Chapter Six
“Today is Saturday. Moving day. Eat up.” Her mom added another pile of scrambled eggs to Marissa’s plate. “You’re going to need your strength.”
“I can’t eat that much.”
“Why not?” Her mom plunked the serving dish on the table and placed a hand to Marissa’s forehead. “Are you sick? Maybe you should wait to move.”
“I’m not sick,” Marissa said. “It’s just that this is enough breakfast for an army.”
“We are an army. An army of helpers ready for the move. Isn’t that right, George?”
“Mmmm.” He didn’t look up from his iPad, where he was reading something he obviously found so intriguing that he couldn’t even put it down for a second to hold a conversation.
“I can’t believe how attached you are to that thing,” her mother said. “I would have thought you’d stick to books instead of embracing the new technology.”
“If I was that backward thinking, I’d be reading papyrus and hieroglyphics instead of words on paper,” he said.
“You do read hieroglyphics,” Marissa said. “You just read them on your iPad.”
“True.” He smiled at her briefly before returning his attention to what he was reading.
Marissa had been living at home for more than a month now and this was the first time her dad had really smiled at her as if he’d seen her. She’d gotten a few absent-minded smiles aimed in her general direction and usually requested beforehand by her mom. But none of those had been real. At least they hadn’t felt that way to Marissa.
All the self-help books talked about the important influence fathers had on their daughters’ self-esteem. Volumes had been written about the dynamics. A dad’s attention was always listed as a critical factor. So what did the lack of his attention mean?
Marissa lacked the emotional energy to figure it all out at the moment. She just wanted to move on. Move out and move on.
She wanted to be her own woman. Her own person. Not someone’s daughter or sister or ex-wife.
Of course, that was impossible. She was what she was—daughter, sister, ex-wife, ex-lover. But she was much more than that. She just wasn’t sure exactly what yet.
“What are you all doing sitting around?” Jess demanded as she entered the dining room. “We need to get a move on, people.”
“But we’re still eating,” Linda protested. “Sit down and join us.”
Jess sat down and looked around. “Do you have any pancakes?”
“No, but I could make you some. Marissa, would you like pancakes, too?”
“No, thanks.” Marissa already didn’t know how she was going to eat all the food on plate as it was. “I thought you were in a hurry, Jess?”
Jess shrugged and sank onto a dining room chair. “I’ve always got time for Mom’s pancakes.” She kicked off her sequined flip-flops and curled one leg beneath her before swiping some scrambled eggs from Marissa’s plate like she had so many times when they were kids.
“The food is always better on my side of the plate,” Marissa said, quoting Jess’s favorite line when sneaking food from her. “Still?”
“Sometimes.” Jess returned the fork she’d snatched. “You’re my big sister. It’s your job to look after me. Just as it’s my job to help you on moving day by providing the muscle.” The doorbell rang. “That must be them now.”
“Should I make more pancakes?” Linda called out from the kitchen.
Jess snatched another forkful of fluffy scrambled eggs before jumping up and racing to the front door in her bare feet. Jess never walked if she could run. She’d been that way since she’d taken her first steps.
Marissa was the opposite. From a very young age, she’d been sure and steady. She’d never taken the same fall twice. She’d learned from her mistakes and didn’t repeat them.
Moments later Jess led a trio of hotties into the dining room. “Help has arrived!” she cheerfully announced. “Meet the Roberts brothers—Mike, Tim and Jason.” She pointed to each one as she said their names. “Pull up a seat, guys. Pancakes are on the way.”
“I’m going to go help Mom,” Marissa said.
“Can I have the rest of your eggs?” Jess asked for permission but she’d already taken the seat Marissa had just vacated and had the fork halfway to her mouth.
“Knock yourself out,” Marissa said.
As Marissa left the dining room she wondered if her dad even noticed that there were three newcomers at the table or if he was so engrossed in his iPad that he was clueless. She paused on the threshold to the kitchen. “Dad, we have company.”
“They’re not company, they’re friends,” Jess said. “Don’t bother Daddy. He’s rereading one of Terry Pratchett’s books. He does that every Saturday morning. Which one is it today, Daddy?”
“Pyramids.”
Jess patted his arm affectionately, “One of his faves.”
Marissa attributed the strange twinge in her chest to heartburn from eating a rushed breakfast. It certainly wasn’t caused by the closeness her sister and father shared. Resenting that would be petty.
“Want me to make up another batch of pancake batter?” Marissa asked her mom after entering the kitchen.
“I’ll do that if you’ll watch these cooking and turn them before they burn.”
“Okay.” Marissa moved over to the stove.
“Then you can go tidy up.”
“?‘Tidy up’?” Marissa repeated with a frown.
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the way you look.”
“Good.”
“It’s just that you look cuter when you don’t have your hair scraped back in a ponytail. And that T-shirt is older than I am.”
“Not true. And this is perfect attire for moving day. I sold all my sequined dresses on eBay to pay the bills.”
Her mom sniffed back the sudden onslaught of tears. “I feel like such a failure.”
Marissa was stunned. What had she said to set off her mom this time? Sometimes it was like dealing with the hormonal adolescents in her teen group. She never knew when they or her mom would go off on a bit of a rant.
“If I was a better mom you wouldn’t have had to sell your clothes on eBay.”
Marissa hugged her, taking care with the spatula she held in her hand. “You’re a great mom. The divorce was the reason I had financial trouble. Nothing to do with you.”
“Of course it had something to do with me. Everything you do has something to do with me. You’re my daughter.”
“Mom, I’m an adult. My mistakes are my own.”
“I just hate that you’ve had to go through all the trauma that you’ve had to deal with for the past few months. I really thought your marriage would work out.”
“Yeah, me too.” Marissa returned her attention to the pancakes.
“Well, just because that one didn’t succeed doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get back on the horse and try again.” Her mom paused to pull the collar of her pink shirt away from her neck. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”
“It is a little warm.”
“I hate these hot flashes,” her mom growled. “My face turns so red that I look like a tomato.”
“How is that menopause support group you and Connie have been attending?”
“They’ve given me some good ideas. We all have become very familiar with our freezers.” Her mom opened it and fanned the chilled air toward her flushed face. “Ah…that feels so good.” She removed something from the freezer and stuck it into her cleavage.
“What are you doing?”
“A little trick I learned from the Hot Ladies. That’s what the group is called.”
“And they taught you to slip an ice cube down your shirtfront?”
“That would melt too fast and be messy. No, they told me about these cooler thingies. They’re really gel eye masks but you pop them in the freezer for a bit to get them nice and cold and then you stick them in your bra. They fit there perfectly. It’s an accessory that every Menopause Barbie should have.”
“Just like every Iron Chef Barbie should be able to do this.” Marissa expertly flipped the pancakes.
“Good job,” her mom said.
“I learned from the best.”
Her mom smiled at her and then out of the blue said, “You really should go to the divorce support group meeting.”
“I don’t have time,” Marissa said.
“You told me you’d try to go and it’s been over a month since then. Promise me after you move you’ll go.”
“Fine. I promise.”
A few minutes later Marissa carried a platter full of pancakes to the dining room and the ravenous Roberts brothers. It took another two plattersfull to satisfy their appetite.
Marissa had prepared a written plan for the move. She didn’t have much furniture, only the things from her old bedroom. Her mom had found some extra stuff in the basement—a comfy but worn chair and love seat along with an end table and a few lamps.
Marissa’s ex had taken half the furniture from their house and Marissa had sold the rest. She told herself that it was for the best. This way she had no bad memories from that period in her life. Yes this furniture was old but it had no connection to her ex.
The Roberts brothers made fast work of shifting the furniture up and down stairs and into the small U-Haul truck that she’d rented. Her father’s contribution was to drive the truck.
Marissa followed in her lame VW. Snow Patrol’s “Open Your Eyes” blared from the car speakers. She slowed
the car when she spotted an oval dining table and four matching wooden chairs alongside the curb with a sign that read FREE. She didn’t have a dining table or chairs.
Stopping, she hopped out of the car to check them out.
Her mother, driving behind her in her white Toyota Avalon, instantly pulled up next to her. “What are you doing?”
“Checking out this table,” Marissa said. “It looks to be in good shape.”
“We are not picking up furniture from the curb.”
“Why not?”
“We are not that bad off.”
“I am.”
“Get back in your car,” she ordered Marissa. “Right now!” Her voice bordered on hysteria, signaling a full-blown meltdown would occur any instant if Marissa did not obey.
So she reluctantly turned away and climbed back in her Kermit the Frog car. Some things just weren’t worth the battle to get them.
* * *
Connor sat in the sheriff department’s SUV and watched Marissa and her mom at the other end of the block. He wasn’t stalking them. He was on patrol doing cop stuff. He’d heard today was moving day. Not that Marissa had told him.
Since that meeting with the teens, she’d been more close-mouthed than a CIA operative. Connor hadn’t tried to interrogate her. He’d had been too busy. He’d arranged to have his IT security rep speak to Spider and Nadine about possible holes in the department’s firewalls and computer security. He already knew the twosome were suspects in a hacking incident into the high school records in order to change some grades, but there was insufficient proof to do anything about that case. He didn’t intend to let his department’s records be at risk. Keep your friends close, possible hackers closer.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the dispatcher over the police radio. “Sheriff. Mrs. Craig at 4136 Chestnut Street is reporting a suspicious vehicle parked at the end of her block. It’s a white SUV with writing on the side, but she can’t find her glasses to read what it says.”
Connor sighed. “That’s me. I’m parked here. Tell her not to worry.”
“Okay.”
A moment later the dispatcher was back. “Sheriff, Mrs. Craig wants to know why you’re parked there so long. Is there drug activity on her block that she should know about? She said I should remind you that she is part of the Neighborhood Crime Busters group.”
“There’s nothing suspicious. No criminal activity.” Aside from him wasting his time watching Marissa. That should be criminal. He’d been thinking about her…dreaming about her too much.
Starting the SUV, he made an illegal U-turn on the now-deserted street, which Mrs. Craig immediately reported in.
“Sheriff, Mrs. Craig says a light-colored SUV just made an illegal U-turn—”
Connor cut her off. “That was me. Don’t you have any real crimes to report?”
“Hold on.”
Connor drove through the neighborhood while he waited, returning the waves of the people he knew as he passed by. The entire waving thing reminded him of Marissa stuck in the parade and doing her royal wave. She had pretty hands. He wasn’t usually a guy who noticed a woman’s hands, other than to check for a wedding ring or a weapon. But he’d always liked Marissa’s hands and he’d taught her to do some pretty wicked things with them. The memories took hold, making him almost drive through a stop sign.
“Sheriff, we have a call about possible vandalism on a car at 920 Euclid Avenue.”
“Now we’re talking.”
The location was only a few blocks away. Connor arrived, lights flashing, to find one of Marissa’s teens with several cans of spray paint aimed at a formerly white sedan. Jose didn’t seem the least bit upset at Connor’s arrival.
“Step away from the vehicle,” Connor ordered him.
“I can’t stop now. The paint will dry and ruin it.”
“Step away from the vehicle,” Connor barked, his voice edged with warning. “And set the cans on the ground.”
Jose reluctantly obeyed. “You think I’m dumb enough to tag a car in the middle of the day?”
“I’m just checking out a call we got.”
“From a neighbor nervous about the Latino kid, right?”
“From a neighbor nervous about someone’s car being vandalized. Where’s the vehicle’s owner?”
“Inside changing his baby’s shitty diaper. I got his permission to paint the car. He hired me to do the job. Go ask him.”
“I will. You wait here.”
Connor had the dispatcher run the license plate to confirm the name and address of the owner, who had no outstanding warrants or tickets and who also was not in the best of moods after his diaper duty.
Swearing vehemently under his breath, the guy almost smacked Connor in the face with the storm door as he rushed out of the house—one hand covering his nose while the other held a small garbage bag.
Cursing even louder now, Diaper Dad raced to the trash bin and threw the offensive bag inside before slamming the lid shut. “Talk about toxic waste,” he muttered. He paused, seeming to notice Connor’s presence for the first time. “Why are you here?”
“We got a call from a concerned neighbor.”
“He thinks I’m vandalizing your car,” Jose interrupted him to say.
“I told you to wait by the vehicle,” Connor said.
“You gonna arrest me for disobeying orders?” Jose challenged him.
The vehicle’s owner quickly spoke up. “After seeing his T-shirt designs, I asked Jose to give my car a custom paint job. I believe in supporting the arts and I’ve admired Jose’s work for some time now.”
“Are you using any gang tags on it?” Connor asked Jose.
“I make my own designs,” Jose said proudly. “I don’t need to copy no one else’s.”
The sound of a baby’s angry crying sent Diaper Dad heading back inside. “Jose is just doing what I asked him to do,” he yelled over his shoulder. “I hope that clears things up.” The storm door slammed behind him.
Jose stood with his arms crossed against his chest and his chin jutting out as if daring Connor. “So, you gonna arrest me or not?”
“Not.”
Jose tried not to show it, but his body relaxed slightly. “Library Lady will be pleased to hear that,” Jose said. “I heard she moved in with you.”
“Not with me,” Connor corrected him. “Next door to me. Who told you?”
“I don’t reveal my sources.”
“Was it Flo at the post office?” She was in charge of all the change of address forms turned in.
Jose just shrugged.
“Your grandma and Flo are friends, huh?”
“You keep my grandma out of it.” Jose’s expression darkened. “Don’t you hassle her.”
“Calm down. I’m not going to hassle your grandma. I’ve got one of my own.”
“One what?”
“A grandma.”
Jose relaxed his fight-or-flight stance a little. “I bet she’s not as tough as mine.”
“I bet she is,” Connor said.
“The Library Lady is tough, too. I know you don’t think so.”
“I never said that.”
“I can tell these things. It’s ’cause I’m an artist.”
“Yeah, well it’s ’cause I’m a cop that I have to check out reports of suspicious activity.”
“Someone is always suspicious of me,” Jose said. “Except for—”
“—the Library Lady,” Connor filled in. “Yes, I know.”
“You two have this thing going on.”
“What thing?”
“This Edward-Bella thing. Or maybe it’s a Jacob-Bella thing. Not that I read that crap. Too sappy for me.”
“I thought the fight scenes were pretty intense.”
Jose’s dark eyes widened. “You read that book?”
Connor nodded. “I read the entire series. What? You don’t think cops can read?”
“Not that stuff.”
“Why not?”
“Does the Library Lady know you’ve read those books?” Jose asked.
“The subject hasn’t come up.”
“She might be impressed if she knew.”
“I doubt it. She’s not that easily impressed.”
Jose gave him a shrewd look. “You know her pretty well, huh?”
Connor couldn’t believe he was standing here talking about Marissa with this kid.
“I heard she was moving in today. Why aren’t you helping her?” Jose said.
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because I’m working.”
“So am I,” Connor said.
“Yeah. Hassling poor Latino kids trying to make a living.” Jose’s tone had gone from defensive to teasing.
“I was not hassling you. If anything, you’ve been hassling me about Marissa.”
“You didn’t seem to mind. I think you have a thing for the Library Lady.”
“So you’ve already said.” Connor gave him a warning look.
“Or maybe not,” Jose said, hastily backing away. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Yeah, me too,” Connor said. He was glad he’d gotten the last word in, but he couldn’t help wondering why that didn’t make him feel as good as it should. The idea that a kid with a smart mouth and a creative flair had bested him smarted just a little. Or maybe it was the possibility that Jose was right and that Connor really did have a thing for the Library Lady.
* * *
“Why couldn’t you get an apartment on the ground floor?” Jess demanded.
“Because there wasn’t one available.”
Jess paused inside the door to her apartment. “Are you sure it wasn’t so you could move in next door to Sheriff Hottie?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Marissa had worried that she might run into Connor while her things were being shifted from the U-haul truck to her new place but so far there had been no sign of him.
“Am I?” Jess set the box of kitchen stuff that their mom had donated to Marissa. Picking up one of the items, Jess said, “What are you going to do with a crepe maker?”
“Make crepes.”
Jess dumped the item back in the box and picked up another. “Hey, you got the potato ricer? I wanted that.”
“You hate to cook.”
“So?”
“Fine. If you want it so badly you can have it.”
“No.” Jess set it on the kitchen counter. “Where are you going to eat? You don’t have a table.”
“I saw one on the way here that was free and looked to be in good shape with four matching chairs. I wanted to pick it up but Mom had a fit.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“Anyway…um…thank your friends again for all their help.”
Jess checked her vibrating phone for a text. “I’ve got to go. Dad is returning the truck. All your stuff is moved in.” Marissa followed her into the hallway. “Oh wait, there’s still part of the bed here.”
“That’s okay. I can bring that in.”
“I’m sorry the guys couldn’t stay long enough to put the bed together for you.”
“It’s together. This is just the headboard that goes against the wall. No problem. You go on. I’ll take care of this.” Marissa gave her an awkward hug. “Thanks again.”
Jess was gone a moment later.
Marissa eyed the headboard before trying to lift it on her own. Damn, it was much heavier than it looked.
Then she heard a familiar male cop voice ask, “Need help?”