Don't Cry Now Part 21

"That's not what you want to ask me," Nick said, sprinkling the bits of onion into the sauce, stirring it.

"It isn't?"

"You want to know whether or not I killed her," he said, his back still to her.

"Did you?"

"No." He swung around, smiled. "See how easy that was?"

"What's the connection, Nick? What were your name and number doing in Joan's address book?"

"I called her a while back," Nick admitted, after a pause. "Asked her about looking for a house for me. I won't be staying with the old man forever, you know."

Bonnie shook her head in disbelief. "You're trying to tell me that you were house hunting, and that you just happened to pick my husband's ex-wife as your realtor? Is that what you're seriously trying to tell me? That it was a coincidence?"

"Of course it wasn't a coincidence." A hint of impatience crept into Nick's voice. "I knew who Joan was when I called her. Maybe I thought it would be fun. Maybe I knew it would get back to you. Maybe I just wanted to find out about how you were doing."

"There were easier ways to find out how I was doing."

"You made it quite clear you didn't want anything to do with me," Nick reminded her.

"With good reason," Bonnie said.

"Still angry Mom cut you out of her will?" he asked, pointedly.

Tears sprung immediately to Bonnie's eyes. Don't cry now, she told herself. "She didn't cut me out...."

"That wasn't my doing, Bonnie. I had nothing to do with what happened there."

"No, you're never the guilty one, are you, Nick? You're just an innocent bystander moving from one disaster to another." Bonnie swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. d.a.m.nit, why did she always have to cry when she got emotional?

"Told you not to get too close." Nick pulled a tissue from the pocket of his jeans, extended it toward her.

Reluctantly, Bonnie took it, wiped her eyes, blew her nose.

"What would you have done with the house anyway?" Nick asked. "You couldn't wait to get away from that place. Bustin' your a.s.s to get good grades, working part-time, putting yourself through college, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and the rest of us...."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He looked around the kitchen. "And you did it. I mean, look at all you've got here. Nice home, good career, successful husband, beautiful little girl."

"Stay away from her, Nick."

"I think she likes me."

"I mean it, Nick."

"So do I. I really think she took a shine to me. Imagine, she didn't even know she had an uncle Nick. Shame on you, Bonnie. How do you think Mom would feel about that?"

"You have no right to..."

"No right to what? To speak of the dead? She was my mother too."

"It's your fault she's dead," Bonnie said quietly.

The corners of Nick's mouth curled into a sad little half smile. "You're going to blame me for that one too?" he asked.

Diana's beautiful face suddenly popped into the doorway, her dark hair falling loosely around her shoulders. "What can I do to help?" she asked, her eyes as blue as the waters of the Caribbean.

"You can relax and have Rod fix you another drink," Bonnie said, still patting her eyes with the tissue. "Onions," she explained.

"They're deadly." Diana stepped forward, took the tissue from Bonnie's hand, gently patting at some wayward mascara. "That's better. Now you're perfect. That's a great outfit."

Bonnie glanced down at the green-and-white-checkered pantsuit she'd been wearing all day. "I look terrible. But thanks for lying."

"Hey, I'm a lawyer. I never lie."

"You're a lawyer?" Nick asked. "What's your specialty?"

"Mostly corporate and commercial."

"Just what I've been looking for," Nick said easily. "I'm trying to put together a few deals. Think you might be interested?"

"Depends on the deal."

"Why don't I call you when I get things a little more firmed up in my mind?"

"Why don't you stick to the task at hand?" Bonnie indicated the spaghetti sauce that was starting to bubble.

"Right you are," Nick said, inhaling the rich aroma. "Ladies," he said, bowing deeply from the waist, "I believe dinner is ready."

"So, how long have you guys been friends?" Nick asked Diana, nodding toward Bonnie. They were grouped around the dining room table, Rod at one end, his children at either arm, Bonnie at the other end, Amanda on her left, Diana at her right, Nick and Haze buried in the middle. It was a small room, longer than it was wide, with peach-colored walls that matched the dozen baby roses Diana had brought and Bonnie had placed in the center of the pine table.

"Our husbands worked together for a while. And I just live around the corner," Diana said. "This is delicious, by the way." She dipped her French bread into the sauce.

"There's lots more," Nick said. "I'll be happy to get you some."

"Give me a minute."

"You just live around the corner?" Sam asked, his interest clearly piqued. He'd barely taken his eyes off Diana all evening.

"One twenty-eight Brown Street," Diana said. "But I'm only here weekends now, and sometimes not even then. I have an apartment in the city, and it's easier and more convenient to just stay put, now that I'm single again."

"You could have let Greg have the house," Rod reminded her.

"Why should I?" Diana asked. "It was my house."

"Oh, that's right. Part of your divorce settlement from husband number one."

"You've been married twice?" Lauren asked.

"Marriage doesn't seem to agree with me."

"I don't know about that," Rod argued. "I'd say it's done pretty well for you."

Diana pushed her now-empty plate toward Nick, brought her napkin to her full lips. "I will have some more of this fabulous spaghetti, Nick, if you don't mind."

Nick was instantly on his feet. "Anybody else?"

"I'd like some more," Bonnie confessed quietly, handing her plate to Nick, trying not to notice his self-satisfied grin.

"Me, too," Lauren said, following Nick into the kitchen.

"So, you live alone?" Sam asked Diana.

"Yes, and I love it," Diana told him. "No one to answer to, no one to cater to, no one to pick up after. I go to bed when I want; I eat when I want; I do what I want. Not that I don't miss having a man around from time to time," she qualified. "There are always a few things around the house that need fixing. Stuff that requires a man's touch." She smiled toward Sam.

"I'm pretty good at fixing things," Sam said, eyes sparkling.

"Are you?"

"Yeah, I can pretty much take anything apart and put it together again."

"Sam's really good with his hands," Haze said with a sneer.

"Well, maybe we can work something out," Diana said. "I have a few cupboards where the doors are just barely hanging on, and I've been taking showers in the dark for months now because I can't figure out how to replace the light bulb."

"Taking a shower in the dark sounds kind of s.e.xy," Haze said.

"Not when you're alone," Diana told him.

"We could fix that," Haze said.

Bonnie squirmed in her seat, wondering if there was some way she could kick Diana under the table, stir her toward another line of discussion. Diana was a natural flirt, and a virtual magnet for men of all ages. And Haze had a way of deliberately misinterpreting even the most innocent of remarks.

"I'd be happy to have a look at the light," Sam said. "See what I can do."

"That would be great," Diana said. "I'd pay you, of course."

"That's not necessary."

"I insist."

Sam shrugged. "Okay. When would you like me to come over?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"How about Sunday?" Sam asked instead, as Lauren returned to the room, carrying two plates of spaghetti, Nick right behind her with two more. "I was kind of planning on visiting my grandmother tomorrow." He shifted uneasily in his seat.

"Sunday's fine," Diana said.

"You're going to visit Grandma Langer?" Lauren asked, her voice incredulous.

"I was thinking about it."

"Why? I mean, she probably won't even know who you are."

"She might." Sam stared toward his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion.

"Who's Grandma Langer?" Nick asked.

"My mother's mother," Lauren answered, her eyes clouding over with the sudden threat of tears. "She's at the Melrose Mental Health Center in Sudbury. Isn't that where you said, Bonnie?"

Bonnie nodded, surprised by both Sam's announcement, and the fact that Lauren had asked her a direct question.

"Maybe I should go too," Lauren whispered.

"Why don't I take you guys there?" Bonnie offered, silently preparing a list of reasons to counter the objections she knew were coming-I know the way; I've been there before; it might be easier with an adult present-surprised when no objections came.

"Grandparents are a wonderful thing," Nick said.

"I live with my grandparents," Haze said. "It's a drag."

Nick leaned across the table toward Amanda. "Did you know you have a grandfather, Mandy?"

Amanda nodded, blond curls bouncing around her chubby cheeks, freckles of spaghetti sauce dotting her chin. "Grandpa Peter and Grandma Sally. They live in New Jersey," she said proudly.

"Not your daddy's parents," Nick corrected. "I'm talking about your mommy's daddy."

"Nick..." Bonnie warned.

"You've never met him," Nick continued, "but he doesn't live very far from here, and his wife makes the best apple pies in the whole world. Do you like apple pie, Mandy?"

Amanda nodded enthusiastically. "They're cool!"

"Cool?"

"That's what Sam always says."

"Cool, Amanda," Sam said, laughing. "Give me five." He stretched the palm of his hand toward Amanda. Amanda giggled and slapped at it with her own.

Bonnie laughed out loud, marveling at their easy rapport.

"Maybe you can convince your mother to take you to see your grandfather someday," Nick continued. "I know he'd love to see you."

Bonnie dropped her fork, pushed her plate away from her, her second helping untouched. "I better see about coffee," she said.

Bushes of pale pink peonies stretched toward her as Bonnie made her way up the stone walkway of the Melrose Mental Health Center. Except that it wasn't the Melrose Mental Health Center, she realized, twisting in her bed, the realization that she was dreaming falling softly across her brain, like mosquito netting. She tried to wake herself up, to pull herself away from the Center's front door, but the door was already opening. It was too late. She had no choice but to step over the threshold.