Once Upon a Marriage (11 page)

They were alone in the shop. He couldn't tell what was going on outside. But no one had tried the door.

With his cell phone at his ear, he waited for James Wilson, the Denver cop assigned to Liam's case, to pick up. “I don't think he knew we were in here,” he told Marie. “The shop's been closed more than an hour, and the overhead lights are off. He's not looking to hurt you.” That was his immediate professional assessment.

He hoped to God he was right.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A 
COMMON
 
FIREPLACE
 
brick had been thrown through her front window. The guard out front had chased a hooded man he'd seen across the street right as soon as he'd seen the brick go through the window. He'd been several yards away from the shop's window and lost the guy before he got a good look at him. He'd called the cops next. And had been shocked to find out that Elliott and Marie had been inside.

There'd been a note attached to the brick—addressed to Liam on plain copy paper that could have come from any ink-jet printer in the city.

It asked one question.

Do you feel me yet?

If Elliott hadn't acted as swiftly as he had, Marie would most likely have been struck in the head.

She could have been killed.

But it was pretty obvious that the perpetrator hadn't meant to commit bodily harm.

Not yet, at least.

It was clear now, to the police and to Elliott, that someone was toying with Liam. Someone who wanted to make him squirm. See him hurt. Someone who probably was not going to stop until Liam had suffered.

As with any “game,” the guy would continue to taunt Liam with proof that he could get to him. When issuing mere reminders of this fact failed to satisfy him, he would up his ante.

Everyone involved agreed on that point.

It was anyone's guess what upping the ante would mean to the guy.

But Elliott seemed to think that, based on the fact that every single act had been aimed at Liam—Marie's shop being the only public access the guy had to Liam—the escalated attempts would be aimed at him, as well.

While Marie didn't like any of this, she accepted the theory that she wasn't in immediate physical danger and so, when her mother called the next day, didn't mention the brick in her shopwindow. Her mother had always had an edge where Liam was concerned. No point in rocking that boat.

Elliott had had the window boarded up before the police left the night before. Between him and Gabi and Liam, her shop had been clean and ready for business before they all retired for the night. Liam had had a company there first thing that morning replacing the window. The full-time security that had been placed out front as well as in the back, not just when the shop was open, but twenty-four hours a day—at Liam's insistence and expense—was now of the gun-carrying variety.

There'd been no opportunity for her and Elliott to finish their personal conversation of the night before. Liam and Gabi had been with him when he checked her apartment as he'd dropped her off and then the three of them had gone on upstairs together.

He'd been downstairs that morning before she had, but before she could even greet him, Grace had walked off the elevator. Then he'd been busy reassuring the older woman—who'd seen the broken window—that everyone was safe.

Marie was open for business right on time, and life went on.

But he hadn't denied that he liked her too much. And now he knew she returned his feelings.

Barbara's call had come when Marie was upstairs, taking a break, just after lunch. She hadn't had much sleep. And had taken half an hour to sit on her couch alone with a glass of herbal tea.

“I have some news for you, sweetie.” Barbara's voice practically bubbled over the line. But it was the hesitancy that also filtered through that had Marie opening her eyes and sitting up straight.

“What?” she asked. If her mother and father were reuniting for the third time, she couldn't pretend to be happy. Her mother was just going to be heartbroken again. And sooner or later, the woman would be unable to put herself back together.

Marie knew. She'd watched the decline over the years. She'd seen a strong confident woman lose all faith in herself until she'd become a paranoid fragile shadow of what she could have been.

“I'm getting married!”

She heard the excitement in her mother's voice. Knew Barbara wanted her to share in it. And she just couldn't.

Not again.
She didn't say the words that sprang to mind first. Instead, she managed, “I just talked to Daddy last week and he didn't say anything...”

“He doesn't know yet.” And there was the hesitancy again. “I thought it was best if you knew first because he's probably going to call you. I'm sorry, honey. You shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'll tell him to leave you out of it, but you know your father...”

Wait. Marie slumped back on the couch, her hand to her head. She shook her head. And sat up again. “You're getting married, but not to Daddy?”

“That's right.”

Wow. But how... “Who are you marrying?” Had her mother gone completely mad?

“Bruce.”

“I don't know a Bruce, do I? The only Bruce I've ever heard you mention is your therapist...”

“He's a psychiatrist, and yes, that's him. Dr. Bruce Mendholson. He's going to be here in a few minutes, but I told him I wanted to tell you about us myself.”

“You're marrying your shrink?”

“Marie!” The sharpness of the tone surprised her. But made Marie feel good, too, in a little-girl kind of way. It was a remnant of the mother she'd known. The one who'd disciplined her. Set boundaries. And been an example to her.

“Don't be disrespectful, sweetie, please.” Barbara's tone softened. “I know this is sudden. I knew you'd be shocked. Which was why I wanted to tell you first and by myself. It's just... For so long I thought what I was feeling for Bruce was transference—it's not uncommon, you know, for clients to think they're falling for their therapists...”

Marie thought that was exactly what was happening.

“But after this last time with your father... I didn't hurt, Marie. I felt sorry for him. But I was fine. I realized I didn't need therapy anymore...”

“You quit therapy completely?”

“Yes.”

“What about your medication?”

Barbara had been on one form or another of antianxiety and antidepressant medication since Marie was in high school.

“I've been off it for almost a year...”

“What?” Marie jumped up. Walked to the wide window in her living room, looking down at the street below. “You didn't tell me.”

“I wanted to make certain I was ready, that I could make it without help, before I told you about it. My biggest regret is what my unstable relationship with your father did to you, Marie...”

“You've been medication free for almost a year.” She had to get this straight. Barbara had been needy for so long...

Marie wasn't sure what to do with this new version of her mother.

“Anyway, after I quit therapy I realized that I hadn't needed it for a long time. What I needed—wanted—was Bruce. He makes me laugh. I make him laugh. He loves me in a way I've never been loved, Marie...”

She wasn't sure how much of this she needed to hear.

“Don't be angry, baby.”

“I'm not.” In the least. Shocked, yes. Doubtful, yeah, that, too.

“So... Bruce—he's, what, ten years older than you?” She'd met her mother's therapist once. When her mother had asked her to join them for a session. She and Gabi had been in town during summer break and Gabi had joined in, too. Because Marie had asked if she could. That must have been five years ago or so.

“Seven.”

“And divorced?”

“He's never been married, Marie. I know it's hard to believe, but he said he just never met a woman he cared more about than his work. Until me.”

Wow. It sounded like a fairy tale.

And a disaster waiting to happen?

“When's the date?”

“Next weekend. In Las Vegas. At our age, we just want to get the legalities out of the way and start living life. We're going on a nearly three-week Caribbean cruise for our honeymoon, and then, later in the year we want to take a trip to Italy.”

A week and two days away. For once in her life Marie was speechless. Her mother was getting married—not to her father—in less than two weeks.

“I know I've shocked you, Marie. But please be happy for me, sweetie. Please?”

“I am happy for you.” And she was also worried. “Even if the happiness in your voice only lasted a week, I'm thrilled to hear it, Mom. Truly. I'm just...as you say, shocked.”

“Bruce and I... We were hoping that you'd be there. For the wedding.”

Nancy and Eva could run the shop—especially with Grace there. And Sam would cover extra weekend hours, too, if she needed him.

“Of course I'll be there.”

“And... Marie...bring Gabi with you, please? She's like a daughter to me. And I want her there for you, too...”

“Gabi's married, Mom, remember? You aren't all that fond of Liam. And I'm not asking her to leave her husband behind.”

“I sent them a wedding present,” Barbara reminded her. “And I'd expect her to bring him. He's part of the family now, too. Whether I'm fond of him or not.”

There was no whininess in her mother's voice. Could Marie hope things really had changed?

She should have seen it before now. And maybe she would have if she hadn't been so caught up in her own drama.

She'd just been telling Elliott the night before that her mother's calls had been much less frequent for the past several months.

“I can't guarantee they can go on such short notice, but I'll ask them,” Marie said. “I'll call you tonight and let you know my travel plans.”

Barbara told her when she and Bruce would be arriving in a second city that never sleeps. Told her at which resort Bruce had already reserved rooms—for all of them. At his expense.

She told Marie, once again, how happy she was.

And then, just before she rang off, she said, “Do I have your blessing, sweetie? Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

The vulnerability that Marie's father had instilled in her mother wasn't gone. Maybe it never would be. And Marie didn't honestly know what to think. Except, “You should do what you've always told me to do, Mom. Listen to your heart.”

“My heart tells me I need to do this. I
want
to marry Bruce. I can't wait. But your opinion is important to me, Marie. You really think I should go through with it?”

How the heck did she know? “I think a minute of pure joy is better than a lifetime of worry and unhappiness.”

Which was all her mother had known in far too many years.

“Thank you, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” Marie hung up the phone.

And burst into tears.

* * *

A 
NOTICE
 
WENT
 
out to all the Arapahoe residents, informing them of the recent coffee shop vandalism, listing the added security in the front of the building as well as the back, and assuring them that everything was in place to protect their physical safety. Marie, Gabi and Liam, with Elliott present on his insistence, held a meeting for any residents with questions or concerns after Marie's shop closed Friday evening.

Elliott didn't speak at the meeting. He stood in a corner of the room, by the brand-new window, where he could see all the other windows, the locked front door and the hall leading back to the elevator, stairs and Marie's office, as well. He wasn't particularly concerned about imminent danger. He was just doing his job.

One he couldn't quit.

Whoever was after Liam Connelly was a threat, to be sure. One that was expected to escalate. At some point, if the police didn't catch this guy, violence was going to happen. But for now...

“We've not only doubled our live security coverage and have someone watching the building—both front and back—twenty-four/seven, but the police are also watching the area more closely. In addition, some of you may have noticed the crews working about the building this afternoon. We now have security cameras positioned strategically on every floor, in the elevator, in the front and back of the building, in the parking lot and in the laundry room.” Liam, in jeans, and a shirt and tie, was addressing the mostly elderly tenants.

He fielded a couple of questions regarding his own personal safety from the tenants in the twenty or so apartments represented. The Arapahoe had a total of thirty-eight apartments on eight floors.

Grace was there. And Elliott recognized the woman whose mother was a candy stealer, Janice. The mother, who was not present, was Clara. Dale and Susan Gruber had come down. Elliott heard Marie ask the woman if she'd enjoyed her trip to the theater. And was kind of touched by the way the woman's face lit up as she described the romantic date in great detail.

Matilda Schumann, wife of Ben, the smoker from Marie's floor, had come in alone.

He didn't see either Edith Larkin or her somewhat senile next-door neighbor, bathroom wanderer Gordon Brinley.

One of the two younger tenants was present. A man who wore black plastic-framed glasses and worked as a paralegal for a private law firm.

The other, a couple who'd been married within the past year, Elliott had only seen twice in the three months he'd been around the place.

Liam concluded the meeting and while Marie served coffee and cookies, Gabrielle answered a flurry of questions from the people who'd gathered around her. Elliott wanted to help. But he stood back.

Watching.

Because that was the job he was being paid to do.

* * *

“C
AN
I 
TALK
to you all a minute?”

Elliott turned around at the door of Marie's apartment as she asked the question. Liam and Gabrielle had come in with him, as they had the night before, as he assured himself that nothing had been disturbed. He'd expected to be alone in his room within the next five minutes.

Needed some time alone. To assess. Plan.