Boo Hiss (19 page)

Ainsley wanted to point out that it would only teach them to expect something in return, but then she spotted the tape measure. Her curiosity disrupted any further thought. “The reverend said you were down here measuring.”

“Yes. I’ll be honest. I’ve been worried about space. I wanted to get an exact idea of how many tables we can fit down here.”

Ainsley pulled a tape measure out of her purse. “I can tell you that.”

“Here,” Katelyn said, taking a piece of paper out of her pocket. “The measurements are written down there.”

Ainsley took the paper and studied it. Measurements down to every detail, including the small window that of course would need to be centered with the table.

“Eight-foot tables?” Katelyn asked.

“Yes,” Ainsley said. “So that means two tables on the east wall,”

“And one on the west,” Katelyn added.

“But we can add a four-foot table for drinks over on the south wall.”

“Exactly. Right by the beverage bar.” She clapped her hands. “That will be perfect.”

“And will keep the traffic flowing in one direction.”

“Which is always important.” Katelyn said this while studying Ainsley’s shoes.

Ainsley couldn’t decide if she loved or hated this woman. Here was a lady who embodied everything dear to Ainsley. She understood that the way a room is laid out is of utmost importance. She understood décor and fine food and table settings. She was energized by things being exactly right, evident in her attention to detail on the mural and Ainsley’s shoes. So why did this woman aggravate her so?

Not knowing what else to do, she decided to stare at Katelyn’s shoes. They were multicolored canvas. Which of course would go perfectly with paint-stained overalls. Ainsley glanced down at her own shoes and—

She gasped. Katelyn turned back to the wall, and Ainsley stared down at her feet. Mismatched shoes?! How could it have happened? They were close, one a dark brown, one a soft black, but still. She wanted to sink into the floor and cry.

Instead, she decided to try to hold her head high. She noticed a photo album lying on the table. It gave her something to do other than continue to horrify herself, so she decided to go take a peek. “What’s the photo album for?”

Katelyn followed her to the table. “It’s one of my Creative Memories albums.”

Ainsley flipped open the first page. Each picture was framed perfectly with dainty pink and green mats, plus festive stickers and typed labels. She looked closer. It was a picture of Main Street. She turned the page, and the next page. They were all pictures of Skary. And as she got to the middle of the book, she began seeing pictures of the new coffeehouse, the bookstore, the new deli, and then the cell phone store. At the back of the book were pictures of the church. Ainsley bent over the
book, hardly believing her eyes. There on one page was a drawing of their church, with two other buildings surrounding it, plus a deluxe playground.

Katelyn said, “Those are just some drawings I did. Just playing around with some ideas.”

“That’s our church.”

“Behind the church is the multiplex, which will house a gym, a theater, and classrooms. On the other side are the offices and children’s area.

Ainsley couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After getting over the shock and pure, undeniable envy of how perfectly organized these pictures were, along with color-coordinated stickers and mats and page numbers, she then had to deal with the idea that Katelyn Downey had a much bigger plan for Skary, Indiana, than just adding coffee flavors. She flipped back through the pages, trying to grasp it all. She did notice, with more than a bit of pleasure, that Katelyn didn’t seem to know colors all that well. Throughout the pastel-colored album, touches of red in the form of arrows clashed conspicuously.

Ainsley closed the book and turned to Katelyn, who was busy fixing her ponytail. As she was standing there observing how masterfully Katelyn could use her fingers (and not a brush) to accomplish such a task, something extraordinary happened to Ainsley, something she was not sure she’d ever felt before.

“That’s an interesting choice of red you’ve put in your album.” Ainsley stood with one foot behind the other, feeling equally empowered and ashamed by her snide remark. What had this woman done to her? It was jealousy in its worst form, and she knew it. But that didn’t wipe the self-satisfied smile off her face.

Katelyn smiled back. “That’s actually not red. It’s called Crimson Blood.”

“Among pastels?”

“To stand out. It represents all the territory that I haven’t fully conquered yet.”

Lois Stepaphanolopolis divided her clothes. On one side of the closet were “Martin outfits” which consisted of polished cotton shirts, jackets, and pants in more modest cuts, such as black pantsuits. On the other side were Sheriff Parker-appropriate clothes—more polished cotton with plunging necklines and bright colors, paired with a few floral wrap skirts. And of course everything had shoulder pads. Lois didn’t mind that she hadn’t updated her wardrobe since her twenty-pound weight gain of ‘87. She knew how to make an outfit look good. It was all about the walk and the shade of lipstick.

It had been years since she’d dated, and even then, weeks went by between dates, so having two men interested in her at one time was extraordinary and nothing short of miraculous. She could admit it—she loved the attention.

She was still unsure which man was right for her. Martin Blarty was not her type, not by a long shot. She had few rules about men she dated, but one of them was that he had to have a larger shoulder span than she. Though a smaller man, Martin did carry himself well, and something about him made Lois feel that no matter what the crisis, he would come through. There was this sense that he had a solution for every problem. He was the kind of man that might have entered every relational challenge he could think of into a spreadsheet of some sort, and calculated out their chances of coming through successfully. He wouldn’t be pursuing her so hard if he didn’t think it could work. And though her heart
didrít pitter-patter at the sound of his voice, she couldn’t deny that the way he treated her made her feel special.

Then there was Sheriff Parker, a.k.a. Irwin, a.k.a. Bart. He was much more of an enigma. The mans intense stare could buckle her knees, and she loved the way she had to stare
up
into his eyes. A certain power exuded from him. He walked with a purposeful stride. Strutted, actually. But he carried it off well, especially for his age. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a little confused about who he should be in love with. It was a common hazard among actors. They start to believe the role they play, and therefore project their playacting emotions into real life.

Lois backed out of her closet, after organizing her shoes according to heel height, and closed the door. One thing she knew for certain. She was going to have to keep these two men as separate as possible. The less they knew about each other, the better. She was not in an exclusive dating relationship, so there was no reason she couldn’t or shouldn’t test-drive both varieties. But she knew for certain that she couldn’t play one against the other. Both men had fragile egos, and with that came the risk of losing it all. A couple more weeks dating them both would help her figure out which she was more attracted to. It was simply a matter of keeping a distinct record of heart palpitations.

Lois went to the kitchen to fix herself a healthy salad with a side of loaded potato. But before she could even get the pound of cheese out of the fridge, she heard a knock at the front door. She smiled as she fluttered across the living room. She just knew it was one of her favorite men, possibly with roses or chocolates. Smelling, she was sure, like the cologne she loved.

She swung open the door. Well, she was right about the roses. And the chocolates. And the cologne. Martin and Irwin stood shoulder to head under the porch light.

C
HAPTER
19

“G
ENTLEMEN
,” L
OIS SQUEAKED
. “What … what are you both, urn, doing here?”

The two men glanced at each other and then at Lois. “Well,” Martín began, “we came to woo you.”

The sheriff said, “But apparently we both had the woo idea.”

“I like to woo with roses.”

“I woo with dark chocolates.”

“I would have rung before I wooed except I really wanted to surpwise—er, surprise—you.”

Two woos. Huh. “Who wooed first?” Lois asked.

“We arrived to woo at the same time,” the sheriff said.

“The chances of that are actually astronomical,” Martin added.

“Well,” Lois said, not knowing what else to do, “why don’t you both come in?”

The men looked at each other, both obviously concerned. But neither looked like they wanted to turn down the invitation either.

“Sure, why not?” the sheriff said, and both men squeezed through the doorway at the same time. Lois shut the front door and offered them each a seat.

“Martin, let me put the roses in some water.” She smelled them and said, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Chocolate?” the sheriff asked, opening the box.

The array of chocolates beckoned her attention. “May I see the map?”

“What map?”

“It’s on the inside of the lid.” She took it from him. He looked confused. Possibly because he’d never known there was a map. The map was the only thing one needed to stay away from the possibility of biting into one with orange filling. “Yum. This one looks good.” She took a truffle.

The sheriff glanced at Martin and grudgingly offered him one too. Martin took the middle one. “Thanks,” Martin said, popping it into his mouth. Then he made a face. He didn’t look at the map.

The sheriff closed the box.

Lois put the roses in a vase and offered the men drinks. Both declined. She sat across from her two suitors, crossed her legs, and folded her hands together.

“Well,” she said after several seconds of awkward silence except for the orange chocolate smacking inside Martins mouth, “I guess it’s obvious that I’ve been dating both of you. I didn’t want to hurt either of you, but the fact of the matter is that I’m attracted to you both.”

Martin and the sheriff smiled at each other. In a woman’s world, that would’ve jump-started a cat fight.

“You each have certain unique qualities that I’m attracted to. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about each other, but now that you have, I think that’s probably healthy. Keeping secrets is never a good way to start a relationship.”

“All right. Fine!” Martin blurted. “I wear heel lifts!”

Lois hastily added, “I meant concerning me. Dating both of you.”

The sheriff was staring at Martin’s shoes, and Martin was staring at the box of chocolates. She was losing control of this situation. If she was
going to have the two men she adored in her house at the same time, the attention was going to have to be on her.

So she did what any self-respecting drama queen would do: she fainted.

“Good-bye, Doctor. Thank you for coming.” Wolfe said and shut the door quietly, though a jolt of satisfaction caused him to smile. But it had worked! He’d called Dr. Hoover earlier that day and asked him to come over and
assess
Melb. It was just as he’d expected. Dr. Hoover had given Melb a clean bill of health and told her she should start exercising.
By packing your bags
, Wolfe had thought, but he didn’t quite have the snake issues resolved. Very soon, though.

Nevertheless, he knew this would bring a great deal of relief to Ainsley, who had been feeling guilty for everything that had happened to Melb. Now they could get on with their—

What was that noise? He followed it into the kitchen. Ainsley was pouring some berry-colored drink from the blender into a glass. Wolfe followed her into the living room, where she gave it to Melb and then adjusted her blanket.

Wolfe followed her back into the kitchen. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a sack of carrots. “Juicing carrots. Why?”

“Didn’t you just hear what the doctor said? Melb is fine. She should go about life normally.”

“People drink carrot juice, Wolfe.”

“You’re acting as if you didn’t hear a thing Dr. Hoover said.”

“I’m juicing carrots. Is it a federal crime?”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me. I saw you pull the covers over Melb’s feet.”

Ainsley finally turned to him, a determined fire in her eyes. “What is with you? Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I care so much? First of all, you’re my wife. I hate seeing you like this. You’re utterly exhausted, and you never stop. You just keep going and going. And now you’ve been given the green light to stop, and you can’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Take a good look around you! I don’t know how to say this, but you’ve totally lost your mind!” He paused, waiting for a possible slap to the cheek. There was no slap, but plenty of tears had begun running down her cheeks. “Oh no. Please. Please don’t cry. It’s just a temporary insanity. Easily remedied.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t about Melb. It’s about coordinated handbags and shoes.”

“Sure it is.” he said softly, but he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

“I just feel incompetent, Wolfe. I feel like … like …”

“Like … what?”

“I feel like I’ve been outdone.”

“Outdone?”

“There’s this woman named Katelyn, and I swear she is the perfect woman. She looks like she stepped right out of a magazine, and I’m not talking about the co-op magazines. A real fashion magazine. She’s so pulled together. And even when she’s
not
pulled together, she’s pulled together. I feel so useless when I’m around her. She makes me want to
crawl in a hole.” Ainsley glanced toward the living room. “I guess this has made me feel useful, important. I’m helping save a little life, and what better thing can a person do?”

Wolfe held her shoulders. “Ainsley, you are not useless. And there is no such thing as perfect. This Katelyn woman may seem pulled together on the outside, but let me assure you, everyone has weaknesses. And what I’ve found true in life is that the more perfect someone seems on the outside, the more imperfect they are on the inside. They’re putting up a front, making everyone think they’ve got it together. You are one of those rare people in life that has it all together on the outside
anduve
inside.”

She wept harder, and fell into his arms. “Wolfe, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“It’s true.” He blotted her face and swept her hair out of her eyes. “You don’t need to prove anything to anybody. You’re a capable, smart woman, who is compassionate and caring to a fault.” He lowered his voice. “Ainsley, the longer you continue to treat Melb this way, the longer you’re enabling her.”

“Enabling her?”

“You’re not making her face the fact that she has a baby on the way, and she’s going to have to accept this and prepare for it.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m not doing her any favors.” He sighed with relief. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.” She nodded. She suddenly looked exhausted. “I’m going to bed.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I just need some rest. Listen, don’t say anything to Melb, okay? There’s going to be a right time to do this, and it’s not now. But I’ve got to rest. Can you handle it this evening?”

“Sure.” He hugged and kissed her with a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, with the first genuine smile he’d seen on
her face in days. “Thanks for speaking the truth.” He watched her walk toward the stairs.

Then, from the living room, Melb screeched, “Where’s my tea? I could die of thirst with how hot you keep this house!!”

Wolfe geared himself up for a long night.

Martin poked along the five-block stretch of street between Lois’s house and his. It was dark and cold, just like his soul. How in the world was he supposed to compete with Sheriff Parker? The man was practically a legend! Was Lois just being nice when she said she was attracted to both of them? Sure, the flowers seemed to be a hit, but Martin had sampled the chocolate, and it was nothing to snub your nose at. Two caramels and a cherry later, he himself was almost ready to marry the sheriff. Next time he would definitely have to go with the sweet stuff.

Dragging his feet along the pavement, he contemplated giving up. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Lois really was attracted to him. After all, she’d gone on more than one date with him. She just as easily could’ve said she was seeing someone else. That, at least, lit a little flame of hope in his heart.

He gazed at the night sky as he walked up the sidewalk toward his house. Maybe there was something he could do to make himself more attractive. He’d read that hair implants were becoming less and less expensive. Rumor was that old Farmer Gordon had had it done, when seemingly overnight he’d stopped wearing his John Deere cap and Alba had taken to lipstick again. He scratched his cold head and then felt in his jacket for his keys.

And of course he had to ask the all-important question, was Lois
Stepaphanolopolis the right woman for him? A woman wasn’t like a spreadsheet. There were plenty of unpredictable factors that didn’t fit into the nice, tidy boxes on the screen. Like, for instance, her blood sugar issues, which they’d found out about tonight when she suddenly passed out on the couch.

Martin had not a clue what to do. The sheriff took the role of hero. He laid her on the couch and felt for pulses and other throbbing things. Martin just stood back and watched, then fetched a washrag when ordered to.

“Martin?”

“
Ah
!” Martin stumbled backward. Someone stood in the shadows of his porch. “Who’s there?” he wheezed.

He heard a chuckle. “Good grief, Martin. It’s just me.” The mayor stepped into the moonlight. “The boogeyman hasn’t been to Skary in at least a decade.”

Martin punched his key into the doorknob. “What are you doing here this late anyway?”

“I can’t sleep,” the mayor said, following him inside. “You didn’t answer your cell phone.”

Martin flipped on the lights and noticed it sitting on the dining room table. “What can I do for you, sir?”

The mayor sat down in Martin’s favorite chair and dropped a bag he was carrying to the floor. “Well, we’ve got a crisis.”

Of the heart
, Martin lamented, but tried to concentrate on the mayor. Of course, there was always a crisis, so what was new? “What kind of crisis?”

The mayor pulled out a stack of mail. “These. I’ve been getting letters and phone calls like crazy!” He set the mail on the coffee table, then he hopped up from his chair and rubbed his hands together like he was trying to start a fire.

“About what?”

“Peoples opinions, mostly. Everyone feels strongly one way or the other. Some people think we should be open to the idea of becoming a suburb … or an X-burb, whatever in the world that is. Others think it’s going to be Armageddon. They swear it will be the end of life as we know it.”

Martin took the mail and sifted through it. “What do you think?”