Only In His Sweetest Dreams(27)

“For?”

“Your gossip about him.”

Her fingertips found the hollow of her loose-skinned throat. “I only repeated what he said to me. He took a rude, threatening, confrontational tone and it was completely uncalled for.”

“Was it?” Mercedes folded her arms, unable to stop the tight censure from creeping into her tone.

“That man is insulting. He has no regard for authority.”

“He’s in a position to sue.”

“He would not dare.” Mrs. Garvey’s voice shook with anger. She quickly stuck out her sharp-boned hand. “Wait. I take that back. That is exactly the kind of opportunistic reaction I would expect from a man like him.”

“Well, there’s the difference between you and I, Mrs. Garvey, because I think L.C. is the last person to waste time on something like that.” Scorn curled her lip.

“Oh, Mercedes,” she said with a fall of disappointment in her voice. “Here I’ve been defending you, assuring people you would never consort with the likes of him. You told me yourself you place too much importance on how the children would perceive it.”

“There is nothing going on between me and L.C.” Mercedes said, but couldn’t hold her gaze.

Mrs. Garvey retorted with a superior sounding sniff.

Oh, as if everything were simple black and white. Here she was, struggling, clinging by her fingernails to keep an impossible situation for spinning completely out of her control, and Mrs. Garvey had the nerve to say, “You’re not the woman I thought you were, Mercedes.”

“Well, you’re not the woman I thought you were,” Mercedes snapped, losing her temper. “Dayton’s having trouble at school and I thought about asking you to assess him, but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave him with someone who thinks it’s okay to hurt people. You hurt L.C., Mrs. Garvey. You judged him before you knew him and that’s wrong. You are in the wrong.”

And there went her job.

In an admirable example of higher conduct, Mercedes stalked out, too horrified by her own loss of control to look back and hear the axe fall.



Edith had observed that Mondays tended to be very busy for Mercedes, so she waited to speak to her until Tuesday. She had decided against speaking to the board about the words they’d exchanged. It was between her and Mercedes and the fact was, it distressed her deeply that the incident had occurred at all. She had felt an affinity with Mercedes from the first interview, when Mercedes had offered the information she might someday marry, but they needn’t worry about maternity leaves because she wasn’t able to have children.

That was one reason this whole custody nonsense had taken her by such surprise. Still, if Mercedes would only see that it hadn’t been spite that had prompted this misunderstanding, but a desire to protect the young woman from a dreadful misjudgment. Edith hoped to somehow explain that as she followed Mercedes down the hall to the sunroom, carrying her manila envelope stuffed with a peace offering.

Mercedes carried a file folder and startled when she realized who was behind her.

“I, um, didn’t realize you were there, Mrs. Garvey,” she said stiffly.

“Yes, well, I was hoping for a moment of your time.”

A tinny, Yankee Doodle Dandy tune emanated from Mercedes’s skirt pocket.

“I’m sorry, that might be Porsha. I left her a voice mail earlier.” Mercedes extracted her cell phone and answered.

The tone of a distinctly male voice spoke. Edith couldn’t hear the words, but suspected she knew who it was by the smile that painted itself across Mercedes’ features.

“Aren’t you finishing my laundry room? Let him in.” Mercedes flashed a slightly culpable look toward Edith, then turned and began removing outdated notices from the bulletin board. “Well stop that and finish my laundry room. I left the door unlocked so you could get in.” A pause, then, “Okay, then let the cable guy in, finish installing your dishwasher, then do my laundry room. Otherwise, the kids will be going to school naked.”

He responded with something that made her chortle with enjoyment. Mercedes never sounded like that, throaty and coquettish.

Edith straightened a few books on the shelf, not wanting to listen in, but hoping Mercedes would wrap this up in short order. Even if they couldn’t see eye to eye on Mr. Fogarty, Edith wanted to give her the items for Dayton.

“Wait.” Mercedes tucked the phone into her neck so she could use two hands to remove the next poster. “I need your advice. One of Dayton’s new friends wants him to come over after school. I put in a call to Porsha, but even if she calls back, she’ll probably say something like, ‘If you can unload him for a few hours, then, duh.’ But how do I know these people aren’t cult freaks?”

Kudos to Mercedes for entertaining sensible doubts. It was the sort of sound judgment the young woman generally showed, but if she was asking That Man for advice, she was tapping a dry well.

Mercedes giggled again. “So you think they have their own website? Like, with a membership list? See, this is why I ask you. You’re so much more in touch with these things than I am.”

He had obviously made a ridiculous suggestion. It was exactly the sort of rejoinder she expected him to offer. Edith couldn’t help a sniff of disapproval.

Mercedes glanced over as if she’d just remembered she had someone waiting on her. “Would you be serious?” she asked. “Dayton really wants to go and I don’t know anything about these people.” A pause. “I’m not inviting myself for tea.” Another chuckle. “Or beer. I’m serious. The sooner you give me straight advice— Really? Just tell his mom I’m coming for tea. People do that?”

Edith absently alphabetized the heavy, dated encyclopedias, loathe to admit the advice wasn’t terrible.

“Would you do that?” A hearty laugh. “I’m not the connoisseur you are, but yeah, I guess she’s pretty hot.”

Edith gave up. The man was incorrigible. She felt like an eavesdropper, listening to this banter. Especially because there was something beneath the laughter that, for her, held a throat-tightening familiarity. Friendship. Honest regard.

Collecting her manila envelope, she left, hearing Mercedes behind her. “Okay, I’m hanging up. Finish my laundry room.”

Edith didn’t stop. She had more thinking to do about whose judgment was flawed.



L.C. was making notes on the receipts he was leaving on Mercedes desk when a quietly cleared throat pulled his gaze up to Edith Garvey’s constipated expression.

“If you would please accept this, Mr. Fogarty.” She held out an envelope.

He might be a redneck from backwoods Washington, but he knew expensive stationary when he saw it. That off-white paper was lawyer quality.

“Birthday invitation?” he drawled, making no move to take it.

Garvey’s cheeks pinked, but she straightened her spine. “An apology, sir. I regret any unpleasant moments I may have caused you.” Clearing her throat again, she set the envelope on the desk, nodded once, and bolted as fast as her orthopedic lace-ups could take her.

Well. Wasn’t this a day for big, freakin’ surprises. L.C. reached for the envelope.



Friday, with help from L.C. and Zack, Mercedes shifted all her possessions and both kids from her apartment to the duplex. It smelled of paint and new carpet, yet she immediately relaxed. The extra room meant she wasn’t tripping over the kids and the location meant they could play outside without disturbing the residents.

She and L.C. hadn’t finished what they’d started, but the memory of what they’d shared was in his eyes every time he looked at her. To escape it, she asked him to watch the kids for a few minutes while she took her apartment keys to Mrs. Garvey.

Not that meeting the senior’s defensive gaze was any easier to meet than the playfulness in L.C.’s eyes, but the ice had to be broken eventually.

“I’ve booked the cleaners for tomorrow morning, then the movers will come in the afternoon,” Mercedes said when Mrs. Garvey answered her knock. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about having the bedroom painted. There’s time to arrange it, since this apartment isn’t needed for another week and a half.” Mercedes pointed at the floor of Mrs. Garvey’s near-bare apartment.

“No, no. I remembered I have another comforter, one with yellow roses, so the yellow walls are fine.” Mrs. Garvey moved from the door to her kitchen. “Would you like tea?”

“I would stay,” Mercedes said, trying to be sincere, following her in and closing the door, “but I should get back to the kids and unpacking. Thank you, though. I, um, don’t have your way with words or I would have written you a proper apology for saying what I did the other day.”

Mrs. Garvey cleared her throat and folded a tea towel into a neat square on the counter, not looking up.

“I mean, L.C. was quite...touched...that you took the time to write.” He’d been flabbergasted and had asked how he should respond. Thank you card? They still weren’t sure. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have said you were a poor example for Dayton. You’re obviously an excellent one.”

“Yes, well, I had no idea the boy was struggling in school, Mercedes. I hope you know I’m more than happy to help in any way. Would you like me to tutor him?”