“Until I can save up enough money to buy a house,” Valerie said.
My father's face went pale.
My mother was elated. “You're moving back to New Jersey?”
Valerie selected a single, lean piece of beef. “It seemed like the best thing to do.”
“Did Steve get a transfer?” my mother asked.
“Steve isn't coming.” Valerie surgically removed the one smidgen of fat that clung to her meat. “Steve left me.”
So much for the holiday.
Morelli was the only one who didn't drop his fork. I glanced over at Morelli and decided he was working hard at not smiling.
“Well, isn't this a pisser,” Grandma said.
“Left you,” my mother repeated. “What do you mean, he left you? You and Steve are perfect together.”
“I thought so, too. I don't know what went wrong. I thought everything was just fine between us and then poof, he's gone.”
“Poof?” Grandma said.
“Just like that,” Valerie answered. “Poof.” She bit into her lower lip to keep it from trembling.
My mother and father and grandmother and I panicked at the trembling lip. We didn't do this sort of emotional display. We did temper and sarcasm. Anything beyond temper and sarcasm was virgin territory. And we certainly didn't know what to make of this from Valerie. Valerie is the ice queen. Not to mention that Valerie's life has always been perfect. This sort of thing just doesn't happen to Valerie.
Valerie's eyes got red and teary. “Could you pass the gravy?” she asked Grandma Mazur.
My mother jumped out of her chair. “I'll get you some hot from the kitchen.”
The kitchen door swung closed behind my mother. There was a shriek and the sound of a dish smashing against the wall. I automatically looked for Bob, but Bob was sleeping under the table. The kitchen door swung open and my mother calmly walked out with the gravy dish.
“I'm sure this is just temporary,” my mother said. “I'm sure Steve will come to his senses.”
“I thought we had a good marriage. I made nice meals. And I kept the house nice. I went to the gym so I'd be attractive. I even got my hair cut like Meg Ryan. I don't understand what went wrong.”
Valerie has always been the articulate member of the family. Always in control. Her friends used to call her Saint Valerie because she always looked serene . . . like Ronald DeChooch's statue of the Virgin. So here she was with her world crumbling around her and she wasn't exactly serene, but she wasn't berserk, either. Mostly she seemed sad and confused.
From my point of view it was a little weird since, when my marriage dissolved, people three miles away heard me yelling. And when Dickie and I went into court I was told there was a point when my head spun around like the kid in The Exorcist. Dickie and I didn't have such a great marriage, but we got our money's
worth out of the divorce.
I got caught up in the moment and sent Morelli a men-are-bastards look.
Morelli's eyes darkened and the hint of a grin tugged at his mouth. He brushed a fingertip along the back of my neck, and heat rushed through my stomach clear to my doo-dah. “Jesus,” I said.
The smile widened.
“At least you should be okay financially,” I said. “Under California law don't you get half of everything?”
“Half of nothing is nothing,” Valerie said. “The house is mortgaged beyond its value. And there's nothing in the bank account because Steve's been shipping our money out to the Caymans. He is such a good businessman. Everyone always says that. It's one of the things I found most attractive in him.” She took a deep breath and cut Angie's meat. And then she cut Mary Alice's meat.
“Child support,” I said. “What about child support?”
“In theory, I suppose he should be helping with the girls, but, well, Steve's disappeared. I think he might be in the Caymans with our money.”
“That's awful!”