The Friends We Keep (Mischief Bay) (4 page)

Double racks and a built-in dresser should have helped with the organization but somehow that never happened. At least not for her. Andrew’s drawers were meticulously arranged. Socks sorted by color, exercise T-shirts separate from the T-shirts he wore under dress shirts. Why was that? She put away the laundry. So she was the one who maintained his organized ways while doing nothing to move herself beyond controlled chaos.

The whys weren’t important right now, she told herself as she dug through the single tall rack, searching for a reasonably clean, slightly dressy LBD. She found it in the back, next to a fuzzy pink robe she’d never liked.

The dress was long-sleeved, with a faux wrap bodice and knee-length skirt. She hadn’t worn it in a while but it looked clean enough. Except for pink fuzz from her robe, which would come off easily enough with masking-tape strips. The bigger issue was would it fit?

She knew she had a killer Spanx slip hanging somewhere, but before she suffered through the indignity of that she wanted to see if the dress was even a possibility. She undid the side zipper, then pulled it over her head.

The arms felt tight and the fabric bunched right above her boobs. She pulled and tugged and shimmied until it settled over her body. Even before she reached for the side zipper, she knew there was going to be problem.

The dress looked awful. It accentuated her round middle and the roll above her waistline. The fabric gapped a good four inches at the zipper and no amount of prayer was going to make it close. Not even the killer Spanx would be enough.

How much did she weigh? She hadn’t been on the scale in maybe a year. Sure, there were the extra few pounds since she’d had the girls, but this was unexpected. She hadn’t actually put on
more
weight, had she?

Even as she thought about the extra cookie she had after breakfast most days and the secret stash of Hershey’s Kisses in her nightstand, she told herself not to get off track. Andrew was due home any second. Cecelia would be arriving, Makayla was going to have a crisis before she headed to her mom’s and the twins could only be counted on to be quiet and entertain themselves in twenty-minute increments. That time was rapidly drawing to a close.

She pulled off the dress and flung it on the floor, then reached for her go-to black pants. They were stretched out at the waist and in need of replacing, but none of that mattered now. They fit.

She pulled them on, then searched for a top that was on the dressy end of professional. She found a black blazer that always worked, only there was a stain on the front. She jerked the hangers across the racks, trying to remember what she owned that wasn’t too small, too frayed or just plain ugly. Her throat tightened as panic set in. In her head she heard the frantic ticking of time going by too quickly melding with the horrifying realization that somewhere along the way, she’d gotten fat.

At the far end of the upper rack, she spotted a red sleeve. She pulled the shirt off the hanger and breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, the color wasn’t good, but the loose, silky shirt would fit her. The fabric was a little see-through and had an unfortunate gold weave running through it. She had no idea what had possessed her to buy it. Still, she was grateful to have something to wear.

She pulled on a plain black camisole, grabbed the red shirt and hurried back into the bathroom. The twins lay across Boomer. Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. Not a surprise—the feline had excellent self-preservation instincts. She seemed to sense exactly when there was going to be a crisis of some kind and extricated herself before it could happen.

Makeup, Gabby thought frantically as she plugged in her hot rollers. Curl her hair, makeup, dinner prep, Makayla, Cecelia, feed the pets, talk to the twins and out the door. It was possible, she told herself. Unlikely, but possible.

She draped the red shirt over the side of the tub. Kennedy wrinkled her nose.

“Mommy, you said you were wearing a dress.”

“No, you said that. I like pants.”

“You’re still pretty,” Kenzie said loyally.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Daddy likes you in a dress.” Kennedy’s expression turned stubborn. “And high heels.”

“I’m going to wear high heels.” High-ish, Gabby thought, already feeling her toes whimper in protest.

“Gabby, where are my white crop pants?” Makayla asked from the doorway to the bathroom. “I put them in the wash this morning.”

Gabby reached for her comb. After sectioning her hair, she put in a hot roller. “I don’t do whites on Fridays. I do them on Monday and Thursday.”

“But you knew I need them for this weekend.” Makayla’s expression turned annoyed and the volume of her voice increased.
Danger.
“You didn’t wash them on purpose.”

The twins looked at each other. Identical mouths formed perfect O’s as they waited to see what would happen next.

Every Friday Makayla was seeing her mother, Gabby thought grimly, there was a crisis, a fight, a something. And it was always her fault.
Sugar, sugar, sugar
.

Gabby faced her stepdaughter. Once again she was momentarily distracted by how pretty she was and how Makayla would spend much of her adulthood defined by her beauty. Oh, to be so cursed, Gabby thought ruefully.

“Makayla, you know I do laundry on a schedule. I’ve done it on a schedule since you came to live with us two years ago. I do the whites on Monday and Thursday. If you have a special request, I’m happy to try to help, but you didn’t tell me about the pants. I had no way of knowing they were in the laundry.”

Tears filled the teen’s eyes. “You could have looked.”

The unreasonable statement made her chest tighten.
Deep breath
. “And you could have told me. I can’t read your mind. Is there something else you can take with you?”

“No, the weekend is
ruined
!”

“Why is that?”

The question came from the bedroom. Gabby felt the tightness around her chest ease just a little. The twins scrambled to their feet and raced toward the speaker, as did Boomer.

Shrieks of “Daddy! Daddy!” competed with barks and Makayla complaining about her lack of white crop pants.

Gabby turned back to the mirror. The odds of her getting close to Andrew in the next ten minutes were close to zero. The girls and Makayla always claimed his attention when he got home. Boomer needed his moment with the master of the house. Even Jasmine would stroll in for a quick chin scratch.

Gabby finished rolling her hair, then quickly applied her makeup. She had a five-minute routine that got her through most situations. She wasn’t sure who the fund-raiser was for or the crowd they might face, so she took a little extra time with her eye shadow and liner.

Ten minutes later she pulled out the rollers and finger-combed her hair, then applied hair spray. Earrings followed. She slipped on low pumps and hurried out of the bedroom.

She walked toward Makayla’s room. The teen was folding pink pants.

“You doing okay?” she asked, careful to sound cheerful rather than cautious.

Makayla nodded without looking at her.

“Okay, then. Come get me if you need anything.”

Gabby hurried to the kitchen where she checked on dinner. She wasn’t sure where the twins were, but she could hear laughter and Andrew’s low voice from somewhere in the back of the house.

Boomer and Jasmine came into the kitchen. The calico wound around her legs in what Gabby assumed was supposed to be affection. Or at least a claim on her attention.

“I’m very clear on the time,” she told her pets. “You’re next.”

She put Boomer’s food in a bowl and set it in the mudroom, then got out Jasmine’s dinner. Wet food with water mixed in, to keep Jasmine’s urinary tract healthy. Gabby added a small bowl of kibble on the side and carried both to the laundry room, because there was no way dogs and cats could eat together. Not if the cat was going to get any food.

Jasmine jumped up on her table and meowed until Gabby set down the dishes.

The pets fed, Gabby returned to the kitchen and set the table for three, all the while glancing at the clock. She pulled out the plate of raw vegetables she’d cut up earlier. Because while the twins wouldn’t touch a
cooked
vegetable, they would eat them raw.

Right on time, the doorbell rang. Boomer announced their visitor, in case he was the only one who heard the bell. The twins came running, yelling Cecelia’s name. Gabby let in the teen and smiled gratefully.

“Hi,” she said with a sigh. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“Love it.”

Cecelia had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Gabby knew that once she got the twins settled, she would study. In addition to her part-time job at Supper’s in the Bag, Cecelia babysat and took classes in summer school. It was impressive.

Back in the kitchen for what felt like the forty-seventh time in the past ten minutes, Gabby explained about what had to be done for dinner. She went over the selected toys, books and movies for that evening and guessed as to when she and Andrew would be home.

“You have our cell numbers, right?” she asked.

“Programmed into my phone,” Cecelia told her. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a great time.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

She glanced at the clock. “Candace is going to be here any second,” she said. “I need to check on Makayla.”

The twins, Boomer and Jasmine followed her down the hall to where Makayla stood with her suitcase. Her expression was tense, her body stiff. She looked more like she was heading to the dentist than to her mom’s for the weekend.

For a second Gabby felt sympathy. Makayla didn’t have it easy. Candace was an indifferent mother at best and she was often late. More than once, she’d phoned at the last minute to say she couldn’t possibly take her daughter for the weekend. Sometimes it was a legitimate reason—like being out of town on business. But more often there was no explanation offered.

“Is she here?” Makayla asked anxiously.

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

“Not the white crop pants.”

Gabby knew she’d walked into that one and tried not to react. Kenzie slipped past her and stared up at Makayla.

“Do you have to go?”

The tension immediately eased as Makayla dropped to her knees and held out her arms. Kennedy came running and both girls hugged her tight.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Makayla promised.

“You could take us with you.” Kennedy poked her in the arm. “We’d be good. Promise.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Makayla said gently.

“Why not?” Kenzie asked.

“Because I would miss you too much!” Gabby said. “I’d be totally and completely sad without my girls here. It’s bad enough that Makayla’s gone. What would I do without my munchkins?”

The twins ran from their sister to her. She was pinned by thin arms hanging on so tight. She felt their love all the way to her heart. It filled it and made her world right.

In that moment she glanced at Makayla and saw fierce longing in the teen’s blue eyes. The raw emotion startled her. Before she could figure out what to say, it was gone.

“Makayla, your mom’s here.”

Andrew’s voice carried down the hall.

“Auntie Candace!” the twins screamed together as they turned and ran toward the living room. Makayla followed more slowly.

Gabby didn’t want to go at all, but knew that would be rude. Not that Candace would notice. Their brief exchanges were always awkward and overly polite. Conversation between two people who were sure they couldn’t possibly have anything in common. Ironic considering they had both fallen in love with the same man. Talk about sharing something intimate.

Gabby wasn’t sure what Candace thought of her, but she knew exactly what she thought of the other woman. Candace was tall, thin and beautiful. Worse, she was successful. She was the head buyer for designer shoes and handbags for an upscale department store.

She had fashion sense, a wardrobe to die for and absolutely no cellulite. Gabby was sure of it. She might be shorter than Candace, but next to her she always felt as if she were taking up too much room.

She took a deep breath and walked into the living room. Andrew stood by the door, Jasmine in his arms. Boomer bounced around, his ears and jowls flapping as he tried to get Candace to notice him. The twins were talking and twirling, while Makayla stood beside her mother. And Candace, well, she was busy being tall and thin and beautiful. Not to mention perfectly dressed in a pair of narrow cream-colored slacks and a tailored shirt in the same shade.

White, Gabby thought in amazement, wondering how long it would take her to get a white shirt stained. Eight seconds? Nine? There was also her jewelry—fashionably layered necklaces and several rings. Even though she’d most likely put on her makeup nearly twelve hours before, it was still...perfect.

As Gabby made her way into the room, Candace looked her up and down, then smiled that mean girl smile of hers.

“Gabby. How delightful. Are you going out?”

“Yes.”

“Your hair looks lovely. Well, you’ll want to get changed, so I won’t keep you. Makayla, darling, are you ready?”

“Mommy already changed,” Kenzie said helpfully. “She’s in her going-out shirt.”

Candace’s right eyebrow rose. At least as much as the Botox would let it. “Oh. Well. You look...very nice.”

Heat burned on Gabby’s cheeks, but she didn’t let a little thing like embarrassment slow her down. She herded the twins back to the kitchen and helped Cecelia get them ready for dinner. When she heard the front door close, she exhaled slowly. One crisis down for the evening. Four hundred and thirty-seven to go.

She walked back to the living room and saw Andrew putting Jasmine on the sofa.

“At last,” he said, turning toward her. “Hi. How are you?”

He kissed her before she could reply. While the kiss was light, the hug that accompanied it was not. Andrew gave good hugs, full-bodied embraces that lingered an extra second. When the world was spinning, he was her anchor.

“I’m okay.”

He touched her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking. How on earth did I marry such a bitch? I have no excuse. All I can say for myself is thank God I got it right the second time.”