Chapter Text
It was a warm spring day in Glenville, when Mrs. Mandy Skrelpton noticed the moving truck at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was a Tuesday, so she’d dropped Piper off at school, gone to her morning yoga class, and was home in time to make lunch for herself and her husband. It was one of the rare days when she and Joe were home at the same time, so she’d gone above and beyond to fix him a B.L.T with the expensive leg ham she’d bought at the farmer’s market just yesterday. She poured two glasses of peach iced tea and dropped a few ice cubes into each cup, glass and ice clinking together in the amber liquid. She laid it all out on a serving tray and brought it out to Joe on the front porch.
“Here we are,” Mandy cheered, setting the tray down gently on the little round table between their deck chairs. “Spring cleaning’s over, now it’s time for spring eating.”
Joe either didn’t hear what she’d said or was actively ignoring her. It was increasingly hard to tell these days.
“Look here, Hon,” he said, nodding at something behind her hip. “We got new neighbours.”
She turned and saw that he was right. Parked outside of house 12, which had been vacant for some months ever since the Wright family had moved to London, was a large moving truck.
“So, we do,” she agreed, watching men in work vests load furniture and cardboard boxes out of the truck and into the house.
Watching over them was a short, bespeckled man, arms crossed over his chest as he barked orders at them. Even with the distance between them Mandy could hear his voice drifting up the street, clipped and unpleasant. She sighed internally. Greg Wright and his wife, Cindy, had been a handful enough, causing a power outage across the neighbourhood last Christmas Eve with enough lights decorating their house that she was sure they were visible from the moon. And Cindy had the nerve to complain about it to her at the annual lakeside Christmas lunch! The last thing she needed was another repellent neighbour.
“No sign of the wife yet,” Joe remarked, reaching out for his sandwich.
The man was wagging his finger at a mover who’d dropped a box on the lawn, his voice rising to a trilling pitch.
Mandy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t blame her.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth when another man appeared from inside the house. He was taller, broader and all together much more pleasing to the eye. His brown hair was swept neatly back from his handsome face, and his teeth shone pearly white beneath his smile. He said something to the guilty mover, who quickly scurried off with the injured box, then he stepped over to the shorter man and placed a hand on his shoulder.
She just had time to wonder who he might be—a contractor? Someone with the moving company? A real-estate agent?—when he dipped down and pressed a quick kiss to the other man’s cheek. Her mouth fell open in a tiny O and she heard Joe cough around his sandwich.
“Oh,” she said, blinking against the image of them both standing there together, surveying…their home. “How…modern.”
“Great sandwich, Hon,” Joe said gruffly, slurping noisily at his drink. “Real nice.”
Mandy didn’t reply. She just sat stiffly on the edge of her seat, blinking and blinking until the two men, her new neighbours, went inside the house and disappeared from view. She shook her head and reached for her glass, the built-up condensation cold and wet against her palm. What was she doing, being judgemental? For all she knew they could be a perfectly nice couple.
She took a long sip, the iced tea sweet and refreshing on her tongue. At least one of them was nice to look at. Very nice, she thought as she swallowed.
As she and Joe ate the rest of their lunch in silence, she made a resolution to welcome them first and save her reservations for later. It was the neighbourly thing to do, after all.
Dan groaned as he set the last box down on the living room floor. He straightened up, his back cracking with the motion, and he rubbed at the tightness in his neck from a day of heavy lifting. He surveyed the piles of boxes and crates clustered on the floor. He thought about getting into unpacking them all, but his lower back ached and all he really wanted was to order some take-out, have a bath, and settle in for the night. If he had his way there would be plenty of time to unpack later.
Dan turned at the sound of rustling from down the hall and trailed after the noise. He came to the master bedroom, finding his dear, darling husband rifling furiously through a box on the bed.
Dan leaned his hip against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Broken,” Herbert announced, holding up a piece of shattered glass. “My test tubes, beakers—all broken.” He threw the shard back in the box with a snarl, balling his fists up on his hips and glaring down at the mess. “Professional moving business. What kind of professional moving business drops a box clearly marked ‘fragile’? An incompetent one, that’s who.”
“I told you to bubble-wrap it,” Dan commented, only earning himself an angry glare. He went on, undeterred, “and anyway, you could’ve carried it in yourself.”
“So, it’s my fault then,” Herbert quipped. “Of course.”
Dan sighed. “I just meant-“
“No, no, it’s fine.”
“Herbert-“
“You’re right, of course. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”
Dan could see the tension building up in his shoulders and reached out to lightly palm his back, rubbing his thumb at the knob of Herbert’s spine, right at the base of his neck. Herbert didn’t move as Dan stepped up behind him, placing his other hand on Herbert’s hip, his wedding band winking under the lightbulb.
“Don’t stress about it,” Dan murmured into Herbert’s hair. “It’s just glass. Easily replaceable.”
Herbert grunted but didn’t refute him. “I suppose. But we’re definitely not using them again.”
“The idea is that we won’t need to use them again,” Dan said. “At least not for an extended period, remember?”
Herbert peered at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “That’s the plan.”
Dan smiled ruefully. “Yes, and when’s the last time anything’s gone according to plan?”
He was sure he didn’t need to remind Herbert of where they’d just come from. A house in flames and at least three nurses in a grave, one of whom just so happened to be the mistress of their now ex-boss. It had been a disaster, even by their standards. At least they’d managed to get enough blackmail material to ensure a large sum of money to make them disappear, which is why they were now three states over in Glenville, Ohio.
He and Herbert had moved five times in the last three years and if Dan had any say in it this would be their last. Of course, there was always a back-up plan in case things went sour. There was a back-up plan, and another after that. For instance, in the hopefully unlikely event that they had to resettle, there was an old house that had been left to Herbert by some distant relative in Canada they could seek refuge and lie low in. Dan had already investigated jobs for the two of them and lined up false papers for himself, decreeing him a proud native-born citizen of the great white north. But that was all a contingency plan. One he hoped they’d never have to act on.
As much as he would do whatever it took to keep himself and Herbert safe, he was tired. Tired of the running, hiding, and planning. He wanted to be settled. He wanted to be in a place long enough to get to know all his co-workers’ names, to find the best local bakeries and running spots. He wanted to know the taste of the air here, acclimatise to the environment so he knew the exact date to bust out his winter coat. He wanted to get used to his house, know every nook and cranny, every squeaky floorboard and leaky spot on the roof. He wanted this place to be a home for him and his husband. Somewhere they could lay down their roots and start a life together, properly this time.
Herbert was looking at him, considering. “Alright, you have a point. This place is definitely better than that ramshackle apartment you set us up in last time.”
“I agree,” Dan said, a smile pulling at his mouth. “So, let’s try and last here until Christmas, okay?”
“We’ll have to make it to Thanksgiving first,” Herbert replied.
Dan laughed and kissed him briefly and softly before stepping back, trailing out of the room. “I’m thinking we can order Chinese tonight? Ted gave me the name of a place he likes.”
“Who’s Ted?” came Herbert’s reply.
“One of the movers.”
“Is he the one who broke my things?”
“No, Dear.”
“Oh. Well, that’s alright then, I suppose. But get extra lemon chicken!”
Dan went off in search of the landline, packed away in one of their many, many boxes. He tried not to doubt the hopeful feeling of buoyancy in his chest. Maybe this place would actually work out.
“A gay couple? Really?” Sue’s pencilled eyebrows rose as she sipped from her porcelain cup. “Are you sure they weren’t just friends? Or maybe related?”
Mandy sat across from her, the coffee table between them, with Josephine by her side. If only Carla were there, they’d have every wife on the left side of the street gathered around her tea set. Unfortunately, Carla and her husband, Paul, were vacationing in San Jose, leaving only the three of them to sip over this new gossip.
“I’m sure,” Mandy said. “I’ve never seen Joe give Stephen a friendly kiss.”
Josephine snorted into her cup, clearly amused at the thought of their husbands greeting each other with a peck. “I’d be worried if you had,” she laughed.
“You know,” Sue started, “my brother used to live next door to a lesbian couple. He said they were perfectly nice, but they would have all sorts of these little parties constantly. Cars up and down the whole street all night. A real ruckus.”
“What kinds of parties?” Mandy asked.
Sue shrugged. “Lesbian ones, I assume.”
Josephine cocked her head to the side. “What makes a lesbian party different from a normal party?”
Again, Sue shrugged. “The amount of lesbians?”
“Speaking of parties,” Mandy cut in, sensing the conversation getting derailed, “I was planning on throwing one this Friday.”
Her eyes flicked between the two women to try and catch their reactions. Sue merely pursed her lips in consideration, tucking a stray lock of freshly dyed ginger hair behind her ear. Josephine, however, perked up.
“Oh, to invite the new neighbours to?” she inquired, setting her teacup down. “That sounds great! They must be feeling out of sorts, having just moved and all. Kind of like the new kid at school.”
“You know Malcolm doesn’t need a reason to fire up the grill,” Sue put in with a wry smile. “I’m sure he’d love to talk meats with those new boys.”
“Excellent,” Mandy said, setting her own teacup down on the saucer and sitting up primly. She folded her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting with her wedding band. “I’ll invite them, then. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”
The other women nodded agreement.
“Make sure you get all of it,” came Herbert’s voice from the base of the ladder.
Dan huffed as he blindly dug through clumps of dirt, dead leaves, and sludge through the roof gutter. “Yeah, I got it, Honey. Thanks so much,” he grunted.
It had been a long day of cleaning and unpacking, and the hot summer sun wasn’t helping matters. Dan’s shirt was pasted to his back, wet with sweat, the heat beating down on him from the top of the ladder. His fingers were beginning to cramp inside his thick gloves after nearly an hour of attacking the gutter.
Herbert had been helpfully doing nothing all this time, offering little encouragement from his place on the ground. He peered up from the lawn, lips pursed, and Dan’s straw hat on his head.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” Herbert called.
Dan slumped against the lip of the roof with an exasperated groan. He swiped the back of his hand over his sweaty brow, no doubt smearing dirt across his face, and looked down. “It’d go faster if you brought me my trowel.”
Herbert raised his eyebrows. “’Trowel’?”
“Yes. It’s a small shovel-“
“I know what it is,” Herbert snapped. “I just didn’t know we had one.”
“Well, we do,” Dan said, nodding at the house. “It’s in a box with my other gardening tools.”
“Since when do you garden?”
“Since right now, so can you just get it for me, please?”
Herbert clicked his tongue but, blessedly, complied. He strode back into the house and Dan sighed, slowly making his way down the ladder. His knees were getting sore, and not from any fun activities. There definitely hadn’t been any of that in the last couple of days, with their move and Herbert assembling all their equipment in the guest bedroom while planning the renovations to be done down in the basement. Another reason to sigh.
He considered going inside to help Herbert look when a shadow fell across his feet, and he looked up to see a woman approaching his mailbox.
“Hello,” she greeted cheerily, pausing half-way across the driveway.
Her face was smooth with make-up, only faint lines creasing around the corners of her red lips as she smiled, but when Dan looked at her hands he saw the unmistakable signs of age in the swell of her knuckles. He placed her age close to his, in the mid-forties. Her peroxide blonde hair curled at her shoulders, the light gleam hiding any stray grey hairs.
“Hi, there,” Dan said, peeling off his mud-caked gloves. He felt even dirtier standing in front of this woman in her spotless cream dress.
“I noticed you just moved in the other day,” she said, her dark eyes sweeping over him. “And I can see you’re already hard at work. I wish my husband would take a leaf out of your book. I’ve been trying to get him to fix a leak in the roof for months.”
“Oh, well if you need a hand, I’d be happy to help out,” Dan said, offering a smile.
He knew how much first impressions were worth, and if fixing a leak meant that this lady would chat to her friends about what a nice, helpful couple he and Herbert were, then it would be well worth it.
She laughed, waving him off. “Oh, goodness, no. That’s very nice of you but you don’t even know me.”
“I’m assuming we’re neighbours,” Dan said. “So, that’s a start. I’m Dan. I’d shake your hand, but I’ve been digging through God-knows-what for the last hour.”
She smiled again. “How thoughtful of you. I’m Mandy.”
“Nice to meet you, Mandy,” Dan replied.
He would etch her name and face into his brain. Making an acquaintance into a friend was much the same way as developing trust with a patient. Remembering their name and little details about them to show you cared and make that positive impression that said, Hey, you made an impression on me because you’re so pleasant and memorable.
“Likewise,” Mandy answered. “I actually came over here to invite you over to a little get-together on Friday, if you’re not busy.”
“A get-together?” His mind raced, already thinking of what clothes he’d have to wash and iron for a social gathering.
“Yes, to welcome you to the neighbourhood,” Mandy said with an excited little clap. “You’re the guests of honour so you have to come.”
“We’d love to-“
“Love to what?” They both turned to see Herbert standing in the front doorway, trowel in hand. He took in Mandy, giving her a once-over and narrowing his eyes. “Who is this?”
Dan was so used to the tense crackle of energy, like a current of electricity humming in the air, that followed Herbert wherever he went, that he didn’t even blink at it anymore. He sometimes forgot just how much Herbert could be when people met him for the first time. He saw that astonishment in Mandy, her face stiff as Herbert stared her down. He saw that friendliness fleeing her and quickly sidled up to Herbert, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Our new neighbour,” Dan replied, keeping his smile firmly in place. “Mrs. Mandy...?”
“Skrelpton,” she offered, her eyes flickering away from Herbert like a skittish animal.
“Skrelpton,” Dan said cheerily. “This is my husband, Herbert.”
“Charmed,” Herbert said, sounding anything but.
“Pleased to meet you,” Mandy replied, matching Herbert’s tone.
“Mandy’s hosting a little barbeque. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Dan dug his fingers into the knob of Herbert’s shoulder, hoping that touch told Herbert to please, for the love of God, get it together.
Herbert made a noise in the back of his throat, his lips twitching up in a wry little smile, though his eyes stayed hooded. “Oh, sounds splendid.”
“We’ll be there,” Dan assured her.
“Great,” Mandy said, seemingly trying to inject some enthusiasm back into her voice. “We’ll aim for people to get there at six, but it’s all very casual so don’t worry too much.”
“Sounds good,” Dan said.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Mandy gave a little wave of farewell and briskly walked back down the street, her kitten heels click-clacking on the bitumen. Herbert took Dan’s wrist and slapped the trowel into his palm, making him jump.
“It was in with your shoes, not the gardening tools,” Herbert said sourly. “I’m sure you can finish by yourself. I’ll be downstairs.”
With that he stalked back into the house, leaving Dan baking in the sun, trowel in hand. He sighed. At the hours, days, months to come, he sighed at it all.
Herbert West spat into the sink, rinsing his toothbrush under the faucet. Dan had made baked potatoes and chicken, one of his better dishes, so he was sad to scrub the taste from his mouth, but his lower right molar was starting to ache, and he couldn’t afford another cavity. He shut off the gushing water and dried his hands on the little embroidered towels some misguided past co-worker had given him at an office Christmas party. Blue stitching spelt out ‘His’ and ‘His’ in the corner. How clever they must have thought themselves.
Herbert drifted back into the bedroom to find Dan already in bed, sitting upright against the pillows. He was looking over some papers by the lamplight, his reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. His crisp white night shirt hugged his torso, softer in places than he had once been but still solid and strong.
“What’re you reading?” Herbert asked, drifting over to his side of the bed. After all these years and houses they always kept their sleeping positions the same. Dan on the right, himself on the left.
Dan glanced at him as Herbert settled under the sheets beside him. “Just going over our invoices from Richie. He finalised that credit wipe from Minnesota. Went off with only one minor hitch, so definitely a step-up from last time.”
Herbert knew vaguely what he was talking about. Some kind of computer hacker, who would go into online systems and change things around in their favour, help cover their tracks when a bridge was burnt. He tried to think about it as little as he could. Computers confused him. Luckily, Dan covered that area for them. Herbert didn’t need to know all the finer details; he trusted Dan to steer the ship in the right direction.
“That’s good,” Herbert replied, and Dan smiled knowingly.
“Don’t worry, no more tech talk tonight,” he sighed, slipping his glasses and the papers into the bedside drawer. With a flick, the lamp was off, and the room was shrouded in darkness. He rolled onto his side, facing Herbert, and settled onto the pillow. “I’m ready to pass out for the next three days.”
“Worn out from all that gardening?” Herbert drawled, relaxing into the mattress himself.
“Yes,” Dan said, shuffling closer until their knees brushed under the sheets. “So worn out. It’s hard work, you know.”
“I’m sure,” Herbert answered wryly, letting Dan slip off his glasses. “That woman probably got an eyeful.”
“Oh, don’t start,” Dan rolled his eyes, smiling.
“I’m not starting anything,” Herbert snapped, ire filling him at the thought of that woman sauntering up his own driveway, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair at his husband. “I’m only saying I know the type.”
“And what type is that?” Dan asked, that goading tone in his voice as he fingered the buttons on Herbert’s shirt.
“Untrustworthy bimbos,” he replied simply.
Dan snorted at that, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. The sigh he breathed out was familiar and fond as he wound an arm around Herbert’s middle. The hand he pasted to the small of Herbert’s back easily slid into that well-acquainted space. He pulled them together until their limbs slotted into place and Dan’s nose was pressed to his forehead.
“Maybe let’s actually get to know her before we decide she’s an untrustworthy bimbo,” Dan said, stroking Herbert’s hip over the cotton of his pyjama pants.
“She’s blonde, Dan,” Herbert said, feeling like that perfectly explained it.
He felt the vibrating laugh rumbling in Dan’s chest. Despite the thought of Mandy Skrelpton pouring liquid ice into his stomach, Herbert found himself growing drowsy. His mind flitted to all the things he still needed to do, all the equipment that needed setting up, but Dan’s solid body against his was comfortable like a bed stuffed with fine goose feathers. He melted against him as Dan ran his hand up and down his back.
“I know she is,” Dan murmured. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a barbeque.”
“I don’t even like barbeque,” Herbert mumbled into Dan’s shirt, sleep pulling him into unconsciousness. “Or people…”
“I know, Honey.”
His mind went blissfully blank, the lovely, musky smell of his husband drifting off with him to sleep.
Mandy had thrown many ‘friendly gatherings’, as she liked to call them. Party sounded so juvenile, giving the image of beer cans, keg stands, and thumping music. No, what she hosted was partly a casual get-together, partly a formal dinner, but mostly something that people would walk away from talking about how pleasant it had all been, how clean and neat the house was, how tasty the food was—without being too heavy, of course—and how amicable the conversation had been. Her gatherings were fresh smiles and kids gleefully frolicking in the freshly mown yard, while the adults stood, champagne in hand, talking and laughing together.
That was exactly the kind of afternoon-leading-into-evening that was unfolding when the doorbell rang. Embodying the gracious hostess she always prided herself on being, Mandy answered the door herself and found her new neighbours standing on her porch.
“Hello!” she greeted, smiling wide. “So glad you could make it.”
“Of course,” Dan replied, matching her smile.
He cleaned up nicely in a navy button-up and dark jeans, while the other—Herbert, she reminded herself—wore a plain dark suit, tie and all. While Dan made some remark about how nice the day had been, Herbert stood, staring blandly at her, and holding a baked casserole.
Seeing them both there, side-by-side, she was reminded of her friends in college; smart, gorgeous girls who wasted themselves on truly mediocre men. It hadn’t occurred to her until then that she thought of this as a strictly heterosexual phenomena, and that gays wouldn’t have a similar problem. But then there they were.
“Please, come in,” she said, opening the door wide. “You just have to meet everyone.”
They followed her in, putting the dish where she gestured to the collection of salad bowls, meatloaves, and risottos nesting on her island bench. She peeked over her shoulder to watch them look around, taking the house and the people in. Smiling, she led them around to the groups of people clustered around the living room.
This was always her favourite part. Introducing newcomers to people she knew while also showing off different areas of the house. She was feeding them valuable social currency and also basking in their roaming eyes, catching on things like the chandelier hanging over the coffee table, the herring-bone floorboards, and the original oil paintings adorning the walls.
She did all of this in her pearls and peach cocktail dress, cut in a fitting silhouette but made with a soft enough cotton so as not to appear too formal. The most effective way of looking good was giving the air of not trying too hard, making her beauty more remarkable. Some might have thought it unseemly but at least she could acknowledge her own vanity.
“You have a lovely home,” Dan commented, smiling appreciatively at the stone-masoned fireplace.
“Thank you,” she replied, stroking the oak mantlepiece. “Joe and I had this whole room renovated last summer.”
“I can’t wait to get stuck into working on our place,” Dan said. “We’ll have to chip away at it a bit at a time.”
“Repairing those holes in the basement walls, for one thing,” Herbert mused, hands in his pockets. The frame of his glasses cut right across his eyebrows, accentuating his perpetual frown.
“A basement,” Mandy echoed. “I didn’t know that old house had a basement.”
“It’s why we bought it,” Herbert said.
“Oh, really? You have plans in mind for it, then?”
“Yes,” he answered. She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.
Dan’s cough broke the moment before it could stretch into awkwardness. “I was thinking we could put a pinball machine down there.”
The bemused stare Herbert turned on him was almost enough to make Mandy laugh. She reached for Dan’s wrist, her fingers just grazing the cuff of his sleeve, then let her hand fall away. She kept the smile on and nodded at the porch.
“Please, come meet everyone. I’m sure they’re all dying to talk to you.”
Herbert hummed, unconvinced, but followed as she led them outside. It was hardly a change of scene; whenever she had guests Mandy opened the large folding glass doors that led to the back porch, making the living room, kitchen, and backyard one huge entertaining space.
Joe stood with Josephine, Sue, and their husbands in a small circle next to the barbeque. Joe had his Kiss the Cook apron on and spatula in hand as he and Stephen chuckled about something that had Sue rolling her eyes.
“Everyone,” Mandy said, smoothly sliding up next to Joe and looping her arm through his, “please meet our new neighbours.”
She gestured to her new acquaintances, aware that they were all looking at Dan’s hand on Herbert’s waist. Mostly because she was also very aware of it.
“Good to meet you,” Joe said, extending his hand. “Joe Skrelpton. And you’ve already met my lovely wife, Mandy.”
“Dan Cain,” Dan replied, shaking back firmly. Mandy stared at his hand clamped around her husband’s. “And yes, I have. She was gracious enough to invite us both tonight.”
Herbert didn’t immediately reach out to take Joe’s hand, staring at his open palm instead. Mandy thought she saw Dan nudge him before Herbert relented and shook hands.
“Herbert West,” he said blandly, as though introducing himself to a fish he’d just caught.
“You don’t share a name then?” Sue asked over her plate of potato salad. “Is it different for…? You know?”
“I’m sure I don’t,” Herbert answered, levelling that frigid gaze on Sue, who quickly took a bite of her salad.
Dan laughed, though it sounded slightly forced to Mandy’s ears. He gave his husband’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Oh, Herbert, you jokester. No, it’s not any different for us. We’re both legally Cain-West, we just found it got to be confusing for everyone at work when we went by the same name.”
“You work together then?” Josephine’s husband, Stephen, asked.
“Yes, we’ll both be starting at the hospital next week,” Dan said.
“To give us time to ‘settle in’,” Herbert said, curling his fingers in air quotes. “As if I haven’t spent the better part of the last twenty years in a hospital.”
Dan slid a smile at him. “It’s about getting settled into the neighbourhood, Honey.”
Herbert rolled his eyes. “I feel plenty settled.”
“So, is that how you two met?” Josephine piped up. “At work?”
Mandy blinked at the eagerness in Josephine’s voice but found she couldn’t blame her for it. She too was curious at how this union had come about.
“No, we met at med school, actually,” Dan replied easily. “Herbert transferred during my third year.”
“Oh, lovely,” Sue purred, her champagne glass near empty. “A case of love at first sight?”
Herbert snorted and for the first time that night Dan’s smile faltered. It was fleeting, only a slight downward twitch of his lips, but Mandy caught it. Probably because she was watching him so closely.
She stepped in. “Don’t mind Sue. She teases everyone about their get-together stories.”
“Only because they’re so tease-worthy,” Sue fired back, smirking. She pointed at Mandy and Joe. “Highschool sweethearts. Prom king and queen, no less.” Her finger swivelled to Josephine and Stephen. “Engaged within three months.” Then she cocked her thumb at her own husband, Malcolm. “I met Mal at my sister’s wedding. He threw up on my shoes at the reception.”
Malcolm grinned against the lip of his beer bottle. “And aren’t you glad you didn’t wear open-toed shoes that day?”
Sue hummed then quickly fixed her attention back on Dan. “So don’t be shy, Doc. Love at first sight?”
Dan had regained his composure and simply smiled. “Not exactly. We were…fast friends but I was seeing someone else at the time.”
Now Mandy’s own intrigue spurred her on. “Really? Was it serious?”
Dan scratched at his jaw, looking off to the side as Herbert stared up at him, waiting. “Erm, well, yes. She was my fiancé.”
Mandy’s eyebrows crept up towards her hairline. So, Dan Cain had not always been of the male persuasion.
Before Sue could jump in with another invasive question Herbert said, “No, she wasn’t.”
Dan breathed out audibly through his nose. “Herbert. Dear. Yes, she was. I proposed to her, she said yes-“
“Not right away, if I recall,” Herbert mused, inspecting his fingernails.
“That’s beside the point-“
“And the whole time I knew Meg, would you believe I never saw a ring on that finger?”
Dan sighed again and Mandy got the impression she was watching an old argument play out in front of her; the kind all married couples, who had been together long enough, to have some variation of. For her and Joe it was who had come up with their daughter, Piper’s, name. Joe insisted he had thought it up one day when he was tightening up a leaky pipe in the bathroom, but Mandy knew she’d gotten the inspiration from Piper Laurie. Any time someone asked about the origins of Piper’s name they would have the same argument they’d had dozens of times. And for Dan and Herbert, their squabble seemed to be whether Dan had ever been engaged to his old girlfriend.
Dan pinched the bridge of his nose. “The ring isn’t what’s important.”
“Oh, really?” Herbert said, one eyebrow arched over the frame of his glasses. He turned suddenly and faced Josephine. “What was your name?”
Josephine blinked at his directness. “Josephine.”
Herbert nodded. “Josephine, am I right in assuming that your husband proposed to you?”
Josephine smiled over her shoulder at Stephen. “Oh yes. He got down on one knee and everything. It was very romantic.”
“And he gave you a ring when he popped the question?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” Herbert echoed, head swivelling around to stare down his husband. Dan was frowning at some nebulous spot over Herbert’s head, seemingly resigned. “And would you look at that?” Herbert went on. “All the other ladies seem to have engagement rings next to their wedding bands. How interesting.”
Dan clapped his hands with a forced smile. “You know what? It doesn’t matter, it’s all semantics.”
Herbert gave him a wry smile but didn’t say anything more, though Mandy thought he probably wanted to.
Herbert managed to slip away from the throng of people Dan was forming a circle with. He didn’t like standing in circles. It made him think everyone was going to join hands and either perform a seance or sing Ring-A-Rosy. Both equally terrifying prospects.
So, he excused himself to the bathroom and ducked into the nearest empty hallway. Only when he was alone, out of sight and earshot of everyone, did he relax. He hated these sorts of things. Putting on his best face to make mind-numbingly inane small talk with strangers, whom he cared nothing for and had no desire to change that.
But Dan always insisted on attending these things to ‘make a positive impression and build relationships’. And he could never just go himself and leave Herbert at home to work. No, that would defeat the purpose, apparently. The purpose which Herbert thought was always pointless as they never stuck around long enough for any of those neighbourly elbow-rubbings to amount to anything substantial. But still Dan insisted. He’d always cared more about images than Herbert. It was one of the things Herbert chose to love him in spite of.
His blissful silence was broken by a sniffling from the floor. He started and turned to see a small girl sitting at the foot of the stairs. She looked to be about six years old, her blonde hair woven into twin braids behind her ears, and her cheeks wet and rosy with tears. He had no idea how long she’d been sitting there in the shadows, silently sobbing. Herbert tried to quietly step away, but her head went up at the creak of a floorboard and he was spotted.
“My hamster died,” she stated between hiccups. Herbert had never understood the childish need to say things to random strangers as though they were supposed to care.
He cleared his throat. “How sad.”
“His name is Mr. Wilt,” she said, her tears pausing as she peered up at him. “What’s your name?”
Herbert suddenly found he wanted to be back with Dan and the other who-evers. “Dr. West.”
“I’m Piper,” she replied, and when Herbert opened his mouth to tell her that information was useless to him, her face screwed up and more tears erupted out of her puffy eyes. “He was fine this morning! But then I saw him after school, and he won’t move!”
“Maybe he’s sleeping,” Herbert offered.
Piper’s eyes steeled. “He wouldn’t move even when I shook his treat bag. He always gets excited at the treat bag.”
“His brain is the size of a pea,” Herbert droned. “He’d get excited at his own reflection.”
“How big is your brain?”
“Bigger than his.”
“Can you fix him?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Wilt.”
Herbert raised an eyebrow. “I thought he was dead.”
Piper blinked in the uncomprehending way of children. “Does that mean you can’t fix him?”
Herbert paused. He thought. He considered. He looked back to the sound of the ‘get-together’, where Dan was probably doing his best job at charming that crowd of suburban duds. He thought some more. “When did you last see him move?” he asked.
Piper pursed her lips in thought. “Just after breakfast?”
Herbert hummed, tapping his cheek. “Not ideal. Well outside the optimal time of re-animation…But things are rarely optimal.” He glanced down at the girl, who was now staring up at him with hope and wonder. Herbert couldn’t remember much of his childhood, but he imagined that look reflected himself picturing the capabilities of science in the right hands. He decided. “Show him to me.”
She turned and started up the stairs, her socked feet thumping quietly on the carpeted steps. Herbert slowly followed, palming the shape of a vial in his breast pocket.
Dan would kill him. But only if he knew.
Besides, Herbert was merely doing what Dan told him: building positive associations or whatever. Yes, it was with a child but that was beside the point. He was just being neighbourly.
After an hour and a half of mingling Herbert reappeared at Dan’s side and nudged his arm. Dan paused in his conversation with Malcolm and Joe to glance at Herbert, who simply said, “I forgot to feed the cat.”
They had no cat, but Dan caught his meaning. Herbert wanted to go home. He would make some random excuse whenever he wanted to express to Dan that he was running low on his social battery (which was already basically non-existent), and now was clearly one of those times. He checked his watch and decided that they’d spent an appropriate amount of time amongst their new neighbours. Dan nodded and turned back to make his departure.
The night was already coming to a close, families bidding good-bye and “See you later!” as they trailed out the door, when Dan and Herbert made their exit. They were almost through to the front porch when Mandy materialised at his side and caught his elbow. Dan turned and was faced with her pearly smile.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight.”
Dan saw Herbert a few paces ahead, standing and waiting, inspecting his watch. Dan slid his gaze back to Mandy and matched her smile. “Thank you for having us. We had a wonderful time.”
“I’m glad,” Mandy replied. Her red lipstick had stayed on perfectly all night, cutting a ring of crimson across her fair skin. “I want you to feel welcome here. Not just here in Glenville, but with me too. And Joe, of course.”
“Right. Yes, thank you. You’ve all been very welcoming.”
“Dan,” Herbert called out, tapping his watch. “The cat?”
“Yes, Herbert,” Dan half-yelled over his shoulder. “Just a second.”
Mandy tittered behind her fingers. “He’s certainly vocal.”
“He certainly is,” Dan agreed. “And impatient.”
“Alright, I’ll let you go then.” She patted his arm then squeezed his bicep. “But please don’t be a stranger.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dan answered, slipping from her grip and back to Herbert, waving good-bye. She wiggled her fingers back at him, her rings winking in the porch light.
As soon as they stepped off the driveway Herbert groaned. “Thank god. I thought we’d never leave. If I had to listen to her talk about hors d’oeuvres for one more minute I was ready to stage a medical emergency.”
Dan chuckled. “And I’d take you to the hospital? That’d be a great way to introduce ourselves to our new co-workers.”
“Anything to get away from that,” Herbert grumbled.
Dan shook his head, throwing an arm around Herbert’s shoulders and pulling them close. Their steps landed in time together on the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t so bad. Surely you didn’t hate everything.”
Herbert hummed as though he were considering. “I suppose there was one moment I didn’t mind.”
Dan, sleepy and ready for bed, pressed a kiss to Herbert’s temple. “That’s nice, Honey.”
Mandy felt good as she readied herself for bed. Joe had fallen asleep before he’d even gotten his belt off, leaving Mandy to pick up after their guests herself. She usually would have been more bothered by this, would stew in resentment at her lazy husband as she cleaned, but that night she didn’t mind. She was buoyant from a night well done. Everything had been good: the food, the atmosphere, the guests…
She was replaying her interactions with Dan Cain (she preferred to think of him that way, shaving the West part of the fraction away), when she ducked her head into Piper’s room. Piper was tucked up under her covers, sleeping peacefully. Mandy smiled, relieved she wasn’t taking the loss of the hamster too hard. She looked to Mr. Wilt’s cage, already thinking how best to dispose of the little body, then froze.
Her eyes caught on a little shape pressed against the wire bars, for a moment thinking maybe Piper had moved the water bottle or one of the toys, but then two little beady eyes were staring at her, and she gasped. The hamster sat, little cheeks flexing as he curled his little paws around the bars.
“Oh, Mr. Willie,” Mandy breathed, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. “You’re alive. Oh, good…” She padded into the room and bent down to inspect him. She was sure he’d been dead and yet, there he was, fuzzy nose twitching. “That must’ve been one heck of a nap, huh?” She extended a finger out to scratch his ears. “Piper will be so pleased.”
The moment her finger brushed his fur Mr. Wilt’s little hamster jowls peeled back and he hissed, far louder and more guttural than Mandy had ever thought a rodent capable of. She snatched her hand back just as he lashed out with his teeth, his jaw clamping around the metal bar instead. She staggered back, heart hammering in her throat, as the hamster writhed and growled, gnawing viciously against the cage.
Mandy fumbled behind her for the doorknob, unable to blink or peel her eyes off the demented Mr. Wilt. Her fingers brushed the knob and she quickly backed out, almost tripping over her own two feet in her haste. She shut the door and raced back to her room, mind whirling with what had just happened. She thought about waking Joe, demanding he get their daughter out of the presence of that vicious beast. She thought he’d have to kill Mr. Wilt with a shovel or something, squash him like a fly. They would get Piper a new pet. Maybe a goldfish.
But the longer she laid in bed the more she convinced herself that she’d over-reacted. Animals hissed all the time. After all, how many times had Sue’s cat yowled and pawed at her? Yes, that was all it was. Mr. Wilt was just being a skittish hamster, that was all. There was nothing strange or diabolical about it. She’d just imagined that rabid look in his eyes. It was dark.
As she drifted off to a fitful sleep all she could hear was the soft rattling of metal bars.