FOURTEEN

Claire watched the news for an announcement about Sean’s death. She went out and bought a newspaper. Nothing.

Probably MaryAnn never came home. The body wouldn’t be discovered until Sean neglected to open the café. If he had eaten the cake. If the poison worked.

Claire ate a bowl of cereal then went downtown and visited Payton. They sat together on a long flower-patterned sofa.

The shop door opened and a dervish whirled in, pushed ahead of the early morning rain. The woman was encased from head to foot in yellow plastic. “Whew!” she cried, stomping water on the mat inside the doorway. The hood flung back to reveal a pretty face with high cheekbones and the pale skin of a person who spent too much time indoors. Mid-length brunette hair exploded from the confines of the hood like cotton from its boll. “Whew!” She finally stopped moving long enough for identification.

MaryAnn, in her mid-twenties, had gained quite a lot of weight over her eight years with Sean. Claire didn’t think it was from sampling the decadent French food. The stress of living with him would turn anyone into a comfort eater. Her smiling face said she didn’t know about Sean’s death.

There was a definite discoloration under her left eye. She’d tried to cover it with makeup, but rain had become her enemy. Anger pushed into Claire’s limbs. She gulped down the emotion. At least Sean wouldn’t hit anyone again.

“MaryAnn! My goodness, Mamie and I were talking about you just yesterday saying we hadn’t seen you in ages. Have you and Payton met?”

MaryAnn shook more water from her raincoat. “Sure have. I’m her new employee.”

“We walked up from the dress rehearsal together,” Payton explained. “And it just happened.”

“I didn’t see you at rehearsal,” Claire said.

“I was hiding. Sean would have made a scene.”

“Claire, would you like some coffee?” Payton didn’t wait for a reply; she headed for the back room and returned quickly. “The water’s heating.”

At that moment, a large box van rumbled into the side parking lot. Payton looked out the window. “Sorry for the interruption; my delivery is here. They’re switching living room sets around.” Payton picked up a pair of pink flowered African violets from the end tables and set them on the front counter.

“I’ll do that for you.” Claire moved pillows and knickknacks.

“Did Payton tell you she and I are racing Zephyr today?” MaryAnn asked.

“No.” It seemed there was a lot she didn’t mention. Claire’s disappointment was palpable. She thought she and Payton were friends. Friends told each other things.

“It’s only for this week though,” MaryAnn continued, “so she can see how the boat goes. Since Sean and I are divorcing, he’s got to give me back MaryAnn.”

“He doesn’t own MaryAnn?”

“He was really pissed last night when I reminded him.” MaryAnn gestured at her eye.

Claire lowered her voice. “Excuse me for asking why you’d live with a man who strikes you.”

“I’m a slow learner. Excuse me, I’ll get the coffee.” MaryAnn returned with three cups and a jar of powdered creamer on a small tray. “I could only find one spoon.”

When the deliverymen left, Payton stood with her arms crossed, surveying the room. “That’s probably the ugliest upholstery I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” MaryAnn said. “If you do this.” She squinted and tilted her head at an odd angle.

Payton laughed and shoved the sofa to the side.

“You throwing it out?”

“No, I just want a different arrangement. I think the couch would look better against the wall. Well, really I think it would be best hidden under a tarp, but…”

Giggling, MaryAnn took the opposite end and pushed. The sofa in place, Payton appraised the room again. “Doesn’t help.”

There was another rumbling in the street and a second truck turned into the lot. Payton stood. “That’s my other delivery. While I supervise, would you go out back and see if you can find some throw pillows or an afghan to help deflect some of this pattern?”

MaryAnn followed Payton and returned carrying an armload of solid-color pillows. She dumped them on the sofa beside Claire. “I brought as many as I could find.” MaryAnn spent a moment arranging them. “There aren’t enough.”

“There can’t be enough.”

Look how cool and innocent they were. How completely unaware their world was about to change. When the news about Sean came out, would MaryAnn cry? Payton wouldn’t. In the privacy of her home, she might even do a little dance.

An hour till race time. An hour till they realized Sean was missing.

Something bounced in Claire’s stomach, flipped over twice, and jumped into a rhythmic pitterpat. She put a hand against it, but it didn’t ease. She jumped up. “I’ve got to go.”

“So do we.” MaryAnn picked up the tray. “Gosh, I hate the idea of meeting up with Sean.”

“Don’t let him get to you. Be the stronger person.” Claire’s heart thrummed against her ribs like it tried to escape. She ran to the door.

“Your purse.” Payton handed it to her.

“Wouldn’t be good to forget that, the stopwatch is inside.”

“We’ll walk down with you.”

Claire didn’t want to walk with anyone. She didn’t want to see anyone’s reaction to Sean’s death. Didn’t want to time a race. She only wanted to be home, safe in her four walls.

She envisioned Sean’s body lying on his kitchen floor in a pool of vomit. Claire took a breath and rubbed a palm on her stomach.