The Sleeping Doll

So what's the answer? she asked herself.

"Tomorrow?" he repeated, sounding shy-curiously, for a man who'd just nailed one of the worst perps in Monterey County history.

You're stalling, she told herself. Her eyes swept the pictures of her children, her dogs, her late husband. She thought of Wes.

She said, "You know, tomorrow'd be great."

Chapter 57

"It's over," she said in a low voice to her mother.

"I heard. Michael briefed us at CBI."

They were at her parents' house in Carmel. The family was back from the castle keep of headquarters.

"Did the gang hear?"

Meaning the children.

"I put some spin on it. Phrased it like, oh, Mom'll be home at a decent hour tonight because, by the way, that stupid case of hers is over with, they got the bad guy, I don't know the details. That sort of thing. Mags didn't pay any attention-she's working up a new song for piano camp. Wes headed right for the TV but I had Stu drag him outside to play Ping-Pong. He seems to've forgotten about the story. But the key word is 'seems.'"

Dance had shared with her parents that, where her children were concerned, she wanted to minimize news about death and violence, particularly as it involved her work. "I'll keep an eye on him. And thanks."

Dance cracked open an Anchor Steam beer and split it in two glasses. Handed one to her mother.

Edie sipped and then, with a frown, asked, "When did you get Pell?"

Dance gave her the approximate time. "Why?"

Glancing at the clock, her mother said, "I was sure I heard somebody in the backyard around four, four-thirty. I didn't think anything of it at first but then I got to wondering if Pell found out where we lived. Wanting to get even or something. I was feeling a little bit spooked. Even with the squad car out front."

Pell wouldn't hesitate to hurt them, of course-he'd pla

"It probably wasn't him."

"Must've been a cat. Or the Perkins' dog. They have to learn to keep it inside. I'll talk to them."

She knew her mother would do just that.

Dance rounded up the children and herded them into the family Pathfinder, where the dogs awaited. She hugged her father and they made plans for her to pick her parents up for his birthday party at the Marine Club on Sunday evening. Dance was the designated driver, so they could enjoy themselves and drink as much champagne and Pinot Noir as they wanted. She thought about inviting Winston Kellogg but decided to wait on that one. See how tomorrow's "afterward" date went.

Dance thought about di

"Woo-hoo!" Maggie called. And began debating aloud what kind of syrup she wanted. Wes was happy but more restrained.

When they got to the restaurant and were seated at a booth, she reminded her son it was his job to pick their Sunday afternoon adventure this week before the birthday party. "So, what's our plan? Movie? Hiking?"

"I don't know yet." Wes examined the menu for a long time. Maggie wanted a to-go order for the dogs. Dance explained that the pancakes weren't to celebrate the reunion with the canines; it was simply because she wasn't in the mood to cook.

As the large, steaming plates were arriving, Wes asked, "Oh, you hear about that festival thing? The boats?"

"Boats?"

"Grandpa was telling us about it. It's a boat parade in the bay and a concert. At Ca

Dance recalled something about a John Steinbeck festival. "Is that on Sunday? Is that what you'd like to do?"

"It's tomorrow night," Wes said. "It'd be fun. Can we go?"

Dance laughed to herself. There was no way he could've known about her di

Dance dressed the pancakes with syrup and allowed herself a pat of butter. Stalling. "Tomorrow? Let me think."

Her initial reaction, on seeing Wes's unsmiling face, was to call Kellogg and postpone or even cancel the date.

Sometimes it's just easier…

She stopped Maggie from drowning her pancakes in a frightening avalanche of blueberry and strawberry syrups, then turned to Wes and said impulsively, "Oh, that's right, honey, I can't. I have plans."

"Oh."

"But I'm sure Grandpa'd want to go with you."

"What're you going to do? See Co

"Yeah, the twins, Mom!" Maggie said.

Dance heard her therapist's words: Kathryn, you can't look at the substance of what he's saying. Parents tend to feel that their children raise valid objections about potential step-parents or even casual dates. You can't think that way. What he's upset with is what he sees as your betrayal of his father's memory. It has nothing to do with the partner himself.

She made a decision. "No, I'm going to have di

"Agent Kellogg," the boy shot back.

"That's right. He has to go back to Washington soon, and I wanted to thank him for all the work he's done for us."

She felt a bit cheesy for gratuitously suggesting that because he lived so far away Kellogg was no long-term threat. (Though she supposed Wes's sensitive mind could easily jump to the conclusion that Dance was already pla

"Okay," the boy said, cutting up the pancakes, eating some, pensive. Dance was using his appetite as a barometer of his reaction.

"Hey, son of mine, what's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Grandpa would love to go to see the boats with you."

"Sure."

Then she asked another impulsive question. "Don't you like Winston?"

"He's okay."

"You can tell me." Her own interest in food was flagging.

"I don't know… He's not like Michael."

"No, he's not. But there aren't many people like Michael." The dear friend who isn't returning my calls at the moment. "That doesn't mean I can't have di

"I guess."

They ate for a few minutes. Then Wes blurted, "Maggie doesn't like him either."

"I didn't say that! Don't say things I didn't say."

"Yeah, you did. You said he's got a potbelly."

"Did not!" Though her blush told Dance that she had.

She smiled, put down her fork. "Hey, you two, listen up. Whether I have di

"Okay," Wes said. It was a bit knee-jerk, but he didn't seem completely unconvinced.

But now Maggie was troubled. "Aren't you ever going to get married again?"

"Mags, what brought that up?"

"Just wondering."

"I can't even imagine getting married again."

"You didn't say no," Wes muttered.

Dance laughed at the interrogator's perfect response. "Well, that's my answer. I can't even imagine it."

"I want to be best woman," Maggie said.

"Maid of honor," Dance corrected.

"No, I saw this after-school special. They do it different now."

"Differently," her mother corrected again. "But let's not get distracted. We've got pancakes and iced tea to polish off. And plans to make for Sunday. You've got to do some thinking."

"I will." Wes seemed reassured.

Dance ate the rest of her di

On a whim she gave in to Maggie's final plea on behalf of the dogs and ordered one pancake and a side of sausage for each, minus the syrup. The girl served the food in the back of the Pathfinder. Dylan the shepherd devoured his in several gulps while the ladylike Patsy ate the sausage fastidiously, then carried the pancake to a space between the backseats, impossible to reach, and deposited it there for a rainy day.