The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  Shannon held on to her coffee with both hands. Adam had called a half hour before and told her they had to talk. She knew he was right—they had things they needed to talk about. Her solution for dealing with the tough stuff had been to avoid him as much as possible. Not the mature response and not one she was proud of. So when he’d asked to get together, she’d cleared her calendar to meet with him.

  She’d never been dumped by the POP, she thought as they walked across the street and stepped onto the cement path that stretched from Pacific Palisades to Santa Monica. And somehow she’d assumed that if her relationship with Adam ended, she would be the one saying goodbye.

  But it hadn’t happened that way. They’d reached an impasse. They wanted different things and there was no easy solution. Maybe if they’d been together longer, she thought sadly. Maybe they would have a chance.

  She wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with losing him. He was a great guy and she had fallen in love with him. Foolishly, she’d allowed herself to believe she was finally going to get to have it all. Marriage, kids and growing old with someone.

  When she’d realized that wasn’t going to happen, she’d put off the inevitable as long as possible. Now that it was here, she promised herself she would be reasonable. Even kind. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. When they were done, she would go back to her office and finish her day. But that night—all bets were off.

  She wondered how long it would take to stop missing him. How long until she was able to think about seeing someone else. How long until thinking about him didn’t cause a physical ache.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said as they turned north.

  “I have.”

  She wondered how they looked from the outside. A successful couple, she thought. Adam might be in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and work boots, but he had an air of confidence about him. No one would be surprised to learn he ran an eight-figure construction project.

  She had on one of her business suits. It was California-inspired—less structured than a traditional suit, but with all the pieces. Her high heels clicked on the cement path.

  “If we don’t talk, we can’t fix the problem,” he told her. “Something this big could get in the way of what we want.” He pulled her to a stop and stared into her eyes. “Shannon, I love you. That hasn’t changed. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know what you’re thinking. Are you still in this with me or are you already gone?”

  She stared into his eyes and read the truth there. He wasn’t done with her. He wasn’t breaking up with her. He was trying to fix things between them. He was acting like the grown-up in the room.

  “I’m not gone,” she whispered.

  “Promise?”

  She nodded.

  He exhaled. “Thank you for saying that. I was really worried. Especially when you disappeared. I know this is hard. I’m working on it. Can you give me some time? I’m not talking years or even months, but I need a few weeks to get my head around things.”

  Because he took her seriously, she thought, amazed and grateful. Because he wanted her to be happy.

  “Take as long as you need.”

  He smiled and touched her cheek. “I appreciate the offer. I want to work this out. I can’t believe I found you. I don’t want to blow it.”

  “Me, either.”

  “Then promise me you won’t disappear on me again. If you’re mad, say so. We can fight about it. We can search for solutions. I’m good at that. What I can’t deal with is being shut out.”

  Something she hadn’t thought about before, but now that she did, it made sense. Of course he didn’t want to be excluded. He knew the price of doing that. It was one of the reasons he’d ended up divorced.

  “I promise.”

  A skateboarder in shorts and a T-shirt whizzed past them. Adam ignored the guy as he leaned toward her and kissed her mouth.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “For what it’s worth, I’m not the only one who’s missed you. The kids have been asking about you. Char keeps saying how she wants to make sure you’re at her party.”

  Ah, the infamous birthday bash at Epic, Shannon thought. “Why do I know that’s more about her fear that you’re staying than her excitement at having me there?”

  “Whatever works,” he said with a smile.

  She kissed him and felt the hardness in her heart crack. “You’re right. Whatever works. I don’t want lose you, either. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

  “Never.”

  * * *

  “I don’t understand,” Jen said, holding up a tiny onesie. “How can clothing be organic?”

  “Maybe it’s the cotton they use. Or the dying process.” In today’s world, Pam half expected to see a gluten-free sign over a bag of socks.

  “I guess when Kirk and I register for the baby, we’ll have to decide about organic fabrics.”

  Which would make them wildly popular with their friends, Pam thought. Not that she would say anything. Jen had invited her to lunch followed by an afternoon of wandering at South Bay Galleria. While Pam generally preferred the odd little stores in Mischief Bay, every now and then she enjoyed hanging out at the mall. These days having a reason to leave the house was good. She knew she was spending too much time on her own. While Lulu was a faithful companion, she wasn’t much for conversation.

  She knew it would be better if in addition to feeling she needed to get out, that she also wanted to get out. But that wasn’t happening. Her days were still cold and empty, with the realization she would never be happy again. She still drank too much, didn’t eat enough and had long given up ever feeling normal.

  She knew down to the minute how long ago John had died. She resented him for dying and ached for him in equal measures. She was lost and alone and yet had apparently learned to fake it so well, no one bothered to ask her how she was doing in that worried tone she’d grown used to. Even Jen had barely mentioned John.

  People moved on, she told herself. People healed. Not her, but then she had been his wife. Their relationship was different. No one else had marked the passage of time by his comings and goings.

  “You don’t have to decide anything now,” Pam pointed out. “You have a lot of time until you need to register.”

  Jen nodded and linked arms with her. “You’re right. Thanks. I’m not even showing. I’m still in all my regular pants.” Jen wrinkled her nose. “Not the skinny day ones, but all the others.”

  Pam heard the impatience in her daughter’s voice. Because like nearly every other expectant mother-to-be, she was ready to proclaim her baby to the world. She thought maternity clothes would be cool and fun.

  Pam remembered her own excitement when she’d been pregnant. The thrill of knowing there was going to be a baby. The terror that she didn’t know how to be a mother with the first one and the worry about exhaustion with the second and third.

  “You’ll be showing soon enough,” she told her daughter. “Trust me, when it’s finally time to have your baby, you’ll be thrilled to get on the road to getting your body back.”

  “I guess.”

  “You sound doubtful. We’ll have another conversation about this in seven months. I’ll be the one saying ‘I told you so.’”

  Jen laughed. “You’d never say that.”

  They walked out of the store and headed for California Pizza Kitchen for lunch. Jen had suggested the place, admitting she was desperate for pizza. Pam had agreed because she generally
liked their food and these days what did it matter? She ate because she had to. Her stomach cramped and she felt light-headed if she didn’t. But there was no pleasure in it.

  They were seated at a booth. Jen eagerly opened the menu and studied the options. Pam looked at her daughter. Overhead light caught a few strands of Jen’s sleek hair. Her skin looked firm and flush with good health.

  At night, when she couldn’t sleep, she thought about her children and wished them long and happy lives. If only she could spare them from future unhappiness, she thought. Because that was all she had to give them. Wishes and hopes. There wasn’t much of anything else left. Not inside of her.

  She knew that on the surface, she was doing fine. Quieter than usual, sure. But getting through the days. She’d figured out when the trash had to go out and was paying her bills. She answered the phone because if she didn’t, people worried. Shannon and Nicole stopped by faithfully and she pretended to be excited to see them. But despite the physical actions, she wasn’t fine. She was barely getting by.

  Most nights, she couldn’t sleep. She drank more than she should. She lost hours just sitting and thinking about John. Sometimes she would look up and be surprised to discover it was dark outside.

  But those were her secrets. She protected her pain from outside scrutiny. She no longer thought she should be locked up, but she certainly wasn’t ready to give up the daily grief that connected her so completely with John.

  “Barbecue chicken pizza,” her daughter said firmly as she closed the menu. “What about you, Mom?”

  “I’m getting that soup I like.”

  “Dakota smashed pea and barley?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Is it enough? Do you want a sandwich to go with that?”

  “No, thanks.” She pushed the menu aside. “I take it Kirk’s working today.”

  “He is. He’s been taking extra hours when he can. To pad our savings.”

  Pam thought about the sale of the business. “You’ll be getting money from your father,” she said. “Won’t that be enough?”

  Jen’s easy smile faded. “We’re saving that, Mom. For the kids’ college. Our retirement. That’s not money we’d spend.”

  Because her daughter was sensible, Pam thought with pride. “You’re taking a long-term view. That’s good.”

  “I can’t help it. Somehow it seems wrong to spend it on a vacation or carpeting. I want it put away. There will be expenses later.” She rested her elbows on the table. “Everything’s different now that we’re having a baby. Like we can’t be frivolous. We’re going to get a will, if you can believe it.”

  Jen paused. “Is it okay I say that?”

  “Of course.” Pam forced a smile. “You’re going to have a child of your own. Things change with that. When that happens, we’re all forced to be the adult in the room. Harder for some than others. You’ve always made smart decisions.”

  “I wish that were true, but thanks for the compliment. I worry, though. About Kirk. He’s in a dangerous line of work. What if something happened to him? I’m not like you, Mom. I couldn’t be that strong.”

  Pam thought about the long nights, the crying, the way every single breath hurt. She wasn’t nearly as strong as they all thought, but sharing that wouldn’t help anyone.

  “We all do what we have to,” she said instead. “You’d get by because there isn’t an alternative. But I suspect you and Kirk will be together for a long, long time.”

  Jen’s eyes filled with tears. “Thanks for saying that. I hope you’re right. I miss Daddy a lot.”

  Pam nodded. Her throat tightened and she found herself longing to be home. Lulu never brought up John. Pam was the one who decided what she could stand and what she couldn’t.

  “He’s never going to see his first grandchild.” Tears spilled down Jen’s cheeks. “I think about that all the time. It’s so unfair.”

  Pam wanted to shriek at her that Jen couldn’t begin to understand what was unfair. That Pam’s loss was greater. Harder. Sharper.

  Parents were older. They were expected to die at some point. But not a husband. Not so soon. She hadn’t been ready.

  But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she pulled out the stash of tissues she kept with her and passed a couple across the table. Jen took one and wiped her eyes.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I cry all the time. I try not to do it outside the house, but it’s still happening.”

  Jen nodded and sniffed. “Mom, if you want to come stay with us, you know you can, right?”

  For the first time in days, Pam smiled spontaneously. “I love you like you’re my own daughter, but moving in with you and Kirk is my own version of hell.”

  Jen laughed. “I figured, but you’re always welcome.”

  “Don’t take it personally.”

  “I won’t. You’d hate living with the boys even more.”

  “You got that right.”

  Jen squared her shoulders. “Enough of my emotions. How are you doing? Really? Tell me the truth. Is it better than it was?”

  Pam thought about the long nights, the hideously lonely days. She thought about how she wandered from room to room, waiting for someone who would never return. She thought about the pain, the tears, the bottles of wine she consumed. Then she looked into her daughter’s beautiful face and knew lying offered the most kindness.

  “It’s better. Not great. But it’s better.”

  Twenty-One

  “We should do something today,” Eric said.

  It was nine on Sunday morning. Nicole had yet to shower, let alone dress. She had been looking forward to a long day of doing nothing. With Greta taking care of things like grocery shopping and cleaning, Nicole’s free time had taken a turn for the open and she was excited about that.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked as she thought about getting another cup of coffee. But that would mean getting up and walking across the kitchen. “I could look online. I’m sure the California Science Center has something fun going on.”

  It was also one place Tyler had a good time. He was still too young for the other museums. “Oh, there’s also the La Brea Tar Pits. He’d like that.”

  “Not a museum,” Eric told her. “I was thinking we’d have a party. Here.”

  “A party? Today?”

  “Sure. Just a few people over. We’ll grill burgers. It’ll be great.”

  Nicole watched as her vision of a do-nothing day evaporated like mist. On the bright side, Eric hadn’t been interested in socializing outside of his writer friends for months, which meant there were a lot of people she hadn’t seen, either. Their friends were mostly couple friends. And with her and Eric not acting like a couple lately, they’d been turning down invitations regularly.

  “You’re right,” she said firmly. She got up and walked to the coffeepot. “We should invite all our friends over. I’m sure some are busy, but we’ll take who we can get. It’ll be good for us to hang out with them.”

  Eric got a pad of paper and started making a list. It got up to twenty people pretty quickly, but Nicole figured they’d be lucky to get half that to attend. Once the list was made, they divided it and started texting people.

  Within the hour they had seven yeses and a grocery list. Two of the couples would bring kids. So fourteen adults, two kids, plus them.

  “That’s nineteen people,” Nicole said, double-checking her math.

  “We’ll ge
t everything at Costco,” Eric told her. “Bur­gers, buns, a couple of salads, beer and juice for the kids.”

  “It won’t be organic,” Nicole pointed out. “You don’t think Greta will be able to smell it when she shows up tomorrow morning?”

  Her husband laughed. “Leave Greta to me. I appreciate that she’s looking out for Tyler, but sometimes you have to go with the flow and have a little fun.”

  “You say that now, but wait until she’s staring you down.”

  “I can handle her.”

  Nicole savored the moment of happiness. This was the Eric she remembered, she thought with contentment. The fun, sweet man who wanted to spend time with his family and hang out with his friends. Maybe she’d been too judgmental about what he was doing and how things had changed. Maybe she should take his advice and go with the flow.

  “While you deal with Costco, I’ll take Tyler to Patty Cakes and get the cupcakes. We’ll get home first, so I’ll get out the folding tables and wash them down.”

  “This is going to be fun,” he told her as he got up and circled around the table. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  “It is,” she whispered when he’d left the kitchen.

  * * *

  “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it.” Julie clapped her hands together. “When we found out Eric had sold his screenplay, we were stunned. I mean we’ve known the two of you forever. And to think you’re like a famous Hollywood couple now.”

  Nicole was careful to keep smiling as she put condiments on a tray to take outside. Smiling was important, she thought. Because the party was fun and these were her friends. Only things weren’t going exactly the way she’d thought they would. Rather than spending time catching up, all anyone wanted to talk about was Eric’s screenplay deal.

  She was okay with him having the attention. He’d worked hard and he deserved to get credit for that. But she’d wanted to spend time with their friends, not have an event in celebration of him.