“Just do me a favor,” said Andre. “When you go back to the coast, call your sister occasionally. Maybe even Pat now and then, okay?”
A nod.
“Thank you.”
“Lydia and I have plans,” said Vaughan, reaching for my hand. He squeezed my fingers tight, his grip sweaty. “I’ll catch you before I go.”
“All right.”
“It was good to see you again, Andre,” I said, offering a brief smile.
“You too, Lydia.” He stepped forward, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Take care.”
We were out of the shop, down the street, and into the Mustang in under a minute. Two steps for every one of Vaughan’s, I almost ran to keep up, puffing all the way. He didn’t talk until the key went in the ignition, the engine revving, loud and proud. Slowly, his shoulders descended, the walls came down. But they didn’t disappear. Not really.
Not for him and not for me.
“Sorry about that,” he said, gaze firmly on the road ahead.
“It’s fine.”
“Better get back, finish that work on the house.”
“Right.” I fussed in my seat, gripping the handbag in my lap.
Someone once told me that when people pass in assisted care facilities it’s common for men to be found holding their penises. Women, however, grab hold of their handbags. Our money, our identities, our lives, are stuffed into those things. All of the bits and pieces we’ve collected over the years. Everything we might need to make it through any minor, or major, emergencies.
Men are so much less reliable than handbags.
“I need to read the documents from the Delaneys,” I said, putting my priorities back into place. “I should pack my stuff properly too. Nell and I just threw everything into boxes. It’d be horrible if more got broken in the move.”
A grunt from the man temporarily at my side.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Hey.”
The man lying spread-eagled in the backyard raised a hand, then let it fall back to earth.
“For you,” I said, passing him a beer.
“You’re an angel.” The sweat on his body glistened in the moonlight. Dark wet tendrils of hair clung to his face. He chugged a good three-quarters of the beer in four, five seconds max. It was impressive. Very manly.
Just as well I’d brought out a six-pack.
The scent of cut grass filled the air. Every bush had been neatly trimmed. Instead of an Idaho Amazon, the backyard now resembled a neat suburban garden with an awesome stone fire pit at its center¸ I sat on one of the surrounding rocks, sipping my beer. Stars twinkled overhead. The moon shone. Soon enough, Vaughan finished off his beer and I passed him another.
He sat up, elbows resting on his knees. “You going to say something?”
“About what?” I asked, looking round. “The garden? Great job.”
“I meant about the fight with Andre.”
I raised my brows, taking another sip. “No.”
Nothing beat ice cold beer on a summer’s night. I’d showered and changed into a loose cotton dress. After the dust of the garage and repacking almost everything I owned, it was necessary to clean up. Wet hair sat up high on my head in a topknot. All the better for adding a bit of bounce to it tomorrow. It also left my neck exposed to the beautiful cooling nighttime breeze, a definite bonus. It felt so good after the heat of the day.
He looked at me, then he looked around. A process he repeated quite a few times, occasionally stopping for a mouthful of beer.
“I don’t know you, Vaughan,” I said, when I couldn’t take the silent questioning any longer. “Not really. And you don’t know me.”
His brow furrowed.
“What Andre said was enough to send you spiraling into some sort of frenzied gardening bender. I’m not going to add to it.”
“The yard was just a job that needed doing,” he mumbled around the top of his beer. “No need to make it a big deal.”
“Right. Just a job that needed doing … for seven hours without a break.”
One shoulder lifted. “That’s how long it took.”
“In your underwear.”
“It got hot.” He took another mouthful of beer. “Thanks for putting out the bottles of water earlier.”
“No problem.”
For a while, we drank in silence. Up high the tips of the old pine trees swayed in the breeze like they were waving at the stars. Someone somewhere played Simon and Garfunkel a little louder than necessary. Otherwise the night was peaceful, nice.
“Good thing about the fences,” I said eventually.
“Hmm?”
“Otherwise the neighbors would have had a wonderful time watching you trim the hedges in your boxer briefs.”