I hung up, dropped a raisin and a small chunk of cheese into Rex's cage, gave Bob a hug, and told everybody I'd be back. I locked up after myself and waved to Tank. Tank gave me a nod back.
I drove the short distance to my parents' house and parked in the driveway. My grandmother was at the door, waiting for me, responding to some mysterious instinct embedded in Burg women ... an early warning signal that a daughter or granddaughter was approaching.
“That big guy is following you again,” Grandma said, opening the door to me.
“Tank.”
“Yeah. I wouldn't mind spending some time with him. You think he could go for an older woman?”
Young women, old women, barnyard animals. “Hard to say with Tank.”
“Your mothers at the store and the girls are off playing somewhere,” Grandma said. “Valerie's in the kitchen eating us out of house and home.”
“How's she doing?”
“Looks like she's going to explode.”
I went in and took a chair across from Valerie. She was picking at a bowl of macaroni and chicken salad, not showing much enthusiasm for it.
'“What's up?” I asked.
“I dunno. I'm not hungry. I think I'm in a slump. My life is same old, same old.”
“You're having a baby. That's pretty exciting.”
Valerie looked down at her stomach. “Yeah.” She gently rubbed the baby bulge. “I'm excited about that. It's just that everything else is so unsettled. I'm living here with Mom and Dad and Gram. After the baby there'll be four of us in that one small bedroom. I feel like I'm swallowed up and there's no more Valerie. I was always perfect. I was the epitome of well-?being and mental health. Remember how I was serene? Saint Valerie? And I adapted when I moved to California. I went from serene to perky. I was cute,” Valerie said. “I was really cute. I made birthday cakes and pork tenderloins. I bought my jerk-?off husband a grill. I had my teeth bleached.”
“Your teeth look great, Val.”
“I'm confused.”
“About Albert?”
Valerie rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “Do you think he's boring?”
“He's too funny to be boring. He's like a puppy Sort of floppy and goofy and wanting to be liked.” He could be a little annoying, but that's different from boring, right?
“I feel like I need a hero. I feel like I need to be rescued.”
“That's because you weigh four hundred pounds and you can't get out of a chair by yourself. After you have the baby you'll feel different.” Okay, so I was being a big fat hypocrite again. I felt the same way as Val. I wanted to be rescued, too. I was tired of being brave and semi-?competent. Difference was, I refused to say it aloud. I suspected it was a basic instinct, but it felt wrong somehow. For starters, it felt like a terrible burden to dump on a man.
“Do you think Albert is at all heroic?” Valerie asked me.
“He doesn't look like a hero, but he gave you a job when you needed one and he's stood by you. I guess that's sort of heroic. And I think he'd run into a burning building to save you.” Whether he'd get her out of the building is another issue. Probably they'd both die a horrible death. “I think you're doing the right thing by not getting married, Val. I like Albert, but you don't want to marry him just because Mom's in favor of it, or because you need a second income. You should be in love and you should be sure he's the right man for you and the girls.”
“Sometimes it's hard to tell what's love and what's only indigestion,” Valerie said.
I left Valerie with the macaroni salad and drove to the office.
Connie looked around her computer screen at me when I walked in.
“Well?” I asked. “Are you married?”
“No. It turned out to be a joke photo. I caught the ten o'clock out of Vegas.”
“And the room damage?”
“It all went on Vinnie's credit card. Vinnie almost popped a vein when he heard. But then the reporters started showing up and Vinnie was distracted. The room bill got pushed on a back burner. You saved Vinnie's ass. You even made him look good. The visa bond worked. The guy fled. We found him.”