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Noah stepped forward. “That’s enough, Marlys.”
“Don’t say a word to me, Private. You’re no better.”
“Neither of us has done anything to apologize for or be ashamed of,” Noah said, his voice steely. “And now I think it’s time you leave.”
“I can’t stand the sight of either one of you anyway,” Marlys replied, striding past them to the side gate exit. There were hot tears in her eyes and she was glad the darkness hid them. Seeing her cry would make them think she was weak, but she was strong in her righteousness, in her sense of outrage on her father’s behalf.
Juliet and Noah.
She whirled to glare at her father’s wife. “How could you? You’re still holding tight to my father’s ashes and yet you’re out here holding tight another man. Kissing him.”
Juliet stayed cool as she delivered the sharpest blow of all. “The ashes are gone now, Marlys. As your father wanted, I released them into the ocean.”
Marlys backed away, her hand creeping into her pocket to feel her silver pendant. Still there.
Dean emerged from the house. “Marlys?” His voice was puzzled. “What’s going on? Are you leaving without me?”
Just the silhouetted shape of him made her ache. She didn’t want to leave without him. She wanted what she’d wanted when she’d come to him that evening after work. She wanted him in her bed, wrapped around her. Worse, she wanted to run to him now, damn it. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and beg him to help her find her way clear of this tangle of treachery and grief. But that smacked of emotional dependence, and Marlys Marie Weston would never be so weak.
Later that night, Marlys’s doorbell rang. She would have liked to ignore it, but Blackie was going nuts, jumping around just like her stomach and barking with fierce intent, communicating exactly what she wanted to: I’m ruthless and strong and you should beware of bad, scary me.
It was Dean outside, of course, she was as certain of that as she was certain he wouldn’t easily give up if she pretended deafness and didn’t answer the door. So she kneed Blackie aside and promised herself to get rid of him quickly.
When Dean stepped in, he greeted the dog with a brisk body rub. The caresses didn’t quell the canine’s excitement and he continued his sharp barks and excited leaps. “Blackie,” the man said, his voice hard. “Take it easy.” The animal halted for a moment, then hopped about again, his yaps more demanding.
“Blackie.” Dean eyed him with stern disappointment. “No.” Then he shifted his gaze from the dog and ignored him altogether. Blackie bounced his front paws off Dean’s thighs, barked again, but then seemed to realize his antics were doomed to failure. His doggie eyes still trained on the man’s face, he sat back on his haunches in sudden silence.
Dean immediately leaned down to rub Blackie’s ears. “Good dog. Good boy.” Then he straightened, and glanced around the shadowy, spacious foyer. “Big digs,” he said to Marlys.
“Ancestral home.” She was staring at her animal, who was cuddled up to Dean and doing his best—and first—imitation of man’s best friend. “Blackie likes tunneling for the treasures that former Weston canines left behind.”
With that, she turned to stroll through the dark house, toward the large kitchen that was the only room with lights blazing. Dean was behind her; she sensed his presence, but for such a large man he moved with an assured quiet.
She was halfway across the black-and-white tile floor when she turned to find that he’d halted in the kitchen doorway. Wearing a strange expression, he was staring at her.
“What?”
“That isn’t…Good God, it is…That’s a boy band on your robe.”
Frowning, Marlys tugged the fleece lapels closer around her throat. She wasn’t going to apologize for being in a pair of flannel pajama pants, a T-shirt, and one of her old robes. She hadn’t invited him over. “Their memorabilia goes for a mint on eBay. This looks nearly brand-new and it’s over ten years old. I’m thinking of putting it up for auction.”
Dean looked beyond her to the dozens of cardboard boxes piled on the round kitchen table and the others stacked in a Jenga-like pile in a corner of the room. “Is that what you’re searching for, angel? Items to sell on eBay?”
Marlys shoved her hand in the pocket of her robe and rubbed her thumb over the silver pendant. “I’m gathering together mementoes of my father’s life. A friend of the family is putting on a big party to celebrate the publication of his autobiography. I said I’d provide his special keepsakes for exhibit.”
