“We both know why. You want to scoop everybody and find out who the vampire book author is. You think I know who it is and have the information hidden in my bags of yarn.”
“Wow, do you? Know who it is, I mean?”
“No,” I said firmly.
“You have to believe me. I wasn’t in your house,” he said. “I do want to be a journalist, and I know you have to walk that extra mile to get a story sometimes, but I didn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t—”
My crazy-lady demeanor began to diminish. As much as I didn’t want to believe him, I did begin to think he was telling the truth. But if he wasn’t breaking into my house, who was?
Ryder and I had just about finished conducting our business when Barry’s Tahoe pulled into the driveway and stopped near the street. Barry and his son, Jeffrey, got out. Barry zeroed in on me, and Jeffrey walked up to Ryder.
“Hey, weren’t you Curly in the junior production of
Thanks to the floodlight on my garage that illuminated the end of the driveway, I saw Jeffrey’s surprised expression. When Jeffrey nodded with a confident toss of his head, Ryder held out a hand to high-five him. “Hey, man dude, you done good.”
“Man dude?” I said, looking at Ryder.
“I’m trying to start a new phrase. You like it? I want to include it in my next YouTube piece and maybe start a trend.”
“You put stuff on YouTube?” Jeffrey said, impressed.
“All the time, Columbia,” Ryder said. I heard Barry groan. He hated that Jeffrey wanted to be an actor and even more that he’d decided to go by Columbia. What Columbia /Jeffrey said next made Barry choke.
“I think Columbia is too long. I’m considering shortening it to Cgreen,” Jeffrey said. Ryder mulled it over and proclaimed it very contemporary.
“Or you can change it altogether and sound like one of those rappers and go by Ice Berg,” I said. Jeffrey, Ryder and Barry all glared at me.
“Sorry. I should have added an LOL at the end. I was just joking.”
The two boys stepped away and Barry stopped next to me. He was glaring at Ryder. “He’s the guy, isn’t he?”
I tried playing stupid, but that only convinced Barry more that Ryder was the one I thought was breaking into my house. “I think I’ll have a little talk with him.” Barry made a move toward Ryder, but I grabbed his arm.
“I already took care of it and he said it wasn’t him.”
“And you believe him? Wake up and smell the coffee, Molly. People lie. The people I see lie twenty-four, seven unless you know how to get at the truth.” He seemed disappointed when I wouldn’t let him interrogate Ryder. Barry said he’d stopped over to check that his temporary repair to my front door was still secure. There was a delay with getting the new door, he explained.
Samuel’s jeep stopped in front of the house. He got out and crossed the lawn. “Hey,” he said, nodding a greeting to Ryder and Jeffrey. The nod he gave to Barry was only marginally cordial. While Samuel wasn’t as bad as my other son, Peter, there was always a certain level of tension between him and Barry. Peter didn’t like Barry, but with Samuel, it was more about the problem he had with me dating. Dating? That was as out of place as calling Barry a boyfriend. Dating implied Saturday night movie dates followed by a hamburger somewhere. Barry showed up whenever. I usually cooked something, after which he fell asleep sitting on the couch while insisting he wasn’t tired.
Samuel moved on to me. “I’m just here long enough to change. I got a gig,” he said before giving the details. Samuel could play a bunch of instruments, but this job called for him to play piano at a hotel bar in Woodland Hills.
“How about I go with,” Ryder suggested. “I’ll video one of your songs. I’m a wiz at editing on my computer. By the time I post it on YouTube, it’ll look like a real music video.”
“As long as you don’t cause any problems,” Samuel said.
“I could go, too,” Jeffrey said, stepping next to Ryder. I saw Barry’s jaw clench and he put his hand on his son’s shoulder. He didn’t even have to say it, just the shake of Barry’s head got the message and Jeffrey slumped with disappointment.
A dark sedan pulled behind the jeep. It was too dark to make out what kind of car or who got out until he was halfway across the lawn. What was Mason doing here?
Barry apparently wondered the same thing and said as much.
“Don’t tell me you forgot again,” Mason said, taking his crochet project out of the bag.
Mason saw Samuel and they slapped hands. Samuel had no problem with Mason. Mason had helped him get his musical career going and I think he viewed him just as a family friend as opposed to someone I was involved with.
By now it was getting pretty chilly and Samuel and Jeffrey didn’t have jackets on. What could I do, but invite everyone inside?
Samuel looked at the crowd moving into the backyard. “Mom, you ought to start having the Christmas Eve party again.” I was surprised at his comment. The party had been a yearly tradition until Charlie died. It wasn’t that any of us made a decision to stop having parties, it had just sort of happened. The fact that Samuel was suggesting it meant he was finally beginning to move on. I certainly wouldn’t have any trouble finding guests. The group followed me in, and all RSVPed on the spot.
I offered everyone dinner if they’d take potluck. I hadn’t managed to get to the grocery store lately and had resorted to eating whatever I could scrounge.
“Not a problem,” Mason said, taking out his cell phone. “Everybody likes Italian, right?” There was a chorus of yeses, except Barry, who didn’t appear pleased that Mason was handling the food again. In an effort to make up for it, Barry made a big deal about going to check on the door.
I said I’d make salad and Mason left to pick up the order. I reminded Samuel to take care of his cats and Jeffrey fed the dogs and took them out into the yard to play. Ryder made a video of me making salad. He was very interested in all the ingredients and interviewed me as I mixed a bag of herb salad with some wild rocket lettuce. I added grated carrots, kalamata olives, cucumber, fresh tomatoes and sun-dried tomatoes. I made my own salad dressing. It was really just olive oil and balsamic vinegar, but it was the way I did it. I poured the olive oil on first and tossed the salad. Then I sprinkled on the garlic powder and seasoning salt before shaking on the vinegar. I never measured, but it always seemed to work out. I finished the salad by adding gorgonzola cheese and walnuts.
Dinner was a big success, though over quickly. Samuel had to get to his gig. Ryder tagged along with him. Jeffrey had some homework. Barry hesitated while Mason situated himself on the couch with the dog sweater. But finally he couldn’t stall any longer and left with a reminder to be sure to keep everything locked up.
I took a ball of iridescent-flecked white bedspread-weight thread and a steel hook into the living room along with the instructions for a snowflake Adele had given me. Hers were more elaborate, but she said she was doing me a favor by giving me something more basic to make. There was probably a slap at my skill in there somewhere but by now I’d learned to just let it go. Mason moved next to me, saying something about it was a better arrangement if he needed help. He watched as I struggled to make a slipknot with the fine thread and do the beginning circle. My hook slipped and the yarn was hard to see. It always took me a little while to adjust to working so small.
Mason took out the partially completed dog sweater and something else.
“Is that for me?” I said, looking at the gift-wrapped package.
Mason handed it to me and I commented that it was kind of early for a Christmas present.
“No, this just something I think you really need. I had something grander in mind for a holiday gift. Open it,” he said.
“Wow,” I said as the paper fell, revealing a box that said
He showed me the calendar and said if I put stuff in, it would pop up as a reminder. “So no more missing our crochet evenings,” he said with a grin before he demonstrated how to use the camera feature. I got in a mind muddle after that. The BlackBerry just did too many things to take in all at once. I hugged him a thank-you and
