Midnight Voices

CHAPTER 16

“Your mother’s getting old,” Caroline sighed as she handed Ryan one of the shopping bags filled with fabric and wallpaper samples, paint chips, and catalogs that were heaped around her feet, immobilizing her to the point where she couldn’t even get out of the taxi. “Take some of these, okay? I’m stuck.” Ryan pulled two of the bags out of the cab, and Laurie got three more, and finally Caroline had enough room to escape the confines of the car’s tight backseat. As she paid the driver, she decided that maybe next time she’d take Tony’s advice and simply call his car service.

Their car service, she reminded herself. This morning, when she and the kids had set off on their shopping expedition, the idea of hiring a car for the day had seemed like a ludicrous expense. And through the morning, when the weather had been perfect, she’d thought she’d been right. But after lunch the day had heated up and the air had turned humid, and the shopping bags they were all carrying had gotten heavier and heavier. Finally, when they all knew they couldn’t carry the bags even one more block, she’d given up and hailed a cab, and spent the long crawl through rush-hour traffic wishing she’d taken Tony’s advice. Compared to the cramped Chevy, a Lincoln Towncar would have seemed like heaven. But they were home now, and Rodney was helping Ryan and Laurie get the overflowing bags into the building, and even though she was almost exhausted from the shopping expedition, the worst of it was over. All they had to do now was decide what they liked best.

Maybe the worst wasn’t over after all, she reflected, remembering the number of times either she or Laurie had declared something “perfect” only to find something better in the next shop. Even Ryan had changed his mind three times, shifting from western décor (morning) to Star Wars (afternoon) to “wouldn’t it look neat to have stars on the ceiling that glowed at night?” (the cab ride home).

“Can I take my bags up and show them to Rebecca?” Laurie asked as the elevator jerked to a stop at the fifth floor.

“Just make sure you’re back in an hour. Dinner’s already going to be late.” A moment later — with all the bags except Laurie’s strewn around the elevator, she was fumbling for her key when the door to the apartment opened and Tony appeared, surrounded by the smell of food cooking.

“You look like you could use some help.” A few minutes later the shopping bags were inside, Ryan was upstairs in his room, and she and Tony were in the kitchen, where she sat at the kitchen table with a glass of Fume Blanc while Tony tended the various pots that were on the stove, and the two ovens, both of which were being used.

“I must have died and gone to heaven,” she said, gazing at the kitchen that, except for the pots that were actually being used, was spotless. When Brad cooked — and spaghetti had tested the outer limits of his culinary skills — the kitchen was always a disaster, which he’d invariably left for her to clean up. “What on earth have you been cooking? And how are we supposed to eat all of it?”

“Escargot followed by poached salmon for us. With a Caesar salad, summer squash, and couscous in a light curry.”

“For us? Don’t the kids get to eat?”

“Macaroni and cheese for Ryan. I’ve never met a kid yet who was crazy about poached salmon. I figure Laurie can have her choice.”

“And no mess.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s just as easy to clean it up as you go along. So how did it go? Everybody happy?”

“Do you hear anyone complaining?” She started to get up. “The least I can do is set the table.”

“Done,” Tony told her. “We’re eating in the dining room — no point in having all this space if we don’t use it. Sit, relax, and be waited on. We’ve got about half an hour.”

“I’d better call the Albions. I told Laurie to be back in an hour.”

Tony shrugged unconcernedly and refilled her wineglass. “Let her have a good time. Everything will hold. We should still have plenty of time.”

Caroline cocked her head, frowning uncertainly. “Time? For what? For dinner?”

Now it was Tony who looked puzzled. “My board meeting?” When Caroline still appeared mystified, he tilted his head toward the calendar that was held to the refrigerator door with a magnet. “The co-op board?” he asked. “On the calendar? Nine o’clock? Tonight?” He chuckled softly. “And here I thought I was being so helpful, putting the calendar out where you couldn’t miss it.” He pulled the sheet of paper out from under the magnet and handed it to her. “Maybe we’d better find a better place for it.”

“Or I’ll just remember to look at it from now on,” she said, staring at the entry for nine o’clock that night.

Tony’s eyes clouded. “You didn’t make any other plans, did you? I can probably get out of the meeting—”

Caroline shook her head. “It’s fine.” Getting up, she put the calendar back on the refrigerator, then went and slipped her arms around Tony’s neck. “Just a matter of getting used to living with someone else,” she murmured, nuzzling his neck. “Except for the kids, I’m a little out of practice.”

Tony’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe I should dump the meeting anyway,” he whispered. “Right now, I’m not even sure I want dinner.”

Caroline pulled away. “Now, now. You said everything would hold, but I’m not sure it would hold that long. And there’ll be plenty of time after your meeting. And after the kids have gone to bed. So let’s see if you hold as well as dinner.”

Everything did hold. For an hour. And it might have held longer, had Caroline thought before she’d spoken. But by the time she realized her mistake, it was too late. “Isn’t this incredible?” she asked as they went into the dining room. The table was set with sterling silver and linen napkins, and a pair of candelabra added to the glow of the chandelier whose crystals refracted a soft light throughout the room. The food was on the table, the salmon perfectly poached, the macaroni and cheese browned and still bubbling. “Tony did it all. Can you believe it?”

In an instant Ryan’s expression clouded. “I hate macaroni and cheese,” he announced.

“Then you can have some fish,” Caroline replied, glancing quickly at Tony. “You can have anything you want.”

“I want spaghetti,” Ryan said. He turned toward Tony, and when he spoke again, Caroline could hear the challenge in his voice. “My dad made the best spaghetti you ever tasted.”

Caroline opened her mouth to say something, but Tony spoke first. “I wish I’d gotten to try it. And how do you know you hate my macaroni and cheese when you haven’t even tried it?”

“I know,” Ryan insisted. He turned to his mother. “Do I have to eat this?”

Caroline hesitated, then made up her mind. It was now, or never. “Yes,” she said. “You do. You at least have to taste it.” For a second she thought he was going to refuse, but then he picked up his spoon, reached out and plunged it into the macaroni and cheese, blew on the steaming spoonful of pasta, and finally stuck it in his mouth.

“There. I tasted it, all right? And I hate it.” Getting up from the table, he walked out of the dining room and slammed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline said, getting to her feet and starting after her son, but once again, as he had in the kitchen, Tony stopped her.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said quietly. “It seems like I’m the one he has a problem with, so I’m the one that had better go talk to him.”

Without waiting for a reply, he followed Ryan out of the dining room. Heading up the stairs, he walked down the hall to Ryan’s closed door, and knocked softly.

No response.

He rapped harder. “May I come in?”

A single muffled word came through the thick wood: “No!”

Tony tried the knob, found the door locked, and reached into his pocket. A few seconds later he twisted the key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Ryan glared at him from the bed. “This is my room,” he said. “You can’t come in here.”

Tony moved across the room. “This may be your room, but this is my apartment, and I shall go where I please.” His eyes locked onto Ryan’s, and his voice took on a hard edge. “And perhaps your father allowed you to act this way, but I shall not.”

“I don’t have to do what you say,” Ryan said, but the tremble in his voice betrayed the fear that was suddenly building inside him.

Tony Fleming sat down on the bed and laid his hand heavily on the boy’s shoulder. “You and I,” he said so softly that Ryan had to strain to hear his words, “can get along very well. I like you, Ryan. I really do.” His fingers tightened on Ryan’s shoulder the way they had earlier clamped onto his wrist. His voice dropped even lower, and his eyes bored into the boy’s. “But I do not like the way you are behaving. I do not like the way you’re talking, either to me, or to your mother.”

“I don’t have—” But before he could finish what he was saying, Anthony’s fingers closed even tighter, turning Ryan’s words into a squeal of pain.

“You have to do exactly what I tell you,” Tony instructed him. “Whether you like it or not, I am your stepfather, and you are living in my home. You can make this a good thing for yourself, or a bad thing for yourself. But you are not going to do anything — or say anything — that is going to upset your mother. Is that clear?”

A shiver went through Ryan as he looked up into his stepfather’s eyes. They had gone dead flat, and something about their emptiness frightened him far more than anything Anthony Fleming had said. He nodded mutely.

“Good.” Tony Fleming’s hand dropped away from Ryan’s shoulder. “Then let’s go back downstairs, and enjoy our dinner.”

Understanding that his stepfather’s words were not a suggestion but a command, Ryan got up from the bed and followed Tony Fleming back to the dining room. But for the rest of the evening, he spoke not another word.

“Did you have a good talk with Tony?” Caroline asked as she said goodnight to him a couple of hours later.

Ryan wanted to tell her exactly what had happened, wanted to show her where his stepfather’s fingers had dug into his shoulder. But even as the words formed in his mind, he remembered the strange dead look he’d seen in Tony’s eyes, and knew he would tell his mother nothing. “Yes,” he whispered. “It was okay.”

“Then everything’s fine,” Caroline said, bending down and kissing Ryan’s forehead.

The light clicked off.

His mother left the room.

And Ryan was left alone in the dark, certain that despite his mother’s words, everything was not fine at all.