Chapter 7

A knock at the back door sent all four dogs scrambling over the sun room's wood floor into the kitchen.  Thankfully, when the barking began, I had an excuse to end the morning's interminable phone conversation with theoretical cosmologist, Dr. Arnold Schippmann of CalTech.

"I'm so sorry, Arnie - the dogs are going crazy," I said, loudly.  I guess he didn't hear me because he kept right on talking about his latest theory on dark matter.

"Hello?  Anybody home?"  Aunt Rob had successfully calmed the dogs down.

"Arnie, Arnie - listen I have to hang up now.  My aunt is here."  A brief pause as he began to talk again.  "Arnie, I'll be waiting for your overnight envelope; I'll email you the address.  I am looking forward to working with you again.  Thank you so much and.... yes, you have a wonderful day, too."  Finally!  I ended the call and dropped the phone on the desk.  I'd been listening to him for over an hour.

"Are you busy, honey?  Because I can come back later," Aunt Rob said from the kitchen, where he was handing out dogs treats to his adoring fans.

"No, no, no," I said.  "I need a break.  I felt like I was back in school.  I love Arnie and I appreciate his intellect, but Lord - sometimes he needs to lighten up and give it a rest.  How are you today?"

"Out and about for my morning errands.  I thought I'd come and take some measurements in your - what did you tell Jeff it was? - spare room."

"I told him it was full of junk we had to unpack yet.  Then I said we had plenty of time to deal with all that stuff later.  As you might imagine, he hasn't even opened the door."  I led the way through the cluttered great room to what had originally been the formal parlor.  Aunt Rob threw open the french doors to survey his empty canvas.

"The moulding is amazing," he said, admiring the chair rail.  "It looks like it's original to the house.  We can do a lot with this room.  I'm thinking sage green on the walls."

I hoped Jeff would be surprised with his own space.  In all the places we'd lived over the years, he'd never had his own private spot.  Our big (or so we thought) house in Virginia had plenty of room for an office for Jeff - until we found out that Jake was on the way.  When we looked at this old place, I knew the minute I saw this room that it was Jeff's.  Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Rob had found just the right antique desk.  I had a leather sofa stashed in the carriage house and I'd had to order a desk chair.  Who knew it was so hard to find a decent chair for a guy who's six feet four inches tall?

"You know," Rob said, "We have this wonderful barrister bookcase that would look great along this wall.  Hey - how much of that fishing fly fabric did you buy in New York last year?"

"Two bolts," I answered and Rob gasped.

"Did you say bolts?"

"I know, I know - overkill.  But Jimmy talked his friend into such a good deal and it was so perfect and well, thank God Jeff doesn't look at the credit card bills.  I wanted to be sure I had enough to upholster an armchair, make window valances and cover some pillows."  It was an amazing heavy taupe upholstery fabric with embroidered fishing flies.  Jeff was going to love it - as much as men love fabric-covered chairs and fabulous window treatments.  He might not notice the details, but I was positive he would see that it had been a labor of love .

"Honey, you have enough to cover a sofa and then some.  I'm also thinking a nice Mission lamp - no stained glass in this room - the rest of the house is saturated."  Rob smiled and shook his head.

I chose to ignore his comment about my lamp obsession.  "I have a couple of prints for the walls and Taylor has cross-stitched three fishing lures that I've had matted and framed together.  Jake's contribution is several drawings of him and his dad out fishing.  They are really excited about this, too."

"We all are - Jimmy says he should be finished with the desk this afternoon.  If the bookcase will fit where I'm seeing it, he'll give that a once over and we should be able to get everything done by this weekend.  Is that time enough for you to make the valances?"

"Sure - but you all are going to have to hang the blinds," I said sweetly.  "You know I don't do ladders."

"Where are we hanging blinds?" asked a familiar voice from the doorway.  Jeff stood there, surrounded by the dogs.  Honestly, they never bark when you'd like them to.

"Uh, we - uh," I stammered.

"In the guest room."  Aunt Rob to the rescue.  "Too much sun on that side of the house.  We decided that blinds were a better alternative than window shutters."  He shot me a panicked glance.

"Oh, okay," Jeff said.  "I thought this room was full of junk."

Shooing him and the dogs toward the kitchen, I told him that Uncle Jimmy and his dad had cleared it out to surprise me and that everything was out in the garage.  "Wasn't that nice of them?"

Jeff, typical man that he is, was staring into the open refrigerator.  "Sure.  What's for lunch?  I am starving."

"Rough morning?" I asked, taking plates out of the cupboard.  "Sit down.  I'll make you and Rob a sandwich."

"Oh - nothing for me," Rob said.  "I've got a million things to do and then the garden club at four.  They're planning the Christmas Festival of Trees already and I want to be sure I don't miss the meeting.  Last year was a disaster and well, I'll tell you about it later.  Love you both - y'all come for dinner tonight.  I've got a big pot of chili going."  With that, he was out the door and down the walk.

Jeff watched as I made him a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato.  I cut it in half and set the plate in front of him.  "What would you like to drink?" I asked.  "Iced tea?"  He nodded.  Hmm - a little quiet.  Either something work-related was bothering him or he had seen the credit card bills somewhere along the way.  My money was on work, but I decided to wait him out.  I filled his glass and set about making the second sandwich I was pretty sure he'd ask for in a few minutes.  Of course, he hadn't touched the first one, yet.

"I thought you were starving," I prompted.

"I guess."  He looked at me.  "I just went to see Jerry Maguire."

There it was - the conversation he had been dreading. 

"And?  How did he take it?"  I cut the second sandwich in two and put one half on Jeff's plate and took a bite of the other piece.  "I can't imagine he was too upset.  I mean, after everything that happened between the two of them."

Well, no," Jeff said.  "I don't really think he gave a crap about Millie being dug up.  He was more concerned that it was some sort of threat from one of the ladies - and I use that term loosely - he'd been seeing and dumped.  So I asked him if he could tell me who he thought the likely suspect might be."

"Yes," I said.  Sometimes you had to drag a story out of Jeff.  "Go on."

"Babe, the list is two pages long.  I'm expecting two, three - maybe four names at the most and this guy just kept giving me name after name.  It's like the Who's Who of Piney Point."

No wonder Jeff looked mildly stunned.  He still hadn't touched his lunch.  "I tell you, I'd rather track a psychotic axe murderer on PCP armed with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher through Yellowstone during bear-mating season than go and question any of these women about their assignations with old Pump-up Pecker Maguire."  Jeff leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

I couldn't help myself.  I burst out laughing.  I don't know what was funnier, imagining Jeff's discomfort at actually questioning any of the, ahem, ladies of our little town or picturing him hot on the trail of an armed and dangerous nutcase while being pursued through a forest  by a gang of horny bears.  He just looked at me.  The more I tried to stop laughing, the harder I giggled.

"It's not funny," he said.

"Yes," I gasped, "it is."  At that moment, the Jeff in my head was wearing a plaid Elmer Fudd hat, carrying a musket and chasing Bugs Bunny through a thicket while trying to evade Yogi Bear and Boo Boo.  You know how you laugh so hard you think you're going to pass out?  Well, I was almost there.

"Stop. It. Now.  Please," my husband said, with just a hint of a smile.  "I need to eat lunch and choking to death on a turkey sandwich isn't high on my list of ways to meet my Maker."

I put my face in my hands and willed myself to stop making light of Jeff's predicament.  Here was a decorated Marine who had willingly served his country.  His return to civilian life was continued service to his fellow citizens by tracking down and arresting fugitives from justice.  I know he loved that job, but he loves his family more and he was willing to make this move back to small town life, and a small town job, for us.  In that moment, my laughter turned to tears that I didn't want Jeff to see.  I wiped my eyes and looked up at my husband.

"I'm sorry, honey," I said.  "I know this is a big adjustment for you.  I shouldn't have laughed." 

"It's okay, babe.  It is sort of funny.  Hell, it's a lot funny - but it's still a serious matter."  He picked up the third sandwich half.  "But I am thinking of delegating the interviews to Danny.  He sure could use the experience and it would get me out of having to face these women.  I mean, one of them was our Sunday School teacher."

Danny was the police department's only other law enforcement professional.  He was long on good looks, manners and muscles, but had gotten short shrift when it came to brains - a combination that made him very popular with the younger women in town.  While Danny was not immune to the charms of the fairer sex, he did draw the line at dating married women.  Yes, perhaps he was just the man for the job.

"Good idea, dear.  Delegate."  I picked up the pitcher.  "More tea?"