrous practice date with Ben.

“Huh.” Kevin grabbed some menus from the hostess stand, as well as a handful of mints. Squeezing the wrapper on one, he popped a candy into his mouth. “Is he a good guy?”

Before Chloe could answer, a young girl with bleached blonde hair rushed up. She was at least a few years younger than Chloe and wore bright blue eyeliner. “Table for two?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kevin nodded, handing her the menus. “Please.”

The young girl stared up at him with adoration. “Yes, sir. Follow me.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. Ew! Did a girl her very own age just flirt with her father?!

As they took a seat at the table, Chloe kept a close eye on the situation. The hostess made a point out of touching Kevin’s shoulder and telling him again and again to have a good meal. Honestly, Chloe was surprised she didn’t just climb into his lap.

“Ugh, I can’t believe that,” Chloe said when the girl practically skipped away from the table. “She just like . . . flirted with you.”

Kevin frowned. “Huh?” He looked after the girl, completely oblivious.

Chloe took in her father’s ruddy complexion and bright blue eyes. In those moments when his face split into a grin, he really was handsome, in that older, sporty-guy type of way. “Dad, I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” She flipped open a menu, shaking her head. “The verdict is still out, but I think you’ve got game.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Well, be sure to tell your mother. Try and make me look good.”

After they placed an order for two burgers, a round of onion rings and Cokes, he drummed his hands on the table. “So,” he asked. “What else is going on at school? Scholarship’s all good?”

“Haven’t lost it yet.” Chloe updated her dad on her classes, the internship options coming up in the winter and finally, the news that (supposedly) she was making a good impression on her professors. Her father listened with rapt attention, only looking away when the food arrived. The plates were piled high with juicy burgers and enormous breaded onions.

“That looks great.” He groaned, shaking his head. “A heart attack on a plate.”

“Hey, how’s Mom?” she asked, taking a bite of her burger. “Have you talked to her?”

Kevin nodded. “That first night. It sounded like she had a nice plane ride. That tour company put her in first class.”

“I know!” Chloe wiped her hands on her napkin and found her phone in her backpack. “Check out this picture. It’s so awesome.”

The picture was up on the Valiant travel blog. She figured her dad hadn’t seen it, considering he didn’t really keep up with technology, unless it was sports related. There was the picture of her mom sitting on the tarmac, beaming into the camera.

“Let me see.” Kevin reached for the phone and squinted. “Who the hell is that?” he roared, banging at the screen with his finger. “With her?”

Chloe hesitated. Even though the picture with Ethan was cozy, it was obvious her mother was just trying to fit into the photo frame. Based on the angry flush on her father’s face, he did not see it that way. “Dad, that’s just Ethan,” she said. “The guy from her store.”

Kevin glared at the picture, the vein in his forehead a little too prominent. Man, he seemed really pissed. Chloe shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Didn’t she tell you she was traveling with—”

“Yeah, she told me. But . . .” He eyed the picture. “She didn’t say—”

“That he kinda looks like an international man of mystery?” Chloe hoped that, by making a joke, her father would calm down.

Kevin snapped his head up, his eyes blazing. “She said that?”

Maybe not.

“Dad, of course not.” Chloe took her phone and studied the picture. Actually, she could kind of see his point. She wouldn’t be jumping up and down if this was a picture of Geoff and another woman. Still, she said, “Mom told me that she didn’t find this guy attractive. Not in the slightest.”

“Huh.” Kevin took an angry bite of his burger.

“Besides . . .” Chloe nudged him. “Unless I’m missing something, she already has a guy. Who just happens to be the father of her perfect, wonderful, fabulous daughter.”

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“So.” He took a drink of his Coke and set the glass down with a crash on the table. Picking up his burger, he said, “What else is going on?”

“Just school.” Chloe told him about the writing cramps she got from jotting down her feelings after each and every session. “They make us keep these journals to make sure we’re handling everything okay,” she said. “Sometimes, I think it might be fun to make something up to freak out my professors, but I don’t think that would go over too well.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “Probably not.”

Chloe chewed her burger, watching him. Even though he was still laughing at her stories, passing the ketchup and stealing her onion rings, his eyes kept drifting back to her cell phone.

It was obvious that his mind was half a world away.





Thirty-two

Every time June thought about the way Charley had tripped over that rake, she felt guilty. He could have hit his head. Or had a heart attack. Or a stroke! June wanted to do something to make it up to him.

“Oooh, you’re going to bring him a casserole?” Chloe asked when she’d heard of June’s plan.

“No, not a casserole.” She sniffed. “I am not one of those women.”

“Well, you almost killed the guy,” Chloe said. “Bring something good. And dress up. Don’t go over there looking like you worked in the garden all day.”

At promptly 6 p.m., June showed up on Charley’s doorstep carrying a bag from the corner market. It was filled with a Cornish hen, a half pound of mashed potatoes, some well-cooked green beans and a pecan pie. Smoothing her hair, June considered what she was wearing. She had certainly not dressed up because she didn’t want Charley to get the wrong idea. However, she had donned a simple tweed dress with a pair of red high heels, then spritzed on some orange-scented perfume.

June pressed the doorbell, noticing the stained-glass etching along the edges of Charley’s door. When Eugene died, Kristine had forced June to buy a new door with no windows other than the peephole. “It would be so simple for a criminal to smash that glass, Mother.” It had broken her heart, but Kristine would not take no for an answer.

Charley’s door swept open. It took a moment for her to register that Rose was standing in the entryway, her hands on her hips. “Can I help you?” she asked, as though June were some kid trying to peddle magazines.

“Hello, yourself.” June pushed past Rose and surveyed the situation. The last time she had been present in Charley’s home, the place had smelled like a man. Now, it smelled like lavender bathwater. Turning to Rose, she said, “What are you doing here? Again?”

Rose pressed her manicured mauve nails into June’s shoulder. “I was speaking with Charley on the phone and he told me all about his accident.” Leaning forward, she murmured, “Just between you and me, it sounded like a cry for another casserole, but he really is feeling quite blue.”

June swept past her and into the den. Charley was stretched out on the chaise lounge, looking anything but blue. He was wearing a pair of silver reading glasses and flipping through the pages of a classic Sherlock Holmes novel.

“June!” Charley slid off his glasses. “How nice of you to drop by.”

“It looks like you already have company.” She had to make an effort to keep the annoyance out of her tone. “However, I’ve brought you some more food.”

Rose clucked. “The casserole is already in the oven. If we would have known you were coming . . .”

“Yes, June.” Charley grinned. “If we had known you were coming, we would have asked you to bring dessert.”

June flushed. “I did.” Setting the brown bag down on a wooden end table, she rifled through it and pulled out the pecan pie. “Here you are.”

“My goodness.” Rose folded her hands. “Is that . . . store-bought?”

“I think it looks delicious,” Charley said. “Pecan pie is my favorite.”

June was surprised to hear this. Pecan pie was her favorite, which was why she picked it. She had pegged Charley as more of a peach pie type of man. “It is indeed store-bought,” she told Rose, “but that particular store is serviced by the finest bakery in town. I imagine it will taste much better than a strudel.”

“Does this mean you’re staying for dinner?” Charley asked.

Rose narrowed her eyes. “I really don’t know if we’ll have enough food . . .”

The doorbell chimed. They all looked toward the entryway, and Charley seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Now, who in the world could that be?”

“I’ll get it,” Rose and June chorused. Glaring at each other, they strode out of the den and into the foyer. Rose’s high heels clicked across the hardwood floor like a horse trying to win a race.

In the hallway, she stopped abruptly in front of the mirror. Pinching her cheeks pink, she turned and glared at June. “Now, you listen to me.” Her voice was practically a hiss. “You may as well save your breath. Charley is as good as mine.”

“You can have him,” June said, exasperated. “I don’t even like the man.”

“Oh, please.” Rose made a face that could have been a frown, but with all of that Botox, it was hard to tell. “Sneaking in like you have nothing at stake. Don’t think you’re going to be the one who walks away with the silver fox.”

“The silver fox?” June echoed, bewildered. “What is he, a holiday ornament?”

The doorbell chimed again. With a toss of her red-dyed hair, Rose pushed past June and opened the door. “What on earth are you doing here?” she gasped.

Rose sounded so genuinely distressed that June was certain it had to be Rose’s ex-husband. He was a distasteful man, with a rather strong passion for the drink. June pulled Rose out of the way, ready to give the man a piece of her mind. Charley or no Charley, no one messed with her friends.

To her surprise, the person on the front stoop wasn’t Rose’s ex-husband. In fact, it wasn’t a man at all.

It was Bernice, eagerly clutching a casserole.