“We are,” he said, heading for the stairs. “I’m going to research how fast that lingerie comes off of your body.”
NINETEEN
I stuck my fork in the carton of noodles. “Do you really want me to do this?”
We were back downstairs, a little sweaty and a lot more relaxed. After nearly an hour upstairs of...research...we’d realized we were starving and headed down to reheat the Chinese food Jake had brought home. I’d pulled the robe back on and Jake had changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. We were huddled together on the couch, passing the cartons of food back and forth.
“I’m not sure that’s really the question,” he said, biting off a piece of orange chicken from his fork. His hair was all mussed and his cheeks had a healthy pink glow. “I think the question is, do you want to do it?”
“You’re the one pushing it.”
“But you’re the one who keeps...doing it.”
I traded him the lo mein for the chicken. “I don’t know that I keep doing it.”
He tucked his chin and stared at me. “Daisy. Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Things just happen. And I happen to be around them. It’s not my fault and it’s not like I go looking for trouble.”
“No, but once you find trouble, you tend to keep finding it until you figure out what’s causing it.” He stabbed the air with his fork. “That is the truth, whether you like it or not.”
“Hmm,” I said, digging around in the chicken, looking for the small pieces.
“So here’s my thing,” he said. He leaned back in the sofa and wound noodles around his fork. “I’ve said that if you’re going to do it, you should get paid for it. But I also think that it would protect you.”
“Protect me? From what?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But if you were licensed, if you were an official investigator or whatever, then you could actually, like, investigate. You’d be allowed to. It wouldn’t be just sticking your nose into a situation. And if you were working for an agency or for yourself or whatever, then you’d have some liability protection.”
“Liability protection?” I asked, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“Let’s say you were doing surveillance on someone,” he said.
“On who?”
“I have no idea. Just listen to me. But let’s say that’s what you were doing for whatever reason. And let’s say the person makes you.”
“Makes me? Makes me do what?”
Jake rolled his eyes. “‘Makes you’ – meaning, they see you spying on them. They identify you.”
“I think you’ve been watching too many spy movies.” I dug my feet under his legs and he wrapped his free hand around my knee.
“And let’s say the person doesn’t take too kindly to you watching him or her,” he said, ignoring my movie comment. “Maybe he or she accuses you of stalking or something along those lines. If you’re just a private citizen, technically, they’d be right. But if you were licensed?” He shrugged. “Then you’re justified and there’s not much they can do about it.”
I started to suggest that I doubt I’d ever do that kind of thing, but then wisely reconsidered. Over the previous few months, I’d done exactly what he was talking about. And he was right. I was lucky I hadn’t gotten in more trouble than I did. I’d been fortunate.
“And, to be honest, I think you’re a little bored,” he said, cutting his eyes sideways at me.
My fork was halfway to my mouth. “Excuse me?”
“I think you’re a little bored,” he repeated. He pulled more noodles out of the carton. “Look, the kids are getting older. They’ve got friends and activities. It’s not just you driving them around town all the time. Yeah, you still have to do that, but they’re starting to carve out their own lives. And I think you aren’t quite sure what to do with that.”
I stared into my carton of chicken. I hated that he was able to get into my own head so easily. He was right, of course. I’d realized that the kids were starting to do more of their own things now and didn’t need me in the same way they used to. I should’ve taken that as a sign that I’d done my job as a mom, but it also forced me to reconcile with the fact that they were getting older. And that was an uncomfortable feeling. I liked having my kids at home. I wasn’t ready for them to leave me yet. And it had given me more than a few moments of anxiety.
“Well, if you care, I think you’d be good at it,” he said, handing me back the noodles.
I traded the chicken back to him. “You do?”
He nodded. “I do. You’re stubborn. You’re tenacious. You notice little details about people. You have a natural curiosity.” He smiled at me. “And you’re a total pain in the ass sometimes.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Well, I think it might take all of those things to be good at being an investigator,” he said. “You might have to learn other things, but those things? You already have them.” He smiled again. “Plus, I already know you’re interested.”
“Oh, you do not,” I said, completely irritated that he thought he knew me so well. Then I glanced at him. “How do you know that?”
He set the now empty carton on the coffee table and shifted on the couch, turning his body toward me. “Because we’re having this conversation. Because you haven’t shut me down. You’re pretending like it’s a silly idea, but you haven’t told me to shut up yet. You’re letting me point out all the reasons you should think about it but that’s only because you’ve only thought of them already on your own. I’m just affirming them.” His hand moved from my knee to my thigh and he squeezed me gently. “That’s how I know.”
It was a curse and a blessing, having a husband who could see inside my brain. I hated that I was so transparent, but I loved that he cared enough to take a look.
I finished the lo mein and set the carton on the table next to the one he’d emptied. “So you want me to do this?”
“No. What I want is for you to take the time to see if you want to do it,” he explained. “Read through the websites, see what kind of time it would really take, think about the pros and cons. If you do, let’s figure out what the next step is. If you don’t, I’m good with that, too.” He fished for my hand and held it in his. “But if you don’t, then I want you to dial it back. I don’t want you getting mixed up in things that have the potential to harm you.”
“I’m not going to get hurt,” I told him.
“You don’t know that and I’m not willing to let you take the risk,” he said. “So you’re either in or you’re out. And I’m good either way. But no more straddling the line.”
I knew he was right. On nearly every single account. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and then commit to it. One way or another.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll look at it. Seriously. And make a decision.”
“Good.”
“Should I start now? Go grab the computer?”
He started to say something, then swallowed the words. Then he leaned toward me and kissed my neck. “I think it can wait.”
“You told me to get on it,” I said. “Urgency. Make a decision.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, kissing me right beneath my ear. “But there’ll be time for that. I think we need to focus on something else first.”
I leaned into him and closed my eyes. “What’s that?”
I could feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin. “More research.”
TWENTY
“These look terrific, Daisy,” Joanne Claussen said, wide-eyed. “I mean, honestly. This is far better than what I’d imagined.”
It was the next morning and I’d made plans to get over to the theater and meet with Joanne to show her what I’d come up with for the program designs. It was a Saturday so school wasn’t in session, but there were high school kids milling around near the gymnasiums and concession stand. I’d slipped into the theater and found Joanne backstage, sitting in a rickety wooden chair, her laptop set on a coffee table. They were props from an old show, items that for some reason hadn’t made it back into the storage closet.