Page 65 of Something Borrowed

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out, Mom. And after Christmas, if it’s still being a nuisance, we can get one of those live traps or whatever.”

Audra’s eyes glittered and her lips tightened into a thin, rage-filled line. Vic recognized the look and was suddenly eight again. She flinched and shrank back, but the fridge blocked her retreat. She waited, resigned, but the blow never came. She blinked. What was wrong with her? Like her mom would hit her now, at this age?

But she would, happily. Vic knew it. And something cold and hard filled her gut. It was one thing to be yelled and screamed at and the rest . . . If Audra hit her, though? She wasn’t a school kid anymore. She would call the RCMP and an ambulance and have her evaluated. It occurred to her then that that might be a great way to force Audra to get help.

The doorbell rang. Cal.

“I’m going, I’m going. Don’t want to interrupt you and lover boy,” Audra sneered.

“He’s not—” Vic exhaled. “You don’t have to leave the room every time he comes over.” Then something else occurred to her. “Is Cal coming over too often? Does it bother you?”

“How else is he going to do the repairs if he doesn’t come over?” Audra glared at Vic like she was a moron, then turned and shuffled off down the hall, her progress interrupted once by a wheezing, hacking fit.

Vic opened the door, a bit breathless herself. “Hey there! Hi!” she said, then gave herself an inner headshake and managed to sound a little less maniacal. “Come on in.”

“Hey yourself.” Cal’s voice was soft, and he was smiling, but there was a little groove between his eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

Ah, so he’d possibly been in earshot of Audra’s last brouhaha.

“Not really, no.” Vic shrugged and laughed. “But that’s life, right?”

His lips—she was always noticing his mouth—parted in a way that made Vic think he wanted to say something else. Instead, he lowered his toolbox to the floor and hung his coat on a hook. He was bent over, unlacing his boots when he looked up at her. “Ready to get this party started?”

Chapter 32

Vic laughed, as Cal had been hoping she would.

“And by party you mean—”

“Yep, I’m going to repair that hole and mud and tape that wall in the laundry room.”

Vic shook her head, and her eyes, which had been so troubled when she answered the door with such frantic cheer, lightened. How he wished he could always make her smile, always ease her burdens whatever they were.

They got to work, and Vic was a surprisingly deft help. Not too “city” to mix mud, hold a light, or run the dust buster when he sanded. She took breaks here and there to tend to Audra, bringing her a snack, then later a tea, and so on. All the same, they finished up not too late, which was nice.

“Do you want a hot chocolate or something before you go?” Vic asked as they took turns washing up in the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Cal dried his hands on a tea towel. “And maybe you could show me the memorialized Rumple.”

“You remember I was doing that?”

“Of course.” Cal feared he sounded confused, but that was fair because he was confused. “What kind of person would I be if I forgot something that made you so excited and happy?”

“Um, how about every other 20th-century man I’ve known?”

Cal knew Vic was striving for a light, joking tone, but she didn’t quite succeed in masking something that sounded like pain.

“You’ve only known crappy men then.”

“No arguments there, fella.”

The electric kettle was quick, and soon they had big mugs of cocoa, complete with miniature marshmallows bobbing and melting on top.

“You really want to see Rumple—and maybe some of my other stuff?”

Cal nodded.

She jerked her chin in the direction of the hallway. “If it’s okay with you, it would be easier to go upstairs and show you them in my studio.” She used air quotes on the word studio, wincing self-consciously.