Chapter Two: Twinges
Monk watched Sharona's reaction carefully as she entered the dining room. She'd only seen glimpses of his decorations from the foyer, so he was keenly interested in her response to the full effect. He wondered if she'd noticed the way he'd rearranged the fruit bowl on the dinner table so her favorites were the easiest to grab. Or the little dabs of frosting he'd wiped off the surface of the cake because they were asymmetrical.
Of course she wouldn't notice that, he told himself. And if he pointed it out to her, it would annoy her and ruin the party. He had to stop thinking about things like that. Let her enjoy herself.
Monk shook his head before a little voice in his head could say, If you wanted her to enjoy herself, you wouldn't be here. He pushed the voice away and spread his hands in a display of casualness to disguise his self-criticism. "Happy anniversary!"
Sharona was busy examining the cake. "I don't believe it!" she said with a tone approaching admiration. "How did you guys plan all this without my knowing?"
Something was wrong, Monk realized. Sharona kept fingering the cross around her neck, and had been since she first arrived. She didn't do that unless she was worried.
Was there a problem with the party? Did he overstep his bounds, planning it without permission? He pushed the thought away. No. It had nothing to do with him.
He wasn't convinced.
Benjy leaned against the door frame, apparently oblivious to Sharona's concealed anxiety. He was trying to fight back a giant, goofy smile, and failing miserably at it.
When Sharona turned back to face the boys, Monk blinked and forced a big smile. "Whaddaya think? Huh?"
Sharona looked at the cake again. "It's huge!" She shook her head in disbelief as she looked from the cake to the three party hats set up in a perfect triangle on the counter. "Where did you get it?"
Monk waved the question off dismissively. "Oh, we got it at a bakery downtown."
Sharona looked to her son questioningly, waiting for further explanation.
"We had to go to, like, six places before we found one that Mr. Monk liked!" Benjy piped in.
Sharona raised her eyebrows. "That's all? I'm impressed."
"And we brought it back in a taxi," Benjy continued.
Sharona paused, her eyes flickering to Monk. "You took a taxi?"
Benjy shrugged. "Yeah. I was okay. Mr. Monk was with me."
Monk glanced down at Benjy. "She means me." He couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance whenever Sharona commented on his social difficulties. As if he didn't realize he was abnormal.
Sharona was waiting for an answer from him. Monk shrugged and said, "It was fine, Sharona. I've been in taxis before." He hated it when she babied him. She acted like he was younger than the kid. He could ignore the stares and comments from strangers, most the time, but it always hurt most when Sharona was condescending to him.
Sharona stared at Monk, then looked back to Benjy, who grinned. "You mean, he didn't freak out or anything?" she asked in amazement.
Benjy shook his head.
Monk leaned against the counter with a self-satisfied smirk.
Sharona paused, then shook her head. "Too bad you can't act that way around me," she muttered as she turned back to the cake. "How much was this?"
Monk didn't answer. Why did she have to bring up money on a day like this? Couldn't she ever leave it alone?
"Benjy!" Sharona urged.
Benjy hesitated, glancing nervously at Monk vigorously shaking his head behind Sharona's back. "It was over twenty dollars!" he finally announced.
Sharona's mouth dropped open, and she whirled around to glare at Monk. "Twenty—? If you're going to spend that much on the cake, does that mean I get a raise?"
Monk's smile was frozen on his face. He knew it. She was just obsessed about money. He cocked his head to one side. "No."
Sharona sighed. "Well, I guess if it's here, we'd better eat it."
Monk studied her quietly. She had a distracted look on her face as her eyes unfocused.
"All right!" Benjy yanked open the silverware drawer and pulled out a knife.
"Be careful with that! Give it to me!" Sharona rushed across the room and grabbed her son's wrist, wrenching the knife from his grip. Benjy looked surprised and confused. Then Sharona shifted her glare to Monk, who hadn't moved from his position by the counter. "You're a big help."
Monk widened his eyes innocently. "Benjy," he said earnestly, "don't play with sharp objects."
Benjy nodded. "Okay, Mr. Monk."
"Thanks." Sharona rolled her eyes. She held the knife over the surface of the cake experimentally, determining where to cut.
"I want a big piece!" Benjy declared.
"Benjy, you haven't even had lunch yet, have you?"
Monk twitched one shoulder and straightened. "He did, actually."
Sharona hesitated, then relented. "Okay. What about you, Adrian?" she asked.
Monk held up a hand and shook his head. "Oh, no. I don't want any."
Sharona looked up from the cake. "Why'd you get such a huge cake if you weren't planning on eating any?"
"I'll eat it!" Benjy said, pulling a few plates from the cupboard.
Monk shrugged. "I didn't want to get a small one." She was so eager for an argument, it seemed. On edge. Even more so than usual.
Sharona was confused. "Why not?"
Monk sighed, as if she should already know the answer. "Because the first one we ordered was too small. They had to squeeze in 'anniversary'. It ruined the whole cake."
"You shoulda seen him! He sent it back! I've never seen him so mad!" Benjy said cheerfully, pouring a glass of milk.
Sharona stared at Monk. "Well, guess what, Adrian? You're eating some of this." She started to make her first cut.
"No, I'm not—" He broke off, staring in horror at the knife in her hand. "What are you doing?" he asked with panic in his voice.
Sharona glanced up. "What? I'm cutting the cake."
Monk held out a hand to stop her. "No-o-o, you're mutilating the cake."
Sharona scowled, lifting the knife from the cake's surface. "What are you talking about?"
"If you cut there," Monk pointed, "you're going to have uneven rows after that. Especially if you cut it crooked, which I wouldn't put past you."
"What are you talking about? What difference does it make the way the rows are cut?"
"Trust me," Monk said with an air of importance, his volume increasing with anger. "It matters. I didn't buy you an anniversary cake so you could cut crooked pieces! Now, try starting the cut about a centimeter back this way." He held a hand over the cake to demonstrate.
She held the knife toward him, handle first. "All right. You cut it."
Benjy watched the argument unhappily.
Monk stepped back and swallowed thickly. "You know I can't do that, Sharona."
"Then don't complain about the way I cut my cake!" Sharona bit her lower lip, then glared at Monk. "Happy anniversary," she spat derisively. "Maybe five years is long enough. Five years of hell!" She dropped the knife on the counter and stormed out of the kitchen.
Monk glanced at Benjy, who was staring after his mom with dismay. "It's okay," he told him, not sounding reassuring even to himself.
Monk followed Sharona nervously into the living room. He found her by the window, staring down at the street. "Sharona!" he began, putting as much desperation into his tone as his dignity allowed. "Sharona, I'm sorry! You can cut the cake however you want, okay?" He spoke to her back, hoping his words alone could turn her around.
Sharona inhaled shakily and when she answered, her voice came out rough and raw with emotion. "Yeah, whatever, Adrian."
Monk hesitated. He privately cursed himself. Once again, his ability to interpret human behavior from all sorts of little clues failed when he had to figure out Sharona. He could never quite tell what she was thinking at times like these. "Are you mad because I got the cake?"
A noise that was something between a laugh and a sob came out. "No. It was very sweet of you. It's—it's nothing."
Monk swallowed uncomfortably. They'd just had this conversation a short time ago. The first time, he was willing to dismiss it as unimportant. Now, he was convinced she was holding something back. But he could never approach sensitive subjects well. And she obviously didn't want to talk about it. Yet. Or with him, maybe.
He eased in beside her. She had a worried expression on her face and held her hand over her heart. She seemed to be holding her breath as if waiting something out. Sharona was very pointedly avoiding his eyes.
After waiting a moment, Monk rubbed his hands together briskly. "Okay! So you were just having a little tantrum. I understand." There was an undercurrent of anger in his tone that he couldn't quite hold back. He realized it made him sound insensitive, childish, and it only made him feel worse that he couldn't control his tongue better.
But Sharona didn't even notice.
"Why don't we get back to that cake before Benjy eats it all, huh?" Monk murmured.
He waited a few seconds as Sharona composed herself. When she turned to face him, her eyes challenged him to comment further. He didn't rise to the challenge.
"All right," she answered, walking back toward the dining room. "But you have to eat some."
"Let's not get carried away!" Monk said loudly, following her. He was relieved that he'd (somehow) drawn her out of whatever dark corner she'd retreated to. He was afraid that look in her eyes was the same one he saw in the mirror during his worse periods.
Benjy saw his mother return with a half-smile on her face and cheered up again.
Sharona cut the cake as Monk watched anxiously. He bit his lower lip to avoid protesting. She placed a piece on a plate for Benjy, then another for Monk.
"That's okay, Sharona," Monk said, taking a step back.
Sharona held out the plate. "Get over here and eat this, or I'm going to shove it in your face!"
Monk knew that tone. He obeyed. He grabbed the fork and carefully lifted a piece of the sloppy cake. As he held the fork in front of his mouth, building up the nerve to put it in, the phone rang.
Sharona answered. Monk could tell by the conversation it was the captain. They must have another job, he reasoned. But Sharona didn't sound very happy about it. She glanced over to Monk with a concerned expression, murmuring into the receiver. Monk couldn't understand what she was saying, she was speaking so softly.
"Okay, we'll be there." She hung up the phone and turned to Monk. "Adrian, we have to go down to the station," she said in a measured tone.
Monk shook his head and shrugged. "That's fine." He hesitated when he noticed her disturbed expression had not eased. "Hey, don't worry about the party! It's no big deal."
Sharona flashed a pitying look his way. "Why don't you get in the car? I'll be down in a sec."
Monk watched her with hooded eyes as she rushed out of the room. He noticed her lift a hand to her collar bone for a moment, a movement she made only when she was upset. Once she'd left, Monk decided to use the opportunity to leave the cake, untasted, on the counter.
"I'll eat that, Mr. Monk!" Benjy said.
"No, you won't!" Sharona shouted from the other room.
Monk turned to Benjy. "You'd better listen to her. She's scary when she's mad."
* * *
"So, did he spring it on you yet, Sharona?" Stottlemeyer asked with forced cheerfulness as Sharona and Monk entered his office. He sounded worn out.
"What?" she asked, distracted.
"The party."
Sharona was bewildered. "How did you know about it?"
Stottlemeyer stared. "Are you kidding? He wouldn't shut his yap about it for days!"
Sharona glanced at Monk, who looked back innocently, his face very straight. "How does he know all about this, and I completely missed it?"
"Maybe because you never pay any attention to me," Monk said, matter-of-fact.
Sharona was trying to think of a response when Stottlemeyer interrupted. "Listen, Monk. I don't think I should keep this from you any longer."
Monk looked at him expectantly. The captain's hair was mussed up, and he couldn't meet Monk's eyes. "What is it?" Monk asked uncertainly. "Sharona wouldn't tell me anything in the car."
Stottlemeyer and Sharona exchanged a long, silent look. Monk, uncharacteristically, noticed that he was being left out of something important.
Stottlemeyer finally pulled his eyes away from Sharona's and cleared his throat. "We think we have a lead on Trudy's murder."