by Robyn Carr
Lauren, at first glance, seemed like a good woman with a strong moral compass. She couldn’t meet him even just to have someone to talk to if it could become a distraction, a complication. She wanted to be sure her daughters were informed in the best way of what was coming. She didn’t trash the husband she was leaving, yet it was clear in her eyes and what little she said, she was in a bad situation. When he asked if he hit her, she rubbed her upper arms and said, “No.” She was beautiful. Sweet and sensitive.
And in two years they could be at each other’s throats. She could be railing at him about how dull he was, how uninteresting, how inattentive. He didn’t dance. He had quiet friends. He didn’t want to party. She could be explaining how her life had become unfulfilling, how her needs were not being met...
...how her sex life needed to be recharged.
“There were red flags with Pamela,” Tim said. “You told me all about them, how obvious they were, how you convinced yourself you were overreacting because most of the time things were good. And besides, no one’s perfect. You admit you have failings. In fact, you’re a little too eager to admit your—”
Beau stopped shoveling and stared at his friend. “Stop reading my mind.”
“Sorry,” Tim said. “I wasn’t sure I was.”
“You do it all the time and it pisses me off.”
“I said I was sorry. So, we can count on you for basketball Thursday night?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Father?” a female voice said from the walk. “I’m sorry to interrupt you. I was just wondering...”
“Angela! How wonderful to see you! What brings you to my neighborhood?”
“A fool’s errand, I think. It’s still so early in the spring, but my shelves are bare of the fresh stuff and my clientele could use some greens. It was just a gamble, that you might have some lettuce that came in early.”
“Beau, meet my friend Angela,” Tim said. “She operates a food bank in Oakland. It’s where a lot of our fresh stuff from the garden ends up.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Beau said. He couldn’t help but notice how Tim’s eyes lit up. He also noticed how beautiful the Latina woman was, black hair in a single braid down her back. Beau guessed she was about thirty. Her eyes danced as she was focused more on Tim than Beau. She wore tight jeans with rips in the knees, hoodie tied around her waist. She was lovely. And Tim’s entire mood changed.
“We don’t have anything yet but I’m friendly with the produce manager at the big Safeway. One of my parishioners. Let’s go see if he’s clearing out produce. I bet we’ll get something, no matter what his stock looks like. Let’s go in your car, then you can drop me back here.”
“I knew you’d help if you could,” she said, smiling so beautifully.
“Let’s go then,” he said. He took her elbow to guide her, walked her away from the garden. He leaned down to talk with her and they laughed together.
Tim never looked back at Beau.
“Interesting,” Beau said. Then he proceeded to spread fertilizer.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Delaney family home was in a posh, gated neighborhood in Mill Valley. Guests had to be cleared by the guard at the gate to enter. It was much more house than Lauren wanted or needed, especially with the girls being gone, but Brad found it and contracted the purchase without her involvement six years ago. It was an eight-thousand-square-foot showplace. She had been stunned but helpless. What was she to say? We don’t need all this since I’m not planning to be married to you that much longer? She had two choices—she could sign the purchase agreement and at least be a co-owner of the massive property. Or she could refuse and he’d just buy it himself.
“Be sure to put your things away,” he instructed before their guests arrived. “I don’t want people thinking we have separate bedrooms.”
“Even though we do,” she muttered.
“You sometimes sleep in the guest room down the hall because of your hot flashes,” he said, creating her lie for her.
“No one is going to be wandering around the bedrooms,” she said. “And I don’t have hot flashes.”
He touched her cheek. He laughed. “Any second now, Lauren. You’re not as young as you used to be.”
Feeling a little ancient and emotional with her baby a college graduate on her way to law school, she lashed out. “What do you suppose they’d all think if they knew the truth?”
“Just what I think,” he said easily. “You’re a half lunatic who imagines ridiculous things all the time.”
She gritted her teeth and remained silent, picturing that quaint Victorian in Alameda, how quiet and sweet it was. The girls had gone out to pick up a few last-minute items for the party and would be walking in the house any second. Guests would start to arrive in an hour. The caterers were busy; their van was parked in the garage so they had a clear path from the van to the party site, the kitchen, butler’s pantry, dining room and patio. They were expecting about 100 people. Obviously she couldn’t get into an argument with him now. Actually she couldn’t get into an argument with him ever. Disagreeing with Brad was disastrous.
The last straw should have been when he had given her chlamydia. He denied it, insisted it wasn’t him and his argument was so unflinching and convincing even she began to wonder where she might’ve gotten it. She hadn’t had a lover, not ever. She began to worry about a contaminated tampon or used underwear someone had returned to a store with their germs on them. She knew better, yet her doubts, as ridiculous as they were for a woman who had studied chemistry, persisted. Finally, her gynecologist calmly and firmly said, “You could only get it from a person you had sex with. You can’t even get it from a blood transfusion. Period.”
Of course it had been Brad. He’d been unfaithful before, hadn’t he? Of course it was him. That’s when she stopped having sex with her husband. Three years later she’d been emptying his pockets for the dry cleaner and there it was—a condom. Of course. Because he didn’t want to get chlamydia again.
She’d left the condom on the pillow in his room. He told her she was an idiot—he’d picked up the condom in the nurse’s supply station, they sometimes used them for external catheters and he thought he might need it for a patient but didn’t and hadn’t put it back. Why would he leave a condom in his pants pocket if he was screwing around? But she knew it was a lie and she stayed in the guest room. She told the girls she liked to stay up late reading and their father needed his sleep to be alert for early morning surgeries. They neither noticed nor cared—they were both in college and only home for visits. In fact, the girls liked it. On their visits overnight, the girls often gathered in her room, sitting on her bed, gossiping and laughing with her and at those times she was doubly glad she wasn’t in his room.
She thought maybe they could get through this, weather his anger, but it could be rough and all she wanted was for her daughters to have a positive college experience.
Yes, they were spoiled and she had been complicit. She hoped it wouldn’t lead to their ruin. Above all, she wanted them to be good people.
So what would he come up with to threaten her this time? What threat to keep her? Why the hell did he even want her?
She shook her head and forced her thoughts back to the daughter for whom this over-the-top celebration was planned. Cassidy had made good. She was going to Harvard Law. Tears came to her eyes. Not sentimental tears because of her pride, but sad tears because Cassie’s gramma, her mother, Honey, would not be here. And she missed her so. The last time they were together, they had dinner—just Honey, Lauren and Beth. Lauren and Beth talked about their marriages. Beth’s was usually crazy and dysfunctional in adorable ways and Lauren’s was growing more awful every year. As they embraced to say good-night Honey had touched Lauren’s cheek and said, “You don’t have to give him your entire life, sweetheart. You don’t have to sacrifice your entire life for your daughters, e
ither, for that matter. Maybe you’ve gone as far as you should. And it’s all right.” Three days later Honey was dead and aside from missing her every day, she prayed Honey had not lost all respect for her as she grappled with a bad marriage and indulged two daughters who had already been indulged enough.
But now, Cassie would study law. Lauren was happy for her, even though Boston was so far away. Lauren would go with her to Boston to look around for a place to live. Cassie was going to get ahead of her class, hopefully get a job, get to know the campus and the area, settle in, try not to die of loneliness. She was leaving behind a boyfriend of over a year, her family and many friends.
Eighty-five-year-old Adele, Brad’s mother, arrived in her town car, leased for the day complete with driver. She looked...rich. Rich and pinched and miserable. Beth, Chip and the boys arrived and it was all Beth could do to keep them from falling on the hors d’oeuvres like locusts. Ruby arrived and Lauren fell into her arms. “How are you holding up, girl?” Ruby asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “How’s Ted?”
“The same,” Ruby said. “I’m not going to stay long, I’m sure you and Cassie understand.”
“Absolutely. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”
“Thank you, but we’re getting by just fine.”
Ruby’s husband had had a stroke and he was coming along fairly well, home from rehab now. But there was no getting around the facts—he’d taken a life-threatening blow and at seventy-five, progress came slowly and Ruby felt the need to stay close.
She could not visit her troubles or plans on Ruby.
This was Ruby’s third marriage. The first took up nine years and brought her two sons. The second was very brief and painful, Like a woman who had learned nothing on her first terrible match, she had said. A few years later she married Ted, with whom she shared a warm and compatible relationship. It was Ruby who had said to her, Do what you can to try to make your marriage work. If you don’t try, you’ll have regrets. But listen to me—don’t wait too long or you’ll find yourself a trapped old woman with no options and a beastly old man who has perfected abuse. Someday one of you will be sick, dependent on the other. That’s hard enough when there’s love.
She hoped she hadn’t waited too long.
“I’ll stop by and see Ted soon,” Lauren said.
“He’d like that,” she said. “Everything looks so beautiful, as usual. You really know how to throw a party.”
“There sure have been enough of them, haven’t there?”
“A good many,” Ruby said.
The Delaneys were known for their wonderful parties—with delicious food and good company—if you liked a lot of medical people and a few others. There was always an extraordinary atmosphere. There were plastic water lilies holding votive candle holders floating around in the pool, classical music, a complete uniformed wait staff circulating with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The great room doors were open to the patio and the party flowed through the house. A plentiful buffet was set up in the dining room complete with a waiter slicing prime rib. The caterer had set up a series of round tables and chairs on the massive patio.
Over the years Brad and Lauren had hosted brunches, dinners, cocktail parties, summer pool parties, retirement parties, even a couple of wedding receptions.
For a moment she felt a touch of melancholy. She’d done a good job under difficult circumstances. Only once had she invited the people she worked with to a party exclusively for them and Brad had charmed them. Afterward, when they’d all left, he complained for at least a day. He didn’t like a one of them.
Their entertaining was mostly Brad’s suggestion. “I think we should have a Christmas party this year—we’ll invite the office staff, a few friends, family. Let’s say sixty people. Can you get it done?”
She never said no. She’d hire a piano player for the grand piano that occupied the foyer, sit down with the caterer, have Brad’s secretary work up some nice invitations, put together a guest list for him to review. He’d look it over and invariably add names or say, “Adults only, all right,” upon seeing her nephews on the list.
“But it’s Christmas!”
“They can come to Christmas but children don’t come to fancy cocktail parties and pour punch on the carpet!”
Just then she saw Sylvie Emerson walking toward her, Andy trailing behind her. Brad always invited the Emersons.
“Sylvie! How thoughtful of you to come!”
“How could I miss a chance to congratulate our future lawyer,” she said, pulling a card from her large purse. “And to say this—I realize you’ve been very busy with all this going on, but when things settle a bit, I’ll be waiting for the phone call about lunch.”
“Absolutely,” Lauren said. “I’m going to help Cassie get settled back east, then I would love to get together.”
“Perfect. Take me to the graduate,” Sylvie said. “We’re not staying long. We have somewhere to be a bit later.”
“Of course. And I’d like you to meet my sister and brother-in-law. He’s an Oakland police officer and the daughter of his late friend was a recipient of one of your scholarships.”
“Oh yes, please! It’s funny that Brad never mentioned that connection,” she said.
And Lauren wondered if Brad even knew.
The second Brad noticed Sylvie and Andy, he rushed to them and usurped Lauren’s place as escort. She let them go, confident that Sylvie would insist on meeting Beth and Chip and congratulating Cassie. She knew she’d have a chance to thank Sylvie again before she left.
Lauren had become a master entertainer. And she’d be more than happy to give it up. She looked forward to things that Brad would mock. Maybe a book club that met one evening a month, sometimes at her less auspicious home. Or hosting a baby shower for a young co-worker, somewhere a little less intimidating than the Delaney manse. She just wanted to be calm and comfortable; she wanted a grandbaby to take care of sometimes. Would her daughters invite her into the delivery room?
That was years away, she thought. But then when the party was ending, when all the toasts had been made to Cassie, when the brandy and cigars had been indulged by Brad and a few of his cronies, Cassie asked to speak to her alone. She was holding her boyfriend Jeremy’s hand. Oh no! Lauren thought. What’s this?
“Mom, I have some wonderful news,” Cassidy said. “Jeremy has decided to come to Boston.”
“Huh?” she said oh so eloquently.
Cassie laughed. “He’s decided to transfer to Boston University for his master’s program.”
“What? But haven’t you started already? At Berkeley?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I won’t get in until after the first of the year but that’s good. I’ll work and get a leg up on my research. We’ll settle in before we’re both deep in our programs.”
“Settle...in...?” she echoed.
Cassie laughed. “We’re going to live together. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.” She grabbed Jeremy’s hand. “I honestly didn’t know how I was going to stand the distance—each of us on a different coast.”
“Are you...? No, you’re not getting married.”
“Not yet, no,” Cassie said. “The subject has come up and we’re talking about marriage. But we agree that law school and his master’s is the first thing to consider. But at least we’ll be together.”
Lauren suddenly choked on a sob and covered her mouth. She loved Jeremy. He was a sensitive, wonderful young man. He was researching autism and he was by far the most decent and committed boy either of her girls had brought home. Cassie had been seeing him for over a year and Lauren knew they were serious.
“Mom...” Cassie said.
But Jeremy pulled her into a hug. “We’ll be okay,” he said. “We’re not rushing. As it turns out, Boston will be better for my research in some areas. And you’d thin
k I was stupid if I let Cassie get away.”
“I would,” she said. “But, oh God, it’s another one of those big transitions.”
Cassie laughed at her. “But you’re happy for us, right?”
“Does this mean you don’t need me to help you get settled?”
“Oh Mama, I really want to do this with you! You’re so good at this sort of thing.”
She wiped her cheeks. “True,” she said. “I am the best.” This was silly. She knew they were intimate. They were hardly children. She’d married at twenty-three. She laughed a little nervously.
Cassie asked Jeremy to go get them a couple of glasses of wine. When he was out of earshot, Cassie said, “Will you tell Daddy?”
Lauren frowned. “Shouldn’t you?” she asked.
Cassie shook her head. “I shouldn’t. He never likes my choices. Lacey could announce she’s moving in with Charles Manson and Daddy would applaud her good taste, but I never please him. And he doesn’t like Jeremy.”
“Oh, I’m sure he likes Jeremy. They just don’t have that much in common,” Lauren said. And then she asked herself why she lied for him? Brad didn’t like Jeremy because Jeremy was a sensitive intellectual who would never be rich. Jeremy was gentle and kind. Brad was not drawn to people like that.
“Will you please?” Cassie asked.
Lauren smiled at her youngest. She admired the choices Cassie was making. She admired that she’d chosen a good man who made her happy, a man who wanted her to be happy. “Is Jeremy coming with us to Boston to look at housing options?”
“No. He said that’s entirely up to me. And he insists he’ll get a job and pay half the rent.”
That made her smile again. “Will he be coming right away?”
“A few weeks after me,” she said. “He has stuff to wrap up and an apartment to clean out.”
“Then maybe I’ll wait a little while to tell your dad your plans.”