Nine-thirty… She headed for the armchair in the corner where she'd left her quilting but picked up a magazine instead. She hadn't been able to work on her quilt since Sunday, when Liam had issued his ultimatum. And now it was Thursday.
Come to my house on Thursday evening… If you don't show up, I won't come looking for you.
She tried to build up some resentment against him, but it didn't work. She understood exactly why he'd done it, and she couldn't blame him. They were both too old to play games.
9:34… She thought about Kevin taking over the bedroom downstairs. She liked falling asleep knowing they were under the same roof. When they passed each other in the hallways, they smiled and made small talk. At one time that would have been more than she could have hoped for. Now, it wasn't enough.
9:35… She concentrated on flipping through her magazine, then gave up and paced the floor. What good were life lessons if you didn't pay attention to them?
At ten-thirty, she forced herself to get undressed and put on her nightgown. She got into bed and stared at the pages of a book she'd been enjoying only a week earlier. Now she couldn't remember anything about it. Liam, I miss you so… He was the most remarkable man she'd ever met, but Craig had been remarkable, too, and he'd made her miserable.
As she reached across the bed and turned off the light, her world had never seemed smaller or her bed lonelier.
Eddie Dillard was big, genial, and coarse, the kind of man who wore a gold chain, burped, scratched his crotch, carried a wad of bills held together with a big money clip, and said…
"You duh man, Kev. Isn't he, Larry? Isn't Kev here the man?"
Oh, yes, Larry agreed, Kev was definitely the man.
Dillard and his brother had shown up late that morning in a black SUV. Now they were sitting around the kitchen table eating salami sandwiches and belching beer while Eddie gloated over the prospect of owning his own fishing camp and Larry gloated over the prospect of running it for him. To Molly's dismay, they all seemed to regard it as a done deal.
This would be a place, Eddie said, where a man could put up his feet, relax, and get away from being "pussy-whipped by his wife." This last was uttered with a wink, clearly signaling (one man to the other) that no woman pussy-whipped Eddie Dillard.
Molly wanted to throw up. Instead, she jammed a tiny bar of French-milled soap into one of the bird's-nest baskets they used in the bathrooms to hold toiletries. She didn't know whom she disliked more, Eddie or his revolting brother Larry, who planned to live upstairs in the house while he ran the fishing camp.
She glanced over at Kevin, who was leaning against the wall sipping from a longneck. He didn't burp. When Eddie had arrived, Kevin had tried to get rid of her, but she wasn't going anyplace.
"So, Larry," Eddie said to his brother, "how much you figure it'll cost to paint these frou-frou cottages?"
Molly dropped one of the tiny, frosted-glass shampoo bottles. "The cottages were just painted. And they're beautiful."
Eddie seemed to have forgotten she was there. Larry laughed and shook his head. "No offense, Maggie, but it's gonna be a fishing camp, and guys don't like fruit colors. We'll just paint everything brown."
Eddie pointed at Larry with his longneck. "We're only painting the cottages in the middle, the ones around that whadyacallit?-that Common. I'm gonna tear down the rest of them. Too much upkeep."
Molly's heart stopped. Lilies of the Field wasn't on the Common. Her pink, blue, and yellow nursery cottage would be torn down. She abandoned the toiletry baskets. "You can't tear those cottages down! They're historic! They're-"
"The fishing's real good around here," Kevin cut in, shooting her a frown. "Large- and smallmouth bass, perch, bluegill. I heard a guy in town talk about a seven-pound pike he pulled out of the lake last week."
Eddie patted his stomach and belched. "I can't wait to get out on that boat."
"This lake is too small for what you want," Molly said desperately. "There's a strict limit to how big an outboard motor you can use. You can't even water-ski."
Kevin shot her a pointed look. "I don't think Eddie plans to cater to the water-skiing crowd."
"Nah. Just fishermen. Roll out of bed in the morning, give everybody a coffee thermos, a bag of doughnuts, and some beer, then send 'em out on the lake while the mist is still on the water. Come back after a coupla hours for brats and beer, take a nap, play some pool…"
"I think we should put the pool table out there." Larry pointed toward the front of the house. "Along with a big-screen TV. Once we tear down all the walls between the rooms, everything will be together-the pool table, TV, the bar, and the bait shop."
"Bait shop! You're putting a bait shop in this house!"
"Molly." Kevin's voice sounded a warning note, and Eddie tossed him a pitying look. Kevin narrowed his eyes at her. "Maybe you'd better go check on Amy."
Ignoring him, she zeroed in on Eddie. "People have been coming here for years. The campground needs to stay the way it is, and the bed-and-breakfast, too. The house is filled with antiques, and it's in wonderful condition. It even runs at a profit." Not much of one, but at least it paid for itself.
Eddie gave an open-mouthed laugh that revealed too much of his salami sandwich. He jabbed his brother. "Hey, Larry, you want to run a bread-and-breakfast?"
"Yeah, sure." Larry snorted and reached for his beer. "As long as I can have a pool table, satellite TV, and no women."
"Molly… out. Right now." Kevin jerked his head toward the door.
Eddie chuckled as the little woman was finally put in her place.
Molly clenched her teeth, then drew her lips into a stiff smile. "I'm leaving, darling. Just make sure you clean up after your friends. And last time you washed dishes, you splashed-so don't forget to wear your apron."
Now that was pussy-whipping!
After dinner Molly pleaded an upset stomach to the munchkins and told them they'd have to sleep in their own cottage. Since it was their last night here, she felt guilty, but she didn't have any choice. She changed into jeans, turned out the lights, and curled up in the chair by the open window. Then she waited.
She didn't worry about Kevin dropping in. He'd gone to town with the Dillards, where, if there was any justice, he'd get drunk and end up with a world-class hangover. Also they hadn't spoken all afternoon.
During tea she could see right away that he was angry with her, but she didn't care because she was angry right back. You duh man… You duh big dumb jerk! Selling the campground was bad enough, but selling it to somebody who intended to destroy it was unconscionable, and she'd never forgive herself if she didn't at least try to put a stop to it.
Lilies of the Field was too isolated for her to be able to see the men when they returned from town, but the campground was quiet enough that she knew she'd hear them. Sure enough, a little after one in the morning the sound of a car engine drifted through the window. As she straightened in the chair, she wished there weren't so many loopholes in her plan, but it was the best she had.
She pulled on her sneakers, grabbed the flashlight she'd swiped from the house, and left Roo behind so she could set to work. Forty-five minutes later she let herself inside Lamb of God, where Eddie and Larry were spending the night. She'd checked it out earlier, right after the men had left for town, to see which bedroom was Eddie's. Now it smelled like stale liquor.
Moving closer, she gazed down at the big, dumb, drunken lump under the covers. "Eddie?"
The lump didn't move.
"Eddie," she whispered again, hoping she didn't wake up Larry, too, since it would be easier dealing with only one of them. "Eddie, wake up."