Last Licks

Helena shot her a sharp look. “But not enough of a reason to dislike the man? Then how about this—true to form, he once got me alone in the kitchen during a party and told me how much he loved me.”

Sunny shrugged. “You’ve always been an attractive woman.”

“Yeah, but then he tried to show the depths of his devotion by shoving his tongue down my throat.” Helena Martinson made a face. “He knew I was married, for heaven’s sake. And if you remember my Raymond . . .”

Sunny recalled Mr. Martinson as a big, stocky guy who’d obviously adored his petite wife and gorgeous daughter (who was a few years older than Sunny). He’d had to put up with a lot of teenaged boys around the house, but he was pretty easygoing, even tolerating the guys who’d buzzed around Helena like moths drawn to her hot-mom flame—pretty much the same way Shadow tolerated Toby coming over.

“I recall a lot of guys who had crushes on you,” Sunny said.

“Boys.” Helena made a dismissive gesture. “Gardner was old enough to know better. And if Ray had found out, Gardner would’ve had his head handed to him.”

“What did you do?” Sunny couldn’t help asking.

“I pushed him away, told him his passion wasn’t requited, and made sure I was never alone with him again.” Mrs. M.’s lips twisted in a sort of smile. “He moped around for a couple of weeks, trying to convince me he was heartbroken, then went off to make some other woman’s life miserable. You could follow it like the phases of the moon. Usually his so-called deathless passions lasted about six weeks.”

“So you have no interest in tracking him down at Bridgewater Hall and rekindling the flames?” Sunny teased.

Helena’s answer caught Sunny off guard. “I’m very happy with what I have with your father. Someday I hope you can enjoy the same thing.” She glanced at the kitchen door. “Even if the man in your life lets himself get roasted like a turkey.”

Sunny determinedly turned the conversation away from herself and Will. “Dad told me he gave Gardner a poke in the snout in their go-round,” she said. “Is he the one who knocked it off-kilter?”

“No, but I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised to hear that someone did.” Helena sighed. “His nose was fine when I knew him. Gardner Scatterwell was a very handsome man—and knew it. That was one of his problems.” She moved aside to let Sunny add the cups and saucers to the dishes in the sink, and then turned on the water. “I don’t think I’d like to see what became of him.”

They finished with the dishes and went back outside, where Mike and Will were discussing the woes of Red Sox Nation. Helena Martinson chatted a little more, then she rose to get Toby’s leash. As if by magic, Shadow suddenly appeared, just as Sunny had anticipated. Toby gave a loud bark of delight and loped over to the cat. Shadow’s tail lashed around, demonstrating his discomfort, but he put up with the dog’s clumsy overtures. To show there were no hard feelings, Shadow even accepted a brief petting from Mrs. Martinson. Then she clipped the leash onto Toby’s collar, and they left into the night.

Will soon followed her example. When Sunny turned from the doorway, she found only Shadow behind her. Mike had graciously left the living room to give some privacy for a good-night kiss.

After the door closed, Sunny sat down on the floor and stretched out her hands to Shadow. “You were a very gracious host,” she teased him. “Especially with Toby.” He climbed into her lap, pursuing her hands with his nose.

“I think it’s time to give that up,” Sunny told him. “I’ve washed my hands a couple of times, plus doing the dishes. All you’re going to smell is soap.”

Shadow gave her a sidelong look with those gold-flecked eyes of his, then reached out with both paws to capture her other hand.

Mike returned to reestablish himself on the couch. “So what were you and Helena gabbing about in the kitchen?”

“Just girl talk,” Sunny replied. She wasn’t about to pass along what Mrs. Martinson had told her.

Her dad gave her a sly smile. “Maybe about a good-looking young security guard?”

“Dad.” It took everything Sunny had to keep the word from drawing out into the exasperated whine of her teenaged days.

“I know, I know, you think he’s too young.” Mike waved her dirty look away. “It’s just a coincidence that Helena has had younger guys making sheep’s eyes at her as long as I can remember. Of course.”

If she argued, Sunny knew her father would just hang on to the subject like Toby with a toy bone. “Whatever,” she said darkly.

Mike nodded in self-satisfaction and began working the television remote.

“Probably looking for a rerun of Father Knows Best,” she muttered to herself.

*