You’re okay. Pull yourself together. You’ve got this.
She gets out of the minivan and grabs the shopping bags from the back. She’d more or less raced through the outlet center snatching up things she thought Jake and the kids might like for Christmas, along with a belated engagement gift for her nephew Andrew and his fiancée, who live in Chicago near her oldest brother, Mitch.
Her efforts resulted in a convincing pile of paper shopping bags and the promise of hefty store credit card bills come January.
By then, though, this will all be behind her. She’ll have figured out which of two possible scenarios is the more likely.
Either Rick was playing out an elaborate charade today, lying about having sent the package or at least about having told someone what had happened between them years ago, or . . .
Or the one person in whom Rowan confided is responsible in some way for the burnt cookies.
But Rowan just can’t imagine it. Her sister is much too classy—-not to mention too busy—-to pull something like that. Besides, although Noreen might be sanctimonious at times, she would never deliberately hurt Rowan.
It’s far more likely that Rick is behind this.
He seemed earnest today—-for the most part—-but how well does she know him, really?
Not well at all, anymore. There had been a time when she knew him as well as she knew her own husband, but -people change.
I need to talk to Noreen, she thinks as she juggles the shopping bags to unlock the back door. I’ll call her again, and if she doesn’t pick up, I’ll tell her it’s really urgent.
There’s a brand--new garbage can sitting beside the back steps, the latch firmly in place. Now she can get rid of the evidence at last.
In the dark living room, she finds Jake dozing on the couch in front of a college basketball game. There’s a bag of chips and a soda can on the coffee table—-sans coaster, as usual, but she’s not about to chide him for that. Not today.
“Hey,” she says, startling him. “Sorry. I’m home.”
“Welcome back.” He yawns, stretches. “How was the mall?”
“Great.” She holds up her bags. “How was your day?”
“Great.”
“What’d you do?”
“This, pretty much. And some errands.”
“Did you have a chance to refill your prescription?” He’s been on medication to lower his cholesterol since his last physical, much to his dismay, and he keeps allowing it to run out.
“Forgot.”
“Did you remember to pick up some dog food?” She’d texted him that they were running low.
“Forgot,” he says again, “But I did buy a new trash can and drop off my shirts at the dry cleaner.”
“Terrific. No more rancid garbage in the backyard, plus you’ll look nice and spiffy while your cholesterol is spiking and the dog is starving to death.”
“Spiffy? Who says spiffy?” he retorts, but in his usual good--natured way.
She smiles, glad things are back to normal, then reminds herself that things were never not normal. Not on Jake’s end.
And that’s the way it’s going to stay, she vows, drinking in the gallery of happy family photographs beside the stairs as she heads up to change for dinner.
The call to her sister will have to wait until later, or tomorrow morning. Tonight is date night with her husband, and Jake deserves her undivided attention at last.
Noreen is finally finished driving the kids around.