Around five, I returned home, exhausted from being up late the previous night.
Voices coming from the dining room sucked me in.
Sarah, Rose, Troy, and Maddie stood around the table like WWII generals plotting excitedly about the next offensive. Papers with drawings were scattered on the table. I wasn’t an expert by any means, but from all the times I’d watched Elf with Sarah, not to mention reading to the twinks, I’d venture to say the sheets were sketches from a children’s book.
Ollie and Freddie sat on the floor, playing with toys that flashed lights and emitted robotic voices.
Talk about sensory overload.
“Hello!” I shouted, giving an embarrassed wave.
Sarah smiled.
The rest continued their hand gestures, talking over each other.
“I’m going to the kitchen. Can I get anyone anything?”
No one acknowledged my offer.
Okeydokey.
Not willing to stay to figure out what in the hell was going on, I retreated to the kitchen.
Sarah approached all smiles. “Thank you.” She wrapped me in a hug.
“For what?”
With her arms still around me, she pulled her face back. “For tossing yourself under the bus to bring harmony back into my relationship with Mom.”
I jerked my chin to the dining area. “That qualifies as harmony?”
She laughed. “A start at least. We’ve decided to collaborate on a children’s book.”
“Ah, I see,” I said, not following, but Sarah radiated happiness and it was a relief to see her getting along with her mother again.
“Of course, collaborating by committee hasn’t been entirely fruitful yet. Early days.” Her laughter tickled my ears. “But, it’s better to quibble over storylines and artwork, not”—she leaned in and whispered in my ear—“Troy.”
“You’re channeling your conflict into the stories? Are they horror stories for kids?”
Sarah shoved my shoulder. “Seriously, Lizzie, thank you. You’ve been patient with me, all the while making comments and asking questions that helped me see the way. I can’t tell Mom not to date Troy, especially if he makes her happy. Given all the things going on in the world, how can I deny the woman who gave me everything for so many years my blessing?”
“Did you say sorry?” I pressed my forehead to hers.
“Yes.” Her eyes were big with sincerity.
“Do you still think he’s after her money?” I whispered.
She pushed her head into mine as if needing more support. “No. Not unless this entire time he’s been angling to propose this publishing venture.” She pulled away to reveal a teasing smile, but she still added, “He didn’t get involved until after school ended.”
I eased onto a barstool and encircled her waist with my arms. “Is everything okay between you two, then?”
“Well on the way.”
Laughter from the dining room grabbed my attention. “How did this idea spring up?”
“Earlier, after you left, Mom mentioned Troy had always wanted to write children’s stories, and I started talking about ideas I had. Maddie popped by on her lunch break. And voilà!”
Shaking my head, I said, “Whatever makes you happy.”
“Does that mean you’ll invest?”
“Raising capital already. This must be serious.” I hefted my brows, perhaps a little more mockingly than was necessary.
She clobbered my side with her fingers. “It is!”
I pulled her in for a kiss, only receiving a quick peck.
“Dinner will be here in twenty.” Sarah stepped back. “I’ll wrap up in there. Can you get dinner ready for the twinkies?”
I saluted.
She started to leave but stopped. “How was your day?”
“No business ventures, so not as exciting as yours.”
Sarah smiled. “You want to be one of the forces behind T.M. Cavanaugh?”
“What?” I rubbed my chin.
“It’s a penname using the initials of Troy and Maddie and Cavanaugh for mom and me.” With that, she wheeled about and headed back into the children’s book writing battle.
“I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen next in this family,” I said to Hank sitting in the kitchen window watching the blue jays at the feeder. “One minute they’re barely speaking to each other, and the next, they’re starting a new business. If only the Meg issue were that easy to solve.” I stroked his fur, causing him to arch his back. “Careful, they may put you to work.”
Hank stilled.
“Or turn you into a character.”
Ollie’s cries turned my attention from Hank.
After everyone left, we put the kids to bed.
“Fancy a drink to celebrate?” Sarah asked.
“I’ll pour the wine. Why don’t you change into some cozy clothes and meet me in the library?” I did my best to sound seductive.
“I won’t be long.” She ran a finger down my front.
“You should start a business every day,” I hollered after her.
Several minutes later, Sarah, in sweats and a T-shirt, waltzed back into the room.
I traced a finger up and down in the air. “Not the outfit I had in mind.”
“The whips and chains are at the cleaners.” She took the wineglass from my hand. “Nice touch with the fire.” She plopped down onto the couch, her back against the arm.
Sitting next to her, I covered us with a blue and purple fleece blanket.
She nudged me with her bare foot. “How’d it go last night?”
I sipped my water. “Okay, I think. It was different.”
“Did she flirt with you?”
I held my thumb and forefinger in the air. “A bit.”
Sarah hiked up her eyebrows.
“And she placed her hands on my chest when encouraging me to believe in myself.”
“Maybe I should go to her with my problems.” Her smile was too wide.
“Good thing the Troy issue has eased.” I turned on the cushion, resting against the arm of the couch and pressing my feet into her thigh. “Wait? Is this the true reason you wanted me to meet with Courtney? To help you play out some fantasy?”
“Perhaps. Tell me more.” She appeared way too eager for my liking.
“Should I be jealous that you’re living vicariously through me?”
“No way!”
I pushed my feet more into her. “You have to admit it’s kinda odd how excited you are to hear details about a woman you clearly have a crush on. Or should I say have the hots for?”
“Why is that odd?” She slanted her head.
“How is it not? I really can’t wrap my head around if I should be upset or not?” I joggled my open palms up and down in the air, pondering the choices.
“Don’t be silly. If I can’t talk to you about this, who can I talk to?”
“Maddie. Your mom. George. The checkout lady at the grocery store. You have options.”
Her eyes darted to the ceiling. “But I want to be open and honest with you. All the time.”
“It’s a dangerous game.”
“But necessary for a healthy relationship.” She hunkered down into the cushions. “Do you have a secret crush on someone?”
“Your crush isn’t secret, dear.” I stared deeply into her eyes.
She waved the technicality away. “Do you?”
“Why?” I was hesitant to dive in. Had this been her plan from the beginning? To get me relaxed to confess all?
“Because I can seek the person out and get to know them. Help you, like you’re helping me.”
“Interacting by proxy?”
“Exactly.”
I scratched a tenacious itch on the back of my right shoulder. “Nope.”
Her eyes narrowed. “None at all?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t believe you.” She tossed a pillow at me.
I pushed the pillow off onto the floor. “You have to, becau
se it’s the truth.”
“Everyone has crushes. We’re married, not dead. What about Jorie?”
I squinted my eyes. “Ewww. She’s a student and so much younger.”
“Former student,” she corrected.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. “Still not okay in my book.”
“Lizzie! Tell me!” She dug her nails into my calf, and I pushed harder against her thigh, feeling her muscle tighten.
I applied more pressure to hers. “Clearly, chasing the twinks has done wonders for your legs.”
She gave one last shove before relenting. “You’re stubborn.”
“Because I’m not crushing on someone?”
“Because you won’t admit it.”
“How can I admit something that isn’t happening? You want me to make up a crush? That would be lying. Something I try not to do anymore, at your behest, I might add.” I smothered my heart with my hands.
She eyed me curiously. “You really don’t have one?”
I tossed up my hands. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Her face clouded over. “Why not?”
“Seriously?”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Because I’m in love with you. Remember that whole until death do us part thing you made me do?”
She rolled her eyes but ignored the wedding comment. “And I love and adore you.”
“Obviously not enough,” I teased, immediately relenting with upraised palms.
“It’s not normal. You’re not normal.”
I repositioned, now sitting next to her. “You’re just figuring this out?”
She placed a hand on each of my cheeks. “Oh, I’ve known. But, it’s important for me to point it out every chance I get.”
“I’ve noticed. Another one of your faults.”
“Promise me you’ll work on your faults.” She implored me with her eyes.
“Duly noted. I’ll find a hot woman to crush on, immediately.” I kissed her.
“There are plenty to choose from, and there’s only one you are absolutely forbidden to crush on.”
“Who gave you the power to tell me who’s off-limits?” I teased, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her musky scent.
“I did.”
“Fine.” I pulled away. “Who’s on the Do-Not-Crush list?”
“Meg.”
I laughed. “I can totally live with that.”
“That’s better. Now, take me to bed.” She yawned.
It was catchy, and I followed suit. “Don’t tell my future crush about this. Not being able to stay up to seduce the hottest woman on the planet.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sitting at a table near the back window in the coffee shop, I lined up my red, blue, and green liquid ink pens on the table. Not happy, I swapped the red with the green. Then flipped the blue, in the middle, so the tip faced in the opposite direction.
“Ah, the prep work that goes into every research paper.”
The voice made me go limp with fear.
Uninvited, Meg slid into the empty chair.
Not wanting to give any indication of the true emotion swirling inside, I said, “It’s important to have the proper setup.” I tried to sound like I was taking my work seriously and not using this trip to the coffee shop as a way to get some time to myself while Sarah and her writing partners discussed, aka talked loudly and over each other, their new publishing venture.
“You still write out your notes by hand?” She leaned on her forearms to peer at my notebook, which pushed up her breasts. Not that I was looking, but her V-neck shirt made it impossible not to notice.
“Can’t seem to break away from the habit.” I shrugged one shoulder.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Not wanting to be indebted and possibly have to agree to another meeting or ambush, I asked, “What can I get you?” I rose.
She motioned for me to retake my seat. “Let me. I know what you want.” Meg slipped into the back of the Starbucks line, staring at the board as if she didn’t know what she wanted.
Given how many times she’d been in rehab for drinking, maybe she didn’t know many non-alcoholic beverages. I rearranged my pens once again, with the green pen now breaking ranks from the others.
“A chai, madam.” Meg set it down to the left of my notepad and journal articles.
“What brings you here?”
Meg stifled a laugh but didn’t offer any explanation as to why. “I was thinking of going to the movies, but none starts for another thirty minutes.”
There was a movie theater around the corner, but this still felt like a frame-up job. But how would she have tracked me down considering this wasn’t my typical Starbucks? Tracking device?
“What project are you working on?”
“An article about scarcity on the German home front.” I sounded more robotic than I’d intended. My goal was not to let Meg in but not come across as a complete social misfit. Although, that might help my cause of pushing her out of my life permanently.
She rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. “Let me know if you want me to read it.”
“Uh, thanks.” I tapped the green pen on my leg. “How about you? Any projects in the pipelines?” Maybe if I stuck to work subjects, I’d make it through relatively unscathed.
“Working on a book.”
“Already.” I whistled, surprised by her motivation. “Considering you just completed your PhD, nice job.”
She smiled. “Not really. I’m expanding on my dissertation.”
I nodded. “It’d be foolish not to.”
“You know me. Never foolish.”
The image of her in the hotel lobby, with her hair dyed red, in her prostitute clothes filled my mind. I blinked it away.
“Everyone gets that look around me. At least the people who knew me when…”
“I…” I reached for the pens, but opted not to rearrange them again, kicking myself for not capitalizing on the opening to say, “Hey, speaking of that, I want you out of my life for good.” Or, “Really, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or threaten your sobriety, but it’d be better for me and my family if you’d leave me alone.”
She put her hand on my arm. “No, I get it. I did things that still make my skin crawl.”
I started to nod but quickly pretended my scalp itched. Another opportunity lost.
“It’s okay. You aren’t the one who should be embarrassed. Leave that bit up to me.” For someone who was admitting she was a terrible person, her relaxed shoulders and guilt-free expression reminded me of Actress Meg.
I swallowed, still unable to add anything to her line of conversation.
“I really appreciate you talking to me. I don’t have many people willing…” She sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lay a guilt trip on you.” She purposefully looked away. Had she rehearsed this scene and waited for the right opportunity?
I glanced around the pre-movie patrons, wondering if I was involved in some type of documentary about an addict trying to repair the damage.
She fiddled with my blue pen. “It’s just… I miss you.”
Did she expect me to follow her script and say I missed her? I didn’t. At least not the Meg that popped into my memories. The one who…
“I don’t want to complicate your life,” Meg said.
Too late.
“Although, I don’t know how to avoid that.” She shrugged. “You’re one of the people I admire. Your dedication. Thirst for knowledge. I need to be around people like you.”
Her tactic of buttering me was further proof this was a setup job, reminiscent of the days when we dated, like when I used to grade her students’ exams when she was too inebriated.
Meg swigged her drink. “I’m doing a shitty job of putting your mind at ease. Maybe this was a bad idea. Coming here.” Her eyes scanned the joint as if looking for the best escape route.
It was hard t
o argue with her; however, I wasn’t sure what she meant. Stopping to chat with me or returning to Colorado after everything?
Or was she giving me an opening to forgive or tell her to buzz off. There was a flicker of loneliness and fear in her eyes that compelled me to do the unthinkable. “I…” I flipped open one of the European history journals. “Do you know anything about this historian? I can’t get a grip on his thesis. He seems to argue one thing until the conclusion, when he flips to the other line of thought.”
Meg took the journal into her hand. “His name rings a bell. Can I take this and read it?”
I nodded, irked that I was trying to make her feel better when she wasn’t my concern anymore. I needed to draw a line in the sand, with my family and me on one side and Meg on the other. That had been my plan since speaking with Courtney. To unequivocally cut Meg off. When I left the house this morning, though, I had no idea the opportunity would present itself.
“Did you hear about Trump’s comments at the Boy Scout jamboree?” she asked, clearly pleased her routine had had the effect she wanted.
Dammit!
I could salvage my goal now.
Just say, “Buzz off, Meg!”
I sucked in a deep breath and then said, “How could I not? Everyone considers me the expert.”
Clearly wanting to tell Meg to go to hell and actually doing it were two different ballgames, and I was stuck playing T-ball while Meg was a pro at getting what she wanted out of others.
“Even though your focus is on the British Boy Scouts.”
“Yes!” I slapped the tabletop, more out of anger at myself. “Not many can get that through their heads.”
“Yesterday, at a meeting, a man dropped a fact about ancient Rome and was floored I didn’t know a thing about it. You know the look. Mouth forming a disappointed O.” She mimicked it. “As if we know every name, date, and event since the—”
“Beginning of time.” No, Lizzie. Do not complete her sentences.
“No wonder I started drinking with pressure like that.”
My jaw dropped.
She laughed, pointing at my face. “Kidding, of course. According to my therapist, I use ill-advised jokes when nervous.”
A Conflicted Woman Page 19