Chapter Six
Bree
There was something a little naughty about being given free run of somebody else’s house. All their secrets were laid bare if the guest knew where to look. Medicine cabinets and master bathrooms were no longer off limits. The back of the fridge told tales that strangers ought not know. They didn’t have time to hide things behind a clean, public image.
The vulnerability also sucked. Bree now knew how many times Tyson had resorted to fast food dinners for himself after spending exhausting days shuttling between his daughter’s day care, his office, and his wife in the hospital. She knew Taylor had regressed to wetting her bed at night. And she knew it had all been hidden to keep the stress from landing on Allie’s shoulders and turning to self-blame.
There was also something fun about cleaning somebody else’s home. The first time. “Don’t worry. The glee of using your front load washer will wear off, I’m sure,” Bree shouted from the basement where she was switching the laundry. But for now it was cool.
She returned upstairs to see Allison had finished a quarter of her bowl of chicken noodle soup. It wasn’t great, but it was something. “So, tell me what’s going on in Oaklands South. Any neighbours a little too friendly with each other? Anybody like to vacuum naked with the curtains open, because I’ll only look if he‘s cute,” she said.
Allison reached for her spoon at Bree’s stare. “I think three kids went by on their bikes without helmets last week. Taylor told me after Tyson took her out on her tricycle.”
Bree didn’t push when a haunted look flitted across her friend’s face. She’d seen it before when Allison mentioned a milestone she’d missed with her baby.
“Although...” Allie dropped the spoon, exhaustion clear on her face. Bree helped her onto her feet and Allie shuffled over to the sofa. Bree wrapped her friend in a crocheted afghan she’d pulled from the backrest.
“We can finish this gossip session later. We have time,” Bree said. “Do you want the television on?”
“No. I think I need a nap.”
It took Bree the rest of the afternoon to get the house to the point where she had an in-depth list of what needed to be done. Approximately a thousand loads of laundry and some serious bathroom scrubbing were on her agenda for tomorrow.
Taylor was colouring at the kitchen table and Allie was still asleep when Tyson returned home, closer to six than the five he’d estimated. Bree watched him take in the entire scene. His wife, home, sleeping on the sofa. His daughter, home, safe, playing quietly. The house tidied, and the smell of dinner in the air.
He smiled, but it didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. Bree waved him into the kitchen. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine, and that’s not what I meant. What’s up?” she repeated.
“Courtney and I got called into a meeting today. It ran very long.” Bree heard the anger in his voice, even as he tried to make it sound like nothing.
“New case?” she asked.
“No. You’re not planning on leaving town anytime soon, are you?” Tyson asked.
“I might be interviewing in Vancouver in the near future, but I’ll make sure you have somebody to help if that happens,” Bree said. He should know she’d never leave them in the lurch.
“I don’t mean to help us at home. My office need you again for the Zane case, but I’ll give you as much warning as I can when—if I do,” he said.
“What?” That was over. At least, it was supposed to be. The verdict had come back; Zane was guilty on all counts. He’d spend the next couple decades in the penitentiary. All they were waiting on now was the sentencing hearing. The Crown shouldn’t have any reason to want to talk to her again.
“Tyson, what’s going on?”
“Maybe nothing,” he said. “Are you staying for supper?”
In the living room, Allison stirred. Now was not the time to push. She should let him enjoy his family on the first good night they’d had together in a while.
“No thanks. I’ll catch you next time. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early. Seven thirty,” Bree said.
“That sounds fantastic.” He walked her to the door. “By the way, I got a call at work today. For you. Your brother wants to talk to you,” Tyson told her.
Her face must have told the story because Tyson laughed and handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s his number. I didn’t think you wanted him to have yours.”
Her brother was harassing her friends now. Wonderful. “I’ll deal with him. He won’t bother you again.”
It was a bitch and a half locating a public payphone, but she eventually found one. “Adam, I’ll be at the St. Vital Mall Grand Burger until eight. Don’t call Tyson again. Or Allie. They have enough going on without being sucked into your crap.”
