Shocking Pink (27 page)

A
ndie insisted on taking her own car, and followed Nick and Mara to the restaurant. The whole way, she berated herself for having accepted the invitation. What had she been thinking, agreeing to have dinner with Nick Raphael and his daughter? Besides the fact that she was quite sure she didn’t like him, there was the little matter of his wife to consider. What would the woman think about her husband and daughter dining with another woman, however innocently?

She shook her head, thinking of Raven, imagining what she would say. Her friend would, no doubt, have a good laugh over Andie having dinner with a man she had repeatedly called the enemy over the past couple of weeks. The same man she had also described to her friend as cold, arrogant and a pain in her backside. She would have a good chuckle over the fact that he was married, as Andie was constantly lecturing Raven about steering clear of attached men—a thing Raven had absolutely no conscience about.

Andie smiled suddenly, recalling Nick’s expression when she had accepted his invitation. It had been almost comical. She didn’t know who had been more surprised and dismayed—him or her.

Andie saw Bella’s up ahead, and her smile faded. She knew why she had agreed to this dinner, one that any other night she would have refused. She had been afraid to be alone in her own home. Even though Officer Wilkens had checked every closet, nook and cranny and proclaimed her house free of intruders, the idea of spending the evening alone in her house had scared her silly.

Not alone, she thought. With the specters of Mr. and Mrs. X. With the memory of Mrs. X’s unsolved murder.

Reason enough, she decided, to be out with a man she hardly knew and didn’t like, a married man with a daughter and no doubt, a bushelful of his own problems. Hopefully, by the time she got home, she wouldn’t be thinking of Mr. and Mrs. X anymore. Hopefully, by the time she got home, she would be thinking about what an annoying, overbearing man Nick Raphael had become, and not about the fact that a stranger had been in her house, a stranger connected in some way to a fifteen-year-old murder.

Andie pulled into the restaurant parking lot behind Nick, then into the parking space next to his. Okay, she thought again, firming her resolve. It wouldn’t be fun, but it would serve a purpose.

Within twenty minutes, Andie saw how wrong she had been. Mara was a delight. Precocious. Smart and funny. Andie had laughed more in the last few minutes than she had in a week.

And Nick, once he’d relaxed, wasn’t nearly the ogre she had made him out to be. In fact, she found him rather charming.

Or maybe, she thought, laughing as she watched the two arm-wrestle, it was the father and daughter together she found charming. Nick loved his daughter so much. The emotion shone from his eyes and echoed in his every word, gesture and expression.

Watching them together reminded her of the way it had been between her and her own father. Before he had left them for Leeza. Before everything had fallen apart.

The waitress, a pretty girl of about sixteen, came over. “Hi ya, Uncle Nick,” she said, snapping her gum. “Hi, Mara.” She set a box of crayons and a coloring book on the table in front of the girl, then looked at Andie, openly checking her out. “Hello.”

Nick introduced her. “Andie, this is my niece, Sam. Sam, Dr. Andie Bennett.”

“Nice to meet you,” Andie said, smiling.

The girl looked at her a moment more, as if deciding whether she was going to sanction this meal, then nodded. “Nice to meet you.” She handed them menus. “You want a beer, Uncle Nick?”

Nick looked at Andie. “You like red wine?”

“Love it.”

He looked back at his niece. “Bring a couple glasses of your house red.”

The girl arched her eyebrows at that, then bent to Mara. “Shirley Temple?”

Mara didn’t look up from her coloring. “With extra cherries.”

As Sam started to walk away, Nick called to her. “And tell that no-good brother of mine to come out. He owes me money.”

When the girl disappeared into the kitchen, Andie turned to Nick. “I feel kind of funny about this. Your family must think, I mean…this is perfectly innocent, but—”

“My wife and I are separated.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. She supposed she shouldn’t be. She should have suspected by the fact that he and Mara were out together on a Friday night that he was divorced or separated, but she hadn’t. Something about him seemed married to her. For one thing, he still wore his ring.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. It’s old news.”

Not that old, Andie thought, noticing the way Nick’s mouth thinned and the defensive glint that raced into his eyes.

“Mommy and Bernard are in New York,” Mara piped in. “They’re bringing me something from the biggest toy store in the world.”

Bernard? A boyfriend, most probably.
That answered one question—Nick and his wife had been separated long enough for her to have begun to date. But, had he?

Andie sneaked a glance at Nick. Judging by his thunderous expression, he had not.

Nick’s brother came out of the kitchen and greeted them with much fanfare. Older and heavier than Nick but nearly as handsome, he gestured broadly and spoke loudly. His voice rang through the restaurant.

“Who’s this, baby brother?” He stared with open curiosity at Andie.

“A friend,” Nick answered. “Dr. Andie Bennett, my brother Tony.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said.

“Welcome.” He grinned, a speculative gleam in his eyes. If Nick noticed, he didn’t comment. “Any
friend
of my little brother’s is a friend of mine.”

Tony beamed at her another moment, then turned and shouted, “Bella, come meet Nick’s friend.”

Nick leaned toward her. “Bella’s his wife. You’ll love her, she’s the greatest.”

She was, indeed, the greatest. Friendly and energetic, with a tart tongue and, Andie would bet, a temper to match, she held her own with the boisterous brothers.

Sam brought the wine, set the glasses on the table and looked at her parents in disgust. “I’ve got orders in, you know. Can’t we save the family reunion for another time?”

“Kids,” Tony said, shaking his head as she marched off. “They have no sense of what’s really important in life.”

His daughter, two tables over, heard that. “Tips,” she called back, scowling at him. “That’s what’s important.”

“She’s right.” Bella playfully slugged her husband. “The kitchen awaits. You and Nick can argue over baseball another time.” She smiled at Andie. “It was nice meeting you. Come and see us again.”

Andie said she would, then the woman held her hand out to Mara. “Sweet pea, come help your aunt Bella make your pizza. You can put anything on it you want.”

Nick watched them go and made a face. “Prepare yourself, there’ll be cherries on the pie. And lots of them.”

Andie laughed. “Your family’s great.”

“Is that what you call it? I always thought insane a better description.”

She laughed again and took a sip of wine. It was good, full-bodied with a fruity finish. “Not insane, trust me. And I should know, I’m a shrink.”

His lips lifted. “But you’ve only met a couple of them. I have three brothers and two sisters. We tend to be loud and damn obnoxious when we’re together. My mother had her hands full. What about you? I can’t remember if you had any siblings?”

“Two brothers. Twins. Four years younger than I am.”

“Are you close?”

She thought about it a moment. They were, but not in the way Nick and his brother Tony were. She told him that. “Because they were twins, they did everything together. They were each other’s best friend and brother. Plus they were boys, and I’m—”

“Not.”

She smiled. “Exactly. Besides, I’ve always had my friends Raven and Julie. They’re like sisters to me.”

A high-pitched squeal came from the kitchen, and Andie’s lips lifted. “Mara’s so cute. And so smart. You must be very proud.”

His smile was both spontaneous and wistful. “I am. The day she was born was the best day of my life.” He laughed, looking embarrassed at having revealed so much to her. “Uh-oh, there goes my macho-cop image.”

“I think it’s really sweet.”

“Sweet?” He rested his chin on his fist. She decided then and there that he was gorgeous. Flat out to die for. “Just what I always wanted to be. I’ll be picturing myself that way the next time I wrestle some scumbag to the ground.”

“Don’t worry, I can imagine you doing that. You don’t have to pull out your gun to prove what a tough guy you are.”

“Pull out my gun?” One corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin.

She flushed, realizing what she had said, the double entendre. “You know what I mean, your weapo—” She bit the word off, then burst out laughing. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” He grinned. “I don’t mind talking about my weapon. Anytime, Andie.”

She shook her head, not believing they were having this conversation. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, your tough-guy image is safe with me.”

“I appreciate that.”

Another excited squeal came from the kitchen, and Andie glanced that way, then back at him, thinking aloud. “It must be hard, not seeing her all the time.” She brought a hand to her mouth, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“Forget it.” His expression tightened. “And, yeah, it is hard. It stinks, as a matter of fact. But it’s out of my hands.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Andie made a small, fluttering motion with her right hand. “It’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

He took a swallow of his wine, working, she thought, to appear nonchalant and failing miserably. He shot her a tight smile. “I shouldn’t have snapped that way. I’m a little pissed off at my wife. She decided our family wasn’t worth saving. I felt differently.”

“How long ago did it…happen?”

“A couple months.”

A fresh wound. Too fresh for her to be sitting here, feeling all cozy and comfortable, thinking the things she was about him. A girl could get in a lot of trouble that way.

She could get her heart broken.

“What about you, Andie Bennett? What have you been doing for the last fifteen years?”

“Not much. College. Graduate school. Opened my practice.”

“Just hanging out, huh? Wasting time.”

She lifted a shoulder, amused. Charmed. “That’s about it.”

“No husbands along the way? No kids?”

“Nope. I left the husbands to Julie. She’s done the till-death-do-us-part thing three times. And counting.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly.”

He toyed with his wineglass. The deep red liquid dipped and swirled, catching the light, at times appearing red, other times almost purple. “And your other friend—Raven—are you still close?”

“Best friends.” Andie laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “That sounds so high school, doesn’t it? But we’ve been friends so long we’re more family than friends. We share everything, do everything together.”

He met her eyes. His crinkled at the corners with amusement. “Interesting.”

She caught his meaning and flushed. “Everything within reason.”

“She’s done well for herself, hasn’t she? Seems I heard something about a business. What was it? Something to do with—”

“A design firm. Interior design. She’s really good.”

“I’ll remember that next time I need paint swatches and throw pillows.”

Andie laughed. “I’ve got a big picture of you picking out throw pillows. And, yes, she’s done amazingly well. In fact, she landed the new Gatehouse development job.”

Nick cocked his head, eyebrows drawn together in thought. “Isn’t that odd, though? Considering the trauma she lived through?”

“Yes. And no. The human mind is an incredible thing. Some people endure terrible trauma yet emerge seemingly unscathed. They go on to lead productive, happy and relatively normal lives. Others experience trauma that appears much milder, but the damage to their psyche is much greater.”

He took a swallow of his wine, his expression rapt. “But how do you know who’s made out okay and who’s—”

“Screwed up?” she filled in. “Simple. By looking at their lives. Are they productive? Happy? Do they live within the confines of ‘normal’ society? Are their relationships with other people stable and healthy?”

Andie took a sip of her wine. “Raven and I have talked about this. She believes our friendship, and her friendship with Julie, is what kept her together. She believes we were—and are—her emotional anchors.”

“And you believe that’s true?”

Andie drew her eyebrows together. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant. As a psychologist, you believe that’s true, that her evaluation is correct?”

Andie trailed her finger along the edge of the red-and-white-checked tablecloth. “It’s not that unusual, actually. As humans, we find something to cling to, to give our lives a center or focus. For some it’s God, some family, others a job or a goal. For people who have lived through severe emotional trauma, that need is greater, perhaps. They cling tighter, harder.”

He was silent a moment, as if studying what she’d said, then met her eyes once more. “Just out of curiosity, what would happen if those emotional anchors were taken away?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Someone like that, if their anchor is suddenly taken away. What happens?”

“Again, it depends on the person. Nothing could happen. The person could find new anchors, maybe learn to depend solely on themselves.”

“Or they could go bonkers?”

“Bonkers?” she repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know, like opening fire on a school yard full of kids or turning into an ax murderer.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Who me?” He pointed at his chest. “Not at all.”

He did his best to look innocent, instead he reminded her of a jock caught in the locker room with his hand up a cheerleader’s skirt—guilty as sin.

He leaned toward her, eyes alight with interest. “So, what do you think, Andie? Could that send someone into a tail-spin?”

“I suppose the trauma could be great enough. It could be another betrayal or disappointment in a long line of them. But, that kind of thing’s quite rare. For the most part, people are what they seem to be.”