Kayla Perrin - Control

“Oh. So how far are you?”

“Ten minutes from the B and B, I think. Maybe fifteen.”

“Call me when you get settled,” he told me.

But before I could, he called again, just as Sharon and I got to the room.

I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Just making sure you’ve arrived.”

Or checking up on me? “We’re here.”

“Are you going to go get a bite to eat?”

“A snack, most likely. I already made reservations at Hyman’s.”

“The seafood place. Ah, very nice. For what time?”

“Six-thirty.”

“What’s the weather like?”

“Pretty nice. About seventy-one, right, Sharon?”

“Yeah, that’s what they said on the radio,” she concurred. “I might bring out that bikini yet.”

“What?” Robert asked. “What was that about a bikini?”

“It was a joke,” I told him. “We’re definitely not going swimming.” I paused. “Can I call you back? We just got up to the room, and we want to get settled—”

“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.”

Hanging up, I faced Sharon. “He wanted to make sure we arrived okay.”

She smiled and looked away. But I got the feeling there was an opinion behind the grin.

It might not have been warm enough to swim, but it was warm enough for ice cream—at least as far as Sharon was concerned. So, two hours later, after getting a manicure, we went into an ice cream shop in historic Charleston. I got a cone. Sharon got a hot fudge sundae.

We were walking down the street two minutes later when my phone rang again. I pretty much knew, before looking at the display, that it would be Robert.

I lifted my phone from my purse. Somehow, I refrained from rolling my eyes when I saw his number on the display screen. I didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“Give me a second, Sharon,” I said, stopping. “It’s Robert.”

“Again?” she asked.

I answered my phone. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

What kind of greeting was that? “Sharon and I are taking a stroll.”

“Oh. I called the room, and you weren’t there. And then your phone went straight to voice mail. I thought you might have headed to Myrtle Beach.”

“What? Myrtle Beach is two hours away.” I wondered why Robert was calling so much. He was acting like a paranoid parent checking up on a kid who’d gone off on her own for the first time. “We were getting our nails done, so I turned my phone off.”

“Of course. Of course. Are you having a good time?”

I looked at Sharon, who was making quick work of finishing off her sundae. “Yeah, we are. So far, so good.”

“Don’t let Sharon drag you into anything scandalous,” Robert said. “Like scoping out a new father for her baby.”

“What?” I asked, stunned by such a ridiculous question.

“Bad joke,” he admitted. “I was out of line.”

Bad joke was right.

“I suppose you’re tired of me calling, but I just miss you, that’s all,” Robert said. “I kind of feel a little…off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. A little woozy. Some aches and pains.”

“How serious?” I asked.

“It’s probably stress,” he replied. “It’s been a long week. Nothing a nap won’t cure.”

“You have been very stressed this week. Any success with the acquisition?”

“Finally, I think so.” Robert sounded relieved. “The deal should go through by Monday, as planned—so this is very, very good news.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling. I know how much of a headache it’s been for you.”

“It has been, but the end is in sight.” He paused briefly. “So, Hyman’s, right?”

“Yep.”

“Six-thirty?”

“Yep. Six-thirty.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes at me. I could read her thought: What’s with the twenty questions?

“Excellent,” Robert said. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you, too,” I replied, then pressed the button to end the call.

I sighed loudly, playing up my own frustration with Robert’s many calls. “Sometimes it’s like he can’t survive without me.”

“That’s sweet,” Sharon commented, and she seemed sincere. “At least it can’t be said that he doesn’t love his wife.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

She made a wistful sound. “I miss that. The calls to see where you are, even if they’re annoying. I miss it so much.”

“Oh, Sharon.” I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. For the most part, ever since Warren’s funeral, she had kept her feelings locked inside. It was a rare moment when she even talked about missing her husband. So for her to be doing so now made it clear to me how much she was hurting. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She placed a hand on her belly. “I have our baby. I’ll be okay.”

“You want to go back to the room and relax for a bit before dinner?” I asked, releasing her.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind another hot fudge sundae.”

We both smiled.

I was surprised she’d finished off the first huge one. But I said, “Who am I to keep a pregnant woman from what she craves?”

We made it through dinner without Robert phoning again. I was relieved. Despite what Sharon said about Robert’s calls proving he loved me, she had to be wondering the same thing I was.

If he was checking up on me.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

I looked up at her. “Hmm?”

“You’ve hardly touched your key lime pie.”

And before I could speak, my phone rang.

If this was Robert calling for an itemized list of what we’d eaten…

Instead, the display showed the name Felicity Williams.

“It’s Felicity,” I announced, almost happily. I put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Felicity. What’s up?”

“Wondering where you are tonight. A few of us are going to head to NV Lounge to kick back and have a couple of drinks, and wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”

“I can’t. I’m out of town right now.”

“Oh.”

“With Sharon.”

“Ohh.” Felicity’s tone fizzled. “How is she?”

“She’s good. Doing well, all things considering.”

“So sad, what she’s going through,” Felicity said, but she didn’t quite sound sincere.

“I’m gone for the weekend, so I’ll call you when I get back to town,” I told her.

“Where are you?”

“In Charleston.”

“Well, have fun. Ta-ta.”

“Bye,” I said, and ended the call.

“Did she actually ask about me?” Sharon inquired, looking dubious.

“She asked how you’re doing.”

“Funny—she could call me herself to find that out.”

“You still haven’t heard from her?”

“Ha ha ha. That’s a good one.”

Up until the time Warren died, Sharon and I used to get together on Sundays after church with a few other wives “to lunch.” Felicity was one of the women we regularly met with, as was Carmen, the wife of another Carolina Panther. It was what society women did, and we’d discuss what was happening in our worlds, charitable efforts and, of course, gossip.

Unlike Sharon—whom I truly connected with—there seemed to be a wall of glass around Felicity and Carmen. As if you could see them on the other side of the table, but couldn’t touch them. Couldn’t get close.

I’d taken to Sharon the instant I’d met her, seen her as a real person. Felicity and Carmen always put on a bright smile and played like they were happy to see you, but I never felt either one was genuine.

The fact that they hadn’t seen Sharon since her husband’s funeral proved me right.

“I can’t believe Felicity.” I shook my head. “You haven’t heard from Carmen, either?”