me, looking intently into my eyes. ‘‘Did you want to go lie down for a while?’’
Suddenly, I realized that Dutch and I had fallen into a pattern the past few months. I’d felt wounded, both internally and externally, and Dutch had protectively been wrapping me in the soft cocoon of his house and his care. He’d been enabling me to hide from the world, but now I knew deep down it was time to stop hiding. ‘‘Actually,’’ I said, forcing a smile onto my face, ‘‘I’m really okay, Dutch. I think I’d like to help you with dinner. And Milo was kind enough to buy us some really good steaks, so how about we all just go into the kitchen and get the hell on with our lives?’’
Dutch looked somewhat taken aback as I grabbed the grocery bag from Milo and marched into the kitchen. The fellas followed behind, and I couldn’t help but overhear Milo say to Dutch, ‘‘Told you so.’’
While Dutch prepared dinner, Milo and I hung out on the back patio drinking wine and keeping him company. The conversation was noticeably light. Both men seemed to be aware of my rather fragile grip on things, and I couldn’t really decide if I was grateful or irritated about that.
Finally, after enough idle chitchat about the weather and the price of a gallon of gas, I said, ‘‘Did you get anywhere on Max Goodyear?’’
‘‘Who’s Max Goodyear?’’ Milo wanted to know.
‘‘One of the cases I’m working that Abby’s been helping me with,’’ Dutch explained. ‘‘Yes, I took another look through his finances, Abs. Still can’t find a blip, though.’’
My radar hummed. ‘‘What about kids? Did you look into that angle? You know, like maybe he’s got a son or a daughter who’s the funnel for the money.’’
‘‘Literal dead end there, I’m afraid,’’ Dutch said as he flipped the steaks. ‘‘Goodyear and his wife had a son back in the early seventies, but the baby died of crib death before he was two. There are no other children.’’
I scowled. The crummy thing about being intuitive is that it can be frustrating as hell when the facts don’t match what your radar is suggesting. I sighed and gave him a shrug. ‘‘Ah, well, maybe I’m not as sharp as I used to be.’’
‘‘That’s ’cuz you need to work that thing out,’’ Milo said and tipped his wineglass at me. ‘‘There’s no better way to get it back in working order than to start up your business again.’’
‘‘Milo,’’ I heard Dutch growl, ‘‘lay off, would ya?’’
‘‘No,’’ I said to Dutch and laid a protective hand on Milo’s arm. ‘‘He’s right. I do need to get back in the game. In fact, there are some voice mails that I should return. Call me when the steaks are done, ’kay?’’ I said, getting up from the patio table.
As I left the boys, I had to laugh when I heard Milo say, ‘‘Hey, partner, what’s up with your hair?’’
When I picked up the kitchen phone, my eye caught the red light blinking on the answering machine. I called my office voice mail first, took down all six messages there, and clicked off. My eye kept wandering back to the red light, and before calling back the first prospective client I hit the PLAY button. The message was for Milo. ‘‘Hi, Dutch. It’s Noel. Listen, if my lunatic husband is there, could you please have him call me immediately? Also, tell him to answer his damn cell phone while you’re at it. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for an hour.’’
‘‘Yikes,’’ I said and hurried outside with the phone. ‘‘Milo, Noel called and she wants you to call home right away. She says she’s been calling your cell for an hour.’’
I watched Milo pat his pockets, frantically checking for his cell, and then he whapped his forehead. ‘‘I must have left it on the charger at work.’’ I gave him the phone, and he trotted inside to call his wife and try to crawl out of the doghouse.
‘‘Dinner’s ready,’’ Dutch said. He handed me a
Suddenly, I realized that Dutch and I had fallen into a pattern the past few months. I’d felt wounded, both internally and externally, and Dutch had protectively been wrapping me in the soft cocoon of his house and his care. He’d been enabling me to hide from the world, but now I knew deep down it was time to stop hiding. ‘‘Actually,’’ I said, forcing a smile onto my face, ‘‘I’m really okay, Dutch. I think I’d like to help you with dinner. And Milo was kind enough to buy us some really good steaks, so how about we all just go into the kitchen and get the hell on with our lives?’’
Dutch looked somewhat taken aback as I grabbed the grocery bag from Milo and marched into the kitchen. The fellas followed behind, and I couldn’t help but overhear Milo say to Dutch, ‘‘Told you so.’’
While Dutch prepared dinner, Milo and I hung out on the back patio drinking wine and keeping him company. The conversation was noticeably light. Both men seemed to be aware of my rather fragile grip on things, and I couldn’t really decide if I was grateful or irritated about that.
Finally, after enough idle chitchat about the weather and the price of a gallon of gas, I said, ‘‘Did you get anywhere on Max Goodyear?’’
‘‘Who’s Max Goodyear?’’ Milo wanted to know.
‘‘One of the cases I’m working that Abby’s been helping me with,’’ Dutch explained. ‘‘Yes, I took another look through his finances, Abs. Still can’t find a blip, though.’’
My radar hummed. ‘‘What about kids? Did you look into that angle? You know, like maybe he’s got a son or a daughter who’s the funnel for the money.’’
‘‘Literal dead end there, I’m afraid,’’ Dutch said as he flipped the steaks. ‘‘Goodyear and his wife had a son back in the early seventies, but the baby died of crib death before he was two. There are no other children.’’
I scowled. The crummy thing about being intuitive is that it can be frustrating as hell when the facts don’t match what your radar is suggesting. I sighed and gave him a shrug. ‘‘Ah, well, maybe I’m not as sharp as I used to be.’’
‘‘That’s ’cuz you need to work that thing out,’’ Milo said and tipped his wineglass at me. ‘‘There’s no better way to get it back in working order than to start up your business again.’’
‘‘Milo,’’ I heard Dutch growl, ‘‘lay off, would ya?’’
‘‘No,’’ I said to Dutch and laid a protective hand on Milo’s arm. ‘‘He’s right. I do need to get back in the game. In fact, there are some voice mails that I should return. Call me when the steaks are done, ’kay?’’ I said, getting up from the patio table.
As I left the boys, I had to laugh when I heard Milo say, ‘‘Hey, partner, what’s up with your hair?’’
When I picked up the kitchen phone, my eye caught the red light blinking on the answering machine. I called my office voice mail first, took down all six messages there, and clicked off. My eye kept wandering back to the red light, and before calling back the first prospective client I hit the PLAY button. The message was for Milo. ‘‘Hi, Dutch. It’s Noel. Listen, if my lunatic husband is there, could you please have him call me immediately? Also, tell him to answer his damn cell phone while you’re at it. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for an hour.’’
‘‘Yikes,’’ I said and hurried outside with the phone. ‘‘Milo, Noel called and she wants you to call home right away. She says she’s been calling your cell for an hour.’’
I watched Milo pat his pockets, frantically checking for his cell, and then he whapped his forehead. ‘‘I must have left it on the charger at work.’’ I gave him the phone, and he trotted inside to call his wife and try to crawl out of the doghouse.
‘‘Dinner’s ready,’’ Dutch said. He handed me a
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