Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [59]
Ron looked away, hitching up his jeans by his thumbs.
“So what do you say to that?” Ellen felt her eyes well up, then blinked them clear. “What would you do then?”
Ron sighed. “Fair points, all, but I have an easy out. In that case, saner minds would prevail. Louisa would kill me.”
“Well, I don’t have a Louisa. There’s no saner head around. It’s the me show. I just can’t forget about it. Put it back in the bottle.”
“Did you try?” Ron smiled, weakly.
“I’ve been trying since the minute I saw the card.”
“Give it time, then. You might feel differently, next month, or next year.”
Ellen shook her head. She hadn’t gotten this far in life without knowing herself. It was other people she had trouble with. “I’m not built that way. When I see a thread hanging from someone’s clothes, I have to pull it. If I see trash on the floor, I pick it up. I can’t step over it. I can’t pretend it’s not there.”
Ron laughed.
“This is almost like that, only ten times more. A million times more. It’ll be in the back of my mind for the rest of my life, if I don’t resolve it.”
“Then I feel for you,” Ron said softly, meeting her eye.
“Thanks.” Ellen managed a smile, picked up her papers and coat, and moved to the door, where the Wizard of Oz soundtrack grew louder. “I’d better go. Will hates the flying monkeys.”
“Everybody hates the flying monkeys,” Ron said, with a final smile.
Chapter Forty-one
Ellen spent the afternoon in Quality Time Frenzy with Will, building a multicolored castle from Legos, stamping Play-Doh with cookie cutters, and making Boca burgers for dinner together. Will set the table, running back and forth with a squeeze bottle of ketchup and sliced tomatoes, and Ellen felt as if the kitchen were their domestic cocoon, with its soft lighting, warm stove, and chubby housecat curled up on the floor, in his tuxedo.
“I have a surprise dessert for you,” Ellen said, but Will flashed her his picky-eater frown, as dubious a look as a three-year-old can muster.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you, or it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Don’t we have ice cream?”
“It’s better than ice cream. Wait right here.” Ellen got up, collected the dinner plates, and took them into the kitchen, where she set them in the sink. She fetched the dessert from the refrigerator, carried it to the dining room, and placed it on the table.
“Eeew, Mommy!” Will scrunched up his nose, the only reasonable response to what looked like a bowl of green plastic.
“Give it a chance. It’s Jell-O, in your favorite color.” Ellen had spent last night rereading the Braverman website and had seen the detail that Timothy loved lime Jell-O. Will had never eaten it before, as far as she knew, and she wanted to see if he liked it. Her test wasn’t scientific, but that would come later.
Will wrinkled his nose. “Is it spinach?”
“No, it’s lime.”
“What’s lime?”
“Like lemon, but better.”
“What’s lemon?”
“You know lemon. It’s yellow, like the water ice we get at the pool. Or like lemon sticks.” Ellen let it go. “Did you ever have lime Jell-O before?”
Will shook his head, eyeing the bowl warily. “I had red. That was good.”
“Red is cherry.”
“Do we have red?”
“No. I made green.”
“Can’t you make red?” Will looked at her with plaintive baby blues, and Ellen managed a smile.
“Not this time. Today, let’s try green Jell-O.”
Will scrambled to a kneeling position in his chair and leaned farther over the table on his elbows, sniffing the bowl. “Why doesn’t it smell?”
“Give it a try and tell me if you like the taste.”
“Do you like it?”
“I don’t know, I never had it either.” Ellen hated lime Jell-O, but didn’t want to prejudice him. “I like to try new foods.” She couldn’t resist propagandizing, but Will ignored her.
“Why is it all flat