“Not since last night,” Mack said.
Therese glanced up at the bay window. “He’s probably up there watching. If he hasn’t keeled over from a heart attack. I don’t even want to tell you what he went through last night.”
“I saw him just before he went to bed,” Mack said. “He looked all right.”
Therese’s eyes watered and she blinked tears. Mack couldn’t remember ever seeing Therese cry. She looked like a child in her nightgown, the ill-fitting windbreaker, bare feet, her peach-colored hair tucked behind her tiny ears. He’d seen Cecily show an uncanny resemblance to Therese over the years, and now he witnessed the opposite: Therese slouched before him looking for all the world like her teenage daughter.
She sniffled and straightened up. “I’d better go see Bill,” she said. “Let me know when Vance is finished and I’ll send the chambermaids over.”
“Will do,” Mack said.
Therese turned back before she entered her house. “How’s Lacey?” she asked.
Mack took a cup of coffee to Lacey’s cottage. Her apartment was dim, light entered around the edges of the shutters, throwing stripes across the Oriental rug. “Gardner?” he called out. Mack tiptoed down to Lacey’s bedroom and tapped on her door. “Lacey, it’s safe to get up. The evil Freida has passed.”
He listened, but heard nothing. She was still asleep. She’d asked him to wake her when morning came. If you please. Mack opened Lacey’s bedroom door and peeked in.
Lacey’s eyes were closed. One hand was clenched in a fist over her heart, and her other arm dangled off the edge of the bed. On the floor was a beeswax candle, broken in half. Had that been there last night? He couldn’t remember.
“Lacey?” Mack said. He listened for her breath, for her soft snore. He listened, waiting for her eyes to snap open. Waiting for her to mistake him once again for Maximilian. He waited until he couldn’t wait anymore, and then he touched her cheek-it was cold.
Lacey was dead.
Maribel knew the power was back on when she heard the phone ring. She opened her eyes and was instantly aware of Jem’s arm draped over her waist. She didn’t rise to answer the phone. It was either Mack or Tina, and she didn’t want to talk to either of them. The phone rang four times, but no message played-the tape must have been erased with the power outage.
Maribel rolled toward Jem. He lay facedown in Mack’s pillow. His young, strong shoulders were bare, he had one arm folded under his head and one touching Maribel’s side. Maribel felt a wave of desire. She lifted the covers. Jem wore only his boxer shorts.
She lay back, weighing her options. She could slip off Jem’s boxers and make love to him, or she could let him be. Maribel looked out the tiny bedroom window. She saw actual sunlight, a good sign if ever there was one.
Before Maribel moved a muscle, she explained things to Mack in her mind. I am not doing this because I’m angry. I’m not angry. I’m hurt and disappointed because I loved you in as many ways as I knew how and in the end, those weren’t the right ways. So here I am now, about to do this thing because I think it will help me to be happy, if only temporarily. Although I’m coming to learn that all happiness is temporary.
Maribel pressed her lips to Jem’s shoulder. She moved her mouth a fraction of an inch lower, and kissed him again. She waited, but he didn’t stir. She picked a spot on the curve that ran from the side of his neck to his shoulder and she kissed him there, a ripe, wet kiss.
The phone rang again. Maribel counted the rings in her head. She looked hopefully at Jem. He breathed heavily, oblivious. What was it with men and their love affair with sleep? Maribel slid out of bed and hurried into the living room for the ringing phone.
“Maribel?” It was a man’s voice, but not Mack’s.
“Yes?”
“It’s me, Vance.”
“Hi, Vance,” Maribel said. “Mack’s not here. I thought he was down at the hotel.”
“He’s here,” Vance said. “I’m, uh… I’m actually looking for Jem. Is he there?”
Maribel dropped onto the sofa. “What makes you think he’s here?” she asked. Her heart thudded like heavy, scary footsteps. “Did Mack say he was here?”
“Mack wanted Jem to check on you last night. But I’m glad he didn’t. He shouldn’t have been out in the weather. I’ll tell you what, I’ll try Jem at home.”
“Don’t bother,” Maribel said. “He’s here.”
“He is?”
“Yes,” Maribel said. “What do you need him for?”
“Uh…” There was a pause. “We need him to come down and work.”
“I’ll tell him,” Maribel said. “I’ll send him down when he wakes up.”
“Okay,” Vance said, though she could tell from the sound of his voice that he thought it was anything but okay. “Thanks, Maribel.”
“You bet,” she said.
Maribel replaced the phone and stepped outside to inspect the damage. The backyard was a disaster area. The trees were stripped of leaves and branches. The detritus was all over the yard-twigs the size of pencils, branches the size of a man’s arm. A huge bough had fallen into Maribel’s garden and crushed the zinnias and impatiens. There were standing puddles in the lawn, ankle deep. But the sun was shining and it felt good on Maribel’s arms and bare legs.
She closed the door and went back into the bedroom. Jem was awake, sitting up. His dark hair was mussed and he had sleep marks on his face from the pillow. Maribel sat next to him on the edge of the bed.
“Who was on the phone?” he asked.
She placed a finger on his lips and chose a spot just below his collarbone, and kissed it. If there were going to be rumors, she thought, they might as well be true.
The phone rang five more times while Maribel and Jem made love, although Jem didn’t seem to notice. He concentrated on kissing her, caressing her. He was strong and young and sexy and he loved her. He said it over and over, “I love you, Maribel. I love you.” When he came, he cried out. He was overwhelmed with love, and Maribel knew just how he felt. Here was a flower where all the petals said the same thing, He loves me.
Jem hugged her close and kissed her hair. “I want you to come to California with me.”
“Oh, Jem.”
“I do. I really do. I asked you before, when I came for dinner. Remember?”
“I remember,” she said. The phone rang again-and again, Jem didn’t seem to hear it. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure I want to go to California.”
“Where do you want to go?” Jem asked. “Tell me where and I’ll take you.”
Maribel smiled. “I want to go to Unadilla.” She wanted to see her mother. She wanted to rock in Tina’s arms.
“I’ll go to Unadilla. I’ll go, I swear it,” he said.
It wasn’t hard at all, to be loved this much. This was the kind of love Maribel needed-unconditional, blind, devoted; it was the love she had missed in a father.
Later, when Jem was in the shower, the phone rang again, and Maribel answered it. I’ve made my decision, she thought, and whoever’s on the other end is going to have to hear about it.
“Hello?” she said.
“Mari?” It was Mack, but he sounded upset. It sounded like he was crying.
“What’s wrong?” she said. He sobbed into the phone. Maribel narrowed her eyes. Had she done this to him? “Mack, what’s wrong?”
“Lacey’s dead,” he said.
The words dropped in Maribel, like coins in a well. “Lacey’s dead,” she repeated. Lacey was dead. “Oh, God, Mack. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
He cried into the phone like a little boy. He cried, Maribel admitted, the way she wanted him to cry over her.
“She was my best friend,” Mack said.
“I know,” Maribel said, and she felt a stab of pain. Lacey Gardner had filled the role of best friend while Maribel had tried so desperately to fill the role of wife. Maribel had missed what was most important. She listened to Mack cry, shushing him every once in a while, marveling at how her love for him was like something she held underwater-as soon as she let go, it bobbed to the surface. She wanted to repeat over and over, “I’ll be your friend, Mack, I’ll be your friend,” but she wondered if it was too late for that. Lacey was dead. The world as they knew it was ending.