effectively grounded yourself, too.
âAny other weekend, you could drop Faith off at my house. Lisa would probably welcome the company,â Joseph said of his wife. âBut she and the twins are visiting her parents in Kentucky. Damn shame you canât join us. I like Tully, but the man canât bowl worth squat. Without you, weâre the odds-on favorite to lose.â
âSorry, guy. Check with me next time, though.â Nick hung up the phone, admitting to himself that, even if heâd gone, he wouldnât have been much help to Josephâs cause. He was far too preoccupied tonight.
There had been rumblings in the hardware store where heâd gone to give Faith and Pam their space. Apparently, Ed Calbert had come in yesterday with his prodigal niece and placed a sizable order. Although Nick had heard months ago that Mae Wilson died, hehadnât thought much about her leaving Pam anything. Frankly he was a bit surprised to learn sheâd had anything
to
leave. But now he realized that Pam owned the old house and would need to do considerable repairs if she was to have any hope of selling it.
Which meant that Pam wasnât going anywhere just yet.
Hell, I run a construction company.
If he volunteered to work for half-price, would she be gone sooner? Or he could just bulldoze the place for her. Judging from the occasional glimpses he caught from the road, it wouldnât take much to flatten the neglected place into nothingness. Some things couldnât be saved; it might be better just to start over, rebuild.
He could just imagine the look on Gwendolynâs face if he told his mother he was helping Pam renovate a house. The back of her head would blow off. He almost grinned at the rare prospect of his mother speechless.
Nick had muted a ballgame on television when Joseph called. Now he restored sound with the remote but still couldnât concentrate. He ended up in the kitchen, randomly opening cabinets and inspecting refrigerator shelves with cursory interest.
Boredom munchies.
He didnât really want to eat. He wanted something physical to do, something that would help him work off this prowling sense of ⦠whatever it was.
He opened the high cabinet above the refrigerator and reached for the bottle of premium whiskey his semiretired boss, Donald Bauer, had given him at Christmas. As Nick headed for the dishwasher to get a clean tumbler, he noticed Faithâs phone on the counter. He pulled the spare charger out of a drawer. He reminded her on a near daily basis that the phone whose chief purpose was supposed to have been âforemergenciesâ wasnât going to do her any good if it ran out of juice and couldnât be used in an actual crisis. There was a bloop of acknowledgment when he plugged in the phone, and the dark screen brightened. Instead of the usual wallpaper, a picture of Faith and Morgan making crazy faces on the back porch, there was a photo of Faith and Pam, heads close together over a dark green tabletop, smiling at the camera.
He sucked in a breath at the unexpected vision.
They really did look a lot alike. In an alternate reality, this would have been a picture
heâd
takenâa routine family outing, a spontaneous shot of his wife and daughter. His throat tightened, and he ran his thumb across the picture, enlarging it so that it was zoomed in on Pam. Her face and hair and style were different, but her eyes hadnât changed at all.
When theyâd been together, heâd found it boldly erotic that she so frequently met his gaze during sex. Her lashes didnât close often, and she rarely turned her head away from him. Instead she looked right into him.
With a groan, he set down the phone and guiltily shoved it away. Then he poured himself a double. Watching the alcohol splash into the glass kept his thoughts centered on her. Did Pam ever get this itchy, restless feeling? He was vaguely aware that Ed and Julia were gone most
âAny other weekend, you could drop Faith off at my house. Lisa would probably welcome the company,â Joseph said of his wife. âBut she and the twins are visiting her parents in Kentucky. Damn shame you canât join us. I like Tully, but the man canât bowl worth squat. Without you, weâre the odds-on favorite to lose.â
âSorry, guy. Check with me next time, though.â Nick hung up the phone, admitting to himself that, even if heâd gone, he wouldnât have been much help to Josephâs cause. He was far too preoccupied tonight.
There had been rumblings in the hardware store where heâd gone to give Faith and Pam their space. Apparently, Ed Calbert had come in yesterday with his prodigal niece and placed a sizable order. Although Nick had heard months ago that Mae Wilson died, hehadnât thought much about her leaving Pam anything. Frankly he was a bit surprised to learn sheâd had anything
to
leave. But now he realized that Pam owned the old house and would need to do considerable repairs if she was to have any hope of selling it.
Which meant that Pam wasnât going anywhere just yet.
Hell, I run a construction company.
If he volunteered to work for half-price, would she be gone sooner? Or he could just bulldoze the place for her. Judging from the occasional glimpses he caught from the road, it wouldnât take much to flatten the neglected place into nothingness. Some things couldnât be saved; it might be better just to start over, rebuild.
He could just imagine the look on Gwendolynâs face if he told his mother he was helping Pam renovate a house. The back of her head would blow off. He almost grinned at the rare prospect of his mother speechless.
Nick had muted a ballgame on television when Joseph called. Now he restored sound with the remote but still couldnât concentrate. He ended up in the kitchen, randomly opening cabinets and inspecting refrigerator shelves with cursory interest.
Boredom munchies.
He didnât really want to eat. He wanted something physical to do, something that would help him work off this prowling sense of ⦠whatever it was.
He opened the high cabinet above the refrigerator and reached for the bottle of premium whiskey his semiretired boss, Donald Bauer, had given him at Christmas. As Nick headed for the dishwasher to get a clean tumbler, he noticed Faithâs phone on the counter. He pulled the spare charger out of a drawer. He reminded her on a near daily basis that the phone whose chief purpose was supposed to have been âforemergenciesâ wasnât going to do her any good if it ran out of juice and couldnât be used in an actual crisis. There was a bloop of acknowledgment when he plugged in the phone, and the dark screen brightened. Instead of the usual wallpaper, a picture of Faith and Morgan making crazy faces on the back porch, there was a photo of Faith and Pam, heads close together over a dark green tabletop, smiling at the camera.
He sucked in a breath at the unexpected vision.
They really did look a lot alike. In an alternate reality, this would have been a picture
heâd
takenâa routine family outing, a spontaneous shot of his wife and daughter. His throat tightened, and he ran his thumb across the picture, enlarging it so that it was zoomed in on Pam. Her face and hair and style were different, but her eyes hadnât changed at all.
When theyâd been together, heâd found it boldly erotic that she so frequently met his gaze during sex. Her lashes didnât close often, and she rarely turned her head away from him. Instead she looked right into him.
With a groan, he set down the phone and guiltily shoved it away. Then he poured himself a double. Watching the alcohol splash into the glass kept his thoughts centered on her. Did Pam ever get this itchy, restless feeling? He was vaguely aware that Ed and Julia were gone most
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