The Way You Look Tonight (5 page)

‘The yard is lit and I was wearing my glasses. Honestly, sometimes you act like I'm one of the kids.'

‘I do not.'

‘Yes, you
do
. And what about the clip on the gate?'

‘I don't know.'

‘You
do
know someone was out there. You were expecting it. That's why you took off like you did, running barefoot and weaponless into the yard.'

‘Yeah, I'm psychic. I was sure we'd have a prowler last night.' The smile he tossed at her didn't take the edge from his voice. She stared back stonily and his eyes dropped. ‘Look, I know I've offended you. I'm sorry. And I did behave like a crazy person last night, but I'd had a lot to drink.'

‘Steve, stop talking to me like I'm an idiot.'

He looked at her tiredly. ‘Okay, maybe there
was
a prowler, but there's no sense in harping on it. The kids will hear you and be scared to death.'

‘But I think we should do something.'

‘Such as what? Call the police to say you thought you saw someone in the dark, someone who didn't try to break into the house or leave a trace of their presence? It's useless, honey. This isn't television. They're not going to set up surveillance. You'll just frighten the children. If he shows up again, we'll call, but just drop it for now, okay?'

She could call the police herself, of course, but he was right. She would only alarm Kim and Brian for nothing. ‘All right,' she said reluctantly. ‘But if I see something tonight…'

‘We'll call in the cavalry.'

‘If you don't, I will.'

She caught a flash of something in his eyes – annoyance, shame, and defeat all at the same time. ‘We'll do whatever you want,' he said tonelessly.

‘Okay.' Then, to ease some of the tension, she asked, ‘Sure you don't want to come with us today?'

‘Deb, you know I—'

‘Hate crowds. Yes, I know. I just thought the kids would get such a kick out of it if you came with us.'

‘Is it absolutely necessary for you to go?'

Deborah stared. ‘What?'

‘Wouldn't shopping be easier on a weekday?'

‘Yes, but all the entertainment is today. You know how the children love it.' She frowned. ‘Why don't you want us to go?'

‘I didn't say I didn't want you to go.'

Irritation flooded through her. ‘You're evading me again. Steve, what in heaven's name is
wrong?
'

‘Nothing.'

‘Like hell. If you're worried about us for some reason, either tell me why or come with us.'

‘I'm not worried.'

‘You're also one very poor liar.'

Steve's face tightened. ‘Deborah, stop badgering me. I have an appointment this afternoon, but if you're so damned determined to go to the mall, then
go
. I just thought you might enjoy shopping when it's not so crowded.'

Deborah thought of the strange call he'd received last night. ‘May I ask with whom you have an appointment?'

‘No, you may not.' Deborah's eyes narrowed. ‘Don't give me that look. It's about…a…Christmas surprise, so can we
please
not make a federal case out of it?'

Christmas surprise indeed, Deborah thought angrily, but this conversation was going nowhere. She knew when to throw in the towel. ‘All
right
, keep your mysterious appointment. But it would mean a lot to the children if you'd come with us.'

‘Maybe another time,' Steve said, as if Christmas rolled around every couple of weeks. ‘You have fun.'

‘How can I help it when you've set such a joyous mood for the day?' Deborah glared at him, infuriated that he had once again shut her out. Something was troubling him, but he wasn't going to give her any information. Well, fine. Let him keep his secrets. ‘We'll be back around five,' she snapped. ‘Don't forget to get the train-set out of the attic, that is if it doesn't interfere with your mysterious
appointment
.'

Forcing down her anger, Deborah strapped the children into her station wagon, pulled out of the driveway and started down the street. Woodbine Court was always quiet – there were only four houses in the little cul-de-sac. Still, it seemed odd to have the place so deserted. The Vincent family two houses down had gone to California for the holidays, and the O'Donnell house across the street, a lovely two-story brick building with a broad bay window overlooking the front lawn, had been for sale ever since the owner had been transferred three years ago. Deborah believed it hadn't sold because it was a bit large and overpriced for this neighborhood. She'd been curious when the realtor's sign in the front yard disappeared several months ago and lately real estate agents had stopped escorting clients through the house, but so far no one had moved in. Perhaps someday it
would
sell, though hopefully to a family with children the right age to be playmates for Kim and Brian.

As Steve had predicted, the Town Center Mall was packed. Deborah had done most of her shopping earlier, for which she was grateful, but the children had wanted to do all of theirs this weekend.

‘Got your money?' she asked cheerfully as they crept through the parking garage behind a long line of cars, their drivers all looking for a space. The smell of exhaust fumes crept in even through the closed windows of the station wagon, and Deborah wished everyone would stop dragging along in search of a choice spot when they were all going to end up on the top two floors anyway.

‘I got
my
money,' Kim said, pulling out her small red plastic purse. Deborah had decided that this Christmas she would let the children carry their own money. They were only five, but she would be there to supervise their purchases. ‘How much did you say I have, Mommy?'

‘At last count, eighteen dollars seventy-five.' Throughout the year Deborah paid them in dimes and quarters for little chores they did around the house. ‘How about you, Brian?'

‘Twenty dollars and ten cents,' he said proudly. ‘I worked harder than Kim.'

‘You did not!' Kim flared.

‘Did, too. I picked up those leaves for Mrs Dillman.'

Deborah grimaced at the memory. Mrs Dillman, their nextdoor neighbor, ninety-two and senile, one day believed Brian was the seventeen-year-old Vincent boy who lived down the street and, unbeknown to Deborah, hired him to rake her lawn and dispose of the leaves. Deborah soon discovered Brian struggling with a huge, rusty rake as he tried to gather up the thousands of oak leaves covering the woman's big lawn. She went to the door and tried politely to explain that Brian was only a little boy who could fall on the rake and poke out an eye. Mrs Dillman promptly lapsed into a rage, tossed a crumpled dollar bill in Deborah's face, and told her to get the little brat out of her yard. The next day she had forgotten about the affair and delivered a plate of half-baked oatmeal cookies to Deborah's door. Deborah had taken the soggy mess, thanked the woman profusely, and wondered why her family didn't do something about her. She couldn't go on living alone much longer.

Once they were finally in the mall, the children were delighted by the elaborate decorations and the Christmas carols sung by a local school choir. They frowned, however, when they saw the Santa Claus holding children on his lap and asking what they wanted for Christmas. ‘He's not real,' Brian announced.

Kim agreed. ‘He's not fat enough.'

Still, they stood and watched for ten minutes. Deborah thought they probably both wanted to sit on his lap, just for the fun of it, although neither would admit it. ‘At least he laughs,' Brian said. ‘The one last year acted like he didn't even
like
kids.'

When they finally got down to shopping, though, the trouble began. Kim couldn't decide whether to get Daddy a set of golf clubs or a new briefcase. When Deborah explained both were out of her price range, she opted for a kitten. ‘Kimberly, Daddy doesn't want a kitten,' Deborah told her. ‘Anyway, it's better to rescue one from the animal shelter, don't you think?'

‘Yeah. Can we go there?'

‘Not now. We're at the mall already, so let's pick out something here. How about a nice pen?'

‘A pen!' Kim wailed. ‘I always get him a pen.'

‘Last year you gave him that goofy candle you made in play school,' Brian said.

‘It wasn't goofy!'

‘It kept fallin' over. Besides, what's Daddy need a candle for? He's got lamps.'

‘Then I'll get him a lamp.'

‘Kim, a nice lamp costs too much,' Deborah explained.

‘Everything costs too much!' The child's eyes filled with tears.

It was going to be a long day, Deborah thought.

The deejay on the car radio announced it was 6.10 when they pulled back into their driveway. Deborah and the children were exhausted, but at least all their presents had been bought amidst two crying spells from Kimberly and one twenty-minute sulk from Brian when she wouldn't let him go off shopping by himself.

The only shopping Deborah managed to do was at Waldenbooks, where the dynamic young manager she'd come to rely on lured her over to the table where a local author was signing her latest mystery. The middle-aged woman looked shy and tired, but cheerfully signed a copy of her book which Deborah intended to give Barbara. As Deborah stood in line waiting to pay for the novel, Brian continually let out exaggerated sighs of boredom while Kim kept retrieving books from around the store and taking them to the author to sign. The woman said she couldn't sign a book she hadn't written. ‘Why not?
You're
a writer!' Kim argued. ‘But I didn't write
those
books,' the woman patiently explained. Kim didn't understand and started to cry again. Gritting her teeth and still angry with Steve, who could have been such a help today, Deborah realized she hadn't the endurance for any more shopping while dealing with both the restless kids
and
the crowd. She would finish her shopping tomorrow, she decided, when the children were in kindergarten and the mall wasn't so crowded. Right now her big white two-story house with its dark green shutters looked like heaven.

Darkness had already fallen and Deborah was surprised to see that no lights burned inside the house. But then both doors on the double garage were up and Steve's white Chevrolet Cavalier was gone, too. He must have left some time during the afternoon and they'd beaten him home. Where had he gone? she wondered as she unlocked the door leading from the garage into the kitchen. She hoped he'd remembered to bring the train-set down from the attic before he left. Otherwise, there would be another battle with Brian, who would be determined to help his father retrieve the boxes.

Scarlett was anxiously awaiting them. Both children gave her a passionate greeting before the dog ran to the back door. Obviously, she badly needed to be let out, which meant Steve must have left some time ago. Deborah opened the door and Scarlett shot into the fenced back yard.

‘Why don't each of you carry your packages up to your rooms for now,' Deborah said, going through the house and turning on lights. ‘We'll wrap them later and put them under the tree.'

‘We'll need lots of paper and tape,' Kim said.

‘Yes, I know. We have plenty. Are either of you hungry?'

‘We ate two times at the mall,' Brian said.

You needn't remind me, Deborah thought, still feeling the greasy hamburger she'd had at two o'clock and the heavy burrito she'd eaten at five. The children had been delighted with the food. Deborah felt as if she needed a big dose of antacid.

‘Take off your coats and come back down. I'll have some milk and cookies ready.'

‘I want a Coke,' Kim said.

‘You've had two today. It's milk or nothing.'

Kim groaned. ‘Okay, I'll drink milk, but not very much.'

‘Half a glass,' Deborah called, then walked back into the kitchen, looking at the small chalkboard beside the wall phone. No note from Steve. Well, that wasn't surprising. She'd never been able to get him to leave notes. In fact, he often didn't call when he was going to be late, a habit that annoyed her, especially when they were waiting dinner for him. ‘But you could have it worse, my girl,' she said aloud. ‘At least you know he's not getting drunk in a bar or seeing another woman.' Steve's moral rectitude was one of the things that had attracted her to him. He might be unintentionally inconsiderate and neglectful sometimes, but his integrity was unfailing.

A sharp bark and scratch on the door let Deborah know Scarlett was ready to come back in. She opened it and the dog, after a perfunctory lick of her hand, shot upstairs to the children.

Deborah fixed a fresh bowl of water for Scarlett and opened a can of Alpo. Then she set out two glasses of milk and some sugar cookies on the old refectory table in the large kitchen. The table needed refinishing, too, she thought briefly. But then, the whole house needed redecorating. She'd been saving money from her clerical work for redecorating since Steve didn't seem to have much interest in how the house looked as long as it was relatively clean. If left up to him, nothing would be done until the furniture literally fell apart beneath them, another trait of a son whose mother was obsessed with neatness and redecorating. She sympathized, but after all, the whole family couldn't constantly tiptoe around Steve's idiosyncrasies. After Christmas, she would simply take matters into her own hands. All these years with Steve had taught her that although he might complain about changes she wanted to make, he would eventually subside as long as she didn't bother him with details.

Within minutes the children and the dog were back, and all set to eating ravenously. ‘I thought you two weren't hungry,' Deborah said.

‘We're not,' Brian returned. ‘But cookies are different. You make good cookies, not like Mrs Dillman.'

‘She's very old,' Deborah said. ‘She was probably a good cook when she was younger.'

‘She's got
great
-grandchildren,' Kim said between cookies. ‘That means her grandkids have kids.'

Deborah smiled. ‘Very good. Do you know how many she has?'

‘Lots. She's got pictures of them all over.'

‘I know.'

‘Do our grandparents have great-grandkids?'

‘No. They won't until you two have children.'

‘Oh. Well, I might never have kids. I'm gonna be a tightrope walker,' Kim informed her.

‘Is that right?' Deborah asked, sipping some instant coffee. She hated instant coffee. ‘I thought you wanted to be the checkout girl at the grocery store.'

‘That was before. Now I want to be a tightrope walker and wear sparkly outfits.'

Brian gulped down the rest of his chocolate milk. ‘I'm gonna be a lawyer like Daddy.'

‘That takes a lot of school.'

‘That's okay. I'm good at school.'

Strange, Deborah thought. Even at five they seemed to have a sense of what they excelled at. For Brian, it was intellectual pursuits; for Kim, it was athletic activities. The little girl had incredible grace and balance, as her dancing teacher had pointed out to Deborah.

After they had eaten, Deborah looked around for the model railroad set and was relieved to find it resting on the couch in the living room, along with the bag of glitter-decorated cotton they used for snow, and another box bearing miniature houses, animals, and trees which provided the countryside for the train to run through. ‘When's Daddy comin' home to help us put everything together?' Brian asked, eyeing the boxes with a mixture of joy and anxiety. They had never assembled the train-set without Daddy.

Deborah glanced at her watch. Seven o'clock. It had been dark for well over an hour, Steve had left no note, and Scarlett clearly had not been let out for some time when they arrived home. Angry that he had disappeared for such a long time without leaving any word concerning his destination, Deborah called Evan Kincaid.

‘Hi, Deborah. What can I do for you?' Evan asked jauntily.

‘I seem to have lost my husband,' she said, fighting to keep her voice even and pleasant. ‘The kids are waiting on him to help with the model train. Have you seen him?'

‘No. Not today. How long has he been gone?'

‘I don't know. The children and I went to the mall. We left around one o'clock and he wasn't here when we got back a little after six. I get the feeling he hasn't been here for quite a while. There are no dirty dishes in the sink – not even a glass. And the dog was desperate to be let out.'

‘Didn't he leave a note?'

‘No, but then he rarely does.'

Deborah heard Barbara in the background asking what was wrong. Evan put his hand over the mouthpiece as he told her Deborah was looking for Steve. ‘I haven't seen him,' Evan said, returning to her, and Deborah sensed a cautious note in his voice. ‘Maybe he's Christmas shopping.'

‘He did say he had an appointment concerning Christmas.'

‘What kind of appointment?'

‘I haven't the faintest idea, especially since he said he already had his shopping done, although I don't know where he hid his presents.'

‘Probably Pete's. He has lots of room.'

A beat of silence passed and Deborah suddenly felt a quiver of anxiety. ‘Evan, something's been bothering Steve for the past couple of days. Do you know what it is?'

‘I…well, I've noticed he's not quite himself.'

‘But you don't know what's wrong?'

Evan took a deep breath. ‘Deborah, I'm sure Steve just went out to do some errand – maybe to buy something special for Christmas – and he's running late.'

His voice rang false. What is wrong with him? Deborah thought, her anxiety growing. She felt sure Evan knew something, but he wasn't any more communicative than Steve had been earlier.

‘You'll let me know when he gets in, won't you?' Evan asked. There it was again, Deborah thought. Evan wouldn't be so concerned unless he believed something was wrong.