“If you weren’t an ice maiden, maybe you’d find out.”
“Damn you, Gene! That’s a lie and you know it.”
Lomax said angrily, “You two make me sick.” Knots of muscle bulged on the twin points of his jawline. He stalked across to the fireplace, keeping his back turned to the rest of them; pitched another log atop the burning stack, then used a poker to jab it into place.
Macklin had had enough. “I think we’d better be going.” He looked at Shelby as he said it, hoping she wouldn’t offer any argument. She didn’t; she sat silently looking into her almost empty glass.
“Oh, no, please,” Claire said, “don’t leave yet.”
“We need to unpack, get settled.”
“It’s only eight thirty. We haven’t eaten yet—you’re welcome to stay for dinner. Aren’t they, Brian?”
“No,” Lomax said.
“Brian …”
“I said no.” He jabbed harder at the fire, sending up sparks and glowing embers. “No means no this time.”
Macklin said quickly, “We couldn’t stay anyway. We … brought a casserole from home.”
“But you can’t cook it with the power out.”
“It’s the kind you can eat cold.”
Lomax lowered the poker, clattered it into its holder. His squarish face still showed anger when he turned. “They’re ready to leave, Claire. Go get the matches they asked for.”
“The master has spoken,” Decker said. “Always obey the master.”
Claire snapped at him, “Gene, please. Do you always have to be such a wise-ass?”
“You bet he does,” Paula said. “It’s the only other thing he’s good at besides infidelity.”
“You’re as bad as he is. For God’s sake.”
They were all on their feet now. Claire fetched a box of long safety matches from a wood box on the hearth. Macklin said he’d replace them tomorrow, she said that wasn’t necessary. Into the vestibule then, into his and Shelby’s coats. Pleasure to meet you all, thanks for the matches and the drinks, hope to see you again. Claire shook hands with them; none of the other three bothered. And finally he and Shelby were outside and on their way to the car.
Still raining and blowing hard. Macklin barely noticed. The only thing on his mind right then was being out of that house, away from the palpable enmity among those four strangers.
F O U R
IN THE CAR JAY said, “Christ, that was unpleasant.”
“You think so?”
“Don’t you?”
“At least it was warm in there.”
“Don’t tell me you liked that bunch?”
“I didn’t say that. No.”
“I wish you hadn’t agreed to drink with them.”
“One drink, which I needed. The fire, too.”
“I was uncomfortable the whole damn time.”
Of course you were, Shelby thought. All kinds of people made him uncomfortable, strangers in particular. He hadn’t always been like that. Once he’d been a people person, or tried to be even if he hadn’t always been successful. Now he shied away at every opportunity, made excuses to avoid contact with anyone except old friends like Ben Coulter. Afraid of being hurt, which in her mind translated to being afraid of living. She was just the opposite. She liked people for the most part. Found even the odd ones like the Lomaxes and the Deckers interesting, not that she’d want to spend any more time in their company. It had gotten a little unpleasant in there toward the last.
Jay was backing out of the driveway onto the lane. “The way they kept sniping at each other,” he said. “You could’ve cut the tension with a knife.”
“The storm, strangers showing up. Too much to drink and getting on each other’s nerves.”
“And Lomax with that gun. Who did he think we were, home invaders?”
“He didn’t threaten us with it, did he?”
“You know how I feel about guns.”
“Yes,” she said, “I know.”
“The only half normal one was Claire,” he said. “But she didn’t really give a damn about getting to know us. Buffers. That’s why she invited us to stay.”
“Buffers?”
“Afraid something ugly, maybe violent was going to happen and us being there would diffuse it.”
“You’re exaggerating, Jay.”
“No. I’m not.”
“All right. Whatever.”
He eased the car along the rainswept lane. The wiper on the passenger’s side of the windshield seemed to have gone out of whack; it arced in little stuttering jerks, smearing more than clearing the glass. Another thing to be fixed, Shelby thought, another drain on their finances. Like the dryer that was about to give out, and the sink drain that kept clogging up, and the automatic garage door opener that no longer worked, and all the other little things that kept going wrong.
Their situation wouldn’t have gotten so bad if Jay had been able to find work. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried; it was the lousy economy and the fact that he was either overqualified for this job or underqualified for that one. Worst time of year to be looking, too; even the minimum-wage jobs were taken. His unemployment insurance would run out in another six months or so, and then what would they do? She made a decent salary, but she was already putting in maximum overtime, working the graveyard shift whenever she could for the extra pay. It was enough to keep them afloat, but without some additional income …
Jay said musingly, “I wonder what Paula meant.”
“Meant about what?”
“After we sat down. She said something about wackos on the loose inside and out. Inside, yes, but why ‘out’?”
“Smart-ass remark. She and her husband made a lot of them.”
“Didn’t sound like wisecracking to me.”
“Well, she wasn’t being cryptic, either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Not cryptic, just … I don’t know. It seemed funny, that’s all.”
Sometimes he could be exasperating, the way he kept picking at things. First the deputy sheriff earlier and now the Lomaxes and the Deckers. “Why does it bother you so much?”
“Part of the tension in there.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant why does the way the four of them acted bother you so much?”
“I don’t know, it just does.”
Well, she knew why. And so did he, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Being confronted with other people’s marital conflicts had sharpened his awareness of the conflicts in their marriage. Hit too close to home. She’d felt it, too, but she had the capacity to keep it in perspective.
She said, “Will you please just forget about it? We’ll probably never see any of them again.”
“What if they invite us to spend New Year’s Eve with them?”
“They won’t.”
“Damn well say no if they do.”
Back at the cottage now, turning in under the carport. The power was still out—naturally. Inside, the damp and the chill had taken over again; in the darkness, the dank, musty smell had a subterranean quality, like the inside of a sea cave. Quickly, guided by the flashlight, Shelby rounded up half a dozen candles from the supply closet and lit the wicks. Jay took the matches and got the fire going while she distributed the candles to each of the rooms.
Most of the ice in the martini pitcher was unmelted; that was how cold it was in there. She hesitated, looking into the pitcher. Enough for another glass. Usually two was her limit, but tonight, after that godawful four-hour drive and the bizarre twenty minutes or so at the Lomax place, she decided she was entitled to a little overindulgence.
The old Dorothy Parker quatrain popped into her head as she was pouring her glass full.
I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I’m under the table,