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Ambling back over to lean on the table, she mumbled despondently, “Yeah, whatever you say, Ace.” Noticing the package Tiffany had brought in and set aside, Rose asked, “What’s this? Can we open it?”
Tiffany momentarily stopped trying to uncork a bottle of wine and nodded. “It must be something Ryder ordered. I think he said something about ordering a new meat thermometer.”
“Sounds like my brother. The man cannot stand a dry pot roast.”
As Tiffany went back to working on the cork, Rose got to tearing open the package and inspecting whatever was inside. Just as the cork finally came free, she murmured pensively, “Someone ordered a gingerbread man dish.”
Freezing in place, Tiffany wondered if she’d heard her guest right. Ace’s voice chimed in. “No, it’s a gingerbread girl. See that? She’s wearing a dress.”
“It doesn’t matter. She still as little gumdrop buttons down the front. That’s the important part.”
Feeling as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, the wine bottle slid from Tiffany’s hands. Crashing onto the neatly laid stone tile, the bottle splintered into a million pieces. She saw the red wine splash across the floor, triggering a memory of her finding Rupert.
She’d come home from class one day and found his bloodied body lying on the pristine, white tile of her kitchen floor. Stuart walked by, scooped the orange fur ball up and walked away. He casually tossed words over his shoulder that would stick with her forever.
“Clean that up, wife. I had a bit of an accident.”Looking down into the cat’s dead face he sighed.“He just wouldn’t listen.”
Suddenly, someone was jerking on her arm.
Ace’s panicked voice broke through the fog. “Tiffany, what’s wrong. Did you see something? Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
Rose smacked his hand. “Leave her alone. She’s having a flashback or something.”
Snatching his hand away, he looked down at her worriedly. “Shit. Are you sure?”
“She’s fine, aren’t you, Tiffany?” Rose was using the slow, calm voice that people often did when trying to dial down some drama.
“Su…sure,” Tiffany stammered. “I just dropped the wine and…and…”
Rose snapped protectively. “And nothing, ‘cause you don’t owe anyone an explanation. Now, let’s get your pizza in the oven, okay?”
Feeling all manner of stupid, Tiffany nodded. “Sure, then I’ll clean up this wine mess.”
Ace was already throwing down a half a roll of paper towels and had it cleaned up before they got back from the oven. Looking down at her, he mumbled, “How about we have a nice white wine tonight?”
Nodding like a woman who’d gone off her rocker, Tiffany headed across the room. “I’ve got a couple in the refrigerator. They’ll be nice and cold.”
Soon after, Ryder blew through the front door. He stalked over, concern etched onto his face. He shot Ace a nervous glance, clueing her in to the fact that Ace probably texted him a little heads up that his old lady was acting crazy.
Pulling him a beer out of the fridge, she plastered a reasonable smile on her face. “You’re just in time for dinner. We’ve got pizza, steak, and pizza casserole.”
“Well, I ain’t never heard of pizza casserole before. I might try that.”
Rose chimed in, “Ace made it.”
Ryder deadpanned back, “Guess I’ll stick with steak.”
Everyone chatted and ate. Halfway through dinner, Ryder jerked forward in his seat. “What the fuck is that?” Tiffany didn’t have to look to know he was pointing to the gingerbread dish.
Rose’s voice turned worried. “It came in the mail today. Am I in trouble for opening it?”
Tiffany stated quietly, “I was waiting until we were alone to talk to you about that.”
Rose reached for the dish.
“Don’t touch it, Rose.” Standing so fast his chair flipped back, Ryder stalked over to the box it came in and pushed the flap down with his nail. “No return address.”
At that moment, Tiffany wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She couldn’t move or speak or think. Why did she always freeze up in situations like this?
