She expected pushback, but he offered none. “I will,” he said.
“Good,” Nessa huffed. The combination of wine and emotion was making her head swim. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to get off the phone and go to bed.”
“Thank you,” Franklin said. “Thank you for trusting me with your dream.”
She paused, taken aback by his words. “You’re welcome,” she said, though she didn’t feel like she deserved his thanks. She should have told him more. “Don’t make me regret it.”
An hour later, she passed out with her head on the dining-room table and the empty wine bottle in front of her.
Hurling Begonias
After Nessa dropped her off at home, Jo walked through the door to find Lucy playing Zelda on the giant television her father had purchased for video games. Whenever Jo popped home from work during the day, that was usually where she found Art.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Jo kissed Lucy on the crown of her head. “You must be starving, poor thing. I brought you a sandwich from the deli on Main Street.”
“Thanks,” Lucy said, without looking up. “I’ll take it to school for lunch tomorrow. Dad and I made beef ravioli from scratch.”
“You did?” Jo marveled. “Was it edible? How’s your belly feeling?”
“It feels fine. The pasta was yummy. Hey—can you take me to visit Harriett sometime?” she asked.
“We’ll see. Where is Dad?” Jo asked.
“Bedroom,” Lucy told her, still without looking away from the screen.
Upstairs, Jo made as much noise as possible as she walked down the hall. She’d learned it was best to give her husband fair warning. Still, she found Art on the bed with the computer on his lap. He closed the top as she entered.
“Maybe wait until the kid’s in bed?” Jo didn’t give a shit if Art watched a dirty video now and then, but she couldn’t disguise her disgust at what she’d come to see as a massive waste of time. Video games and porn consumed so many hours of her husband’s day, it was a minor miracle he managed to feed himself or their daughter.
“For your information, I was working.” Art sounded indignant. Who knew, maybe this time it was true. “Where have you been? Lucy said you were hanging around with Harriett Osborne. So what’s the story? She really a witch?”
“Yes.” Jo glanced down at the clock on her phone. She’d timed the trip home perfectly. “Turn on the local news.”
“You mean on the television?” It was as though she’d asked him to tune the wireless to News of the World.
Harriett snatched the remote off the bedside table and switched the TV to channel 4. The news had started, and they were playing footage taped earlier that day. Two burly EMTs emerged from a thicket at the edge of Danskammer Beach Road, lugging a blue plastic body bag. Several yards away, Nessa was talking to her detective friend while Harriett listened in. Jo saw herself standing apart from her friends, her eyes fixed on the body bag. A car drove between the crime scene and the cameras. By the time it had passed, the EMTs were loading the dead girl onto a stretcher, but Jo hadn’t moved an inch.
“Oh my God, Jo. Did you murder someone?”
“What the hell?” When she saw Art’s face, she could have sworn he was serious. “No! We found a dead body.”
When the news hit him, his eyes went wide. “You did?”
“You really thought I might have killed someone?”
“One has to consider all possibilities.” It was clearly a half-hearted attempt at humor. “You do have a nasty temper. But yes, of course I was kidding. What the hell happened? Where did you and your friends find a body?”