Something About You (Just Me & You) (33 page)

“Can you talk?” Molly asked in a hushed voice.

“Of course. Gage isn’t here. Even if he were, he couldn’t
hear what you’re saying.” Sabrina angled the cell phone closer to her ear with
her shoulder as she opened the door to the kitchen pantry. Surely there had to
be something to eat in the house other than leftover pizza.

“Oh, right,” Molly resumed her normal tone. “I bugged
Sebastian until he finally gave me the inside scoop about Gage’s sister. He
figured you’d probably tell me anyway. Poor Gage. How is he?”

“I dunno, Molls,” Sabrina sighed. “I can’t imagine how
difficult the past two years have been for him. There have been many times when
I wished Chet banished to a forgotten island, and I’m sure he’s felt the same
way about me. But if he were in a near-fatal car accident and fell into a coma,
I’d still have a hard time pulling the plug.”

“That’s what you need me for,” Molly commented dryly. “How
are
you
, Brini?”

“Cold. There’s too much snow here,” Sabrina complained. “I’m
also starving.”

She opened one of the cupboards and felt a surge of hope
when she spotted a box of wheat crackers. She shook it. Empty.
Damn
.

“There’s bound to be a café somewhere in Walden if you drive
around long enough,” Molly said helpfully. “Small towns like that are always
full of cute little diners that serve masses of greasy food.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sabrina tossed the empty
cracker box in the trash. “I’ve never driven in the snow before — at least
not snow like this.”

“Oh, it’s easy-peasy,” Molly said happily. “If you start to
spin out, all you have to do is turn the wheel in the direction the car is
skidding.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively sure. I read it on the Internet.”

Sabrina could hear the clank of coffeepot against cup in the
background. Coffee sounded so nice right now. She glanced at the
sunflower-shaped kitchen clock. The face was yellowed with age. “Look, Molls, I
need to zoom. Thanks for calling to check up on me, and just … well,
thanks.”

“What for?”

“For encouraging me to come here. It was the right thing to
do.”

“I always knew that, Brini.” Molly’s tone was placid. “But
it’s nice to hear you say it.”

Sabrina connected the cell phone to the charger. She still
felt slightly wool-headed. Her sleep had been interrupted by the sound of Gage
moving around in the kitchen while it was still dark outside and then again
when the neighbors unleashed a passel of children and hounds outside her
bedroom window. The shouting and baying had continued until she finally got up.

In the bleak daylight that poured through the windows, it
became obvious that housekeeping had been pushed to the far back burner.
Sabrina walked through the house to assess the damage. The coating of dust that
covered everything not protected by the drop sheets was thicker than it looked.
The lamps, the floor and even the walls looked musty. The bathtub was ringed
with gray, and mildew flourished in the grout. Empty cans and frozen-food
packages were precariously balanced on top of a pile of already-overflowing
garbage in the kitchen bin. Dishes covered in what looked like tomato sauce
moldered in the sink. Using her thumb and second finger as pincers, Sabrina
carefully picked up a plastic container. It dripped of something viscous and
malodorous.

She dropped it with a sound of disgust.

She could make a fair dent if she got an early start. All
she needed was a steady supply of caffeine and the right cleaning supplies.
Judging from the lack of provisions in the house, a run to the market was in
order.

Without bothering to brush her hair or teeth, she slipped
into jeans and a sweater, grateful that she’d had the presence of mind to pack
a pair of leather ankle boots. It was cold outside but not nearly as biting as
it had been when she arrived in Des Moines the night before. Teeth chattering, she
revved the engine of the old Impala and turned the heat to full blast.

The vehicle was unwieldy and the model far too old to have
airbags, but at least it was big enough to cushion the blow if she ran into
another car or plowed into a street sign, she reasoned as she backed out of the
snow-covered driveway. She was glad the roads were devoid of traffic. Of course
they would be. It was New Year’s Day. Sabrina groaned. In a small town like
Walden, most businesses would be closed.

Then she remembered Gage’s one-of-everything rule.

Sure enough, she happened across a twenty-four-hour market
on the town’s main street. Once inside, she grabbed a basket and began
collecting items with passing reference to the list she’d entered into her cell
phone app. Rubber gloves. Laundry detergent. Lemon oil. Sponges. Oh, and
bleach, she decided, reaching for the largest container. Bleach killed
everything. A beverage kiosk was tucked away in a corner of the store. Three
large Styrofoam cups of coffee and a packaged muffin would have her armed,
fueled and ready to go.

Sabrina barely registered the sound of the store’s bell as
she unloaded the items onto the checkout counter. The young man behind the
counter looked sullen and more than a little hungover.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice said from beside her. “Are you
staying at the old Fitzgerald place?”

“Ye-
mm-hmm
,” Sabrina murmured, remembering her
breath.

“I thought you probably were,” the woman went on. “I noticed
Michelle’s old car parked out front and thought I’d pop in and see who was
driving it.”

Oh, great.
Walden was one of
those
towns. The
type of town where people knew who drove what. The woman was about her age,
Sabrina noticed. She wore a quilted denim jacket with a faux sheepskin collar,
jeans, and real boots with thick lugged soles. Her pale blond hair fell just
below an abundant bosom in a mass of tight little curls. She would have been
stunningly pretty had it not been for the thick layer of makeup that terminated
abruptly at her jaw.

“I’m an old friend of the family, by the way,” the woman
explained.

“I’m Sabrina. I’m a friend, too. Well, of Gage. I’m Gage’s
friend.”

The curly-headed blonde gave her a sympathetic look. “Then
you know about Michelle. Such a tragedy. Gage and I went to high school
together. When I heard he was back in town, I planned to drop by and see if
there was anything I could do. But it looks like you’ve got things under
control. Please tell him that Lacey says hello.”

“Lacey,” Sabrina heard herself repeating.

“He’ll know who you’re talking about.” The blonde gave a
cheerful wave as she ducked back out the door.

Unbelievable.
Sabrina turned back to the checkout
counter. The sullen cashier ringing up her items looked as though he could be
in his late twenties. Possibly younger, judging by the name of a popular thrash
metal band on his T-shirt. 

“That was Lacey?” she asked him.

“Yeah, Lacey Petty,” said the boy. “Used to be Adams. Don’t
know what name she’ll use after the divorce. That’ll be forty-one dollars. Not
from around here, are you?”

“I’m sure that’s obvious,” Sabrina said.

“Definitely.” The cashier held up her debit card, which was
embossed with the Texas state seal.

Sabrina trod through the icy slosh laden with brown bags. It
was best if she put the strange encounter with Gage’s high school girlfriend
out of her mind. He’d spent some of his first eighteen years of life here,
sowing his wild oats like any other teenager. This was his hometown, for crying
out loud. One-of-everything Walden would undoubtedly have more than one old flame.
Sabrina gave the backseat of the Impala a troubled glance.

She got to work as soon as she got back to the Fitzgerald
house. Eight hours and fifteen trips to the laundry room later, every surface
was cleaned, buffed and polished to a high shine. If only Carlton could see her
now, she thought. Her hair was lank with sweat, and her fingers were shriveled
from water and cleaning fluids. Her armpits weren’t smelling too good, either.
It probably hadn’t helped that she’d plucked one of Gage’s T-shirts from the
dirty clothes bin to wear. She wanted a refreshing shower and another cup of
coffee, but there was still laundry to fold.

Sabrina dumped the last basket of warm, clean clothes on the
bed in what she assumed was Gage’s room and looked around while she folded
everything and sorted it into designated piles. Someone — Michelle,
perhaps — had gone to great lengths to keep the room perfectly preserved
to reflect the last years he’d lived in Walden. Football trophies lined the top
of a bookshelf that hosted a disparate selection, from literary works to
classic sci-fi. The bedspread, curtains and braided rugs had been selected in
green and blue, the colors of Gage’s high school alma mater. A poster board
hung over a maple desk set. It was festooned with memorabilia: photos of him
and various friends, newspaper clippings heralding home team wins, and ticket
stubs to rock concerts. Thumb-tacked to the lower end of the poster board were
a wooden-beaded rosary and a tarnished silver I.D. bracelet with the initials
M.G.F.

She folded the last T-shirt and tossed it on top of the pile
along with the others. Now that she wasn’t beating dust bunnies out of corners
with a broom, she realized how strange it felt to be in his old room. She ran
her fingertips over the desktop, pausing at a large framed picture of Gage and
an older woman. Her shoulder-length hair was darker and much curlier, but there
was no mistaking the family resemblance between the two. They shared the same
lopsided smile and pale skin sprinkled with freckles. Tucked in the corner of
the frame was a Polaroid of a much younger Gage and Michelle and an elderly
couple, most likely his grandparents.

Sabrina felt a stab of envy. She couldn’t ever foresee a
time in her life when she and Chet would share likenesses in the same picture
frame. She wasn’t even sure if she was in any of the March family photographs
her stepmother took on the holidays.

She wandered over to the bookcase and slid out a slim, blue
volume with
Walden High School
embossed on the spine. A smile tugged at
her lips as she flipped through the pages and paused at pictures of high school
kids sporting haircuts and clothing en vogue two decades ago. She turned to the
graduating seniors section. Gage’s double-dog-dare grin and thatch of auburn
hair popped out from the page.
So he was a bad boy
, she thought. Fancy
that. His hair was spiky on top and longer in front and fell over one eye
sullenly. Upstanding student citizen equally paired with inner juvenile
delinquent. The caption underneath the photo said:

Michael Gage “Fitz” Fitzgerald, Class Clown, Walden
Tigers (Tight End), Photography Club, KATU Student Radio

Goal After Graduation: “The same thing I do every year,
gang — try to take over the world!”

This was getting really interesting …

Sabrina kicked off her sneakers and sat cross-legged on the
bed. There were more posed shots of the teenaged Gage in sections on clubs,
sports and student activities. Her favorites were the candids. There was a
picture of Gage skateboarding down the school parking lot and another of him
looking more thoughtful as he sat in the school’s radio booth.

“Smooth, Fitzgerald,” she murmured as she studied a photo of
Gage at the senior prom, his arm draped around Lacey Adams’ shoulders. Lacey
sported mall bangs and eye shadow a rare shade of dark pink. In the photo, she
gazed at Gage with besotted Bambi eyes, but he seemed not to notice. Instead,
he looked directly into the camera, errantly handsome in a black tux with a
beer label slapped across the lapel. There was an edge of defiance behind his
daredevil smile, Sabrina noticed. Oh yes, he had the look of a young man who’d
battled hardship and loss all his life and vowed to keep on swinging.

She heard the front door open then the sound of footsteps
coming down the hall.

“Hey there — wow! You’ve really done things with the
place.” Gage stopped in the bedroom doorway and did a double take. He held a
Nicki’s Coneys takeout bag in one gloved hand. The smell of grilled onions and
chili filled the room. “What’s been going on?”

“At this very moment? I’m snooping, Mr. Class Clown.”
Sabrina held the yearbook open to display his prom picture. “Oh, that reminds
me. Lacey Adams, now Lacey Petty, soon to be Lacey
To-Be-Determined-After-the-Divorce, says to tell you hello.”

“You ran into Lacey?” Gage looked amused. “How’d that
happen?”

“I was at the market,” Sabrina explained. “We had a short
chat.”

“Live in Walden long enough, and you get used to the feeling
of your ears burning,” he grinned. He seemed in a lighter mood than he had been
the night before.

“Lacey seems very nice. I must admit that I’m always
impressed when I meet a woman who can carry off the same hairstyle she had in
high school.” Sabrina smoothed the catty ring from her tone — but just
barely. Carlton would have approved.

“Amazing, the effect small towns like Walden have on
people.” Gage looked incredulous. “You’re sounding less like an independent
career woman and more like a plain ol’ jealous girlfriend by the second.” He
set the bag on the floor and pulled off his coat.

“I’m not your girlfriend — yet,” Sabrina told him
mindfully.

He indulged her with one of the most satisfied smiles she’d
ever seen.

“And I don’t get jealous,” she added as she put the yearbook
aside.

“Ever?” He gave her a dubious look.

“Never. At least I don’t think so.” Sabrina frowned. “Maybe
if I said something like, ‘Lacey is definitely not your type,’
that
might suggest jealousy.”

“Or let’s see—” Gage raised a brow. “—if you went through my
old high school yearbooks, that too could tell me you’re looking into the
former competition to see how you measure up.”