His Best Friend's Wife

“Later,” Leslie decided. “We’re going to teach Boomer how to fetch.”

“Good luck with that,” Lucy said with a laugh and a shake of her head as the twins carried their plates and silverware carefully to the kitchen, accompanied by the eager dog. They would leave the plates on the counter by the sink for now, but when they were a little older, Renae would teach them to rinse and stack them in the dishwasher. She thought it important that both her children perform daily chores, so that everyone in the household made a contribution to its smooth functioning.

With her usual tenacity, Lucy returned her attention to Renae. “Are you not feeling well? Something seems to be off with you this evening.”

Since the children were out of the room, Renae figured she might as well get this behind them. “There’s something I need to tell you. A new patient came to the clinic today. Turns out it was someone we know.”

“Oh?” Lucy stacked her fork and knife on her empty plate and laid her napkin on the table beside it. “Who was it?”

“Evan Daugherty.”

She could almost feel the chill that settled over the room. Lucy froze in her chair, her eyes blackening to polished ebony. “Evan Daugherty showed up at your office today?”

“Yes. He had an appointment with Dr. Sternberg.”

Every muscle in Lucy’s body seemed to have gone stiff. “Why is he coming around you now? What does he want?”

“Lucy, his visit had nothing to do with me. He didn’t even know I work for Dr. Sternberg.”

The sharp sound she made clearly expressed Lucy’s skepticism. “Did he try to talk to you?”

“We exchanged greetings. He asked about the twins.”

“Their welfare is none of his business.”

“He was merely being polite. People were watching.”

“Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know. If he made another appointment, it wasn’t through me.”

Lucy shook her head. “I hope he stays away. That man is bad news.”

Renae moistened her lips with a sip of tea and braced herself for the reaction to her next admission. “I gave him my phone number. He’s going to call sometime to discuss the scholarship he and Tate started in Jason’s memory.”

Predictably, Lucy scowled in disapproval. “You gave him your number? He must have pressured you into that. He’s very good at talking people into things.”

“He did not pressure me. He said he wanted to talk with me about the scholarship and I gave him the number because I think it’s a worthy cause. Simple as that.”

Even the mention of the scholarship founded in her late son’s honor didn’t soften Lucy’s expression. “Don’t get mixed up with him, Renae. Evan Daugherty brings trouble. He was always getting my Jason into scrapes when they were boys and then he talked him into going out on those motorcycles when Jason should have been home with you getting ready for his babies.”

There was a distinct quiver in her voice when she finished. Lucy held Evan responsible for Jason having the motorcycle in the first place. Evan had bought a used bike during his first year of college for commuting to classes, and Jason had subsequently decided he wanted one, too. Because Evan had helped Jason find a good deal, Lucy had always insisted that Evan had all but coerced her son into buying a dangerous motorbike.

Renae didn’t have the heart to remind Lucy that Jason had been the one who had stubbornly insisted on going on that last ride, even though he had promised Renae he’d help her work on the nursery that weekend. Jason had argued with her, saying he wouldn’t have many chances to get away once the kids arrived, and Renae had capitulated—as she so often had with Jason. Neither of them could have known, of course, that he would never return. That his life would end that afternoon beneath the wheels of a car that had sped through a stop sign without even slowing down.

Renae had been grateful ever since that she and Jason had parted with a kiss, despite the earlier quarrel, instead of hard words.

“This scholarship is important to me, Lucy,” she said, trying to make her tone both firm and gentle at the same time. “The Jason Sanchez Memorial Scholarship will help young men go to college who might not have gone otherwise, and you know that would mean a lot to Jason.”

At the time of his death, Jason had been a high school history teacher. Having already obtained his master’s degree in history, he was just starting to work toward a doctorate degree, with the ultimate goal of teaching at a college level. A scholarship for at-risk young men was the perfect way to honor his memory, and despite her complex emotions concerning Evan Daugherty, Renae had been gratified to hear that one college freshman had already benefited from the effort.

“It was very generous of Evan and Tate to start this scholarship, and I’d like to be informed occasionally of its progress,” she reiterated. “That doesn’t mean I’ll be getting mixed up with either of them.”

“They’re both trouble,” Lucy repeated in an unhappy mutter. “Especially Evan.”

Renae couldn’t necessarily disagree with that, though her own reasons for thinking of Evan as trouble were distinctly different from Lucy’s.

“I’ll keep your warnings in mind.” She stood and started gathering dirty dishes and glassware. There was no need to continue this conversation now. Lucy was in no mood to concede that Evan had any good intentions, and Renae was committed to supporting the scholarship effort in whatever way she could. Even if that meant crossing paths—or at least phone calls—occasionally with Evan, a prospect that made her pulse rate flutter erratically and annoyingly as she helped her mother-in-law clear away the remains of their dinner.

Evan called Thursday evening. Winding down from a day of school followed by Tae Kwon Do lessons, the twins, already bathed and in pajamas, sprawled on the floor watching their allotted hour of television. Lucy knitted on the couch while Renae read in her favorite easy chair. It was a rare quiet hour in the usually bustling household and the summons from Renae’s cell phone was an intrusion despite the musical ringtone.

As if suspecting the identity of the caller, Lucy frowned. “Who is calling at this hour?”

Glancing at the ID screen, Renae swallowed. “I’ll take it in another room. Kids, start getting ready for bed as soon as that program is over.”

Without taking their attention from the television, they nodded. Renae lifted the phone to her ear as she left the room, avoiding her mother-in-law’s disapproving stare. “Hello?”

Though she’d seen his name on the screen, Renae’s stomach still tightened when she heard the deep voice in her ear. “Hi, Renae. I hope this isn’t a bad time to call?”

She stepped into her tidy bedroom and closed the door. “No, it’s fine.”

“I mentioned to Tate that I saw you Tuesday. He said to tell you hello.”

“Tell him hello back for me,” she said lightly, sitting on the edge of her still-made bed.

“I will. So, anyway, he and I talked about the scholarship and we think we need to have a formal-ish meeting about it. You know, to get some guidelines in writing and figure out how to promote it and start seeking applications. We’ve been pretty haphazard about it so far, choosing Tate’s new brother-in-law for the first recipient sort of impulsively—anyway, we want to do this correctly from now on. And we both wondered if you would like to be involved.”

She followed his somewhat disjointed remarks with a baffled frown. “Involved in what way?”

“You know,” he said, “working with us to outline the qualifications. Maybe read through applications and help us make our selections. That sort of thing. We’ve never administered a scholarship before, so this is all new to us.”

“I don’t have any experience with that, either,” she said. And yet she found herself strongly tempted by his offer. As wary as she was about spending time with Evan, considering all the potential complications, she would hate for the scholarship to fall by the wayside because of a lack of effort on her part. “What can I do to help?”

“Tate suggested we could have a planning meeting right after work one evening, maybe over an early dinner. I know your evenings must be busy, with the kids and all, but would it be possible for you to join us one day next week?”

An after-work meeting with both Tate and Evan at a restaurant sounded innocuous enough—as much as possible, anyway. And a public venue would make the reunion even less awkward. “I’ll be free next Wednesday evening after six. If that time is open for you and Tate, I could meet with you then.”

“We’ll make sure it’s open. How does six next Wednesday sound for our first official meeting?”

It sounded soon. But she kept her nerves out of her voice when she said briskly, “Yes, that will be fine. Where shall we meet?”

“All the paperwork and stuff is at my place. We figured we could spread it all out there and discuss it without interruption. I can provide food. My apartment’s not far from your office, so it should be convenient for you.”

“At, uh, your place?”

“If that’s agreeable for you?”

It was hardly the public restaurant she’d had in mind. Had he said all along the meeting would be at his home, she might have made an excuse not to go—but because her hesitation made her feel cowardly, she refused to change her answer now. “Yes, that will be fine.”