"I don't remember Mom doing anything—but I wasn't really watching them."
"Oh, hey, before I forget it, 'cause I don't go over there much, the kids said you were on lunch duty that day. Where do you get good food around there?"
"You don't."
"You were on lunch duty?" Harry double-checked.
"Yeah, and Roger got pissed at me because he was starving and I saw Mr. Fletcher before I crossed the road so I ran back. If I'd crossed the road he would have seen me. The line was so long he was almost out at the stoplight."
"Did he see you?"
"I don't think so. He saw me in the office later. He wasn't even mad. He waved."
"Did you give Jim his money back?" Harry laughed.
"Uh—no." Jody's voice tightened. "I forgot. It was—uh—well, I guess he forgot, too."
"Didn't mean to upset you."
"I'll pay him back tomorrow."
"I know you will." Harry's voice was warm. "Thanks for giving me your time. Oh, one more thing. I forgot to ask the others this. What do you, or did you, think of Mr. Fletcher's film department idea?"
'Today St. Elizabeth's, tomorrow Hollywood,' that's what he used to say. It was a great idea, but it'll never happen now."
"Thanks, Jody." Harry hung up the phone, returning to the sofa where she nestled in.
Mrs. Murphy crawled back in her lap. "Now stay put."
"Satisfied?" Fair asked.
"No, but I'm on the right track." She rested her hand on Mrs. Murphy's back. "I'm convinced. The real question is not who Roscoe offered candy to but who gave him candy. Rick Shaw must have come to the same conclusion." She tickled Murphy's ear. "He's not saying anything, though."
"Not to you."
" Mmm ." Harry's mind drifted off. "Jody's upset over Sean. I guess they had a romance and I missed it."
"At that age you blink and they're off to a new thrill." He put his hands behind his head, stretching his upper body. Pewter didn't budge. "Everyone's upset. BoomBoom will be doubly upset." He exhaled, wishing he hadn't mentioned that name. "I'm surprised that you aren't more upset."
"I am upset. Two people are dead. Sean may well join them in the hereafter, and I can't figure it out. I hate secrets."
"That's what we pay the sheriff to do, to untie our filthy knots of passion, duplicity, and greed."
"Fair"—Harry smiled—"that's poetic."
He smiled back. "Go on."
"BoomBoom Craycroft." Harry simply repeated the name of Fair's former lover, then started laughing.
He smiled ruefully. "A brand-new BMW."
"She's such a flake. Pretty, I grant you that. I think I could have handled just about anyone else but BoomBoom." Harry took a sideswipe at Fair.
"That's not true, Harry, a betrayal is a betrayal, and it wouldn't have mattered who the woman was. You'd still feel like shit, and you'd say the same thing you're saying now but about her. I am rebuilding my whole life, my inner life. My outer life is okay." He paused. "I want to spend my life with you. Always did."
"Do you know why you ran around?"
"Fear."
"Of what?"
"Of being trapped. Of not living. When we married, I'd slept with three other women. I was a dutiful son. I studied hard. Kept my nose clean. Went to college. Went to vet school. Graduated and married you, the girl next door. I hit thirty and thought I was missing something. Had I married you at thirty, I would have gotten that out of my system." He softened his voice. "Haven't you ever worried that you're missing out?"
"Yeah, but then I watch the sunrise flooding the mountains with light and I think, 'Life is perfect.' "
"You aren't curious about other men?"
"What men?"
"Blair Bainbridge."
"Oh." She took her sweet time answering, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Sometimes."
"How curious?"
"You just want to know if I'm sleeping with anyone, and that's my business. It's all about sex and possession, isn't it?"
"It's about love and responsibility. Sex is part of that."
"This is what I know: I like living alone. I like answering to no one but myself. I like not having to attend social functions as though we are joined at the hip. I like not having a knot in my stomach when you don't come home until two in the morning."
"I'm a vet."
She held up her hand. "With so many chances to jump ladies' bones, I can't even count them."
"I'm not doing that." He took her hand. "Our divorce was so painful, I didn't think I could live through it. I knew I was wrong. I didn't know how to make it right. Enough time has passed that I can be trusted, and I can be more sensitive to you."
"Don't push me."
"If I don't push you, you do nothing. If I ask anyone else to a party or the movies because I'd like to enjoy someone's companionship, you freeze me out for a week or more. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."
"He's right, Mom," Mrs. Murphy agreed with Fair.
"Yeah," Tucker echoed.
"They talk too much." Pewter, weary from her singing and all the spoon bread she'd stolen, wanted to sleep.
"Cheap revenge, I guess." Harry honestly assessed herself.
"Does it make you happy?"
"Actually, it does. Anyone who underestimates the joy of revenge has no emotions." She laughed. "But it doesn't get you what you want."
"Which is?"
"That's just it. I don't really know anymore."
"I love you. I've always loved you, and I always will love you." A burst of passion illuminated his handsome face.
She squeezed his hand. "I love you, too, but—"
"Can't we get back together? If you aren't ready for a commitment, we can date."
"We date now."
"No, we don't. It's hit or miss."
"You're not talking about dating. You're talking about sleeping together."
"Yes."
"I'll consider it."
"Harry, that's a gray reply."
"I didn't say no, nor did I say maybe. I have to think about it."
"But you know how I feel. You know what I've wanted."
"Not the same as a direct request—you just made a direct request, and I have to think about it."
"Do you love me at all?"
"The funny part of all this is that I do love you. I love you more now than when we married, but it's different. I just don't know if I can trust you. I'd like to, truly I would, because apart from Susan, Miranda, and my girlfriends, I know you better than anyone on the face of the earth, and I think you know me. I don't always like you. I'm sure I'm not likable at times, but it's odd how you can love someone and not like them." She hastened to add, "Most times I like you. Really, it's just when you start giving orders. I hate that."
"I'm working on that. Most women want to be told what to do."
"Some do, I know. Most don't. It's a big fake act they put on to make men feel intelligent and powerful. Then they laugh at you behind your back."
"You don't do that."
"No way."
"That's why I love you. One of the many reasons. You always stand up to me. I need that. I need you. You bring out the best in me, Harry."
"I'm glad to hear it," she replied dryly, "but I'm not on earth to bring out the best in you. I'm on earth to bring out the best in me."
"Wouldn't it be right if we could do that for each other? Isn't that what marriage is supposed to be?"
She waited a long time. "Yes. Marriage is probably more compli cated than that, but I'm too tired to figure it out ... if I ever could. And every marriage isn't the same. Our marriage was different from Miranda and George's, but theirs worked for them. I think you do bring out good things in me—after all, I wouldn't be having this conversation with anyone else, and that's a tribute to you. You know I loathe this emotional stuff."
He laughed. "Harry, I do love you."
She got up and kissed his cheek, disturbing a disgruntled Murphy one more time. "Let me think."
He mused. "I never knew love could be this complicated, or even that I could be this complicated!" He laughed. "I always knew you were complicated."
"See—and I think I'm simple."
Mrs. Murphy settled down in front of the fireplace to stare into the flames. "You know what worries me?"