A Summer in Sonoma

by Robyn Carr

  “See, there’s a reason some women decide to just have the family on their own,” Beth said, lifting a forkful of lettuce to her mouth.

  But Julie was more fascinated by Marty than Beth. “Marty, I’ve never heard you talk like this. I thought you were crazy about Joe.”

  “Sure,” she said, chewing a mouthful of salad. “I am. Joe’s a great guy, a good father, a dependable man in his own way—and God knows the women he’s carried down the ladder out of a burning building are in love with him forever—but around home he’s a bum. He’s got sweats and gym shorts he hides so they won’t get washed until they’re so ripe they could walk to the laundry room. His whole closet stinks.” They have two closets, Julie thought jealously. “He spit shines the boat, but he can’t shave the bristle off his chin before he rolls over onto me. The yard has to be perfect, which by the way is sweaty, smelly work, and that vagrant-esque odor sticks to him—at the dinner table and when we go to bed at night. And believe me, he is limited to the yard, garage and the sporting equipment in his ability to clean things.”

  “I’ve never seen Joe looking like a vagrant,” Cassie said.

  “You would if you were married to him. He cleans up for company,” Marty said. “Really, what he gives F.D. is perfect. If we’re having people over, he’s all spiffed up. But when it comes to his wife, his marriage—he takes it totally for granted. He doesn’t even try.”

  “Marty, you should tell him,” Julie said.

  “You think I haven’t told him? I’ve begged him!” Marty insisted. “He doesn’t care. He thinks it’s funny. He tells me to relax. Don’t you get sick of Billy sometimes?” Marty asked Julie.

  “Uh, yeah. But not for the same reasons….”

  “Well, what reasons?”

  He’s too fertile. I’m too fertile with him. He’s too romantic, like we’re still in high school, doing it in the backseat of a car, like two kids who can’t help it, can’t stop it from happening. He’s disgustingly optimistic, like the world we live in doesn’t even exist—the world of too many bills, too little pay. She’d give anything if Billy worked only for F.D. and actually had days off to help around the house, help with the kids. But she said, “Well, some of the same reasons, but…”

  “But?”

  She shrugged. “That stuff doesn’t get to me so much.” Because I have real problems, she thought, feeling angry and envious. A house that’s too small with a mortgage too big, cars that are too old, out of control bills…. “Okay, some of that stuff gets to me. But, Marty, it looks like you and Joe have a pretty good life.”

  “Because we have a boat?” she asked. “Jules, I didn’t want a boat. And I’d rather die than spend another week in that RV! I’d give anything for a vacation somewhere cool, just me and Joe. Like Hawaii or the Bahamas or something. I’d like to watch a movie that doesn’t involve fifty-seven people getting shot or out-of-control farts. I’d like to go out to dinner. Or to Las Vegas—to spend the night in a classy hotel, have a day at the spa, then lie by the pool—but Joe says, ‘Why go to Vegas to get a tan when we have a boat?’ Could it be because it’s up to me to shop, prepare food, fix everyone’s meals and then clean up everything when we bring the boat in? That’s not fun—it’s just more work!” Marty lifted some of her salad to her mouth, chewed and said, “You’re lucky. Billy still treats you as if he’d like you to marry him.”

  Hmm, Julie thought. Why don’t I feel so lucky? Could it be because you can’t live on just love?

  Three

  Julie stopped off in the ladies’ room after lunch before leaving the restaurant. Right before she scrolled off some toilet paper, she prayed, Oh, God, let there be blood! But alas, it was what she knew it would be. She flushed and exited the stall. She met eyes in the mirror with Chelsea.

  “Well,” Chelsea said, beaming. “We just keep crossing paths.”

  They gave each other little cheek presses. “What are you doing here?” Julie asked.

  “Lunch after a sales meeting,” she said. “Our dealership is just a few blocks away.”

  “That’s right—you’re selling cars now,” Julie said.

  “Well,” Chelsea said, laughing indulgently, “Hummers. And I’m a sales manager. My dealership won a couple of awards recently.”

  Julie noticed that Chelsea wore a very attractive suit and her shoes were to die for. Julie no longer knew anything about brands—she’d been picking up her duds at Target when she had money to spare—but she knew they were tres expensive. Julie wore a sundress and sandals, each about three years old, the same thing she might wear for a trip to the grocery store. She felt as if she’d been thrown together out of a thrift shop. “Aren’t they kind of hard to sell these days? Hummers?”

  “Nah,” Chelsea said, shaking her head dismissively. “Even in a down economy, we move a lot of them. People just love them. They think of it as a symbol of affluence—the bigger the better.”

  “With gas prices so high?” Julie asked, noting all the little extras about Chelsea—manicured nails, shaped and waxed brows, highlighted curls, rich-looking makeup that appeared almost professional.

  “I don’t think our sales have even dropped. What are you doing here today?”

  “Lunch with the girls,” she said with a shrug. “It isn’t very often we can drag Beth out.”

  “Oh. Sure. You’re looking very smart today,” Chelsea said. “Cool and comfortable and pretty.”

  Julie immediately felt as if Chelsea was throwing her a bone. She said, “Thanks, that’s nice of you to say. I just grabbed this at Costco.” Then she thought, Why did I have to say that? Chelsea’s purse was worth Julie’s weekly household allowance. “Why did you leave that company you worked for before? Insurance, wasn’t it?”

  “Health care,” she said, lifting a brow. “It was quite a while ago, actually. I’m just following the money, Jules. Health care is good, but there are a lot of business degrees in there humping for management. This is better.”

  “Wasn’t it a hard transition? They don’t seem to have much in common….”

  “On the surface, maybe. In the end, business is business. When I thought I needed a change, I started working weekends at the dealership, and when I’d made enough money to see the potential, I quit Health South and went full-time. Do you have any idea what the commission is on a Hummer? But what I’m really interested in is upper management, eventually a dealership.”

  “A Hummer dealership? At twenty-nine?”

  “It’s not going to happen next week,” Chelsea said with a laugh. “Listen, one of these times when you girls get together for lunch, give me a call, huh?”

  “Sure,” Julie said, thinking, Never gonna happen. “Today was pretty last-minute. I don’t think it was even planned till ten this morning….”

  “I’m flexible,” she said. “I have to run. The owner is waiting.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” Julie said, busying herself at the sink. “Take it easy.” She washed her hands while the door closed behind Chelsea. All that kiss-kiss-call-me bullshit, she thought. They’d stopped fighting like cats in a sack the year after graduation, but little else had changed. Chelsea had been a cheerleader, too. She’d managed to stay friendly with Marty, but Chelsea had dated Billy during one of his rare and brief breakups with Julie, which had lost her any chance of being friends with Julie. Because of that, Cassie wrote her off. Beth had never cared about all that drama. And to this day Chelsea’s eyes lit up when she saw Billy. It made Julie furious.

  But there was no question that Chelsea had made good. She, like Billy, had a degree in education. If it weren’t for the fact that Chelsea had gone to college full-time while Billy picked up night classes whenever he could, Julie would suspect her of following him into that major. Billy had gravitated toward industrial arts while Chelsea was elementary education. Neither of them had ever worked as teachers.

  Like her or not, what Chelsea said got Julie thinking. Why wasn’t Billy doing something like that? Finding a field he could w
ork in part-time, looking for a better opportunity, instead of cutting wood and countertops for extra money? Why wasn’t Billy following the money?

  When she left the restaurant, she saw Beth and Cassie standing by Beth’s car, talking, probably saying goodbye. She gave them a wave and got in her car. She slipped the key in and thought, If it doesn’t start, I’ll sue those people at the auto supply. But it started. She glanced at the odometer—a hundred and four thousand miles and change.

  After lunch with the girls, Cassie cornered Beth at her car for a minute. “Are you serious about that? Having a baby without a husband?”

  “If I wanted a baby and didn’t have a husband on the agenda, I would do it,” Beth said. “I don’t know why everything you want out of life has to be put on hold because the right man hasn’t turned up.”

  “Huh. That never occurred to me,” Cassie said. “But, Beth, you had a real serious guy back in med school. Couple of years—you lived together….”

  “Believe me, I’d rather have a child without a husband than go through something like that again. That ended so badly. A lot of hard feelings. Makes me pretty suspicious of relationships….”

  “Yeah, that was horrible,” Cassie said. “Well, I know people do it all the time—have children even though they’re single. But it seems like they’re always celebrities or millionaires, not ordinary people. Not working women.”

  Beth smiled. “Those celebrities—they probably work harder than you and I.”

  “Maybe I should think about that. I want a family, but I always thought…”

  “Listen, Cassie, you and I might be coming at the subject from different perspectives. I’m not sure I’m even interested in having a husband. I’m so rigid, so set in my ways. So completely selfish. A problem like Marty has with Joe might seem small, but it would seriously make me want to kill him. But with you—isn’t it really a husband you want most? Even more than a baby?”

  “When you get right down to it,” she admitted. “But come on—I’m almost thirty. And I’m so sick of going out with losers. I never even considered alternatives.”

  “You have to think out of the box,” Beth said. “So…you think Marty and Joe are all right? Is that just wifey bitching?”

  “I have no idea. Really, I thought they were fine.”

  “They don’t seem too fine. And what about Jules? Something’s going on with her. She acts like everything is okay, but something’s wrong there.”

  “Yeah, they’re going through some stuff. Money’s tight—Billy’s working two jobs to make ends meet and is hardly ever home. Julie’s tired—the kids are wearing her out. But this is Jules and Billy. They argue, but they get it together. It’s not like Marty and Joe—it’s not about a boat.”

  Beth laughed. “See the problem with marriage? People get all upside down about a boat?”

  “Sounds like there’s more to it than that. No compromise. That would get anyone upside down.”

  “See?” Beth said. “I’m not a good candidate for marriage. I’m the one who wouldn’t be able to compromise—I like things the way I like things.”

  And I’d do anything, Cassie thought. Really, anything. But that opportunity hadn’t even presented itself. “So, you don’t think it would be crazy?” she asked. “To have a baby?”

  “Nah, I don’t think it’s crazy,” she answered easily. “Actually, I think it’s intelligent. What’s crazy is marrying the wrong person because you want a family. If I wanted a child but didn’t have a partner, I’d definitely consider it. But that’s a far-fetched thought for me….”

  “How much time do you think you have? I mean, how much time do we have?”

  “Six or seven years, realistically. Longer under the right circumstances. We’re getting women through healthy pregnancies older and older. Right now I’m too consumed to even think about things like partners, babies, and that’s the truth. I don’t know what I’d do with a boyfriend if I had one. Run out on him every time the phone rang, probably. Listen, I don’t have any advice—I think that one very bad boyfriend might be it for my love life. I’ve always been too busy. I can’t pay attention to a man for long, which is probably the real reason that last one ended so badly. My mind wanders. I’m always thinking about other things. I’m self-centered. And if I found a guy like me? We’d be like strangers in the same house—totally preoccupied with our own agendas. I might be better off never running into a guy I could tolerate. That’s why I can’t have a child without a nanny—I’m probably not capable of being completely responsible for a child.”

  “Aw, that can’t be true….”

  “It can be. Look at my parents. They were just brilliant nutcases—a couple of smart people who didn’t care about much outside of their work. Other than my education, they didn’t have a clue what was happening in my life. You could talk to either one of them for fifteen straight minutes and they might not hear a word. It’s a DNA thing—it’s in me, too. That’s why everyone thinks I’m weird.”

  Cassie smiled at her. “Well, I don’t. I think you’re amazing. And your patients love you.”

  “I’m so lucky that way,” she said appreciatively. “I think I accidentally became a good doctor. It’s a miracle. And believe me, I don’t take it for granted. I love my work so much.” She smiled wistfully. “Honestly, I live for it. It’s all that matters.”

  Cassie had always envied Beth’s brains and success, even though what she really wanted was what Julie had. Beth had always seemed so sure of everything she aimed for in life. When they were younger she’d never been the least bit insecure about not being popular, not having a boyfriend. Even major setbacks—and Beth had been through some heavy stuff—barely seemed to slow her down. She marched on, following her instincts, doing what she was born to do.

  Beth’s parents were oddballs—a couple of middle-class eggheads. Her mother was a librarian at the college and her father was a professor—helminthology. The study of worms. Beth grew up in a messy house cluttered with papers, bulging bookshelves and microscopes, dishes stacked in the sink, beds unmade, dirty clothes piled high, her parents completely distracted by their intellectual obsessions. They never had a lot of money to throw around, nor did they pay much attention to their daughter, but they had real high educational standards and had raised themselves a young genius who proved she could be the best of both of them. Beth had been in gifted programs since she was six.

  But Julie…Julie had Billy, who had adored her for thirteen years. He still looked at her as if she was the only woman alive. They might have to pinch their pennies most of the time, but their relationship was solid, unshakable. Jules might not be able to count on being able to pay the bills, but she could always count on Billy loving her, being there for her. And if they ran into a big problem, they never failed to tackle it together.

  Given a choice, Cassie would take the kids, money troubles and true love, which she figured must make her a fool. A rational look at the world around her indicated an M.D. was more practical and reliable than a Mr. and Mrs.

  Driving home from lunch, she found herself passing that motorcycle dealership. She let herself go three more blocks before making a U-turn and going back. She went into the showroom and faced the same grinning salesman. “Hi,” she said. “I wonder if Walt Arneson is working today?”

  “One second.” He smiled. He went down the counter to a phone, dialed, spoke into it briefly and said, “Miss?” He held the receiver toward her.

  “Hello?” she said into the phone. “Walt?”

  “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

  “Good. I was on my way home and passed the dealership and thought…maybe you’d like me to buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “Are you in a big hurry?”

  “Well…no, I guess not. Why?”

  “I’m at another store, but if you want to wait a few minutes—like, twenty—I’ll be right there.”

  “Oh, listen. I don’t want you to go to any—”

  “Cassie, I love
having coffee with you. It’s not any trouble, believe me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You made my day. Go to the bookstore, get us a couple of coffees, settle into our spot if it’s free and I’ll see you in twenty.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Walk slowly.” And he hung up.

  This is loony, she found herself thinking. What in the world do I hope to gain by a dumb-ass move like this? “You called him at another store?” she asked the salesman.

  “Sure. That’s where he was. He’s on the move a lot.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks.” Then she headed for the bookstore, slowly. She browsed a little before buying the coffees, settling into the corner that had become theirs.

  Thirty minutes later, she knew what she hoped to gain. She was laughing with him as she told him about lunch with her girlfriends, about Marty complaining about her husband, about Beth suggesting it was perfectly logical to have a baby without one. She told him all about Steve and her plans to get a puppy in a couple of years to keep him company. He told her about the ride he took up to Tahoe over the weekend—just a quick one, a few hours in the morning. When he described the views, the lake, the mountains in full summer green, she began to get a sense for why he found this enjoyable. It was odd that this grease monkey had such an appreciation for the outdoors.

  “Seems like if you’re so fond of nature, you’d hunt or fish or camp.”

  “I camp,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Sort of. If I have time for a weekend ride, I take a bedroll and backpack, find a nice piece of beach under the stars or a soft pad of grass on a hilltop and…camp. I don’t think I’m patient enough to fish and I could never shoot anything.”

  “How about golf?” she asked teasingly.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” He laughed hard at that. Imagine this guy in his boots and chains and naked lady swinging around a golf club with the Polo-clad crowd.