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Larry Juniper was everything Derek had been when we’d first started dating: romantic, caring, considerate, and—most importantly—faithful.
I’d met Larry at one of Katherine’s track meets last year. He’d been sitting in the bleachers several yards away from me while cheering on his niece—really the daughter of a distant cousin. He had approached me after the event, and we’d started talking. The following weekend he’d taken me out to dinner.
Larry and I had been together for eleven months now and set a standing date every other Friday through Sunday when Derek took Meredith and Katherine for the weekend. This weekend was no exception. Larry arrived promptly at eight, like always. As I swung the front door open to let him in, he grabbed me around the waist and nuzzled my neck.
“I missed you,” he murmured, his lips pressed against my ear as he knocked me into the foyer with his knees and used the full length of his body to pin me against the wall.
I stepped sideways and gently pushed him away, peeking behind him. Sure enough, both my mother and Derek watched with rapt attention.
Larry’s eyes followed the direction of my gaze. He jerked back when he noticed we had an audience. Generally, by the time Larry arrived my husband had long since departed and my mother remained safely distanced in a neighborhood five miles and a fifteen-minute drive away.
“The girls are out,” I announced in a voice amplified by my discomfort. “You remember me mentioning my ex-husband Derek.” I gestured toward the intruder. “Derek decided to wait for them here.” I glanced at my mother and elected not to broadcast her intention of moving in. With any luck, I could persuade her to move out before Larry’s next visit. “And my mother, Claudia, opted to spend the weekend at my house.”
Larry tensed, looking as though a fork had been jammed up his rear end yet he was doing his best not to mention it.
“And this is my . . . friend, Larry,” I informed our audience, not sure why the word boyfriend stuck in my mouth.
“Good evening,” my mother said, studying Larry with unmasked interest. “It’s so nice to finally meet the man my daughter has been involved in a serious relationship with.”
I whirled around to bestow a well-deserved glare in her direction. What had prompted the crazy old woman to make such a statement? Didn’t she have any sense at all?
I turned to offer Larry a half smile, praying he didn’t form the impression that I’d been rhapsodizing over our imagined wedding ceremonies behind his back. Before my mother could jump in with more unwanted commentary, I said, “Is it raining outside, Larry?”
He blinked, his face blank as he stared at me.
I cleared my throat and turned toward the open front door, wishing someone would jump in with a neutral topic. “It sure is gloomy out there.”
“It’s miserable,” Derek agreed, coming to my rescue. He looked at my mother. “This weather has to be tough on you, Claudia. How are your feet treating you these days?”
My mother twisted her hands in her lap, a smile tugging at her lips. “My feet are about the same, thank you.” She broke her gaze away from Derek only briefly, in order to frown at me. “In fact, you’re the first to ask about them.”
Despite the earlier friction between them, I gathered she was now fighting the urge to leap onto her aching feet and hug my ex-husband, a gesture that would inevitably aggravate Larry’s unease.
“Now that spring has arrived, I can finally expect some relief,” my mother continued. “The warm weather certainly does wonders for an aging woman’s health.”
I pounced on her observation. “Perhaps you should consider moving to Florida. It rarely gets cold there.”
My mother narrowed her eyes. “Hurricanes blow through there, dear. You know how much I despise storms.”
“Arizona then,” I suggested on the off chance she might pack her bags this instant and board the next flight south. I knew I sounded desperate, but Larry and I couldn’t have any privacy with her hanging around, insisting we let her squeeze into bed with us.
“Or Mexico City,” Derek chimed in, naming his favorite city.
I suppressed a flash of irritation. With my ex-husband inviting himself over to wait for our daughters, it would still be hours before I could enjoy any alone time with Larry even if I did somehow convince my mother to immediately relocate to another state.
“Maybe you should take Mom to a travel agency so she can review her options,” I told Derek. “I’m sure a few are still open this late.”
“Darling, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to get rid of your beloved mother,” my mother chided.
I turned toward Larry. “Was I that obvious?”
But instead of responding, Larry’s brow wrinkled. He might be having difficulty reconciling my irreverent attitude toward my mother with my complaints about my own children treating me in the exact same fashion.
Instead, it was Derek who laughed. “I forgot how funny you can be, Bets.”
I spun toward my ex-husband, who regarded me with a tender slant to his eyes that took me completely by surprise. My ex hadn’t looked at me that way in three years, since I’d unearthed the existence of his extramarital bimbo. Perhaps finally meeting my current love had reawakened his interest.
Or, I considered, conscious of Larry starting to bristle by my side, maybe Derek had merely succumbed to a primitive caveman instinct directing him to posture when around competing males, regardless of his lack of interest in the observing female.
Whatever the reason, his post-marital fawning left me itching to extricate myself from this bizarre collection of visitors.
I strode to the kitchen, snatched my purse and keys off the counter, and rushed back into the living room. “Well, Larry and I should be heading off. Derek, please see yourself out once the girls return.”
Thankfully, Larry didn’t protest as I grabbed his elbow and dragged him out the door. Even absent the knowledge that my mother had taken over my bedroom, he’d probably already deduced that her presence would hamper our ability to fool around whenever and wherever the urge struck.
And despite having dated for almost a year, it was really too soon for poor Larry to be engaged in any prolonged conversations with my mother. After knowing the woman for all of my forty-two years, even I still had a hard time tolerating her.
I let go of Larry’s arm to close the front door behind us, hoping the obstacle slowed down anyone in pursuit. “Can we go to your place?” I asked, racing toward Larry’s car.
He scrambled to keep up. “Okay.”
We both climbed into his sedan, not saying a word until he was driving toward the solitude of his Lynnwood condo.
“Sorry about that circus at my house,” I said once he merged with the other I-5 freeway traffic.
One of the things I appreciated most about Larry, especially at this moment, was his lack of family ties. Larry had never been married, never fathered children, and buried both of his parents over ten thankful years ago. Some people had all the luck.
“Not a problem,” he said, but the note of distaste in his voice indicated otherwise.
“Derek’s visitation ended up a bit delayed this weekend. He’s only waiting at the house until the girls return from their obligations.”
Fortunately, Larry didn’t ask for details. I would have felt sheepish confessing that my daughters were out watching a movie and trying on dresses rather than doing something that might better justify my ex-husband’s presence.
“And your mother?” Larry said.
“My mother has taken it into her head to move in with me.” I emitted a strained laugh, wanting him to form the impression this was all one big joke.
He raised his eyebrows but kept his attention on the semi-truck ahead of us. “Your mother moved into your house?”
“I certainly didn’t invite her,” I assured him, as though this somehow made the situation more bearable. “But I couldn’t very well turn her away when she showed up yesterday talking about how my father’s spirit finally left and he didn’t die alone.”
“So she’s addled, and you’re letting her stay temporarily?” Larry pressed.
I shifted in my seat. Would it be so hard for that truck to jackknife and end this conversation? “Not exactly.”
I couldn’t fault Larry for his conclusion, having encouraged the notion that my mother had a few screws loose. Leading people to believe she was on the verge of full-blown insanity often seemed easier than explaining her many quirks.
I experienced a bout of nostalgia then. With Derek having grown up around my mother, I’d never once had to justify her craziness to him, a fact I was only now starting to appreciate. His firsthand knowledge of the woman’s eccentricities had saved us from many painful conversations, such as the one currently unfolding in Larry’s car.
“Then your mother is moving in permanently?” Larry sounded appropriately disturbed by the notion.
“That’s what she thinks.” I knew my statement fell short of answering his question, but I wasn’t sure of the answer myself at the moment. “I at least thought it would be courteous to let her stay until we can sort out this stuff about my father’s death.”
“What do you mean? What’s to sort out?”
“Well, you know my father died in a car accident three years ago.” I exhaled when Larry nodded. Toward the end of our marriage, half the things I had said to Derek were just as soon forgotten. “Everyone thought he had been alone at the time, but my mother now claims he had a mistress present. She thinks he was sleeping around with someone he worked with.”
Larry didn’t say anything, focusing on the road ahead. I didn’t blame him. Nothing about my family made as much sense as a stretch of interstate planned out years in advance and leading to somewhere desired.
“According to Mom, this mistress survived the crash and ran away afterward,” I continued, the words forced out of my mouth.
“What makes your mother think this?”
“Something was found in the car,” I said.
“What was found?”
I stared hard at the pavement ahead, willing a sinkhole to appear.
“Betsy?”
I sighed. “A tube of lip balm.”
“Lip balm?” Larry repeated.
“I know it sounds silly, but my mother insists the ChapStick isn’t hers. She has it in her head that it belonged to my father’s mistress.”
“And you believe her?” he asked incredulously, as if we all might be more unstable than he’d originally feared.
“Well, I’m not convinced this mistress had been in the Buick when it crashed,” I told him, hoping this concession warded off further questions.
It didn’t. He said, “But you think your father was having an affair? All because someone found some lip balm in his car?”
I didn’t reply. An answer in the affirmative might inspire him to turn the car around and deposit me back home. But neither could I say my mother was as wacky as Larry apparently believed. Although I did think she could benefit from some antipsychotic medication, my experience with my own ex-husband’s infidelity didn’t allow me to dismiss my mother’s theory so carelessly.
“And what makes your mother so sure her husband slept with the lip balm’s owner?” Larry said.
“She has a feeling.” I twisted toward him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I owe it to her to try to get some answers. After all, she did endure eighteen hours of labor to birth me.”
The visible corner of Larry’s mouth drooped.
“And the ChapStick was cherry flavored,” I added brightly.
“Oh,” Larry chirped in a falsetto. “In that case, your father clearly was cheating on your mother. My mistake.”
I laughed, the ridiculousness of the situation striking me with full force as we zoomed away from my mother and the influence of her insanity.
Larry relaxed, his arms losing their locked-elbow grip on the steering wheel. “But I understand. Family obligations require that we all do irrational things every now and then.”
I wondered how Larry would know this, being without immediate family himself. “In my family it seems to be more often than that, but thank you for trying to understand.”
“You’re welcome. And no more talk of your mother once we get to my place, okay?” Larry winked at me. “I want this weekend to be about the two of us, no mothers, no ex-husbands, and no teenagers.”
“Agreed,” I said, mentally banishing my entire family in order for this wonderful man to take center stage.
My assent invigorated Larry with fresh resolve. He swerved into the HOV lane and zipped past several cars already speeding.
Larry and I generally spent Derek’s custody weekends at my place, but I was looking forward to the change. With my mother keeping watch at my house, my worries about pipes bursting and gas stoves exploding unnoticed eased. In fact, a major catastrophe occurring while my mother sat alone at my home almost seemed welcome.
If the disaster could happen before Derek left tonight, all the better.
Larry changed lanes yet again. When he pulled off the freeway and stopped at a light, he reached over and squeezed my thigh. I covered his hand with mine, forcing thoughts of my mother and ex-husband out of my head. I hadn’t seen Larry for twelve days, and I was determined not to let any other concerns interfere with our time together.
Larry parked in the underground garage below his condominium complex and led me to the elevator. He punched the Up button, then wrapped his arms around my waist and lowered his face to kiss me.
I squirmed, trying to see around him. “Someone could see us.”
“So?” The tip of his tongue jabbed at my lips like a gardening trowel.
I leaned back and pushed him away. “So, after our most recent public demonstration, I’m not ready for a repeat performance.”
Larry’s jaw clenched as he stepped backward. He stoically watched the floor numbers light up as the elevator descended. Thankfully, the lift arrived within seconds.
I self-consciously adjusted my clothes as a woman emerged, running her judgmental eyes over my rumpled outfit. She strode past us without so much as a greeting, and we entered the vacated elevator.
As the doors closed, Larry restarted his fondling almost immediately. He pressed me against the elevator wall with his body, his hands running up my back to finger the strap of my bra. I was about to ask him to wait, but our progress halted and so did Larry as another resident joined us in our ascent.
When we reached his floor, Larry grabbed hold of my waist and guided me down the hallway. He unlocked his unit door, took my hand, and led me into his condo all in one motion, only pausing to secure his front door again.
My eyes roamed around the unit as we passed through. My gaze stuck to a desktop computer wedged in one corner of the living room, its presence prompting me to wonder what sort of information I’d find online concerning my father’s two female coworkers.
Larry pulled me down the short hall into his bedroom, where he ran his hands up my sides.
Generally, after two weeks of celibacy I was as eager as Larry to begin our lovemaking. But at the moment, his haste left me feeling jumpy and vaguely trapped. I shook my head to dislodge the uncharacteristic emotions, blaming the alien environment for my sense of displacement. Although I’d been to Larry’s condo before, we’d only ever popped in for a few minutes.
Was this how my father and his mistress felt when they found themselves alone in an unfamiliar hotel room, him eager to get down to business while she had more trouble adjusting to the foreign surroundings? I wondered. How often did the illicit lovers manage to sneak away?
From Harold’s observation, Leticia and my father had often ducked out to lunch together. Was that fact significant, or just an indication that they had liked the same eateries?
“I’ve missed you,” Larry breathed, his mouth inches from my ear.
I forced the speculations from my head as Larry’s lips traveled down my neck. Now was not the time to entertain thoughts of my father engaged in a romantic rendezvous, I mentally scolded myself, closing my eyes so I could better enjoy the sensations evoked by Larry’s expert tongue.
Larry unbuttoned the top of my blouse. “You taste fantastic.”
“You too,” I returned absently.
I peeked between my lashes when Larry stopped his kissing spree. I hastily planted my own kiss on his down-turned lips. “Mmm,” I murmured.
Larry’s smile returned, and he started nuzzling the skin my unbuttoned blouse had exposed.
How many times had Kathy Smith been in a similar position with my father? I mused. With both of them supporting a startup company of only four people, maybe they had often found themselves idle enough to escape the office. How demanding could James Cantwell have really been toward the end, anyway?
And what had Kathy assisted my father with? Paperwork, or erectile dysfunction?
“You seem distracted.”
Larry’s voice broke into my thoughts, jolting me back to the present.
“What were you thinking about just now?” he asked, gazing down at me.
“Erectile dysfunction,” I blurted out.
My lover’s face darkened as he pulled back from our embrace. “Erectile dysfunction?”
“Not yours, of course,” I rushed on. “My father’s.”
The admission dimmed some of the passion from Larry’s eyes. “You’re thinking about your father’s erectile dysfunction while I’m seducing you?”
“I know, it’s bad.” Air rushed against my damp skin, and I realized Larry must have undone more than just the top of my blouse. I quickly refastened the buttons, Larry’s scowl deepening with every twist of my fingers. “I can’t get my mother’s theory out of my head.” I locked my eyes with his. “Do you mind if I use your computer for a second? Maybe I can locate some information on my father’s coworkers to help put my mind at ease. We can resume our activities here just as soon as I’m done.”
Larry folded his arms across his chest. “It looks like I don’t have a choice.”
I planted another peck on his cheek, ignoring his obvious annoyance. “Thanks. I knew you’d understand.” I shuffled closer to the door. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” I assured him. “An hour at most.”
I raced out of the bedroom and into the living room where I’d spotted Larry’s desktop. After powering it on, I pulled up a web browser and began searching for information on Leticia Robinson and Kathy Smith.
So many hits returned for irrelevant Kathy Smiths that I gave up after unsuccessfully attempting to narrow down the results with additional qualifiers like Seattle and Track-It and illicit affair. Kathy’s role in the startup company apparently hadn’t been significant enough to merit her mention in the articles available online.
Leticia Robinson was a different story. Almost right away, I located a website dedicated to the woman and her family’s search for her. I scrolled through the pages, my pulse picking up when I noted that Leticia had vanished without a trace mere days after my father’s death. Her family had been devastated, first by her disappearance and later by the lack of information leading to her safe return.
From the webpage set up in her honor, I gathered Leticia remained missing to this day, her family posting updates to commemorate significant events like her birthday and the anniversary of her reported disappearance. They’d never given up their search but if their less frequent postings indicated anything, they had redirected their attention to other necessities over the years. Like with most things that dragged on for too long, daily life eventually took over with its never-ending demands.
Harold Earnest was right about Leticia being a looker. Her website picture displayed the smoothest dark-skinned complexion, not a blemish in sight. Her brown eyes sparkled above a smile that lit up her whole face. I could see why my father—or any man for that matter—might be drawn to the woman.
I stared at Leticia’s picture as I put together a story of the night my father died. I envisioned him and Leticia in the Buick as they approached a motel. Somehow, my father lost control of the car and slammed into a tree on the side of the road. Leticia survived, but fled so as not to expose their relationship. Later, she discovered my father had died from his injuries, her panic over the affair being revealed now dwarfed by her terror that she could be criminally prosecuted for leaving the scene of a fatal accident. To avoid incarceration, she’d slithered away from her current life, adopting a new identity she kept hidden even from her own family.
I clicked on the Contact Us link, perusing the form that appeared. It begged me to provide any information I had to either help reunite Leticia with her family or lead investigators to the location of her body.
I filled out my name, phone number, and email address then paused, not sure what to input into the free-form text box asking for information on Leticia’s whereabouts. I certainly couldn’t type May have fled a car accident involving her former colleague and married boyfriend, leaving him to die in the wreck as she went into hiding. I needed something that encouraged her family to contact me.
Feeling like a bit of a fraud, I maneuvered the cursor into the box labeled “Help Us Locate Leticia!” and typed in My father worked with Leticia, and I believe her disappearance and his fatal car accident may not be isolated incidents. I would like to discuss both with you, at your convenience. Thank you.
“What’s that?”
I jumped at the sound of Larry’s voice, shielding the computer monitor with my body as I spun around. “I’m contacting someone about something that may be related to my father’s accident.”
Larry moved a dining room chair over and sat himself beside me. As he twisted to see the screen, I flopped back into my own seat, compelled to offer some justification for spurning our bedroom activities.
I gestured toward the monitor. “Apparently, Leticia Robinson, one of my father’s coworkers, went missing right after his car accident.”
Larry raised his eyebrows. “Leticia knew your father?”
My own surprise mirrored his. “You knew Leticia?”
“I had been working with her for two months before she disappeared,” he confirmed.
“Working with her?” I repeated.
“As her real estate agent,” he clarified. “She was in the market for a house up in this area.”
I stared at him. Larry had been Leticia’s real estate agent?
“I actually had a listing all ready to show her,” he said, “but she never showed up. A couple days later I discovered she was considered missing when the police questioned me.”
“The police questioned you?” I’d never known anyone questioned by the police, having only witnessed such incidents on television.
Larry nodded, oblivious to my growing dismay. “I guess they found some of the listings I had printed out before in her apartment and wanted to know if I knew anything about her whereabouts.”
“Did you know anything?”
“No,” he said. “Although I did tell the police I thought it was odd that she would take off. She seemed so enthusiastic about buying a place.”
“Maybe her disappearance wasn’t planned,” I suggested.
“Like someone kidnapped her,” he said, bobbing his head.
I tapped my finger against the mouse. “Not exactly. Like she voluntarily went into hiding because of unexpected circumstances.” I had summarily dismissed my mother’s theory when the only evidence had been the lip balm, but Leticia’s disappearance mere days later had me reconsidering.
I looked at Larry, wondering if he also thought Leticia might be hiding rather than in a new home because of her presence in a Buick three years ago. More likely, he was recalling where we’d left off in the bedroom and wasn’t concerned in the slightest about Leticia Robinson.
“How come you never told me you were once questioned by the police?” I asked Larry.
He spread his hands. “It happened three years ago, before I even met you. I didn’t know you were interested. I didn’t even know the woman in question worked with your father.” He pointed to the monitor. “Or that her disappearance may have been related to his accident.”
I turned back to the computer screen, rereading my message. “I’m not really sure it is. It could be a big coincidence.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I think it’s possible Leticia had been my father’s mistress, and the risk of having their affair exposed spooked her,” I said slowly, hoping Larry didn’t conclude I must be as delusional as my mother. He at least didn’t seem overwhelmingly shocked by my theory. “She could have gone into hiding after the crash, adopting a new identity so nobody could tie her back to my father or the accident.”
Larry studied me, but his face remained impassive. “Do you think that’s plausible?”
“How else do you explain a voluntary disappearance?” I challenged. “People don’t go into hiding for no reason.”
“But most people aren’t willing to uproot their entire lives in order to keep an affair under wraps,” he countered. “Especially when they aren’t the married party.”
“They might if they ran away from a car crash and didn’t report it,” I argued. “She might have feared my mother or someone would find out about her presence that night, so she fled to avoid a lawsuit.”
Larry frowned. “That sounds unlikely. Any civil action you might bring upon her would be flimsy at best. The risk of being found guilty doesn’t justify the effort necessary for a person to abandon her life.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, she disappeared for some reason. The timing of my father’s accident seems too coincidental for the two events to not be related.”
Larry didn’t say anything.
“I know it sounds absurd.” I sighed, realizing that within the past five minutes I’d gone from doubting my mother to agreeing with her. “Right now I’m just desperate for answers. As crazy as my mother is, she seems to be on to something.”
“Given the information you’ve uncovered, I can understand why you would think that.” Larry reached over to rub the back of my neck. “It’s no wonder you were distracted earlier.”
While Larry massaged my tension away, I stared at the computer screen, the words blurring as concentration became more difficult. My acceptance of my mother’s theory might be premature, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to shake the sense that Leticia had been in the car that night until I talked to someone who knew her better than her real estate agent. I needed to speak to someone with some insight into Leticia’s frame of mind around the time she had vanished forever.
On the Contact Us form, I clicked Submit before I could lose my nerve.
Figuring I had accomplished all I could for the time being, I shut down the computer, took a deep breath, and prepared to turn my thoughts over to Larry and whatever he had planned for me in the bedroom.
