Andy snorted, inaudible to Joyce but perfectly noticeable by Erin.
Joyce dropped her oversized, blindingly colored cloth purse on the table and went to the refrigerator. She gazed into the interior as if it were the opening of Tut’s tomb. “What is this? Some kind of science experiment?” She pulled out wilting lettuce, half-empty Tupperware, dried-up take-out, and expired milk and put it on the counter next to the fridge.
Erin rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back. “Yes, Mom, that’s exactly what it is.”
“Don’t sass me,” said Joyce, without even turning around. “I can hear your eyes roll all the way over here.” She closed the refrigerator door. “Keep this up, and the next thing you know, you’ll be eating Nancy’s dog biscuits.”
Erin pressed her lips together. How did her mother know these things?
Nancy Drew doddered into the kitchen from the backyard. She raised her nose in the air and sniffed, then walked daintily over to the demon hidden in the corner and looked up expectantly.
Andy frantically shooed her away, to no avail.
To all appearances, the dog appeared to be staring raptly into a corner.
“Even your dog is acting weird,” said Joyce.
Erin lunged for the dog treats. “Here, girl.”
Nancy looked from Erin to Andy and back again, then turned and trotted dutifully over to Erin’s general vicinity.
Erin gave her the treat and suppressed a sigh of relief.
“You feed that dog but you’re not feeding yourself. When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”
“I don’t know.”
Andy looked back and forth between mother and daughter like a cat at a tennis match.
“When was the last time you went out with your friends?”
“I don’t have any anymore.”
“Don’t say that,” said Joyce. “Just because Genevieve—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Erin in a warning tone.
“You can’t just—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”
Joyce subsided into silence and bent down to stroke Nancy’s silky head.
“I know you mean well, Mom. But I feel like I’ve been broken into a million pieces. I’m still trying to pick them all up.”
Erin’s mother straightened. “Can I bring you some food? A casserole?”
“It’s a divorce, not a funeral. No need for covered dishes. I’ll be fine. I’ll go shopping, I promise.”
Joyce hoisted her purse from the table onto her shoulder. She reached around Erin’s shoulders and embraced her with one arm. “You’ll be okay, pumpkin.”
Erin didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice not to wobble, so she nodded and walked her mother to the door instead, then watched her bustle down the driveway.
“I’ll call you!” said Joyce as she stood next to the open door of her car.
Erin waved, then shut and locked the front door.
Andy leaned against the kitchen counter. “Your mom is”—he gestured vaguely as if gathering the words in mid-air—“really something.”
“Tell me about it,” said Erin.
“She’s not entirely wrong, though.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on her side,” said Erin. She sat down at the kitchen table.
“No, no,” Andy said. He came around behind her and picked up the shoulder massage where he had left off.
“Because I can’t tolerate that,” said Erin, closing her eyes.
“Of course not,” he said, unfurling the new knots in her shoulders.
“Mmm,” said Erin, half mollified and half suspicious.
“Although you really should eat better.”
Erin sat bolt upright. “I knew it. You’re on her side.”
“No! I just think you deserve good food, that’s all.” He bore down more firmly and she relaxed again.
“I like food,” she murmured absently.
“Why don’t we go grocery shopping?”
“I don’t like grocery shopping. It’s tedious.” Even to herself she sounded petulant. She tried for practicality. “And expensive. On my salary, at least.”
“Well, I have a little rainy day money saved up. It’s the least I can do if I’m taking up space.” He rubbed her temples in circles. “Come on, live a little. Don’t let Mark and Genevieve have all the fun.”
“That’s a low blow,” said Erin.
“I’m a demon; it’s what I do.” He pressed softly into the joint between her cheekbone and her ear.
“Ah,” said Erin, tipping her head back slightly.
“Was that a yes?”
She opened her eyes, looked at his face, and knew that he knew—he’d already won the argument.
6
Andy insisted on driving halfway across town to the fancy grocery store instead of going to the perfectly good discount warehouse store around the corner.
“I fail to see how organic strawberries fit into the whole revenge thing,” Erin said quietly as she piloted the cart through the produce section. She had agreed to add the items he pointed out, while he remained invisible to the other shoppers.
“Living well is the best revenge,” said Andy as he pointed to a particularly juicy cluster of seedless red grapes.
She picked it up and placed it in the cart.
They reached the seafood counter. Gleaming cases packed with clear ice stretched in both directions. Inside, piles of shrimp, crab, and mussels glistened. At the far end of the counter, live lobsters with rubber bands around their claws floated in a special tank.
“Lobster,” he mused. “Lots of lobster.” Andy leaned down and peered into the tank. “He’s a lively one,” he said, indicating a large lobster currently waving its claws in a particularly vigorous manner. He looked to Erin for approval.
Erin felt a little sick.
Andy peered at her. “Does this bother you? The live lobster thing?”
“It’s fine,” she said, barely moving her lips.
He stepped uncomfortably close, so close she could see the tiny garnet-colored flecks in his brown eyes, and looked into her eyes. “No, it isn’t. How long has this bothered you?”