“You’ll have to waterboard me!” I hang up as Emily breaks out laughing.
Dinner will be the best time for getting Becca to open up. The sun’s down, and darkness lends a certain intimacy. Lowers your guard.
I should make something nice. Even without alcohol, full bellies always mellow people out. There’s a reason guys feed women on the first date. Mom once said that every man needs to master at least three recipes. Since we’re talking dinner, I’m going to whip up some paella, using a recipe I learned over in Spain. A little candlelight, a couple glasses of wine, and voilà, she’ll tell me exactly what’s wrong. And because I’m
a smart guy, I’ll fix it for her so she can go back to her happy self, and I can have my sweet, non-distracted wife back.
I make a list of what I need to ensure nothing gets left out. Sadly, I don’t have Marie here in Drover to do the actual shopping for me, and I don’t think the supermarket here delivers.
I put on sunglasses and a frayed Cowboys cap before getting inside the Maserati and heading to the store. Colorful banners and signs flutter along the way, although I don’t pay much attention to them. The town’s high school football team probably won a game or something. In Texas, it seems like every game is life or death.
The store isn’t too crowded. It feels really weird to be here, though. I haven’t set foot inside a supermarket in ages. But I manage to find everything. Every aisle has a sign about how the store proudly sponsors the Drover Longhorns, which appears to be the local high school football team. So this wine I just bought is for a pimply quarterback and his teammates.
“Oh my goodness, are you Devlin? Becca’s husband?” A woman in her late fifties blinks up at me. Her heavily mascaraed eyelashes move up and down like a moth’s wings.
The question is kind of funny, like I don’t have an identity outside of being Becca’s husband. At the same time, I sort of like the label, like being her husband is really important.
And in addition to taking my status as being Becca’s husband very seriously at the moment, there’s another reason to agree with it. I bet Max has spies…I mean buddies in town who are reporting my every move to him.
“You’re the drummer!” she says. “In Max’s band.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her my most charming smile.
“Can I get an autograph? I have Max’s, but not yours.”
“Sure.”
“My name is Theodora Brown, but you can call me Thea. All my friends do.” She immediately takes pen and paper out of her huge purse and hands them to me like she’s been waiting to run into me all this time. I give her my John Hancock and return the pen and paper.
“This is so exciting,” she says. “Are you coming to the festival next week? I don’t remember seeing you in the Society, so I wasn’t sure if you knew.”
“The Soci…? Oh, that Facebook group. I remember hearing about that.”
“Yeah! You should join up.”
These people really want me there, don’t they?
“Bobby’s the moderator. He’ll let you in, no problem,” she adds.
Bobby again. “How many Bobbies do you have in town?”
“Adults? Just the one. He’s the only realtor in town, too, if you need a bigger home for the family you’re going to start.”
Holy shit. First Emily with her possibly pregnant talk, and now this woman. The marriage is for a year, and there’s no baby in the agreement. Not that Emily or Thea know that, but… Something must be in the air.
Thea continues, “A great guy. Very social and fun. That’s why he’s running the group at the moment. The previous mod—that Mary Casey?—died unexpectedly.”
“She did?”
“Uh-huh. Choked while eating a bowl of buffalo wings, bless her heart.”
“Oh, that’s awful. Sorry to hear it.”
“You didn’t know her. Everyone who did wasn’t.”
I’m having trouble following. This woman can’t be saying what I think she’s saying. “Wasn’t what?”
“Sorry.” She smiles. “Now listen, see if you can get Becca to come out for the festival, you hear? She doesn’t always, and it’s a shame because it’s fun.”