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Allie filled Mimi in on everything that had happened since they’d spoken earlier in the evening. Her breaking into the senior center (at which Mimi visibly cringed), her run-in with Tom, and then finally Rusty and the license suspension.
“Zeke will be back in a couple of days. I’m sure he can help you get the license thing straightened out,” Mimi said.
“I hope I didn’t wake up the kids.”
“They’re eleven and sixteen. They both probably went to bed with their iPods glued to their ears. Only an act of God could wake them up.”
“I still can’t believe Claire is sixteen. Makes me feel old,” Allie joked.
“Sixteen going on thirty.” Mimi pointed to her right temple. “See that? I’m going gray because of that girl.”
Allie playfully threw a pillow at her. “You are not!”
Mimi caught the pillow, then laid it across the top of the bed, giving the covers one final tug to smooth them in place. “Wait till you have a teenager of your own.”
Mimi was right, Allie observed with a tender eye. Her sister-in-law was sporting a hint of silver at the temples. But other than that, it was hard to believe Mimi was old enough to have a teenage daughter. Despite their somewhat shaky beginning, Mimi and Zeke were the poster couple for marriage with a capital M. Even after sixteen years they were still crazy about one another, with their two point zero kids in a house they had bought twelve years ago and were still renovating. Mimi carted the kids around all day in her eight-year-old minivan while Zeke kept Whispering Bay free from crime. They could be a reality T.V. show on the perfect family.
Allie’s gaze swept through the little room, which functioned as both a den and guest room. She’d always thought of this room as hers. Zeke and Mimi were her only real family, and over the years their home had become her family home. The walls were covered in pictures of not just their kids, but of Allie and Buela, as well. It was the place where Allie kept all the junk she wanted to save but didn’t necessarily want to lug from apartment to apartment.
The last time she’d been here the walls in this room had been mint green. They were now painted a light sky blue and the curtains were new as well. Probably sewn by Mimi herself. By most standards the house wasn’t large. It was a three bedroom, two bath, eighteen hundred square foot ranch. But it was cozy and neat and there was a place for everything. How Mimi managed to keep it all together on a small town cop’s salary was beyond Allie. Besides doing her own painting and sewing, Mimi also kept a garden year round and made the best banana pudding pie Allie had ever tasted.
Mimi sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to her in invitation. “That must have been kind of weird for you. Seeing Tom again after all this time.”
Allie avoided Mimi’s shrewd gaze. Her sister-in-law was the only person in the world who knew every detail of Allie’s short lived romance with Tom Donalan. At times, that had been a blessing. Tonight, it felt more like a curse. There would be no sleep until Mimi was satisfied she knew every second of Tom and Allie’s ill-fated reunion.
“Oh, I don’t know, I guess it was inevitable we would see each other again one day.” Allie knew that after their divorce Lauren Donalan had returned to Whispering Bay. But she had no idea that Tom had followed her. “Did you know Tom was back in town?”
“I ran into him and Henry at the Piggly Wiggly. Henry is the spitting image of him. He and Cameron are in the same grade.”
Seeing Tom again had been disorienting enough. What would it be like to run into a kid version of him? Luckily, she wasn’t going to be around long enough to find out.
“So what’s Lauren up to?” She remembered the look on Tom’s face when she’d asked about his ex-wife. He had seemed…conflicted by the question. “Still petite, blonde, and beautiful?”
“Naturally. She just opened up a sixties vintage boutique next door to The Bistro. Very cute.”
“Well, good for her. She was always into all that fashion stuff.” Although Allie had always thought of Lauren as more Lilly Pulitzer than retro.
Allie began pulling at the edge of her bandage. Why had she let Tom bandage up her knee? He had remembered how she hated the sight of blood. And she had hated the fact that he remembered. Did he remember the reason behind it? Instinctively, she knew he did. She had read it in his eyes.
It was embarrassing to think how a virtual stranger (and that’s what they were now—strangers) knew that oh-so-most-personal thing about her. Mimi probably suspected the reason behind Allie’s aversion to blood, but they’d never spoken about it. There were only two people alive who knew that story. Zeke, because he’d been there. And Tom, because she’d told him.
“Tom and Lauren have been divorced, what, about a year now?” Allie said. “Do you think he regrets it? I mean, do you think he followed her here to win her back? Not that I care or anything, but you have to admit, it’s kind of fascinating, in a Dr. Phil kind of way.”
“Fascinating, huh?” Mimi looked as if she wasn’t buying it, but nevertheless she continued. “I’m not one to gossip, but in this case, I don’t think I’m going to tell you anything you don’t already know. All these years everyone thought Lauren and Tom had this solid marriage, but according to Pilar, if it wasn’t for Henry, they would have never gotten married to begin with.”
Pilar Diaz-Rothman was one of Mimi’s closest friends, as well as a member of Mimi’s Bunco group, more affectionately known around town as the Bunco Babes. They met every Thursday night to play Bunco, drink margaritas, and gossip. Death or relocation were the only reasons a Babe gave up her spot at the weekly dice game and permanent admission was strictly by group invitation only. Pilar’s father, Dr. Diaz, had been their family dentist since forever. Plus, he and his wife were one of the few native born Cuban-Americans in town, which had made them instant friends with Buela.
Mimi made a face. “Do you think people in town wonder about Zeke and me?”
“Wonder what?”
“If we would have gotten married if I hadn’t been pregnant with Claire?”
“Are you serious? Of course you would have gotten married.”
“Well, this is a small town and people like to talk about stuff like that.”
“What is this? The nineteenth century? Hence, one of the reasons I’m glad I now live in Tampa,” Allie muttered.
