by T. A. Foster
There was a lush magnolia between our two yards. At Christmas, I trimmed the leaves to uses for greenery decorations, embracing old Charleston tradition. As my T-shirt clung to the back of my neck with perspiration, chilly December days couldn’t seem farther away.
Our neighborhood was on the outskirts of the city. Spencer’s parents helped us buy the house. They said we needed a place where we could grow as a family. They didn’t believe in working up through the house ranks. Might as well start with a house big enough for lots of grandchildren.
I knew what they thought. I was thirty and still hadn’t given them what they wanted most. We did talk about it. I wanted children. I wanted to hold a soft, sweet baby in my arms, knowing Spence and I had brought it into the world together. We talked about decorating a nursery and laughed about how funny I would look in maternity clothes. But those conversations always ended the same way. “Someday. We’re too busy right now.”
Spence was trying to make partner at his law firm. He wanted that under his belt before we started a family. Every time I thought about getting pregnant, I couldn’t imagine what it would do to my classes. I couldn’t leave the students in the middle of the year. That meant I would have to plan my pregnancy so perfectly that I would have the baby once school was out so I could return in the fall without missing a beat.
Another school year had passed without that perfectly laid plan being executed. It would be at least another year before it might happen. Spence and I liked the rhythm of what we had. As much as I wanted to have a baby with him, things were good. Our life was uncomplicated. Adding children to the mix might throw it off.
Would it mean we would have to give up our popcorn-for-dinner nights? No more spontaneous couch sex if the movie we were watching was too boring. And how would we ever go to Europe? It’s not as if people take babies to the Champagne region of France for a romantic getaway.
I swatted at a mosquito that landed on my arm. “Ouch.” He had drawn blood.
I made it to the neighbors’ porch empty-handed and rang the doorbell. I hoped the wife was young and friendly. Maybe these would be the kind of neighbors who wanted to grill out every Friday night. I’d have to get Spencer to cut back on his Friday night hours, but we could do that.
I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. I straightened the front of my shirt and fidgeted with my necklace. The monogram always flopped to the wrong side, making my initials look like KEA instead of AEK.
“Hey, I’m Audrey.” I cleared my throat. I couldn’t see inside the house. It was dark and the afternoon sun shadowed everything not in its light. “I came by to introduce myself.”
“Paxton Tanner. Nice to meet you.” He stepped onto the porch.
The name sounded familiar. I looked at his face to see how I recognized the name. His strong jaw set off his dark eyes. His chestnut hair looked like he had just run his fingers through it. I tried not to stare. It was the second time in my life I felt newness wash over me like cool steady rain. It surprised me.
“I-I stopped by to say welcome to the neighborhood.” I found my voice somewhere in the back of my throat. I knew I was repeating myself. “I live right over there.” I pointed to our house next door.
“That was nice of you.” Paxton had a deep, slow drawl. In less than thirty seconds, I knew that voice fit him.
“I, um, wanted to invite your wife to book club tonight. Is she home?” I tried to look past his broad shoulders. I expected a woman matching Paxton’s good looks to appear from the shadows.
He pushed up the sleeves on his shirt.
“No, it’s just me. She died.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I’m—”
“It’s ok.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “It was a few years ago. Car accident.”
I shifted between my feet. “That’s awful.”
“It was. But you didn’t come over here to talk about that. You mentioned book club. I’d love to go. I read.” He chuckled, and the awkwardness that had invaded our meeting seemed to melt.
“You want to go to book club?” I stammered.
“Sure. That is, if the invitation is open to me.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He had caught me off guard. My prepared speech for Mrs. Tanner was scrapped and I was winging it.
“I actually was in a book club in my last neighborhood. It was a good group. What are you reading? Maybe I have it.”
I blanked. There was a book, but I couldn’t think of the title or the plot. I couldn’t clear my head.
“Would you like to come in? Look around?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. I followed Paxton into his new home, over the threshold, into the dark cool foyer. I had never been inside this house in all the years we lived next door.
The first room, probably an office, was stacked with boxes. They lined the hallway and the walls of the living room.
“I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do.” He waved his hand over the boxes. “So how long have you lived here?”
“We’ve been here five years.”
He tossed a bottle of water to me.
“Sorry, no idea where the glasses are.”
“It’s fine.” I twisted off the cap and took a sip.
“Five years? Married? Kids?”
“No. I mean, yes, married. No kids.”
He smiled. I wondered if he knew how unnerved I was standing in his kitchen. He seemed at ease, as if we had done this before. Something about him felt familiar. My skin prickled with it. The hair on the back of my neck vibrated when he stood closer to me.
“Same here—except not married. We never got to the kids part.”
“Are you from Charleston?” I managed a question.
“Moving back. I have family in the area and work brought me back to this district.”
“District? Does that mean you’re in sales?”
I heard the low timber in his laugh again. I didn’t know how to get him to keep doing that. “Some people say it’s sales. Politics, actually. I’m back home to run for the state senate.”
“Wow. I didn’t expect you to say that.”
“How do you feel about a senator living next door?”
“I guess it would depend on that senator’s politics. What party are you running for?” I had a way of tilting my head to the side whenever I asked a serious question. I noticed I had done it again.
He shook his head. “That’s not the kind of politics I play. Party affiliation shouldn’t matter. It should be the issues. Where do we align on the issues? What matters to you? How do we go about making changes for the better? That’s how I run a campaign. I don’t like getting caught up in party lines.”
“I’m not sure how you said all that without even sounding like you are running for something.”
I didn’t expect him to wink. “Then I’m doing something right. I’m serious. I don’t care about that bullshit everyone talks about. Pundits spin the hell right out of the issues. People need leadership, not figureheads.”
“I agree.” I sat on a nearby bar stool.
“Tell me what you do for a living.”
“I’m a teacher. First grade at the neighborhood elementary school.”
“Teacher?” His eyebrows rose. “All right. So let’s talk teacher issues. Just the facts. Schools need money to run. Teachers need to be paid. Parents want their children to have the best education possible and be prepared for life. Right? We can agree on that?”
I nodded. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His gaze was concentrated.
“All the rest is just noise. The more money we can funnel into the schools, the better equipped they will be with programs and equipment. They’ll be able to hire the best teachers in the country. Those students will succeed. Guaranteed. If we support the fundamentals in our schools, we will produce productive citizens. I don’t see the need to argue about that. It makes sense to me. We should all be fighting for the same thing.”
The clapping was involuntary, b
ut I hadn’t heard someone speak so passionately about my career without wanting some kind of trade off or sacrifice.
“Bravo, bravo.”
He leaned on the counter with his elbow. “Does that mean I have your vote Mrs.—?”
“Kingston.” He was staring at my necklace.
“I wondered what the K stood for.” He turned toward the refrigerator.
“Yes, I would absolutely vote for you after hearing a speech like that.”
“Even without knowing my party affiliation?”
I hesitated. “Good point. Ok, so you have my support on education. I guess I would want to know your stance on a few other things first. If you told me your party, then maybe I would know.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to get you to see. We shouldn’t be voting on party philosophies. I want votes because people believe in me. Who cares about the rest? Parties change their ideals every election cycle. Why not invest in someone you can count on, not some thing?”
“Because it would give me an idea if you are conservative or liberal. Are you big or small government? Whose agenda are you really interested in? Parties define that. I would know if we would be a good fit.”
“Good fit? Huh.” He rubbed his jaw. “I bet I can convince you on every issue that I have your best interests at heart. I won’t be swayed by what my party wants. It should be issue by issue.”
“What if we don’t agree on all the issues, only some? You can’t expect your constituents to agree with you on everything,” I pressed.
“True. But I can convince them that the majority of what I tackle is more important than a few things we might see differently.”
“If that’s true, how can you convince me to vote for you?”
“Give me an hour and I can tell you my views on all of it.” There was playfulness in his voice.
I stood from the stool. I had already been in his kitchen thirty minutes. I wasn’t prepared to devote an hour to a political discussion on ideologies.
“I’ve got to run to get ready for book club, but you should come. We just finished The Goldfinch.” I finally remembered the title.
“Heavy reading.” Paxton followed me down the hall. “All right. I’ll be there. Maybe I can convince you to vote for me by the end of the night.” He held the door open for me. “Where is it?”
“Tina Lyons is hosting tonight. We rotate houses each month. Do you have some paper? I’ll write it down for you.”
He returned from the office with a notepad. “Here.”
I scribbled down the address and added my number at the end. “Just in case you need something, you can call me.” I jogged down the steps.
“What time?”
“Seven.” I started for the magnolia tree.
“See you tonight. Thanks for stopping by. It was nice to meet you, Audrey.”
I waved and ducked between the tree’s low-lying branches. The hard leaves crunched under my sandals. Pepper was waiting for me at the garage door. I let him out to play in the backyard while I unloaded the student gifts from my car.
I dumped the candy on the counter and sorted out the presents that had some usefulness before relegating the rest to the storage closet. Tomorrow I would go in for a teacher workday, but essentially the school year was over.
I thought about what Paxton said about education funding. I wondered how much was said for my benefit. What if I had told him I was a small business owner? Would he have spun everything in a different direction? Maybe I should have told him I studied nursing for a year and listen to his take on health reform.
I warmed up a microwave pack of mac n’cheese. There was still an hour before book club. I sat at my desk and typed his name in the search bar on my laptop, waiting for the noodles to cool.
Paxton Tanner. He was on the top ten list of up-and-coming young politicians in the South. I must have heard about him on the news, but I didn’t register his face with his name. If I had seen that face before, I would have remembered.
I clicked on one of the articles. He had a law degree from Emory. There was a picture of his wife. She had dark chin-length hair. I clicked on the link.
Sarah Tanner died at age 27. Her car was found in a ditch on a country road in South Carolina. The investigation suggested she had fallen asleep at the wheel and died when her car hit a tree.
I shuddered. It must have been horrible for him. I tried to imagine the handsome candidate mourning his young wife. I thought about what life would be like if something happened to Spence.
I scanned the article for anything else I could find on my new neighbor. He had graduated magna cum laude from the Citadel and played football all four years he attended. His parents ran a foundation for children’s homes and supported a celebrity golf classic each year at Kiawah Island.
Everything about him fit the mold for how a politician should be groomed for office. Wealthy, charitable family, stellar athlete with an impeccable academic record, and then there was the beautiful wife who had died too young. I closed my laptop. I didn’t want to see her picture anymore. It was too sad.
My copy of The Goldfinch was next to our bed. I had spent the last week speed-reading to get to the end. It was an ambitious goal for our club to read it in a month. I was certain not everyone would finish, but I had marked it off my list at midnight last night.
With the heavy copy tucked under my arm, I headed in the direction of Tina’s house. I enjoyed walking through our neighborhood. The sidewalks were uneven from creeping oak roots. I had spent enough time running on this route to know where to step to avoid the trip spots.
When we first moved into the neighborhood, we were welcomed with brownies, cookies, and every other baked good I could name. It was a neighborhood custom that I wasn’t good at abiding by. Even today, I showed up without a single welcome gift to Paxton’s house. It was an impulsive drop by.
I tapped lightly on Tina’s front door and walked in.
“Audrey!” Tina called.
“Hey, Tina. Expecting a big crowd tonight?”
“I think so. Come on in. I’ll pour a glass of wine for you.”
My hostess busied herself in the kitchen while the neighbors filed in.
“Audrey, was today the last day of school?” Cricket asked.
I clutched my wine. “It was. I hate saying good-bye to my class. It’s the hardest day of the year for me.”
She patted my shoulder. “Honey, you’ve got the entire summer ahead of you. Why don’t you join our bridge group?”
Cricket Sanders had been trying to get me to join her bridge group since our first year here. I never played.
I smiled meekly. “Maybe I could try it.”
“You’ve got to do something to keep you busy while Spencer is working. Will he make partner this year? That’s the rumor I’ve heard.”
“We hope so. He’s been working nonstop. This might be the year.”
Spencer and I knew when he made partner it would change things for us, and not just financially. We were still considered the new kids on the block. It didn’t matter that we both had degrees, established careers, a home, and a dog. We were mere children in our neighbors’ eyes. Making partner would catapult Spence into a different class. We would never be old money, but it was a distinct rung on the ladder he was about to cross. I wasn’t sure we were ready for that shift.
Cricket patted my shoulder. “Let me know about bridge. I’ve got an open spot. And who knows, if he makes partner, you could have a permanent place.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She looked puzzled. “You won’t need to work anymore. You’ll need to have afternoons free. You can’t fulfill your obligations if you’re teaching.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I turned to the wine in my hand.
Fifteen minutes later, Tina’s kitchen was full. I smiled and hugged the women I called friends. I hadn’t heard anyone mention the book yet. It also felt as if we saved our best book comments for the formal rou
nd circle.
Tina clinked her wineglass. “Ladies, let’s get started. I can pull in some more chairs if we need them.”
I decided I would sit as far from Cricket as I could during the book discussion. Her words still crawled on my skin. I didn’t want to give up teaching.
One by one, the seats around me filled in.
Mrs. Ellerby sat on the couch. “I haven’t seen you since last book club. What’s new with you?” she asked.
“Today was the last day of school. I’ve been getting ready for that. Not much else is new.”
“How about Spencer? Things going well for him?”
“Yes. He’s working hard at the firm.” I didn’t know if Mrs. Ellerby would bestow some sort of sage advice on how I needed to leave my job. Hearing it once tonight was enough.
“Would you thank him for helping me with those plants last week? I never would have been able to get them out of the car.” She sighed. “It’s a terrible thing getting old.”
“He was happy to do it,” I offered.
Spencer and I were working in the yard when we saw Mrs. Ellerby pull into her driveway, her head hidden by green leaves. Her driveway was directly across the street from ours.
“I’m going to go see if she needs help with those,” he said.
“All right.” I turned to the gardenia bush I was pruning. Fifteen minutes later, Spence was back.
“She bought a ton of new houseplants.”
“Does she need help with anything else?”
“No, I got them all inside. I think she just likes to come up with projects to keep herself busy,” he suggested.
“Why would you say that?” I pulled the garden gloves from my hands. The gardenia bush looked slightly lighter, but I was happy with my trimming work.
“Because, her house is like a jungle. There are plants everywhere. One day she might wake up with vines all over her.” He laughed.
“It was nice of you to help.” I smiled at my sweaty and handsome husband.
“I feel bad she lives by herself. No one to talk to. No one to eat dinner with. She needs help with every little thing. It’s depressing. Can you imagine being all alone at the end of your life?”
“No. No, I can’t. But that won’t be us. We don’t have to worry about anything like that. We’re going to grow old together and die in our sleep like in that movie. You know which one I’m talking about?”