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  “I’ve got GPS. I’m good.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Kassie said ciao and turned her attention to the lockbox. Her pulse pumped through her ears. She found the two small keys on Mike’s key ring. Which one would fit that box? This time she chose the right one.

  Inside she found a plain white envelope addressed in black ink to Mike at the office. No return address. The postmark was clear. December of last year. Elephant Butte, New Mexico.

  Elephant Butte? Must be a scam. A joke. But why hide it in a locked metal box. She turned the envelope over. It was unsealed.

  In thin red marker the thank you note read, “Always, KR.” Underneath, a heart with an arrow through it.

  The Mercedes couldn’t get her to the hospital fast enough.

  17

  Adventure Capital

  Chris was happy to get out of the hotel even if it meant not being with Kassie for a spell. He could use a breath of non-hotel-conditioned air and time to regenerate brain and other essential cells.

  “There are other things in life than sex, right? Negative on that,” Chris said aloud, grinning as he merged onto the highway toward Charlestown to meet with the realtor he’d only talked with on the phone to lease the apartment.

  She buzzed him into the building, leaned over the third-floor banister, and waved. She greeted him at the end of the long-carpeted hallway with an ear-to-ear smile. Pleasant enough.

  “Don’t want to scratch up these gorgeous cherry wood floors,” she said as she slipped off her super high heels, making her about the same height as Kassie.

  She took his arm and showed him around the furnished apartment, pointing out the snow-white cabinetry, the upscale silver-flecked black granite countertops, and the stainless-steel appliances.

  “The crown molding is such a wonderful accent, wouldn’t you agree, Chris?” He grunted, not particularly into interior decorating. As long as the apartment had a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, he was happy.

  Speaking of, the realtor ushered him into the bedroom and emphasized how “unusually huge” it was and then pressed down on the mattress of the king-sized bed. He nodded approval and asked about adding a cat to the short-term lease. No problem for an additional thirty bucks a month.

  “Did you say you needed one parking space?”

  “No, two. My girlfriend. It’s her cat.”

  “So I guess a drink at The Warren Tavern is out of the question?” She inched so close to Chris her floral perfume struck a nerve below, and their eyes met.

  “Maybe another time.” He smiled as he tapped her arm and turned toward the door. She pouted like a five-year-old who didn’t get to go on a playdate. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she stomped her feet.

  “You can move in Monday afternoon. The place will be ready then.” She lifted his right hand and placed a key in his palm and directed him to the hardware store up the street where he could get another made for his lady friend.

  “By any chance is it near the post office?” He pulled his hand away, putting the key and his hand in his pocket.

  “Why yes, it is. And the tavern, too, if you change your mind.” She winked.

  Persistent little devil.

  With keys made, he swung by the post office and picked up the small package he’d been expecting and kept the junk mail that had stacked up instead of throwing it away. There might something helpful to a newbie. He wondered if he’d get a call from Welcome Wagon as he did when he first moved to San Francisco.

  When he’d lived there, Chris relied on public transportation. He considered doing the same in Boston but opted for renting wheels until he worked out the commute and Kassie’s schedule. Perhaps the Saturday of a holiday weekend wasn’t the best time to drive around Boston, but he had the afternoon to kill so why not? And he needed the practice. His friends had warned him being a tourist in Boston was one thing, being a resident quite another. Falling victim to Boston’s legendary rotaries and one-way streets was not his idea of fun.

  He zigzagged through the city’s main streets and crawled through the back alleyways, avoiding jaywalkers and fathers pushing baby carriages; and he bucked the traffic around the Boston Common and Public Garden, up Newbury Street with a gazillion shoppers not looking where they’re going, through the crossroads at Kenmore Square and past Fenway Park where the early afternoon game crowd had dispersed. Phew! He’d made it.

  After he’d checked in with Kassie, he decided to drive by the office where he’d have an interview the following Wednesday. Turning the car around, he headed toward Cambridge via the Harvard Bridge. He’d keyed the address into his iPhone before leaving the hotel.

  Chris clicked on Ricci and Associates.

  18

  Red, Red Whine

  If asked, Kassie wouldn’t be able to recall how she got from Mike’s office to the hospital late Saturday afternoon except for one small detail she’d like to forget.

  She wouldn’t remember starting her car or fastening her seatbelt. She wouldn’t remember honking at a moving van unloading a mattress. She wouldn’t remember veering around not one but three cars that were double-parked. Nor did she see Chris sitting in his rented SUV checking the route to Ricci and Associates on his phone while stopped at the first intersection she’d crossed.

  Kassie would recall seeing red. Her mother’s carpet blanketing Mike’s office. A sweater in a photo. The heart on a note from KR. The flashing lights of a police car in her rearview mirror.

  She handed the cop her license and registration, waited while he checked her out, tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, and bit her tongue, all the time willing Bad Kassie to remain silent. She knew the drill.

  “You blew through the stop sign back there.”

  “I’m so sorry, Officer McCarthy. On the way to Boston Clinic to see my husband.”

  “You’re related to Daniel O’Callaghan?”

  “Yes, sir. My uncle.”

  “Nice guy. Worked with him about ten years ago in Revere.”

  “He died since then.”

  “Oh, sorry. Just be careful around here young lady. Do you need an escort?”

  Kassie turned down the offer and thanked the officer for letting her go without a ticket. Being Irish and having an uncle who was a cop had its advantages, especially in Boston. She promised to be good. Heaven only knew how long the luck of the Irish would safeguard her from future vehicle violations.

  Officer McCarthy wouldn’t have known Uncle Dan’s influence, while he was living or after his death, had squashed multiple tickets for Kassie in and around and north of Boston. Usually for speeding. Running a stop sign was a first for her. After her father died, Uncle Dan tried to step in and fill the void. He taught her how to ride a bike, ski, and drive. Uncle Dan would not be pleased. Sorry. Her eyes veered toward the sky.

  Her mother had accepted his help to raise Kassie at least for a while until she remarried. Kassie’s stepfather, whose name she refused to utter after their divorce, tried to replace either Matthew or Daniel O’Callaghan. After a few years of physically abusing both Kassie and her mother, the man who remained nameless flew the coop just as Uncle Dan seemed ready to unleash his Irish temper on him.

  Kassie had overheard Uncle Dan tell her mother, “What that man needs is a good swift kick in the ass.” Kassie agreed and was confident that he would do it when the time was right.

  The divorce was uncontested and Uncle Dan reclaimed his well-earned place as Kassie’s role model and protector. When she was in high school, he’d just show up in their living room when she’d have a first date and hide behind her mother while giving Kassie the thumbs up or down.

  He didn’t seem to care much for Mike. “This marriage could be a heartache in the making, darlin’” he’d told her. Even so, Uncle Dan gave into the little girl he never had and walked her down the aisle.

  Uncle Dan was broken-hearted when she’d lost the baby and crushed when she confessed he was right about the heartache thing.
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  “Hang in there, baby. Marriages are like the Red Sox. They have a way of turning around,” he said, half-sympathizing, half-joking with her in 2004 after the team had won their first World Series in eighty-six years.

  Kassie was delighted that Uncle Dan had lived long enough to see at least one more Red Sox world championship and to have shared the experience with him. She’d always have those memories and wished he was with her that day. Maybe he was.

  Though shaken by her close encounter with Officer McCarthy, when she parked in the hospital garage, Kassie had the presence of mind to double check the money envelope was zipped inside her purse. Even though the garage was busier than the day before, the sounds of cars starting and breaks squealing combined with voices of people talking on their phones confirmed she was not alone. She needed to keep her head up and her bag close.

  She also had the wherewithal to know how critical it would be for her to get hold of herself before facing Mike and not barge into his room, spewing all kinds of accusations she hadn’t thought through yet. Tea time.

  “What would I be accusing him of?” She mumbled as she sat at the same table in the hospital’s café that she’d occupied the day before.

  Saving money? Keeping an old photo on his desk? Renovating his office without consulting her? Memorializing her mother with old carpets and her picture? Knowing Mike, he’d wriggle his way out with excuse after excuse. All plausible explanations. And then he’d make her feel like a fool . . . again. But what about New Mexico? What’s that all about?

  Her phone buzzed. A text from Chris.

  What’s your eta?

  90 mins. @ hospital. Going to c M now.

  OK. Dinner in?

  And?

  Movie?

  And?

  Whatever turns u on, KO.

  Kassie turned off her phone, not wanting to take the chance Chris would text or call her while she was with Mike. She sat back, closed her eyes and willed Uncle Dan to give her strength now.

  Remember the end game.

  Uncle Dan had taught her whether in sports or in business or in life, the most important lesson was to keep the goal in mind.

  Her end game was waiting for her at the hotel. The main obstacle was waiting for her four floors up.

  “Where have you been all day?”

  “Hello, to you too, Mike. How are you?”

  He prattled on and on and on about being stuck in the hospital and expected to be riddled with bed sores by the time they released him. Suddenly he liked the waterbed. Being in the hospital provided at least one benefit.

  “The cute nurses are taking good care of me. You could take some cues from them.”

  Kassie bit her lip and remembered the end game.

  “My blood pressure seems to have stabilized. Look, no more wires.”

  “Was stopped for running a stop sign on my way here.”

  “And I’m peeing regularly.”

  “Uncle Dan warned me years ago.”

  “I actually slept well last night for once.”

  “So did I.” Kassie bowed her head, trying not to smile.

  She placed Mike’s phone and charger, along with the Hemingway biography on the rolling tray table. Mike turned on the phone.

  “No juice, Kassie. You didn’t charge it? What good—”

  “Am I?”

  “No. The phone, it’s dead.”

  She snatched it from him and plugged it in a wall socket.

  “You didn’t answer me. Where have you been? Did you go to my office like I asked? What did ya think?”

  “About what?” She handed Mike the three folders he wanted.

  “The office. I don’t think you’ve been there since I renovated it, huh?”

  Kassie expressed her honest surprise—the new furniture, the pictures. When had he done all that?

  “Five years ago. You were off gallivanting in Italy doing who knows what. Your mother was a godsend. Don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”

  “My mother? How’s that?”

  Mike chronicled how her mother had called him all boohooing and nervous about Kassie traveling to Italy solo. He said he’d reassured her that Kassie was a big girl who could take care of herself. Then he had an idea, a way to distract her, to occupy her while Kassie was away. Would she help him redecorate his office?

  “I gave her a blank check. It was the ultimate quid pro quo. A win-win. She had a ball flitting from one store to another. Showing swatches to the staff. Even asking their opinions, which of course she ignored. So proud of herself. And everyone at the office loved the end result.”

  “She never told me. Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t you?”

  “Don’t know why she didn’t tell you. Hate to let you in on a little secret, sweetheart. Your mother didn’t tell you everything.”

  “What does that mean?” The thought of her mother conspiring with Mike made Kassie’s blood boil. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Bad Kassie bubbled to the surface and erupted as she walked in a circle like a dog searching for a place to settle. There was no turning back.

  “Who’s KR, Mike?” She spewed, her cheeks reddened.

  “KR? Um. You, when you think using my name is to your advantage.” Mike pointed at her and threw his arms in the air.

  “Don’t be such a smart ass. Last I checked, I don’t live in Elephant Butte, New Mexico.” She threw the envelope at him. “I think we’re done here. And I suspect you’d agree.”

  “What the hell?”

  “I want a divorce.”

  “Divorce? Why? This is nothing.” Mike gritted his teeth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can explain. I tell you this is nothing.” Mike waved the envelope in the air.

  “It’s not nothing. It’s not all.”

  “All or nothing? You’re talking gibberish as usual. Give me one good reason we should split? Now.” Mike pounded the rolling table that straddled his bed sending the small plastic water pitcher splashing to the floor.

  “One reason? How about fifty-two hundred reasons?” Kassie blurted and made tracks out the door with a lump in her throat and water in her eyes.

  Kassie texted Chris. On my way. Get food & lots of wine. Red wine.

  19

  Romper Rooms

  As if searching for divine guidance, Mike looked to the ceiling and said in a voice louder than what was acceptable in a hospital, “What the hell? She’s lost her mind. Drugs. It must be drugs.”

  “What must be drugs, Mr. Mike?”

  Though startled by hearing a response, he easily recognized Teresa’s accent but was surprised to see her daughter at the foot of his bed. He straightened out his sheets and blanket, covering all things private. There’d be no issue if it was just Amelia standing there, but he had no desire to flash Teresa. Bad enough for more than a decade she’d washed his soiled and sweaty underwear, changed his stinking sheets, and stowed any porn flicks he’d forgotten to put away.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Teresa. Just Kassie fuming about nothing. So, what else is new?”

  Mike fixed his eyes on Amelia and inhaled and exhaled with a smile he didn’t realize he could muster that day. Good thing he’d pulled up the sheets and put his hands on his lap concealing any little thing that could arise.

  It had been about a year since their last night together in Providence, still the sight of her nipples pointing through her white top sent blood to all the right body parts. Despite her mother standing there, Amelia’s presence made him hard as a rock. Boy, it felt good. If only he, or she, could do something about it. People had sex in hospitals, right? Maybe her mother would get lost, and he and Amelia could get it on. Unlike Kassie, who’d never consider such a thing even in the best of times and who now had her knickers in a twitter about something that was none of her business, he reckoned Amelia could be game if the circumstance presented itself.

  Spontaneity was not the only thing that set Amelia and Kassie apart. These two women were total opposites. In fact, Amelia was unli
ke any other woman in Mike’s life. All the others were clones, physically and temperamentally. If asked, he’d admit he’d had a type during his single years. They were blond, petite, intelligent, and submissive. Not surprisingly he’d married his type. Mike was comfortable with that and pretty much remained faithful. Okay, he’d had one-night stands occasionally. Never anything to write home about.

  Until Amelia came along. She’d redefined his comfort zone on the Friday she came to clean the house when Teresa was on vacation. Kassie was on vacation, too, in Italy, and Mike was working at home while his office was being renovated. He’d met her before, but her mother and Kassie were always around. Had he detected a vibe between them? He wasn’t sure. Imagination or wishful thinking?

  On that day, however, it was just the two of them alone in the house. How convenient. He greeted her when she arrived, all proper and friendly. A handshake. A smile. He soaked in her beauty as if meeting her for the first time. Her skinny jeans accented all the right places in front and behind. The black, V-neck, short-sleeved t-shirt revealed just enough cleavage to cause him to salivate. Her hair was tied up and her chocolate eyes twinkled as the morning sun peeked through the sheer, white curtains in the hallway. He imagined her lips would taste like merlot if he could just lick them even once. Did she dress like this to clean every house or was it on his behalf? Did she expect he’d be home alone—lonely and horny?

  Amelia wasted no time getting to work cleaning. About an hour later, she appeared in his office doorway. “What should I do with these?” She smiled, waving three movies Mike had watched during his solo escapades the night before.

  “Let me see. Bring them here.” Mike knew full well what they were.

  As Amelia walked toward him, she released the scarlet red ribbon and her hair, which was the darkest brown it could be without being black, fell down below her shoulders. He shut the computer and cellphone down. Then he got up.