The Jealousy Game novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Her Own Kitchen

Brett and Maddie are already in Lena's kitchen; she orders them out of her own house, and Maddie's key ring turns out to hold a key tagged in Brett's handwriting dated March.

I drove home with the Fennimore Inn email still open on my phone.

Every light in my kitchen was on.

Brett's car sat in my driveway, nose to the garage, and Maddie's pink coat was on the hook by the back door.

They had beaten me home.

I stood on the porch my father built and listened to my own kettle start to whistle.

Then I opened the door.

Maddie was at the stove with two mugs lined up on the counter.

"Oh, thank God," she said. "Lena, sit down. I'm making the chamomile you like."

"Get out of my kitchen."

"Honey, you're shaking."

"Get out."

Brett came in from the hall in his socks.

He had taken off his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

"Len," he said. "You're in one of your spells. I get it. I'm not mad."

"I'm not in a spell."

"You threw a ring in a glass in front of forty people."

"Yes."

"And then you drove home to the house you share with me." He said it patiently, with his hands open. "So let's all sit down and be adults."

He set my ring on the counter between the mugs.

It was dry.

He had fished it out and wiped it before he drove home.

I looked at it and did not pick it up.

"This is my house," I said. "My father left it to me. My name is on the deed and yours isn't."

"I pay the utilities."

"You pay the cable."

Maddie set the kettle down. "Can we not do the numbers tonight? It's Friday. Everybody's tired."

"Maddie, I would like you to leave my house."

"I'm not leaving you alone like this. I'll sleep on the couch." She said it so warmly that for a second I almost thanked her.

She turned to the counter to pour, and set her keys down next to the mugs.

I did not look at them yet.

"You don't get a vote," I said to Brett. "Pack a bag. You can come back for the rest on Sunday."

"Sunday's Maddie's day."

"Then come back Monday."

"That's not how the game works, Len. The day is a day. You agreed."

"I did not agree to this. I agreed to dinner on a Friday."

"You agreed in the spring. You signed the napkin."

"I signed a napkin that said I'd try to trust you."

"And look how that's going." He smiled, and it was a small, sad smile, meant for Maddie.

The back door opened behind me.

I did not turn around.

I knew the sound of that truck door and the weight of those boots on my porch boards.

Casper stood in the doorway with his jacket still zipped and sawdust on his sleeves.

He smelled like cedar shavings, the way he had since he was fourteen.

He did not look at Brett or Maddie.

He looked at me.

"Why are you here?" Brett asked him. "It's not a strike night anymore. Dean blew it."

Casper said nothing.

"The notebook's in your pocket," Brett said. "Do you want to go and write this down too?"

"Casper," I said.

He turned his head.

"My father gave you a key to this house when he was sick, so somebody would check on the oven pilot."

"Yes."

"I want it back."

He didn't argue.

He reached into his jeans pocket, took out a ring with three keys on it, and worked one off the metal.

He crossed the kitchen and put the key into my palm.

His fingers did not touch mine.

"Is there anything else you want from me?" he asked.

"Yes. Get him out of my house."

Brett laughed, the short bright laugh he had used at the restaurant.

"He won't. He's never taken a side in his life. That's why we like him."

Casper's jaw moved once.

He stayed where he was, in the doorway, and I understood that he would stand there all night if I asked him to, and say nothing.

It was the most useful thing he had done in a year.

"I'm calling the sheriff," I said, and took my phone out.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"It's my house. He'll come, and he'll ask who lives here, and every neighbor on Cooper Street will tell him."

Brett stopped smiling.

He looked at Maddie, and Maddie looked at the floor.

"Fine," he said. "We'll give you your space. Come on, Maddie, grab your coat. Her day starts at midnight anyway."

"Brett," Maddie said, small and hurt. "I don't want to go and leave her like this."

"She'll be fine. She's got Casper."

He picked up his keys and his phone.

Maddie picked up her coat and her purse, and I finally let myself look at the counter.

She had left her key ring behind by the mugs.

It was a silver ring with a small pink bear on it.

Two keys hung from it, one for her apartment and one for my front door.

The front-door key had a paper tag looped through the hole, and on the tag, in Brett's blocky handwriting, it said: Cooper St. 3/14.

I had never given Maddie a key to my house.

I had never been asked.

The date on the tag was seven months ago.

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