Lovely Wild. Megan Hart

of lint on their husbands’ shirts. Others were texters, chatting briskly even as they held a series of entirely different conversations with their fingers. Bustlers.

      Mari had a stillness that was more than quiet. She could go perfectly motionless and silent. She could almost disappear. Ryan almost always found this calming. She did it now, looking him over, and this time it didn’t soothe him.

      “I thought you liked it when the kids were kept busy.”

      “You could get a break, too. Why should you spend your summer playing chauffeur?” He spun his chair with her still on his lap to gesture at the computer. “Sign them up for the library reading program. And hey, they have that free bowling program at the Cinebowl.”

      “We do those things every summer. But the kids look forward to those other things, they’re not chores.” Her head tilted slightly, her brow furrowing. “Kendra loves the riding lessons, and Ethan is already talking about the guitar thing. They both like camp, too, because they see their friends from other years there. And I don’t mind driving. I mean...it’s what I do. I’m their mother. It’s my job. Would you rather I spend all my time getting massages at the spa?”

      The brittle tone in her voice set him back for a second. “No.” Definitely the opposite with the financial situation they were in.

      “My kids don’t make me crazy,” Mari said quietly. “I like doing things with them. And for them.”

      “I know. But you shouldn’t have to spend all your time driving them around from activity to activity. It’s summer. We should be focused on simpler things. And with you running around all the time, we get too much takeout.”

      Her lips quirked in amusement. “I thought you liked Pat’s cheesesteaks.”

      “I do.” He did, that was true. But a simple dinner for four had added up to almost forty bucks. “It’s better when you make dinner, that’s all.”

      “So...your idea of my having the summer off includes me keeping the kids entertained and cooking even more dinners? Great.” She tilted her head to give him a curious look. “That sounds really relaxing.”

      “No. No, that’s not what I mean.” He took her hand and brushed the knuckles across his lips. “I just think it might be better to cut back on some things. That’s all.”

      “Is it money?”

      Ryan wondered if the reason Mari hardly ever questioned him about anything was because somehow, some way, she just...knew.

      She pursed her lips. “How much less are you getting?”

      Damn it, she cut to the heart of things when she noticed them. Ryan put on a neutral face and lied. “I’m at 85 percent of my salary, that’s all. Just during this investigative period.”

      “That’s not so bad, is it?” She looked over his shoulder at the computer screen, but all she’d see was his aquarium screensaver. She looked back at him, serious eyes, serious mouth. “But if you want me to cut back on expenses, I can do that.”

      He knew she could. Hell, Mari had survived the entire first eight years of her life living at a level so far below poverty he wasn’t sure it could even be registered. Mari could trim the fat of their lives so close to the bone there’d be hardly anything left.

      “No, babe. We don’t have to do that. It’ll be okay.” He said it with more confidence then he felt; a moment later he forced himself to believe it. To forget about the money he’d just transferred. “This’ll pass. No problem.”

      Mari ran her fingers through his hair, then cupped his chin in her palm, forcing him to look into her eyes. What she saw there, Ryan could not have said, but whatever it was seemed to satisfy her because she nodded and kissed him. She held him in her arms, the warmth of her familiar and arousing.

      “It’s only for a little while, anyway. Couple of weeks. A month, tops. Just until we get this stupid investigation out of the way,” Ryan said.

      Mari nodded. She believed him, and why not? She always did. She always would.

       SEVEN

      MARI STANDS IN the pantry. The shelves groan with the weight of cans and bags and boxes. She runs her fingertips over them, mouthing the names of all the good things but not speaking aloud. Beans, rice, pasta. She can make a hundred meals from these ingredients. Enough to last for months even if she didn’t go to the grocery store for that long.

      This comforts her, the sight of this wealth. The cool wood and shadows soothe her, too, even if she has to take only two steps to get back into the brightly lit kitchen. She closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of spices. She can smell the brown paper bags stacked carefully in the rack, ready to be reused. The biting stink of ammonia in the bottle toward the back, and also of vinegar closer to the front. A bottle of floor cleaner is supposed to smell “flower-fresh” but doesn’t.

      “Moooom!”

      Mari sticks her head out of the pantry. “What?”

      Kendra jumps, startled, at the kitchen table. “What are you doing in there?”

      “Thinking about what to make for dinner. What do you want?”

      Kendra must want something from her mother, but she doesn’t say what it is. The idea of dinner distracts her. “Can we order pizza?”

      “No.” Mari thinks of Ryan’s words from a few nights before when she’d brought home the cheesesteaks. “I can make some.”

      Kendra makes a face. “Forget it. I’m going over to Sammy’s house, then.”

      Samantha Evans has been Kendra’s best friend since first grade. She lives a few houses down the street. Her parents have been on the edge of divorce for years, and neither are probably home now. They both work. They both stay out of the house a lot so they don’t have to see each other. Mari would prefer it if the girls came to spend time in her house where she can keep an eye on them, where she can do her meager best to give Sammy some semblance of normal family life—but she understands that two teen girls want to spend their time in independence, such as it is.

      Besides, Sammy’s parents usually seem to leave her money for pizza.

      “Just you and Sammy?”

      Kendra looks faintly scornful. “Of course. Who else would come over?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe that boy...what’s his name? Logan?”

      Kendra bites her lip gently. But then she shakes her head, her hand going unconsciously to the pocket of her jeans where her phone buzzes. Ah, Mari thinks. She does like him. But something has gone wrong.

      “Sammy’s parents don’t let her have anyone over when they’re gone. Just me.”

      “I know what they allow and don’t allow, Kendra. But I also know they’re not home and it can be tempting....” Mari trails off before she can spout more daytime drama admonitions. Aware more than ever that Kendra is living a life completely different than Mari’s teenage years. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”

      “Mom. C’mon. We’re going to watch TV and stuff. Her mom said when she got home from work she’d take us to the mall and see a movie. I can sleep over. Is that okay?”

      “What time is her mom supposed to be home?”

      A shrug. “Dunno. Seven?”

      It’s a Friday night. School’s out for the summer. Sammy lives just down the street. Mari thinks she ought to protest more, but without the allure of pizza, a trip to the mall and a movie, what does she have to hold her daughter here? Ryan has already said he’d be home late again. It’ll just be her and Ethan.

      “Call me when you get back to Sammy’s house tonight.”

      Kendra’s