Was something wrong? This guy was really astute. Hank wondered what kind of confidant he would make. He poured coffee. “What are you making?”
“Stew. I always make stew when it snows. The weatherman is predicting six inches of snow by morning. Did you go to the market, Mr. Anders? We need milk for the boys.”
“Stew is good. I’m going to go to the market when I finish this coffee. I have to get gas, too. What I said earlier…you know…about me being in love. That wasn’t true. Well, it was at the time, but it isn’t now. I overreacted. Women are so…what they are is…hell, what are they, Mason?”
“Complex. Fickle. Manipulative. Selfish. Mind you, I don’t know this for a fact, but I do read a lot. So, I guess what you’re saying is the lady next door spurned your advances. Would that be a correct assessment, Mr. Anders?”
“It will do. I didn’t do a damn thing. She froze on me. She goddamn well kicked me to the curb is what she did. What do you think about that, Mason?”
Mason opted to take the high road. “I think, sir, before I can comment, I would need to hear the young lady’s side. As you know, there are two sides to everything.”
“There must be something wrong with me. I was left standing at the altar a while back. The twins don’t like me. The dogs don’t want to come home. I don’t get it. I’m a stand-up guy. I’m nice to old people. I’ve always liked kids. I’m generous, never ask anyone to do anything I won’t do myself. My employees gave me a plaque that said I was the best boss in the world. I don’t have dandruff. I use a top-notch deodorant. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“I don’t think I’m qualified to comment on anything other than the boys. I think they sensed your uneasiness. In other words, you have little experience with toddlers. They sense your fear. I can’t be certain, but I imagine it’s probably the same thing with the animals.”
“What should I do?”
“Try to repair the damage. Relax. Flowers might be an option. You need to be comfortable with yourself. I really think you should go to the market now before the roads become hazardous, Mr. Anders. The boys drink a lot of milk.”
Hank looked over at the computer. He had the rest of the day and evening to check e-mails. Mason was right, he needed to get to the market and gas up the SUV. “Do you know how to bake a pie, Mason?”
“Of course. Doesn’t everyone? What kind would you like?”
“Berry. Anything berry. I don’t know how to bake a pie. I don’t know how to cook. Period.”
“Let me check the larder to see if the lady of the house has all the ingredients. I’ll make a list for you, Mr. Anders.”
Antsy with his inactivity, Hank walked into the living room so he could look out the window. He gasped when he saw Mandy and the dogs on Albert Carpenter’s front porch. Mandy was stringing wire on the back of the giant wreath she’d purchased at the florist shop. Even from here he could see how huge the big red bow was. He’d wanted to hang the wreath with her. Was she making a statement of some kind?
Hank felt guilty and knew it showed on his face when Mason came up behind him with his list. He held out Hank’s wallet. “I’m thinking you might need this.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t spying, Mason.”
“If you say so, Mr. Anders.”
“All right, I’m spying.”
Mason cleared his throat. “Have you given any thought to speaking with the young lady and telling her whatever it is that’s bothering you? It’s entirely possible that she’s reacting to something you did or said. For every action there is a reaction, Mr. Anders.”
Hank snorted. “Try this on for size, Mason. Why would the lady in question be using a credit card, a platinum one no less, with someone else’s name on it?”
“I’m sure there are many reasons why and how that could happen, Mr. Anders.”
“Oh, yeah, name me one,” Hank said belligerently.
Mason squared his shoulders. “Very well. Perhaps the card is in her maiden name. Perhaps it’s a corporate card. Perhaps the young lady uses a pseudonym. And, Mr. Anders, is it any of your business to begin with?”
“I’m outta here,” Hank barked as he opened the door. Slipping and sliding, he made his way to the SUV and turned on the engine and the heater while he cleaned the snow off the truck. He kept looking over at the Carpenter house, hoping Mandy would acknowledge him. She didn’t. The dogs were so intent on romping in the snow, they weren’t even aware of him.
“Screw it,” Hank muttered as he backed out of the driveway. His first stop was the Masterson house on Cypress Street.
Ten minutes later he was ringing the doorbell. A pleasant woman opened the door and smiled at him. He reached for his wallet and explained that he was there to give a donation for Albert Carpenter’s funeral.
“That’s very nice of you but some very kind, generous person is paying for the funeral. Mr. Dial just called a little while ago. This same person, who I’m told wishes to remain anonymous, also paid for the church ladies to prepare a dinner after…after the burial. Everything has been taken care of, but thank you for stopping by.”
Hank nodded and shrugged as he jammed his wallet back in his pocket.
Two hours later, Hank was back at the house, with the SUV gassed up and enough groceries to feed an army for a month.
He looked across the yard and saw that the colored Christmas lights had been turned on. Wise move. This way Mandy wouldn’t have to get dressed and slog through the snow when it got dark out. The huge evergreen wreath on the door looked festive. He craned his neck trying to see into the cargo hold of the Range Rover to see if the contents had been removed. He couldn’t see a thing with the falling snow and the tinted windows.
Disgusted with himself and his circumstances, Hank carried in the groceries. He smiled at the childish laughter coming from the family room.
While Mason unpacked the groceries, Hank made a fire, then settled himself on the floor, not close to the twins but just far enough away so they wouldn’t pitch a fit. He watched them interact with each other as they played with their toys. From time to time they looked over at him to see what he was doing. He wiggled his fingers and made funny faces. Then he rolled across the floor and hid his face. It was all the boys needed. Suddenly they were all over him, yanking at his hair, sitting on his back, then rolling over themselves.
Hank sat up. The boys looked at him as much as to say, is the fun over? “You guys look just like your daddy. He’s one lucky man. You’re pretty lucky, too, to have a dad like Ben. I’m sorry your mom isn’t here. She…I know she misses you, but she has some…issues right now. I think she’ll be home for Christmas. God, I hope she comes home for Christmas.”
The boys trundled off when they realized the giant on the floor was done playing. Hank rolled over and stared at the fire blazing up the chimney.
Where are you, Alice? He just knew in his gut that Alice would be able to explain Mandy’s attitude. Women knew everything about other women. He sat up and moved over to the gate to step over it. Time to check the e-mails. He sniffed; the kitchen smelled just the way a kitchen was supposed to smell, fragrant and homey. He said so. Mason beamed with pleasure at the compliment.
Hank clicked on the e-mail and saw a note from Alice. Another list! Not a word about her return.
The boys get a chewable Flintstone vitamin every morning. The bottle is on the kitchen windowsill.
Trash pickup is tomorrow morning. Both cans are full. Separate the glass bottles from plastic. Containers in the garage. Bundle all paper products and put in separate bin. All bins are labeled in the garage.
Buy