Love, Albert Page 3

  “Not that I remember.” Reid picked up the shoebox, tested the weight, not quite believing this was all that was left of Uncle Albert. A single piece of tape held the lid down. He slit it with his thumb and ducked, half-expecting one of those canned snakes to jump out, or a cow to moo, anything that might lay waste to the idea that Albert was truly gone.

  But the only thing inside the box was a sealed bag of ashes with a best-before date written on the top. Reid smiled and closed the lid, already missing the old man. He set the box down with a sigh. “I guess I didn’t know him as well I thought I did.”

  “The mystery was part of his charm.” Vicky held the manila envelope out to him. “Go ahead, open it.”

  “You do it. We’re in this together, remember? The happiest couple he knew.”

  Her eyes held his for little more than a heartbeat. “You should have told him,” she said, and tore off the top of the envelope. Shook three white greeting-card envelopes onto the table and lined them up in a row. One was marked Open at Lyle’s, another Open in Seaport, and the third, For Willy.

  “This is so like Albert,” Vicky said, ripping into the one marked for Lyle’s. Inside was a page torn from a lined notebook. She unfolded it on the desk between them, revealing a handwritten note and a rudimentary map. “He’s outlined the trip,” Vicky said. “Route One all the way up the coast. Bodega Bay, Stewart’s Point, Mendocino. If not for the addition of Seaport, I’d think we were looking at our honeymoon all over again.” She slid the page toward Reid. “You’re sure you didn’t know about this?”

  “How could I?” He read through the instructions quickly. “It says that Albert made this trip himself when he was eighteen. He’s just retracing his steps, and he’s using us to do it.”

  She looked down at the chicken in her lap. “Will you go?”

  “I don’t see how I can refuse.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What about work? Can they change the flight schedules that quickly?”

  He tucked everything back into the manila envelope. “You’d be surprised what they can do these days.”

  He saw no reason to mention that he’d been taken off the executive flight list, the air-taxi list, even the cargo list. Hadn’t flown so much as a kite for North Star in almost a month and the way things were going, he wasn’t likely to anytime soon.

  As chief pilot for the small charter firm, it was his responsibility to know who was fit to fly and who wasn’t. If he’d done his job properly, he’d have grounded himself long before the FAA did it for him, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly for some time now.

  On the day Vicky asked him to leave, Reid figured he’d slide right back into the single life without a hitch. Say to hell with her and the goddamn minivan life she had planned for them. Just pick up where he left off eight years ago. A few parties with the boys, a little tinkering on the car, and long, easy flights to anywhere at all. But the skiing in Idaho hadn’t been quite what he remembered, and the comedy in Chicago had fallen flat.

  It wasn’t until he was sitting on a beach in Maui with his buddies, watching kids instead of bikinis, that he realized the truth: somewhere along the way, he’d become a family man, the kind who loved cereal kisses in the morning and tickle monsters at bedtime. But above all, he was a man who loved his wife. Loved the way she laughed at his jokes and beat him at pool and never turned away when he reached for her in the night. The thought of a future without her was slowly driving him crazy.

  He rose and tucked Albert back into the suitcase. “It’s not like I’ll be gone long, anyway. A day up, a day back. They won’t even miss me.”

  The truth was that he’d already asked for a leave of absence, and they’d all been happy to see him go. Apparently a few weeks of Reid behind a desk was enough for everyone.

  She was watching him closely, a million questions in those clear blue eyes. But she didn’t ask any of them. Simply turned away. Got to her feet and busied herself with her purse, the cushion, the damn chicken, letting the gap between them grow wider still.

  Reid glanced at the box of ashes. Perhaps Albert had given them exactly what they needed – a little time alone. A moment to step back from the cliff and breathe. Find a way to talk to each other again, to realize they didn’t need a house or a minivan to be happy. All they needed was each other, and a day or two in Seaport might be the perfect place to start.

  “So, will you come?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Yes, but only for Albert.” She picked up her purse and motioned to the key on the desk. “You should put that in with the instructions.”

  “You’re better with paperwork,” he said. “Why don’t you hold onto that part of things?” He picked up the can and went in search of the snakes. “I’ll take care of the suitcase.”

  “Fine,” she said, dropping the chicken and whoopee cushion into the suitcase. “But remember I have dibs on both.”

  “You’re a hard woman,” he said, squeezing the second snake into the can.

  She smiled and slipped the key into the envelope. “I only hope the wind cooperates when we get to Jackson’s Point. I don’t want to find out what happens if we wind up with him in our hair.” She turned to leave. “Either way, I’m sure the kids will enjoy the trip.”

  “No kids.” Reid jammed the lid down on the last of the snakes and looked up at her. “It’s not that I don’t want them, but Albert’s instructions are clear. Just you and me.”

  He could see her weighing what he’d said, measuring the risks and felt himself relax when she shrugged and said, “I guess my parents could take them for a couple of days.”

  He zipped the snakes and the buzzer into the suitcase. “I’ll pick you up at their house in the morning, then.”

  She fiddled with the strap of her purse, avoiding his eyes. “You do know this doesn’t change a thing, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ll bring the separation agreement with you? Signed?”

  He nodded and said, “If that’s what you want,” because so much was riding on these next few days and he didn’t want to fight with her again.

  “While we’re at it, we need to establish a few ground rules for this trip. Separate cars, separate rooms, separate checks.”

  Reid raised a brow. “Two cars?”

  “All right, one car. But not the MG.”

  “Vicky, it’s spring—”

  “Reid, I am taking my car. You can ride with me or not.”

  “Your car it is,” he said and walked with her to the door.

  She gave the door a push, hesitated and let it close again. “I really am sorry about Albert,” she said, and turned to Reid. Put an arm around his neck, pressed her cheek to his. “I can only imagine how hard this is for you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes against the urge to crush her to him, to hold her hard, knowing that would only push her farther away.

  She let her arm drop and stepped back, out of reach. “I’ll see you at nine.”

  Reid held the door open for her. “Till tomorrow.”

  She lowered her head and walked past him. Didn’t look back until she reached her car.

  Reid smiled and glanced back at the suitcase. “Thanks Albert,” he said. “I owe you one.”

  THREE

  “Did you pack a nice dress?”

  Vicky glanced over at her mother. She and the kids had been at her parents’ house for thirty minutes and she had started to regret arriving early within ten.

  “There’s no point in packing a dress,” she said. “We’re going to scatter some ashes, nothing else.” She knelt down in front of Jason, kissed his finger and wiped a tear from his cheek. “All better?” He nodded and she gave him a hug. “Now leave Oma’s cat alone, okay?”

  She watched him toddle off into the living room. Heard him whisper, “Here, Kitty,” the moment he turned the corner.

  “I’ll get him,” her mother said, hurrying off to rescue
Jason and the cat from each other.

  While her mother explained to Jason about Kitty needing some alone time, Vicky spotted her father and Kira hunkered over a flowerbed in the backyard. He was trying to teach her the difference between weeds and perennials. Judging by the look of concentration on Kira’s face, Vicky figured that the weed situation would be well in hand by the time she got back from Seaport. Which was more than she could say for the mirror tile situation at Mr. Robinson’s.

  She had spent hours on the phone yesterday calling every handyman in the area, and striking out every time. If she wanted a skylight or a new bathroom, or even closet organizers, she could have had someone over at Mr. Robinson’s this morning. But so far, no one was interested in taking two dozen mirror tiles off the ceiling, and the midnight e-mail from the Clayton’s offered no comfort whatsoever. Buyer’s remorse was already setting in and the deal wasn’t even firm yet.

  Sitting down at the table, she drew her laptop closer, typed Bay Area no job too small into the browser and scrolled through the names that popped up. Skimming past junk removers, computer repairs and firms she had already called. Searching for the one elusive and probably desperate handyman who could help her out while her mother came back into the kitchen with the cat in her arms and Jason on her heels.

  “He reminds me so much of you,” her mother said on her way to the sliding door.

  “Really?” Vicky glanced up from the screen. “When I look at either of them, all I see is Reid.”

  “That’s because they’re both dark-eyed daredevils like their father.” She let Kitty outside and opened a tin of magnetic letters and numbers for Jason. “But can’t you see yourself in the way he treats the cat? The way he whispers to it so soft and gentle, just wanting it to trust him, to love him.” She crouched down to spell JASON and KITTY on the fridge door before setting Jason loose with the rest of the letter. “And Kira?” She rose and pointed out the window. “That girl is you to a tee. The way she puzzles over every problem, determined to figure it out.” She fished a hermit out of the cookie jar and handed it to Jason. “She’ll skip grades that one. You wait and see.”

  “I don’t think they do that anymore,” Vicky said, punching a few names and numbers from the list into her cell phone.

  “Well they should.” She set a hermit on Vicky’s keyboard. “And you should definitely take a dress with you. Just in case.”

  Vicky stared at the cookie and the crumbs about to find their way into her laptop. Scooping it up carefully, she closed the lid, took a bite and sighed. Raisins, cinnamon and molasses, exactly the way she remembered.

  Neither the hermits nor her mother had changed much over the years. Jane VanderHayden still held to the belief that kitchens should be white, knickknacks kept to a minimum, and treats served as often as possible. She also believed that men and women were equal, everybody screwed up now and then, and a good marriage was worth holding onto. And she would never understand why Vicky was giving up on her own so quickly.

  “If not a dress,” Jane continued, “Then a decent pair of slacks.” She opened the deli drawer of the fridge, took out plastic bags of black forest ham, imported cheeses, and mystery sausage. “You never know what might come up.” From the pantry, she grabbed a baguette and a jar of Dijon mustard. “There are some lovely places along the coast. Little inns, restaurants—”

  “Perfect for a romantic getaway, which this is not.” Vicky popped the last of the cookie into her mouth. “What are you doing?”

  “Making a little something for you to take on the trip. Pass me that picnic basket will you?” She laid the loaf down on the cutting board and cut it in half length wise. “Now if you want my advice, I think you should stop in Mendocino. I know a great spot.”

  “We’re not stopping till we hit Seaport. And you’re making a hero sandwich, aren’t you.” Vicky banged the picnic basket down on the counter. “Why would you do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because they’re Reid’s favorite.”

  “All the more reason.” Jane opened the package of ham. “And I still think you’re rushing things. Letting the lawyer push you toward something you might regret.” She pointed an elbow at the poppy seed cake cooling on a rack. “Wrap that for me, will you?”

  Vicky went to the drawer for a box of plastic wrap. “Rita isn’t pushing me into anything. A divorce is exactly what I want.”

  “What you want is a house.”

  Vicky picked at the roll with a fingernail, trying to find the end. “What’s wrong with that? The kids need a place where they can run and holler. Climb trees if they want to without someone telling them ‘be quiet’ or ‘don’t touch.’ ”

  “Because that’s what you had?”

  “Partly.” She shoved the roll back into the drawer and went for aluminum foil instead. “But this isn’t just about a house. It’s about growing up, taking responsibility, being an adult.”

  “Reid doesn’t do this?”

  “Mom, he drives a two-seater sports car.”

  Jane shrugged and kept building the hero. “It’s a classic automobile.”

  “It’s just old, and completely impractical for a family.” She ripped off a square of foil and laid the poppy-seed loaf in the middle. “We need a minivan so we can carpool to Kira’s soccer games and Jason’s playgroup. On top of that, we need an education fund, more insurance, and then there’s the whole holiday issue. He wants to go canoeing in Minnesota, if you can imagine.”

  “You loved to canoe when you were little.”

  “At the cottage. For an hour or two. We are talking a full week in a tent. Purifying our own water, using leaves for toilet paper—”

  “I get the picture.”

  “Then can you also see why Reid and I are finished? We don’t see eye to eye on anything. We fight all the time—”

  Jane kept her eyes on the sandwich as she sliced it into eight pieces. “But how is it when you make up?”

  Vicky dropped the wrapped cake into the picnic basket, remembering all the nights they’d wasted having the same argument over and over again. The two of them yawning and pacing the living room floor. Neither wanting to be the first to leave, to go to bed mad. Keeping it up until finally one of them made a move. Reached out to touch a hand, brush a cheek. In his eyes, she saw the same fear that kept her there in that room. Both well aware of what was happening, and what they were on the verge of losing.

  Those were the nights when they raced each other to the bedroom, clothes falling along the way, as though time was the enemy. Believing somehow that if they could just love each other well enough, hold on long enough and hard enough, everything else would fall into place. As if they were working some sort of magic in that bed, making something to last, something to shield this precious thing they had found and keep it safe, when in reality all they were doing was having sex.

  She tore another length of foil off the roll, smoothed it on the counter. How had it been when they’d made up? Noisy, hot. She felt her face warm. Very hot. But ultimately not enough. When the sun rose, nothing had changed. There was no magic and no way to stop what was happening, and she could still see the confusion and betrayal in his eyes the first time she switched off the lamp in the living room and went to bed alone.

  She thumped one of the sandwiches down on the foil. “I don’t see that it matters. Reid and I haven’t made up for a long time. And we’re not about to start now.”

  Her mother laid a hand on hers, saving the sandwich. “Vicky, listen to me. When you live with someone for a long time eventually you see all the flaws. You know he slurps when he eats soup and doesn’t always close the bathroom door.” She glanced out the window and lowered her voice. “And maybe you find out that he really is a big baby when he’s sick. But you learn to look past those things and remember what it was that brought you together in the first place.”

  “What if the things that brought you together are the very things that are driving you apart? What do you focus o
n then?”

  “Daddy’s here, Daddy’s here,” Kira called, her voice drifting in from the front yard. “What did you bring me?”

  Vicky shoved the foil aside. “Nothing living I hope.”

  Jane sighed. “I give up.”

  “If only.” Vicky got to her feet. “Come on, sweetie,” she said to Jason, dusting crumbs from his shirt and hands before leading him out to the hall. “Daddy’s here at last.”

  She reached the front door at the same time Reid was climbing the porch stairs with Kira in his arms. “So the tooth fairy came?” he was asking her.

  Kira nodded solemnly. “Just like you said she would.”

  “I knew it.” Reid spotted her on the other side of the door with Jason. He put Kira down and held out his arms. “How’s my boy?”

  Vicky pushed the screen open and Jason bolted outside. Reid scooped him up, swung him around. “Who’s this big boy anyway?”

  Her father came into the hall. “I brought your bag and purse.” He held up the duffle she left in the kitchen. “Your laptop, too.” He set everything on the floor beside her and stood with her, watching Reid play with the kids. “He’s good with them,” he said after a moment.

  “He always was.”

  “He’s getting too thin, don’t you think?”

  Case VanderHayden was much like his wife with simple tastes and beliefs. He loved his family and his garden and had never been one to mince words. While Vicky didn’t always appreciate everything he had to say, this time he was right. Reid was thinner, his cheekbones more pronounced, his jaw sharper.

  “He’s probably living on that take-out stuff he likes so much,” Case said with a shudder.

  Vicky swung her purse over her shoulder. “You know Reid.”

  “But not so well as you.” He waved at Jason through the screen. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “Did mom send you in here?”

  “Scout’s honor, I only bring your bags. But if you’re not in love with him, I’m sure there is a perfectly good reason why you still keep your wedding rings with you.”