The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  They talked music. He gave her CDs and MP3 files from new artists he’d found. She’d steered him toward a couple of excellent investment bankers she knew. But their relationship never went beyond that.

  “Why wasn’t there more between us?” she asked as she pulled her glass of iced tea toward her.

  “You only play at relationships.”

  Harsh but possibly true, she thought. “Now that you’ve identified my flaw, what’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m afraid to fall in love.”

  “As easy as that?”

  “It’s not easy. It’s hell. The pleasure isn’t worth the potential pain. How do you do that? How do you simply hand over your heart knowing there’s a better than even chance it’s going to be returned to you in smaller slices than coleslaw?”

  “One day you’re going to have to take that leap of faith.”

  “Why? I’m perfectly happy.”

  She wondered if that were true. Or even possible. Pam and John would have been the closest she’d known and look what had happened there.

  “Is he a good guy?” Quinn asked. “The one you’re in love with?”

  “He is.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I want children and he had a vasectomy.”

  “So adopt.”

  “The conversation didn’t get that far. He left. We haven’t spoken much since.”

  Quinn studied her. “You’re breaking up with me regardless.”

  A statement or a question? And then she knew. “I am.” Because whether or not things worked out with Adam, Quinn was no longer good for her.

  “We still going to have lunch? Because I’ve had a hankering for this burger for weeks.”

  She smiled. “I would never deprive you of a burger, my friend.”

  “Good to know.”

  Eighteen

  Pam sat in the recliner. It was early still. Light barely crept into the house. Lulu was curled up on her lap, asleep. Her baby girl had been faithful, she thought, careful not to move so she wouldn’t disturb the canine’s sleep. Lulu had stayed with her every second of every day. Night after night, the little dog had been her only source of warmth. A gentle beating heart to keep her going until dawn.

  Pam looked at the bottle of wine on the table next to her. It was nearly finished. She’d taken to having a glass or three late in the evening. It helped her get sleepy. Nothing helped her stay asleep. She woke up every couple of hours to find herself crying. The fiery ache of missing John never faded, never wavered. It was as constant as the rotation of the earth.

  This past night had been better than most. Not because she’d slept, but because she’d been alone. She hadn’t had to pretend.

  Shannon and Nicole had made good on their promise to keep her company. They dropped by after work, stayed for dinner and sometimes spent the night. She knew they had her best interests at heart, but most of the time she simply wanted them to go away and leave her alone.

  Lulu stirred and opened her eyes. When she saw Pam looking at her, she wagged her tail, then rolled onto her back to show her belly.

  “Good morning, sweet girl,” Pam murmured. She stroked the bare skin of her stomach, then rubbed her chest. “How are you?”

  Lulu scrambled to her feet, planted her front paws on Pam’s chest, then lavished her with puppy kisses.

  “Yes, it is a new day.” Something that always made Lulu happy.

  Pam lifted her to the floor, then stood herself. She felt stiff and creaky. Sleeping in the chair wasn’t comfortable, but she couldn’t possibly face her big bed. She took a step and groaned when her back and hips protested. Maybe she could try sleeping in the guest room, she thought. Maybe that would be better.

  She made her way to the kitchen and let out the dog, then started her coffee. After collecting plates and ingredients for Lulu’s breakfast, she let her girl back in, then prepared her food. By the time the coffee was done, so was Lulu. Together they went into the master bath.

  Pam stared at her face. She looked old, she thought. Pale and lost. She hadn’t been doing any of her usual skin care. There were flakes and dullness to prove it. She’d managed to put on makeup a few days before, but had never washed it off. Old mascara collected under her eyes. Not that it mattered. Who was there to impress?

  She got through a shower and dried off. Lulu licked her damp feet, helping as best she could. Pam slipped on her robe and together they walked into the closet.

  She stood and stared at the racks of clothes. The closet was divided between her things and John’s. He’d taken about a third of the space, leaving her with the rest. She stared at the neatly hung shirts, the pants, the jeans. His shoes all in a row on a shelf.

  She reached for one shirt, not sure what she was going to do with it. Roll it into a ball? Put it on? Regardless, it fell to the floor.

  Lulu immediately jumped on it, thinking they were playing a game. Pam pulled another shirt off a hanger. It fell on the dog and she yipped with excitement.

  Shirt after shirt was tossed. Pants and jeans followed, then ties and jackets. Lulu stood to the side and barked with excitement, then jumped on the giant pile. She started digging and soon was lost in the mass of clothing.

  Pam quickly dressed. She changed Lulu into a light sweater, then opened the hatch of her small SUV and began carting the clothes to the back. She didn’t fold them or organize them in any way. She simply stuffed them inside and when she was done, she got in her car and drove to the Goodwill.

  She waited an hour for the donation center to open. A nice young man helped her take everything out, then offered her a receipt. She said that wasn’t necessary.

  She returned home to her quiet house and crawled into the recliner. Lulu curled up on her lap. Pam held the dog and waited for time to pass. Because that was all she had. The knowledge that time passed, however slowly.

  * * *

  By three Pam was shaking and by three thirty, she knew she couldn’t manage any of this alone. She dug her cell phone out of her bag and scrolled through all the listings.

  Not her kids. They were just getting back into their lives. They didn’t need to know she was falling apart. Name after name flashed by and not one of them seemed right.

  Nicole’s name came up next and Pam felt the tension in her chest ease. She pushed the number to make the call.

  “Hi,” Nicole said. “I was just thinking about you. Tyler and I were thinking about coming by later. I talked to Shannon earlier and she’d like to stop by, too. Would that work?”

  Pam closed her eyes and nodded in gratitude. “I’d like that.”

  “I’m bringing dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Anything.”

  “I’m on my way home now. Tyler and I will be there by five.”

  “Don’t you have class at five?”

  “Not anymore. I’ve hired another instructor. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”

  “Thank you,” Pam breathed.

  “Of course. We miss you. See you soon.”

  Pam hung up. She patted Lulu. “You’re going to have Tyler to play with.”

  Lulu wagged her tail.

  Pam got up and studied the family room. There were plates with food on them, glasses and empty wine bottles everywhere. The kitchen was worse, she thought, remembering the partially eaten casseroles she’d left out, the stack of dirty dog food dishes.

  “There’s a mess,” sh
e told the dog. “I’d better get cleaning.”

  She moved slowly at first, carrying each dish individually back to the kitchen. But the more trips she made, the more she was able to carry. She loaded the dishwasher, then started the cycle. She took out the trash and saw the can was nearly full. Because Steven had stopped coming by to take out the can for her.

  She stood there, breathing hard, knowing that there would be a million other moments like this. Moments when she would be forced to remember that she was alone. John was gone and he was never coming back.

  “Stop it,” she told herself. “Just stop it.”

  She had to learn to function. She had to start doing better. Or at least faking it better. Because healing was something she knew would never happen. The alternative was to fake enough not to frighten anyone. John would want that, at the very least.

  She ignored the fact that he would also want her to keep moving forward, to have a life, to be happy. All impossible concepts when faced with a full trash barrel.

  She tried to figure out what day it was and then remember when the trash came. It overwhelmed her, so she retreated to the house, where she at least knew what she was doing.

  With the family room and kitchen looking reasonably presentable, she went into the master bath to do the same with herself. She washed her face and was shocked at how her skin was peeling like a snake. She quickly pulled out an exfoliating mask and used it, then slathered on moisturizer before applying light makeup. When she’d done all she could to be presentable, she let out Lulu for a potty run. While the dog was doing her thing, she collected three days’ worth of mail before returning to the house.

  She’d barely sorted the envelopes into piles—bills, condolence cards, crap—when the doorbell rang. Lulu barked with excitement and raced toward the front of the house. Pam followed, surprisingly eager for her company.

  She opened the door and nearly started to cry again. Nicole stood with a take-out bag in one hand and a roller bag suitcase handle in the other. Tyler had a Brad the Dragon backpack over his shoulders.

  “Hi,” Nicole said. “We decided we wanted to spend the night. I hope that’s okay.”

  Pam opened her arms. Nicole stepped into her embrace and hung on like she was never going to let go. Tyler grabbed Pam’s leg and hugged tight, too. Pam breathed deeply for the first time in days and thought maybe, just maybe, this night was going to be easier.

  * * *

  Nicole sipped from her wineglass. “I miss you in class,” she admitted, not sure if that was okay to say. Her decision to come visit her friend had been sudden. Driven as much by her need to get out of her house as to help Pam. But now that she was here, she wished she’d come by sooner.

  The death of a husband had to be devastating, but even knowing that, she’d been unprepared for Pam’s appearance. Her normally well-groomed, classy friend was disheveled at best. She’d lost weight and looked drawn. In the past month, she’d aged at least ten years.

  Shannon had looked equally shocked when she’d arrived an hour later. She’d brought cupcakes and wine, along with her overnight tote. So far the two of them hadn’t had a chance to go off together and compare impressions, but Nicole knew there was plenty to say. Pam wasn’t doing well at all.

  More upsetting than her friend’s change in appearance was her lack of energy. It wasn’t just how slowly she moved, it was the dullness in her eyes. The way she seemed to have difficulty following the conversation. She wasn’t totally with it. Nicole hoped it was just grief and not something more troubling like pills or other drugs.

  “Steven told me that you were invited to join Moving Women Forward,” she said, then waited for Pam to catch up with the subject change. “Did I ever tell you that they helped me when I first bought the studio?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Shannon said.

  “I couldn’t have gone into business for myself without their help. But I couldn’t have stayed in business without your help and advice, Pam. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You should really think about accepting their invitation.”

  “I need to get back into exercising,” Pam admitted, missing the point but at least engaging in the conversation at last. “I’m so tired and sore all the time. I’m sure it would help.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, we want you back,” Shannon said. “It’s not as fun without you. You’re the glue that holds us all together.”

  “I’m not sure I’d be much fun now,” Pam said. “Or glue-like. I can’t remember the last time I laughed.”

  Nicole touched her arm. “We’re not looking for a stand-up routine. Having you around would be enough.”

  They were in the large family room. In addition to John’s recliner, there was a huge sectional sofa. Rather than separate into various bedrooms, they’d decided they were all going to sleep here. Tyler was already zonked out on the floor. He’d been thrilled with the chance to use his B the D sleeping bag. Nicole and Shannon would sleep on the sectional and Pam would settle in John’s recliner.

  Nicole wondered if that was where she slept now. To feel closer to him, maybe. Or to avoid their bed. Because they’d spent the past thirty-plus years sharing a bed, she thought, aware that her husband still slept in his office. She was beginning to think he was never coming back into their bedroom.

  Pam sipped her wine. “Enough about me and my troubles. How are you two doing?”

  “I’m fine,” Shannon said brightly. “Everything’s great. Nicole, how are things with Eric? With the new screenplay?”

  Nicole wasn’t going to mention her romantic separation from her husband, but there was plenty of other news.

  “It’s been a whirlwind. He spends his days either doing rewrites or taking meetings.”

  “He’s still the big-shot writer?” Pam asked.

  “You know it. But I’m just as bad. Do you know I’ve actually been interviewing nannies? I can’t believe it. But with him gone so much and all his strange hours, there’s no way I can count on him to take Tyler to preschool or pick him up. And while I really like having another instructor, she’s only part-time and that means I’m still the one mostly responsible for the classes. There’s no way I can be running around with Tyler.”

  She didn’t mention that she was also talking to the various women she’d interviewed about their willingness to do housework, laundry and cooking. Because Eric insisted they have a full-service nanny.

  “Two months ago, we were struggling to pay the bills,” she continued. “Now I’m interviewing nannies. It’s surreal.”

  “Have you found anyone?” Shannon asked.

  Nicole wrinkled her nose. “A woman named Greta. She’s worked with two people Eric knows and they speak very highly of her. She’s in her early fifties, she’s never been married. She loves children and whenever I’m around her, I feel inadequate.”

  Pam smiled. “I doubt that.”

  “No, I do. She believes in a totally organic kitchen. She’s a vegan but thinks meat is good for growing children. She bakes her own bread, does windows and looks at me like I’m an idiot. Should I hire someone who intimidates me?”

  “What does Tyler think of her?” Shannon asked. “Because that matters the most.”

  “He adores her.”

  “We all make sacrifices for our children,” Pam murmured.

  “You think it’s funny that she scares me.”

  “A little.”

  Nicole sighed. “I should probably just be grateful she c
omes so highly recommended.” She shifted so she could sit cross-legged on the sofa. “Eric is turning into a total Hollywood type. He’s reading Variety every day and quotes articles to me.”

  “More surreal moments?” Shannon asked.

  “Daily. I’m trying to be supportive and at the same time, I’m completely uncomfortable.”

  Pam’s expression turned sad. “Everything’s different. You don’t know where you are or how to find your balance. Life makes us start over again and again. Of course you feel different. Anyone would.”

  Nicole wanted to slap herself. She was supposed to be helping her friend, not making things worse. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m not helping.”

  “You’re wrong. Having you here is a great help. I really appreciate it.” Pam turned to Shannon. “It’s nice to have my friends with me.”

  “You sure?” Shannon asked.

  “I swear.” She managed a shaky smile. “And in the morning we’ll have nonorganic calorie-filled pancakes and sausage for breakfast.”

  Nicole grinned. “You sure know how to show us a good time.”

  “I try.”

  * * *

  The Goodwill store was big and bright, with high ceilings and more of a crowd than Pam would have expected on a Thursday morning. She pushed her cart through the aisles of clothing. She didn’t have a plan, exactly. She was simply here to collect what was hers. Or more correctly, John’s.

  She’d tried to fill in the empty space in the closet by spreading out her things. She’d told herself it was for the better, that she had to start moving on. But the words didn’t seem to help. She still felt she’d given away something precious and now she had to get it back.

  What she hadn’t expected was the sheer size of the men’s department. There were dozens of racks of clothing, maybe hundreds. How was she supposed to find what had belonged to John? What if all the shirts looked the same and she couldn’t tell which were his?