Maybe that was the real reason she’d agreed to act as chauffeur—to stick it to her husband’s young lover.
It couldn’t have escaped Jennifer’s radar that it was Val whom Evan had called, and not her, that he hadn’t even bothered to check with her first, and that he’d left it to Val to springthe change in plans on her as a fait accompli. What must she be thinking?
“Look at that gorgeous waterfall,” Melissa suddenly exclaimed. “You don’t get that in Manhattan.”
“And poison ivy and mosquitoes. You don’t get those in Manhattan, either,” James said.
“Oh, my God. Is that a real deer?” Brianne asked with surprising enthusiasm, pointing one out at the side of the road.
Val resisted the impulse to reach over and hug her daughter.
“Yuck,” James said. “Deer ticks. Hello? Lyme disease, anyone? Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
My sentiments exactly, thought Jennifer from her cramped position in the backseat between James and Melissa. She was still trying to figure out how what had originally been intended as a weekend getaway with her fiancé and his daughter, designed for the express purpose of bringing them closer together, had turned into an alarming free-for-all involving her fiancé’s about-to-be ex-wife and her two decidedly weird friends.
It doesn’t bode well
, she thought in her father’s voice.
“It doesn’t bode well,” he’d told her this morning when she’d dropped by his apartment in Queens to tell him she was going away for a three-day weekend with her fiancé and his daughter.
She never should have told her father that Evan was still legally married, although she really hadn’t given the matter serious thought. She certainly hadn’t been expecting a response. They’d been sitting in the hot, musty stillness of his run-down, third-floor apartment for what felt like hours but was likely closer to fifteen minutes at most. Her father disliked both noise and light, so the one-bedroom apartment was dark and the air conditioner that was jammed into a small front windowturned off, despite the oppressive summer heat. Jennifer had insisted on opening a window, but the results were negligible. There was no breeze, no relief. Her father didn’t seem to notice or care. If he did, he didn’t let on. He hadn’t spoken more than a dozen sentences since her arrival.
“Cameron and Andrew got a new car,” he’d said, offering up his dry cheek to be kissed, his own lips remaining stubbornly closed.
“So I hear. Have you seen it?”
Her father returned to the shabby, rust-colored wing chair in the corner of the living room, across from the small TV that was always on and tuned to Fox News. His white shirt was spotted with old food stains, as was his maroon-colored tie. Her father always insisted on wearing a tie. As a child, Jennifer had sometimes wondered if he wore one to bed. Even after he’d been forced to retire from his job as manager for a canned goods supply company, he’d continued to wear a tie every day. At first it made him look dignified. Now it made him look pathetic.
Jennifer noted that the fly of his heavy wool trousers was only halfway done up. She didn’t want to contemplate the cause of the dark stains to either side of the zipper.
The question went unanswered, her father’s attention captured by the televised image of two body bags being removed from a remote cabin in the woods, surrounded by a cadre of solemn-faced police officers. “A few new details emerging on those grisly murders in the Berkshires,” an accompanying voice announced, with no small degree of enthusiasm.
Jennifer walked over to the television and lowered the volume. Her father stared vacantly into space, said nothing.
“Cameron and Andrew got a new car,” he remarked a few minutes later.
“Good for them. I don’t suppose they’ve stopped by to take you for a ride in that new car, have they?”
“Cameron’s very busy.”
“Really? Doing what?” Having her
It couldn’t have escaped Jennifer’s radar that it was Val whom Evan had called, and not her, that he hadn’t even bothered to check with her first, and that he’d left it to Val to springthe change in plans on her as a fait accompli. What must she be thinking?
“Look at that gorgeous waterfall,” Melissa suddenly exclaimed. “You don’t get that in Manhattan.”
“And poison ivy and mosquitoes. You don’t get those in Manhattan, either,” James said.
“Oh, my God. Is that a real deer?” Brianne asked with surprising enthusiasm, pointing one out at the side of the road.
Val resisted the impulse to reach over and hug her daughter.
“Yuck,” James said. “Deer ticks. Hello? Lyme disease, anyone? Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
My sentiments exactly, thought Jennifer from her cramped position in the backseat between James and Melissa. She was still trying to figure out how what had originally been intended as a weekend getaway with her fiancé and his daughter, designed for the express purpose of bringing them closer together, had turned into an alarming free-for-all involving her fiancé’s about-to-be ex-wife and her two decidedly weird friends.
It doesn’t bode well
, she thought in her father’s voice.
“It doesn’t bode well,” he’d told her this morning when she’d dropped by his apartment in Queens to tell him she was going away for a three-day weekend with her fiancé and his daughter.
She never should have told her father that Evan was still legally married, although she really hadn’t given the matter serious thought. She certainly hadn’t been expecting a response. They’d been sitting in the hot, musty stillness of his run-down, third-floor apartment for what felt like hours but was likely closer to fifteen minutes at most. Her father disliked both noise and light, so the one-bedroom apartment was dark and the air conditioner that was jammed into a small front windowturned off, despite the oppressive summer heat. Jennifer had insisted on opening a window, but the results were negligible. There was no breeze, no relief. Her father didn’t seem to notice or care. If he did, he didn’t let on. He hadn’t spoken more than a dozen sentences since her arrival.
“Cameron and Andrew got a new car,” he’d said, offering up his dry cheek to be kissed, his own lips remaining stubbornly closed.
“So I hear. Have you seen it?”
Her father returned to the shabby, rust-colored wing chair in the corner of the living room, across from the small TV that was always on and tuned to Fox News. His white shirt was spotted with old food stains, as was his maroon-colored tie. Her father always insisted on wearing a tie. As a child, Jennifer had sometimes wondered if he wore one to bed. Even after he’d been forced to retire from his job as manager for a canned goods supply company, he’d continued to wear a tie every day. At first it made him look dignified. Now it made him look pathetic.
Jennifer noted that the fly of his heavy wool trousers was only halfway done up. She didn’t want to contemplate the cause of the dark stains to either side of the zipper.
The question went unanswered, her father’s attention captured by the televised image of two body bags being removed from a remote cabin in the woods, surrounded by a cadre of solemn-faced police officers. “A few new details emerging on those grisly murders in the Berkshires,” an accompanying voice announced, with no small degree of enthusiasm.
Jennifer walked over to the television and lowered the volume. Her father stared vacantly into space, said nothing.
“Cameron and Andrew got a new car,” he remarked a few minutes later.
“Good for them. I don’t suppose they’ve stopped by to take you for a ride in that new car, have they?”
“Cameron’s very busy.”
“Really? Doing what?” Having her
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