What Happened to the Bennetts(44)

“I know he is. He was great at the hospital, and I think he really does care. I’ve been hard on him, and he’s just the messenger. I’ll make it up to him.” Lucinda checked the wall clock. “Dinner should be ready in five minutes.”

“Should I wake Ethan?” I had gone upstairs about an hour ago, dismayed to find him asleep with Moonie.

“In a minute or two. Smell that fish?”

“Yes.” I found myself salivating. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” Lucinda cocked her head, her hair flowing to her shoulders. “The smell always reminds me of Rubette’s.”

“That clam place your parents loved?”

“Right, in Barnstable.”

“Remember when I met them, for the first time?” I smiled, flashing on that night. I dressed up in a suit and tie, eager to impress Kevin and Claire Romarin, who arrived in shorts and T-shirts. That was when I learned rich people never overdress. Only poor people do, when they want to look rich.

Lucinda smiled. “You ate two baskets of Ipswich clams.”

“Your parents caught us making out, by the pay phone.”

“They loved you from the start. Like me.” Lucinda gave me a look that still made my heart stop.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

We both turned at the sound of Ethan coming downstairs with Moonie, the dog’s nails clicking on the hardwood. Lucinda and I exchanged glances as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey buddy.” I went over, ruffled up his hair, and kissed the top of his head.

“Hi,” Ethan said sleepily. His gaze found the parsley, avocados, and onion, and a smile spread across his face. “Fish tacos?”

“Yes,” Lucinda and I answered, in eager unison. She shot me a look, Don’t make it a thing.

“Yay, I’m starved!” Ethan practically cheered.

“So am I.” I breathed an inward sigh of relief.

“Perfect timing.” Lucinda grabbed red oven mitts made to look like lobster claws, which we’d found in a kitchen drawer. “I think we’re good to go.”

“Fish tacos in three . . . two . . . one . . .” Ethan began to count down, and Lucinda slid out the Pyrex dish, containing three beautiful flounder fillets sizzling in olive oil.

“This fish looks amazing.” I set down the beer.

“Thanks.” Lucinda started to bring the Pyrex to the counter, but she stumbled over Moonie, bobbling the dish. The flounder fillets slid onto the floor, breaking into pieces, and in the next moment, Moonie started gobbling them up.

“Oh!” Lucinda gasped, holding the empty dish.

“Moonie, no!” Ethan rushed to the dog, trying to pull him back, but the fish was all over the floor anyway.

Lucinda looked up, and I met her eye, and for some reason, she started to laugh. I started laughing too, because it was so silly, our secret plan foiled.

Ethan looked over, then burst into laughter, too. “Mom, you really messed up! Pop would say, ‘You screwed the pooch!’?”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and I heard Dom calling through the screen, “Jason?”

“Come on in!” I called back, and Dom let himself in, carrying a big blue IKEA bag, eyeing us with a grin.

“What’s so funny?”

“I dropped an awesome dinner, that’s what.” Lucinda grabbed a roll of paper towels, tore one off, and wiped her eyes.

Ethan giggled. “Moonie had fish tacos.”

Dom smiled. “You want me to go for Chinese or something?”

“No, thanks.” Lucinda started cleaning up the fish. “We’ll have eggs.”

“Need help, babe?” I asked, but she waved me off. I looked over at Dom. “What’s in the bag?”

“The stuff you wanted from the house. Devi dropped it off.”

“You mean Max and Wendy?” Ethan asked, his face falling.

“Yes.” Dom took the cedar boxes out of the bag and handed them to Ethan, who cradled them against his chest.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dom looked over, meeting my eye. “And that other thing you wanted? They were able to salvage it.”

“I don’t remember,” I said, watching Ethan. He was trying not to cry. I could smell the smoke clinging to the boxes.

“This?” Dom started pulling something out of the bag. “From the kitchen?”

The sight hit me like a punch in the chest. It was the kitchen molding with the measurements of the kids, growing up. I had forgotten that I had asked for it, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. The molding showed the various hash marks in crayon, pen, and Sharpie, with the dates wiggly in the painted surface. The splintered edge of the wood had been blackened.

I could feel the mood in the room change. I felt ashamed that we had been laughing. Allison had been murdered not that long ago. We were already having fun, without her.

“Thanks, Dom.” I took the molding from him as if it were a foreign object, something from another world, which it was. Our old world crashing our new one.

“That’s from our—” Lucinda started to say, stunned, but didn’t finish. She wiped her hands on a fresh paper towel.

I forced a smile. “I thought we might want to save it.”