Four Friends

“Nothing much. I work for my brother, an electrician with his own small business. I answer the phones, schedule for him and his guys, invoice. It’s not a big job, but it’s flexible and gets me by. I can cover the kids’ schedules.”

“Divorced?” Gerri asked.

BJ looked down. “Their father is dead.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not making eye contact. Then she lifted her eyes and said, “I haven’t had a glass of wine in so long. You’re right. I think it’s very good. I don’t know anything about wine, but I like it. This was nice of you.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“Listen, I know I haven’t been exactly...well, outgoing.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I figured you for on the private side, which is fine. Maybe if I knock once in a great while, you’ll let me in. No obligation, of course. You should know—not that it matters to you—but the three of us, the power walkers, we’re all separated from our husbands. Within three weeks of each other. It’s brutal. I’m not here to dump, but just so you know. My husband’s trying to carry his part of the load, but I’m relying on my son Jed. He’s nineteen.”

BJ took a sip. “I’m sorry about that,” she said.

“Well, these things happen.” Something told her BJ didn’t want the details. She picked up the cork, shoved it back in the bottle and stood. “This is for you. Thanks for sharing it. I’ll let you get back to your evening.”

“It was nice of you to drop by,” BJ said, standing also. “I hope Sonja’s going to be all right.”

“She’ll be all right, we’ll look after her. Do you have my number, in case you ever need anything?”

“Need anything?” BJ asked.

“We’re a bunch of women without men around,” Gerri said. “At least I have a nineteen-year-old around much of the time. Yours are still so young. I’m right down the street. You never know when something might happen in the middle of the night—a fright or something. Emergencies, I mean. I’m not recruiting you for the neighborhood bake sale, I swear,” she added, smiling. “But I am on a first name basis with a lot of Mill Valley cops—CPS work and all.”

BJ went to the kitchen and got a pad of paper. “Wanna write it down for me?”

Gerri did so, then turned away from the table to go home. “Want mine?” BJ asked. “Even though I’m not much good in emergencies.”

Gerri went back to the table. “Looked to me like you’re great in emergencies. I wanted to be sure to say, I’m grateful that you got involved this morning. I suspect it was a very big step for you. It’s pretty easy to tell, you aren’t quite ready to get too involved.” BJ handed her a scrap of paper with a phone number. It said BJ above it, no last name. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for dropping by. For the wine.”

Gerri was all the way home before she realized she’d left the wineglasses on the table, two of her nicest. Well, there would come a time to get them. If she was any judge of BJ, she’d make it a point to return them so she’d have no ties. This was a woman nervous about attachments.

Phil was still at his laptop in the kitchen. “That was pretty quick,” he said, closing it up.

“Nice woman, but not really interested in finding chums around here,” she said, taking off her coat. She was suddenly so tired.

“I’ll take off. Unless you need me.”

“You can have the couch, if you want it.”

“Thanks, but I have court in the morning. I’ll have to be pretty,” he said, grinning. He shrugged into his jacket and picked up the laptop and briefcase.

“What are you working on?”

“Armed robbery. SOB fired on a cop. It shouldn’t be complicated—it’s a slam dunk. We’ll have a plea agreement before trial. He’s going away.”

“Ew. Cop’s okay?”

“Yeah, he missed.” Phil moved toward the door and Gerri followed him. She walked him out to his car through the garage. He put his stuff on the hood and turned toward her. “I’m really sorry about Sonja.”

“You don’t like Sonja that much,” she reminded him.

“Well, I don’t dislike her, either. It just makes me uncomfortable when she closes her eyes all spooky and reads my aura. Maybe I’m just paranoid, afraid she’s going to see some black squiggly thing that’s gonna kill me.”

She laughed. “Thanks for checking on things.”

“You had a rough day,” he said. Then he pulled her against him and for just a moment, held her.

It was what she needed, to feel him against her in the quiet of the night. It felt so good to have his strength wrapped around her; it had been three weeks since she’d felt the confident power in his arms. Then she pulled back. “I can’t,” she said in a whisper. “This is the hardest part to let go of, you, like this. My friend. My partner.”

“You don’t have to let go of it.”

“But everything is different now,” she said.

“It’s not for me. Come here,” he said, pulling her back. He put his arms around her again and her mind flashed back. Do you know how many times I put my arms around you to hold you? And how many times you told me not to get any ideas? God, Gerri! She allowed herself to be held for a luxurious moment, wondering if it was a mistake to indulge in him, even this safely, this briefly.

“Do you remember when I met you?” he asked softly. “You were my witness in a child molest case that was shaky. The second I met you, you scared the hell out of me.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said.

“Oh-ho,” he chuckled. “I knew immediately, you would never be uncomplicated, quiet. Manageable. You were on fire. I wasn’t sure putting you on the stand was a good idea.”

She pulled back slightly. “How’d I work out?” she asked.

“You were brilliant. I had to have you.” He pulled her back toward him. “How are we doing here? We making any progress?”

“We’re not screaming at each other, but I have a lot of issues.”

“Any chance we can work on some of those issues under the same roof?” he asked. “I hate not living with you. And the kids need us to be together.”

“Don’t ask me to take responsibility for that.”

“I understand,” he said.

She pulled out of his arms and took a step away from him. “I wonder if you do understand, Phil. The kids—they want us together again, no matter what the cost is to me. They want me to look the other way, get over it. They’re not hating you for what you did to our marriage, they’re mad at me for taking offense that you had another woman in your life for two years. I knew this would be hard, but I never knew that, no matter which way I turned, it would end up being my fault.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” she said, suddenly hurting all over again. “It’s my fault I can’t live with you because of it, my fault I found out, my fault I got mad about it.... You spent two years boinking some woman from the office, but three weeks is too long for me to be upset about it! What is it with mothers, huh? Why is everything in the whole goddamn world always the mother’s fault?”

“You don’t think they’re just a little pissed at both of us?”

“No, I don’t. I think you’re coming off looking like a good guy who made a little mistake and I look like a stubborn, angry, unforgiving demon.”