people who once cared a lot for one another spending a little time together?”
I consider his request. “Okay,” I say finally. “But you have to stick to your promise. No relationship talk. Deal?”
“Deal. Have any plans for dinner?”
Now he’s talking my language: food. “Not yet. What did you have in mind?”
“How about we go out somewhere? My treat, except you’ll have to run me by the bank first since my wallet was lost in the fire. I need to go by there anyway so I can replace my credit cards. And I also need some clothes.” He plucks at the neckline of his scrub top. “At the moment, this is all I have.”
I realize then that this fire has been far more devastating a loss for him than for me and I feel a twinge of guilt for all the nasty thoughts I’ve been harboring against him. He has quite literally lost everything, including the shirt on his back.
“Okay, let’s do the bank first and then I’ll take you clothes shopping.”
“Thanks, Mattie. I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“No problem.”
After a lengthy stop at the bank, David emerges with a wad of cash and gets back in the car. “Next stop, Nigel’s,” he says.
Nigel’s is the name of the only men’s clothier in town, owned by a pretentious fop who sports a fake British accent and charges twice what his clothes are worth for the privilege of shopping where the snobbish elite go. “Why don’t we hit up the Super Wal-Mart?” I suggest. “It’s only a half hour drive away and it will have better variety for a much more reasonable price.”
“I’ve always shopped at Nigel’s,” David says, frowning. “Their suits are a better quality and I can get them tailored.”
“But you don’t need suits right now. What you need is day-to-day stuff: underwear, socks, jeans, shirts, shoes, and some toiletries. Plus you’re going to need a coat of some sort. You can hit Nigel’s up for your suits later.”
David thinks about it and though I expect him to stick to his snobbish ways, he doesn’t. “Okay, you’re right. I’m starting from scratch here so I guess we should begin with the basics.”
I change direction to head for the highway and Wal-Mart. “I should make a list,” David says. “Do you have anything I can write on?”
“Look in my purse,” I tell him.
He grabs my purse, rummages around, and comes up with a pen and the small spiral notepad from the Chicago trip. “What’s all this?” he says, flipping the pages of the pad and reading my notes.
Panicked, I reach over and grab the pad from him. “Those are notes on the investigation I’m working on.” I rip all the pages with writing on them out of the pad, including the one that has Hurley’s number on it, cursing myself for not destroying it earlier. Then I hand the pad back to him.
“Why do you have two cell phones?” he asks, peering into my purse.
I think fast. “Um, I temporarily misplaced my regular phone and had to get one of those prepaid ones. It still has minutes on it so I haven’t tossed it yet.”
“I need a phone,” he says, taking both of them out of my purse. “Can I use the prepaid one until I get mine replaced?”
“No!”
He gives me a shocked look. “Okay already. I was just asking.” He drops the phones and tosses my purse aside.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “It’s just that I don’t want to give up the other one in case someone who has that number tries to call me, not knowing I have my original back.” The story sounds plausible to me and I pray it will for David, too. “We’ll get you a new cell phone tonight. I’m pretty sure Wal-Mart has them now.”
A little over four hours later, David and I arrive back at the cottage, both of us exhausted but happy and full. After a sweeping run through Wal-Mart, where I found I actually enjoyed dressing David like some adult version of a Ken doll, we had dinner at a Mexican restaurant in a nearby town before heading home. David stuck to his word about keeping the conversation neutral and I found myself actually enjoying his company as we reminisced about things in our past and had a civil but rousing discussion about health care reform. Several times during the evening things felt so much like the old days, I forgot that we were no longer a couple. Now the resultant emotions are seriously screwing with my head.
We carry our packages inside, where Hoover greets me with a gentle
While I’m standing outside watching Hoover sniff and circle to find the perfect spot, I hear a door open behind me. When I turn to look, I see Izzy approaching.
“Hey, Izzy.”
“Hay is for horses,” he says. “Dom told me the news about David.”
“Yeah, I should probably have my head examined for agreeing to it, but he and Molinaro basically cornered and guilted me into it.”
“Wow, he got Molinaro involved?” I nod. “Devious move on his part. He knows how much you fear that woman.”
“I’m only going to let him stay for a couple of days. Just until Thanksgiving. We’re already committed to the dinner with my mother and William so I might as well let him stay till then.”
“Dom wants me to invite you both over for breakfast in the morning. That is, unless the two of you need some time alone together.”
I shoot him a look that makes him back up a step and hold his fingers up in the sign of the cross. “It was a joke,” he says.
“Tell Dom thanks and we’ll be there, or at least I will. David may opt to do something else.”
“Let me ask you something, Mattie.”
Uh-oh, I know that tone. It means something serious is coming. Has Izzy figured out that I’m keeping secrets from him?
“Have you considered going for marriage counseling with David?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons. One, I hate shrinks, particularly after our experience with Luke Nelson,” I say, referring to a recent case. “And two, there’s no need for counseling. I’m not confused about what I want at this point, or rather what I don’t want. I don’t want David and I don’t want my marriage back.”
“Are you sure the situation with Hurley isn’t clouding your judgment?”
For a second I feel a frisson of panic, thinking he’s discovered I’m in cahoots with Hurley on this latest investigation. But what he says next makes me realize his true meaning.
“I mean, there’s an obvious attraction between you and Hurley. Anyone who’s spent any time around the two of you can see that. And I can’t help but wonder if that isn’t clouding your judgment some. If you take him out of the equation, which you’re going to have to do now, are you sure being on your own is what you really want?”
I watch Hoover squat and take a dump, his haunches quivering with his efforts. And I think about what Izzy is saying. Had anyone else asked me this, I would have dismissed it out of hand. But I’ve come to respect Izzy for his insight and wisdom about things, so I feel obligated to give what he’s saying some serious consideration.
“I don’t know, Izzy,” I say finally. “My head is kind of muddled right now, what with everything that’s happened. Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“See you in the morning.”
And with that, I head inside toward a future that is more confusing than ever.
Chapter 29
