bad about anything it was that she and Mick could never be friends. She would have liked that. Not just for the sex, but because she liked him.
She moved to the French doors and looked out at the lake. She thought of Mick and his sister and his insistence that she not speak with Meg. Why? Meg was a grown woman. A single mother who supported herself and her son. What was Mick afraid would happen?
“Meow.”
Maddie looked down at her feet. On the other side of the glass door sat a small kitten. It was pure white and had one blue eye and one green. Its head looked almost too big for its body, like maybe it was inbred or something. Maddie pointed at it and said, “Go home.”
“Meow.”
“I hate cats.” Cats were nasty creatures. They shed all over your clothes, shredded the furniture with their claws, and slept all day.
“Meow.”
“Forget it.” She turned and walked through the house and into her bedroom. Her sheets, pillowcases, and duvet cover lay in a heap on the floor and she carried them to the laundry room off the kitchen. She needed to get all reminders of Mick out of her house. No indents in her pillows. No empty condom wrappers on the nightstand. Mick was like cheesecake, and she just couldn’t have anything around to remind her how much she liked and missed cheesecake. Especially when it was so good she’d just gorged herself into a coma the night before.
She stuffed her sheets and pillowcases into the washing machine, loaded it up with soap, and turned it on. As she shut the lid, the doorbell rang, and her stomach kind of got light and heavy at the same time. There had only ever been one person who rang her doorbell. She tried to ignore the feeling in her stomach and the sudden spike in her heartbeat as she moved toward the front of the house. She looked down at her green Nike T-shirt and black shorts. They were old and comfy and not the sort of clothes to inspire lust, but neither had the sweatshirt and pants she’d had on last night, and Mick hadn’t seemed to mind.
She looked through the peephole, but it wasn’t Mick. Meg stood on her porch wearing dark sun glasses, and Maddie wondered how Meg knew where she lived. Maybe from Travis. She also wondered what Meg could possibly want on a Sunday afternoon. The obvious answer was she wanted to talk to Maddie about the book. But Meg looked so much like her mother that another answer came to mind; she’d come over for some kind of confrontation. Maddie wondered if she should break out her Taser, but she’d hate to shoot Meg with fifty thousand volts if she’d just come over to talk about what had happened twenty-nine years ago. That wouldn’t be very nice, and would be counterproductive, since she wanted to hear what Meg had to say. She opened the door.
“Hi, Madeline. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Meg began. “I just dropped Pete off next door, and I was wondering if I could talk to you a moment or two.”
“The Allegrezzas are back so soon?”
“Yes. They came home this morning.”
A slight breeze played with the ends of Meg’s dark hair, but she didn’t appear agitated or crazy, and Maddie stepped back. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Meg pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and stepped inside. She wore a khaki skirt and a black short-sleeved blouse. She looked so much like her mother it was spooky, but Maddie supposed it was no more fair to judge her by her mother’s behavior than it was for people to judge Maddie by hers.
“How can I help you?” Maddie asked as the two moved into the living room.
“Was my brother here last night?”
Maddie’s footsteps faltered a fraction before she continued across the living room. While she’d been wondering what brought Meg to her porch, it hadn’t occurred to her that Meg was here to talk about last night’s debauchery. Perhaps she’d need the Taser after all. “Yes.”
Meg sighed. “I told him not to come here. I’m an adult and I can take care of myself. He’s worried that if I talk to you about Mom and Dad, I’ll get upset.”
Maddie smiled with relief. “Please sit,” she said and indicated the couch. “Would you like something to drink? I’m afraid I only have Diet Coke or water.”
“No, thank you.” Meg sat and Maddie took the chair. “I’m sorry that Mick felt he needed to come to your house and order you not to talk with me.”
He’d done more than that. “Like you, I’m an adult, and I don’t take orders from your brother.” Except for when they’d been in the spa tub, and he’d looked at her through those gorgeous eyes of his and said, “Come over here and sit on my lap.”
Meg set her purse on the coffee table. “Mick isn’t a bad person. He’s just protective. Growing up, he had it rough and doesn’t like talking about our parents. If you’d met him under different circumstances, I’m sure you’d like him.”
She liked him more than was wise under the current circumstances. She didn’t even want to think about how much she might like sitting in his lap if he wasn’t a Hennessy. “I’m sure that’s true.”
A frown wrinkled Meg’s brow. “There’s a rumor going around town that a movie is going to be made out of your book.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Carleen came into my work yesterday and told me that Angelina Jolie is going to play my mother, and Colin Farrell my dad.”
Colin Farrell made a little sense because he was Irish. But Angelina Jolie? “I haven’t been offered a movie deal.” Hell, she hadn’t even told her agent about the book. “So you can tell everyone that there isn’t going to be a film crew arriving anytime soon.”
“That’s a relief,” Meg said, then turned her attention toward the French doors. “Your cat wants in.”
“It’s not mine. I think it might be a stray.” Maddie shook her head and leaned back into her chair. “Do you want a kitten?”
“No. I’m not really a pet person. I’ve promised my son a dog if he behaves for a month.” She chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll have to make good on that promise anytime soon.”
When Meg laughed, she looked a bit like Mick. “I’m not really a pet person either,” Maddie confessed and wondered if Meg had come over for a chat about pets or to talk about her parents. “They’re a lot of bother.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind that. I’m not a pet person because they die.”
As far as Maddie was concerned, that was the only good thing about cats.
“Growing up, we had a poodle named Princess. She was mostly Mick’s dog.”
Mick had a poodle? Not only could she not see Mick owning a poodle, she couldn’t imagine him naming it Princess. “Did he name her?”
“Yes, and she died when he was about thirteen. The only time I’ve seen Mick cry was when he had to bury that dog. Even at our parents’ funeral, he was a stoic little man.” Meg shook her head. “I’ve had too many people die in my life. I don’t want to get attached to a pet and have it die on me. Most people don’t understand that, but it’s how I feel.”
“I understand.” And she did. More than Meg would ever know. Or at least know for now.
“You’re probably wondering why I stopped by instead of waiting for you to contact me.”
“I assume you are anxious to talk about your mother and father and what happened on that night in August.”
Meg nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know why you want to write about what happened, but you do. So I think you should hear it from my family, and Mick’s not going to talk to you. That leaves me.”
“Do you mind if I tape-record the conversation?”
