Poor Mark, he would forever be yoga man to Mom and me.
“If you get her doing yoga, you have to call me. That is something I need to see. I’ll help you get her packed.”
“She’d like that, so would I.”
Mrs. Cooke was going through her photo albums when we entered her apartment. She loved her photo albums because they were filled with pictures of her husband. I hated seeing the bruises on her face, knowing it could have ended so much worse. She was looking through an album that was older than ones I’d seen before.
“What have you got there?” I asked as I settled next to her on the sofa.
“Have I not shown you this?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I pulled the book over so it sat on both of our laps.
Mom headed into the bedroom. “I’ll pack your bags.”
“Everything is already out on the bed.”
“Is that your husband? I didn’t know he was a cop, why didn’t I know he was a cop?”
“Oh yes. Mitchell was a cop for a few years before he retired.”
“Why did he retire?”
Clearly what she had to say was painful because her hands shook a little when she flipped the page. “We had had four miscarriages, both of us were convinced it was the stress of his job and we so wanted children. He didn’t hesitate to resign. His father and grandfather had been investment bankers, they wanted him to follow in their footsteps. He wanted to be a cop, but he quit and joined the firm for me…our family. As it turned out, it wasn’t the stress of the job.”
It seemed wrong that such a lovely woman had been denied a family, something I knew she very much wanted. We thought of her as such, I think she thought of us that way too.
“We’re not your blood, but you’re family to us.”
Her smile was a touch sad. “You are family to me too.”
“Okay, we’re good. We need to boogie, Miranda, or we’re missing happy hour.”
Happy hour was a tradition on our street. The neighbors poured themselves their beverage of choice and everyone mingled. It was a tradition I really liked. I would have joined them now, since it had been quite a long time since I had been to one, but I was looking forward to watching a movie and going to bed early.
I walked them to their cab, waved as they drove off. The postman was filling the boxes when I entered. I wondered if Mom had forwarded Mrs. Cooke’s mail. I would have to remind her to do that.
“Afternoon, Percy. Could I get my mail and Mrs. Cooke’s?”
“Sure thing, Thea.”
In my apartment, I locked my door and dropped the mail on the counter then retrieved my phone and remote—Chinese food and a movie. Now all I needed to make it the perfect night was Damian. We’d get there.
I stopped by Mom’s a week later and was greeted to the sight of Mrs. Cooke and five white-haired friends, hunched over playing cards drinking milk in lieu of whiskey.
“What’s going on here?”
“Bridge.” I was surprised at her abrupt answer, but then Mrs. Cooke realized it was me. “Thea, dear. It’s so good to see you.”
“And you. You’re in the zone.”
“I am.” She was a card shark; her eyes were shining in victory. “I see you’re fitting right in.”
“Indeed.” But her focus was on her game and I would hate to be the reason she didn’t clean house.
“I’m going to hunt down Mom.”
“She is in the kitchen. That lovely Guy fellow is over.”
Uncle Guy. I hadn’t seen him since the charity event. “Don’t take all of their money, Mrs. Cooke.”
“But it’s just so easy.” That earned her looks and grunts from around the table. I was laughing when I entered the kitchen. Mom and Uncle Guy were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
“Hey.”
Mom turned then stood for a hug. “What a lovely surprise. Would you like coffee?”
“Thanks, but I had my two cups for the day.” I limited myself to two cups or else I’d be drinking the stuff all day long.
“So what’s new with you?” Uncle Guy asked as he claimed a hug. We settled at the table.
“I wanted to see how Mrs. Cooke was doing, but she looks like she’s having the time of her life.”
“She’s got a ruthless streak, that one. It’s a little scary.” Mom said feigning a shudder.
“I just witnessed a bit of that.”
“And you? How are you?”
“I’m good. I miss my neighbor, but I’m happy she’s adjusting so well. It’s nice to see you, Uncle Guy. How’s the detective business?”
A strange look moved over his face but it was gone so fast I wasn’t sure I had actually seen it. “It’s a lot of work, shocking some of the cases you see, but rewarding when you tie all the pieces up and hand it over to the DA.”