Caught In A Bind. Gayle Roper

was here flowed down her cheeks unchecked. “Doesn’t he know how scared I am?”

      I watched Edie and struggled with what to do with the information we had just received from Sergeant Poole. The missing money definitely made the missing man a news story. In fact, it made Tom a major story in a small town like Amhearst.

      But Edie was my friend. How could I lay her pain before the whole county? But how could I not? I knew Mac would go with the story as soon as he became aware of it, and the fact that Edie was an employee of the News wouldn’t make any difference. In fact, it couldn’t be allowed to make a difference.

      And wasn’t it better that I write the story than—than who? There was Edie or me. Or Mac. Obviously this story wasn’t one Edie could write. And it was definitely better that I write it than Mac. Given his major grouchiness these days, anyone was better than Mac.

      “You know this is going to make the News,” I said.

      Edie nodded in resignation. “I know. You’ll write it, won’t you?”

      “Probably.”

      “Please. I want it to be you. I know you’ll be fair. You’ll make it clear that just because Tom is gone and the money is gone, they don’t have to be together.”

      I nodded and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

      “Me too. I thought my days in the paper were over.”

      I looked at her, intrigued.

      She shook her head, obviously regretting her slip of the tongue. We sat in silence for a while. Then suddenly Edie started crying again. “Oh, Merry, where is he?”

      I had no answer, just useless sympathy. “Edie, why don’t you go to bed? You need some rest.”

      “Like I could sleep.” She looked at me through puffy eyes. “But you go on home, Merry. There’s no reason one of us can’t have a good night’s sleep.”

      I sat in the blue leather chair, my feet tucked beneath me so I wouldn’t slide onto the floor. “I can’t leave you like this.”

      “Pish-posh. I’ll be fine.”

      “Pish-posh? Now where did that come from?” If you aren’t patting, distracting is good.

      Edie gave a weak smile. “My father always said that.”

      “What was he like?” I asked, pleased that distracting was working. Maybe I should ask Mac about doing an advice column.

      “He was a professor at the University of Delaware, a charmer, a marvelous guy—when he wasn’t drunk.” She became very interested in the needlepoint pillow in her lap, picking at nonexistent loose threads. “He was a nasty drunk.”

      I made a distressed noise. So much for the efficacy of distraction.

      “Don’t let it worry you,” she said. “He’s dead now. And Mom and I survived.”

      I wondered what was involved in survived. “Where does your mother live now?”

      “Still in Newark.” She said it with the ark in Newark getting just as much emphasis as the New, unlike Newark, New Jersey, where the accent was definitely on the first syllable. “That’s where I lived until I divorced Randolph.”

      “That’s about an hour away. Randy must get to see him frequently. Wait. I’m assuming Randolph is still in Newark.”

      “He’s still there, but Randy doesn’t see him much. Randolph’s lack of interest is probably the main reason Randy fights with Tom and me all the time. A kid always wants what he can’t have. Greener grass, I guess. It’s an ego thing or a control thing or something. Or maybe it’s just as simple as a broken heart. He can’t do anything to make Randolph pay attention, so he takes out the pain on us because we’re handy and won’t turn him out.”

      “You guys are very good to him.”

      “Of course we are.” Edie looked surprised that I’d find that fact worth commenting on. “I’m his mother.”

      And that said it all.

      I watched Edie trace the pattern on the pillow she held. “Did you meet Tom in Newark or here? Or somewhere else?”

      “Here. When I moved here, I lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment and drove the oldest, most endangered car you’ve ever seen. Finally the car died, and I had no choice but to buy another even if I couldn’t afford it. I went to Hamblin Motors and the rest, as they say, is history.” She smiled softly to herself.

      “Love at first sight?”

      “At least serious like,” she said. “He asked me out as soon as I signed the sales papers. I found out later that the price was so good because he didn’t take his commission.”

      “Wow! That is indeed serious like.”

      “We were married in two months, and I’ve never regretted a day of it.”

      At least until last night, I thought, but I didn’t say it.

      The front door flew open, crashing into the hall wall.

      Edie sat straight up. “Tom?” The hope in her voice broke my heart.

      Randy stalked by the living room without so much as a glance in our direction. He continued down the hall to the back of the house. In a moment I heard him opening the refrigerator.

      Edie checked her watch. “It’s 1:05. No kid his age should be out this late, but tonight I’m just not up to the confrontation. All I can think about is Tom.”

      I nodded, thinking that Randy had been counting on just that and was taking advantage of her preoccupation. The kid was clever, a master strategist and champion manipulator. Usually that meant a keen intelligence. What a waste, I thought, to use your mind to wound and distress.

      “I just hope he hasn’t been with that adorable little Sherrie all this time. Too cute. Too many hormones.” Edie shivered.

      Randy appeared in the doorway, a can of Mountain Dew in one hand and a bag of Chips Ahoy in the other. He had enough caffeine and sugar there to keep a small town awake for hours. He’d probably wolf it all down and fall immediately into a deep slumber.

      “No word from Tom-boy?” he asked his mother.

      She shook her head.

      He smirked. “Aliens, Mom. Or else he’s deserted you.”

      “Randy!” I couldn’t help it. He was being so unkind.

      He ignored me. “Just like you did Dad.” His smirk deepened. “I guess you’re finally getting what you deserve.”

      Edie sighed. “I’m not going to discuss why I left your father, Randy. You know that. He’s your father, and I won’t talk against him.”

      I watched Randy absorb his mother’s comments without any perceptible change of expression or posture. I concluded that Edie’s comments on this subject were as familiar and frequent as were his barbs. He turned to me without a blink.

      “That your car in the drive?” he asked.

      I nodded.

      “I’m getting a car in a couple of months.” He looked back at his mother and said, “My father is giving it to me.”

      Obviously he meant Randolph, not Tom.

      He laughed. “It’s a good thing because Tom wouldn’t get me a car if I was the last person on earth.”

      “And neither would I.” Edie’s eyes were unflinching as she looked at her son. “Things like cars and the trust to let you have one have to be earned.”

      Randy shrugged. “I guess I’m lucky that Dad doesn’t agree.” He turned to me. “Want to see my car?”

      I glanced at Edie, who raised her hand in a be-my-guest