A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(33)

She decided to imagine this was a crisis. She’d been called in the middle of the night to a 7-Eleven. A man, high on MDMA, had barricaded himself with a gun aimed at the store owner. And he was threatening to kill both of them if Abby didn’t agree that he would take Ben to the museum for his birthday. Now this drug-crazed man, unlike her ex-husband, she could talk to.

“It seems like you feel that maybe I’ve been dominating Ben’s birthdays,” she said, her tone becoming pleasant, calm.

Steve blinked. “I guess so. I mean, last year you invited me the day before. And when he was six, you took him to Florida, so I wasn’t even there. So I thought I’d organize Ben’s birthday for once.”

She nodded agreeably. “Which of Ben’s friends did you want to invite?”

“Well, Dennis, obviously. And Kyle.”

“Dennis . . . and Kyle?” she repeated, her voice becoming quizzical. Kyle was a nightmare of a kid, but he was also Ben’s best friend. The idea of taking him to the science museum probably made Steve nauseous.

“Maybe not Kyle,” Steve said after a second. “We could ask Ben who he wants to invite.”

She waited a few seconds, letting Steve stew with that conundrum. Then she said, “I wish I hadn’t already agreed to that joint party with Tommy. How can I call it off now?”

“Tell Tommy’s mother that something came up.”

“How can I do that without it impacting Ben’s relationship with Tommy?”

“You . . . um . . .” Steve frowned, searching for an answer.

Which was what she wanted. To make him try to solve her problem. Try to see it from her point of view.

“I don’t see why it should impact anything,” he finally said.

“It shouldn’t impact anything?” she repeated.

He sighed. “I wish you hadn’t agreed to this joint party without talking to me first, Abby. This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

This was not Steve talking, she reminded herself; it was a drug addict barricaded in the store. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You should be consulted about these things.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly right!” he said, encouraged.

She’d gotten him where she wanted him to be—feeling as if he was in control. But also ambivalent. He didn’t want to postpone the museum trip, but he didn’t want her to cancel the party she’d organized either. Now she had to prod him in the right direction.

“You remember Sam’s third birthday?” she asked, smiling. It was the only birthday they’d planned together.

He snorted. “I’ll never forget it even if I tried. That cake was everywhere.”

“I laughed so hard. And that mother with the health food agenda—”

“Oh god, she wouldn’t shut up.” Steve shook his head, bemused, and then said in a high-pitched squawk, “Why don’t you serve carrots? Carrots are healthy.”

Abby burst out laughing—actual, spontaneous, true laughter. Steve could always imitate people’s voices well. He grinned at her.

Sighing, she adopted a calculated sad expression. “We should do Ben’s birthday together next year.”

“Okay. And I’ll postpone the museum visit so that you don’t get into hot water with Tommy’s mom.”

She touched his arm briefly. “Thanks.”

Samantha strode into the living room, her face full of indignation. “I’m ready, Dad.”

Abby got up from the couch. Sam had her bag slung on one shoulder and her violin case held in her hand. Keebles pattered after her and gave Abby a scathing stare. Bye, Human Mom. We’re going to Human Dad’s house. Where it’s way better.

“So you’re going to your dad’s for the weekend?”

“I’m going to Dad’s until that snake returns to the pet store.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Abby said, choosing her battles. “Enjoy your weekend.”

She gave her daughter a hug. Keebles seemed torn between her wish to be petted and her desire to scorn Abby. Finally she approached Abby, losing her angry-teenager scowl for a second. Abby bent and scratched the dog behind her ear.

As soon as they left, she called her mother.

“Hi, honey.” Abby’s mother sounded completely at ease. Almost as if she didn’t know what a mess she’d created in Abby’s life.

Abby walked to her bedroom and shut the door so that Ben wouldn’t hear her side of the conversation. “You bought him a snake?” she hissed, wrestling her laptop out of her bag. She wanted to see if there were any updates on the case.

“He’s been asking for one for six months.”

“Yes! And we all told him when he goes to college he can have one.” She sat down on the bed, opening the laptop on her knees.

“It’s his eighth birthday.” Her mother said eighth as if the number had significance. As if it weren’t simply the number that came after seven.

“Mom, you knew I wouldn’t agree to this. And you knew Samantha would be furious, and you—”

“Samantha will get over it like she did with the chameleon and the tarantula. It’s a corn snake, Abby; it’s harmless.”

“This is the last time you do something like that.” Abby’s voice trembled with rage.