Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [111]
“I ask and you answer. Then I report back to Tess. Then she decides what happens next. Okay?”
“Fair enough,” Milo said, hoping it would be.
“I have to tell you that Tess was shocked to hear Cassidy’s name after so many years. Can you tell me how you know her?”
“Sure, but let’s order first. It’s a complicated story.”
A woman who introduced herself as Nancy came by a moment later to take their orders. Though the woman had about a dozen pencils protruding from the tight bun of hair atop her head, she committed their orders to memory before scooping up their menus and leaving the table. Emma then excused herself to use the restroom, and Milo readied himself to tell the story that this woman wanted to hear.
He hoped it would be enough.
“You’re staring at my sweater. Right?” Emma had resumed her position in the booth opposite him, and it was true. As she returned from the restroom, he had been staring.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just different. What’s the deal, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I was at a bad sweater party last night. My friend Taryn hosts it every year. We all spend the year hunting down the most atrocious sweaters possible. You know. Thrift shops. Craft fairs. One of my friends checks the lost and found at every restaurant and movie theater she goes to and has found a couple dandies. Then we show the sweaters off at the party. Taryn lives about four hours south of here, so when I got the call to come and meet you, I had to drive straight through the night. I got in around five A.M. and grabbed a couple hours of sleep in my car outside your motel room. I didn’t want to knock on your door too early.”
“Did you have the best sweater at the party? Or the worst, I mean?”
“It was pretty good. Top three, I’d say. But my friend Sandy had a sweater with an elephant and a pygmy rhinoceros having sex under the Eiffel Tower. That was the best. But she cheated. She took up knitting last year and made it herself. Paid someone a hundred and fifty bucks to design the pattern for her.”
“She takes this bad sweater stuff seriously,” Milo said.
“Sandy takes everything seriously.”
“What do you do with the sweaters after the party?”
“Actually, I keep on wearing them. A couple of my friends give me theirs to wear too. I kind of like them, as kooky as they are. And I get some of the funniest looks from people.”
Milo couldn’t help but marvel over how different this woman was from his wife. Perhaps it was because Christine worked in the corporate world, or maybe it had something to do with living in Connecticut, but she insisted on looking her best at all times, regardless of the situation. Even a sunrise visit to the Quaker Diner or a late-night run to Carvel for an ice cream sundae required a ten-minute visit to the mirror to ensure that every lock of hair was in place and her makeup was even, whatever the hell that meant. Milo often wished that Christine could be one of those women who could toss on a T-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a baseball cap and head out the door, perhaps even willing to grab a couple hours’ sleep in her car before knocking on a strange man’s motel room door, but sweatpants and baseball caps were noticeably absent from her extensive wardrobe.
Maybe if she had owned a baseball cap or was less concerned about Milo’s choice of drink or had worried a little less about what others might think of her panic attacks, he wouldn’t have felt the need to be so vigilant about hiding his demands from her. And perhaps this was why he already felt more at ease with this woman, complete with an Orioles cap, a hungry cat, and a dying mouse.
“I think the waitress gave you one of those funny looks when she took our order,” Milo said.
“I think so. But let’s get back to the subject of Cassidy, if you don’t mind. Can you tell me how you know her? And how you found out about her and Tess?”
Milo had decided long before he’d even left Connecticut that if he found Tess Bryson, he would be completely honest with her. If he was right and she had run away to escape an abusive father, then she