Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2)

by Gina Ardito

  I stole a quick glance at Gabriella. How much should I say in front of her? Would she understand? Would it affect her? I attempted vagary. “I’ll call Dr. Herrera this morning and tell her we want to pick out a nice urn for Freckles. Something that reflects how much we all loved him and will miss him. She’ll take care of the details and call me back when we can pick him up. Then we’ll find a nice place in the garden where we can visit him whenever we feel sad. Okay?” All three children nodded, and I pushed myself up from the table. “Okay then. You guys know the drill. Breakfast, showers, school.”

  As they trudged off toward the rest of their day, I couldn’t help the bitter thought that popped into my head. Once again, Roy abandoned me when I needed him most.

  ****

  Francesca

  Friday morning ushered in a cold rain that made me grateful I didn’t have to get up early. There was something decadent about lying in bed on a gloomy day, listening to the rain pelt the window, with no rush to leave my cocoon. The weather also matched my mood. Today, I had to call a locksmith. Then, my mother. Find out exactly what she’d told Michael and why she hadn’t warned me.

  Good God, Michael was back. The realization jolted like lightning. He wanted to pick up where we left off, forgetting the last five years had ever happened.

  But they had happened. I was no longer the starry-eyed girl who’d dreamed of a sunny day and white lace to herald in her Happily Ever After. That poor, deluded fool had perished when her soon-to-be husband determined his career was more important than hers, more important than love and marriage. As if we’d met in the 1950s, when women didn’t have lives outside the home. Don’t ask me why he hadn’t realized I couldn’t pick up and follow him to Oregon on a moment’s notice. I’d never pretended to be June Cleaver, for God’s sake.

  Now, five years later, he comes back because he had a change of heart, and I’m supposed to accept that? Well, just as he hadn’t planned our future in the fifties, he hadn’t returned to the middle of a Disney film. And I hadn’t spent the last half-decade waiting for him to come riding back to me on a white horse. I never asked for a Prince Charming, never wanted to be rescued.

  So what did I want? I stared up at the dark exposed beams in the triangular pitched ceiling over my bed. I wanted to go back to Wednesday, when my most pressing issue was whether or not to call a consult with Dr. Rouch over Mrs. Bernstein’s eye infection. Wonderful Wednesday, before Michael reappeared, before Josh Candolero asked me out.

  Not that Josh was anything more than a good-looking distraction. One date and a few sweet kisses didn’t translate into wedding bells and a white picket fence. Besides, Josh was still, basically, a kid. Not yet thirty, into the dance club scene, and working in Daddy’s business. Fun, but not serious, he’d be a great catch for Claudia. Me? I needed more out of a relationship if I planned to dive into the dating waters again. Which I really hadn’t intended. I liked my life the way it was. No one complained about my work hours, or how often I ran out of milk, or that I stole the covers on rainy mornings.

  Then again, Michael and I had a comfortable history. Up until the day he announced we were moving to Oregon after the wedding, we had always seen eye to eye on the important issues. At one time, I thought that was enough on which to base a marriage. Now I knew better.

  Pick up where we left off. Ridiculous. I punched my pillow and rolled over. Forcing my mind away from all my crazy thoughts, I closed my eyes and willed sleep to return. Naturally, the phone on my nightstand chose that moment to ring.

  On a groan of frustration, I fumbled for the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” Claudia’s chipper voice evaporated the last vestiges of sleep fog from my skull. “How’d it go last night?”

  “Depends on whose team you’re batting for,” I mumbled as I sat up and propped the pillow between my back and my headboard. So much for sleep.

  “Huh? What team? What happened?”

  I gave her the rundown and received a sharp gasp when I mentioned the surprise visitor waiting in my living room last night.

  “Michael? Oh my God, how weird is that? We were just talking about him. Did you freak? I would have. I would’ve been like, ‘Ohmigod, what are you doing here?’ I mean, I just can’t imagine…”

  While Claudia rambled, I reconsidered my earlier thoughts. She would not be good for Josh. He’d probably gag her with a roll of duct tape ten minutes into their first date.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Her question shook me. “Huh?”

  “About Josh and Michael,” she clarified.

  I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me. “Nothing.”

  “No, seriously. Which one are you gonna choose?”

  “Right now?” I kicked off my Laura Ashley quilt and looked up at the silvery lines of rainwater streaming down my windowpane. “Neither.”

  “Neither?” Claudia sputtered as if I’d announced my intention to stroll naked down the boardwalk. “That’s insane.”

  “Why? This is my life, Claudia, not a game show. I don’t have to choose Door Number One or Door Number Two. I can opt to simply walk away from both of them, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know, but why would you? You just won the boyfriend lottery. Keep one, and maybe toss the other one my way.”

  “They aren’t fish, either,” I retorted. My Call Waiting beeped, and I said a silent thank you to whomever for this impeccable timing. “Oops. That’s my other line. I gotta go. I’m expecting a call.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I’ll call you later,” I said. “Promise. Bye.” I hit the button just as the second beep sounded. “Hello?”

  “Good morning.” Josh’s silken voice slipped beneath the covers and wrapped me in a long distance embrace.

  I glanced at my alarm clock to ground myself in reality. 9:25 a.m., Friday morning. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I quit my job. I think I can make a lot more money as a professional dancer. What do you think?”

  For a minute, the joke escaped me as a familiar fantasy filled my imagination. A buff and gleaming Josh in a skin-tight black tank top and jeans, hard hat perched on his thick dark hair, and tool belt swirling as he gyrated just for me while Barry White’s smoky voice sang in the background. As soon as Josh whipped the tear-away jeans from his hips, I shook myself alert. “I’ve seen you dance,” I managed to say with aplomb. “The fantasy is better than the reality.”

  His sharp intake of breath sounded like a hiss in my ear. “Ouch. That’s harsh, Frannie.”

  I actually laughed at his exaggeration of pain. “Toughen up, cowboy. And while you’re finding your man-spine, tell me why you’re calling me this early in the morning.”

  “It’s raining.”

  I looked out the window again. Really? He called to give me a weather report? Okay, I’d play. “Yes, that’s what happens when the clouds accumulate too much moisture. It’s perfectly natural and won’t hurt you.” For some reason I couldn’t explain this early in the morning, Josh tended to bring out my teasing side.

  “Ha, ha. Funny. No. What I mean is, since it’s raining, I can’t work right now. Power tools and water don’t mix. And since I know you’re working the overnight tonight, I thought you might like to go out for breakfast.”

  A little worm of doubt squirmed inside me. “I’m sorry, Josh, I can’t. I’ve got things to take care of today.”

  “What kind of things? Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t think so. I need to call a locksmith, for starters.”

  “What for?”

  “To change my locks, genius.”

  “You mean you never changed the locks the first time Michael left?”

  “No, I—wait.” I sat up, rigid. “How do you know I’m changing my locks because of Michael?”

  “My mother told me he was back.”

  “Your mother? How did she know? And why did she tell you?” In the back of my head, the question, Why didn�
�t anyone bother to tell me? echoed.

  “Well, see, my dad called me yesterday. He’s worried that my sudden proliferation of injuries—”

  “Proliferation?” Was he kidding?

  “Still think I’m just a lumber jockey, huh? Okay, if proliferation is too big a word for me, how about plethora? Is that better? Multitude? Mass quantity? A whole bunch? Stop me when I’ve hit on one you like.”

  “Proliferation is fine. Can we get on with how your mom knew about my ex-fiancé?”

  “Like I said, Dad called because he’s worried his insurance rates are going to spike, thanks to my frequent trips to your E.R. I told him not to worry. I finally asked you out, you said yes, so I wouldn’t be hurting myself on the job anymore.”

  Good God, the man was serious. He really had purposely injured himself—more than once—to spend time with me, in the hope of getting a date. I didn’t know if I felt flattered or creeped out.

  “You should have heard him yelling.” He roughened up his tone. “‘You couldn’t come up with a better way to talk to Dr. Florentino? What are you, a social moron?’” His normal voice returned. “At that point, my mom chimed in and said I was wasting my time anyway. Mikey-boy was back, and he planned to stick around this time. She got the goods from your mom at the supermarket. So, am I?”

  I struggled to stay afloat in a sea of questions. “Are you what?”

  “Too late.”

  I grimaced. Was there some kind of romance race going on in Snug Harbor that no one mentioned to me? First Claudia, now Josh.

  “He’s not there, is he?” Josh pressed.

  “No!” I snapped. “Of course not.”

  “So you’re calling the locksmith to change the locks so he can’t get in, right?”

  A sigh of defeat escaped my twitching lips. “Yes.”

  “That means you haven’t taken him back yet. You wouldn’t kiss me like you did last night if you were serious about Mikey-boy, right?”

  The first retort that came to my lips was, “None of your business,” but technically, in this case, yeah, it was a little of his business, so I went with, “No, I wouldn’t” instead.

  “That’s good to know. I mean I thought not, but still, I like hearing my instincts were spot on. So whaddya say? Breakfast?”

  “I told you already. I need to call a locksmith.”

  “Frannie, I can change your locks for you.”

  “Oh. Right.” He had a valid point. After all, Can-Do Construction had built and/or renovated a lot of the houses in the county. Josh, as an employee as well as the owner’s son, was probably pretty handy with most home repairs. Still, did I want to give him access to my home? Wasn’t I changing the locks so another man couldn’t invade my sanctuary? “Look, Josh, I appreciate the offer but I’m just going to call someone.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Excuse me?” I gave up on the snuggling idea and got out of bed. Rain or not, I might as well start my day.

  “A locksmith is gonna cost you a lot more, and you’ll be stuck waiting for him to show up. If he can even come today at all. You’re not exactly an emergency case. Now, if you let me change the locks, I can be in and out in minutes, which gives us time for breakfast. If you’re worried that accepting my help obligates you somehow—because I know how women think crazy sometimes—you buy breakfast when I’m done. Or lunch, if you’re not a breakfast person.”

  I didn’t worry that accepting his help obligated me financially, but emotionally. I liked Josh. He was fun and sweet and yeah, hot. He was also a lot younger than I was—not just in years, but in maturity. I mean, I used to be his babysitter, for God’s sake.

  He was still in his twenties, which meant his nighttime entertainment consisted of dancing and party rock, drinks ‘til dawn, and speeding down the highway in his Mustang. Meanwhile, a raucous night for me involved filching a brownie from my chocolate stash while watching television. When I didn’t work the night shift, I was in bed by ten and out cold before eleven. Case in point: we went out last night, he was up and ready to fly here to work, while I still lounged in my pajamas and hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet.

  “Frannie?” Josh’s voice called me back into the conversation. “Earth to Frannie. Whaddya say? Should I come over?”

  I gripped the receiver and steeled my spine. “No. Thanks, Josh, but I’ll call a locksmith.” Before he could argue, I added, “Enjoy your day off.”

  “Whoa! Wait! I’m gonna see you tomorrow, right?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, tomorrow. Remember? Dinner? The Gull and Oar?”

  Crap. I’d forgotten. “Right. I didn’t forget,” I lied. “I just haven’t had my tea yet.”

  “I could fix that—”

  “No.” The denial came out too strong, and I took a deep breath before continuing in a much softer tone. “Thanks, Josh. I appreciate the offer, but I can take care of myself.” I’d been taking care of myself for years. Why stop now? “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I added and hung up the phone.

  Chapter 5

  Emily

  At five-thirty, I sat in the break room at the police station, biting into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, tasting nothing. The well-stocked snack machine, five rows across and twelve rows down, sat directly in my line of vision on the opposite wall of the drab room. The comfort of rich chocolate, high fat, and mega calories teased me ruthlessly. Even the pretzels, a low fat snack according to the sunshine yellow package at B3, were off-limits. My blood pressure had teetered near high on my last doctor’s visit, resulting in a lecture on ways to relieve stress and demands to forego all junk food. Sure, Doc, because nothing eases the pain of a dead pet like munching on a celery stalk.

  Disgusted, I pushed the rest of my sandwich in its aluminum foil jacket to the edge of the rectangular table and rested my head on my outstretched arm. God, I was so tired. I closed my eyes, the weight of my lids practically buckling my cheekbones.

  “Em? You okay? Em?” The voice came from some long tunnel.

  I wanted to open my eyes, but my heavy lids refused to budge. Even my tongue didn’t have the energy to move so I settled for a reply of, “Hmm?”

  “Emily.” The voice spoke again, sterner now, and added a shake on my shoulder. “Em, wake up. Come on.”

  Rather than acquiesce, I tried to identify the speaker-slash-shaker. Definitely not Roy. Not my kids, either. But who else would be in my bedroom? No, wait. Last thing I remembered, I was at work, in the break room. I forced my eyes open and looked up into my boss’s concerned face. Sam Dillon, chief of our village police force, is one of the nicest, best-looking guys on Long Island, with thick, coffee-colored hair and eyes like honey. Seriously, this man was the perfect dessert for some woman. Apparently, that lucky woman was Paige Wainwright, our town’s accountant. After months of dancing around their attraction for one another, he and Paige were now, officially, a couple.

  “Hey, Sam,” I murmured through a muzzy mist. “What’s up?”

  “Emily,” Sam said on a sigh of relief. “Whew. You scared me there for a minute. You okay?”

  “Umm…yeah.” I sat up and wiped my mouth. Ick. I had actually drooled on my bare arm. “I must have fallen asleep.” I glanced at the utilitarian black and white clock on the wall. Six-forty-five! Oh, God. I’d slept through my lunch hour and then some. I rose on wobbly legs. “Oh, Jeez, Sam, I’m sorry.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Sit.” When I did, he flipped a chair around and sat with the chair back against his chest, catty-corner to me. “You look drained. What’s wrong?”

  Sure, Sam’s my boss, but he’s also a friend. I’ve known him since I started first grade and he was assigned as my second-grade class buddy to show me around and get me acclimated. That assignment had led to a lifetime of support and friendship between us.

  I clasped my hands on the table to keep him from noticing the tremors jumping through my fingers. “Freckles died last night.”

&nb
sp; “Oh, gee, Em.” Sam cupped my hands in his palm. “I’m sorry. You must be crushed. I’d be.” He meant it. An animal lover himself, Sam had a rescued greyhound, Daisy. If Paige was the number one lady in his life, Daisy wasn’t too far below her on the list. “How are the kids taking it?”

  “They’re devastated. And Roy…” I let the statement trail off. As much as I respected Sam, some things were none of his business.

  To my relief, Sam didn’t pursue that line of questioning. “You wanna go home? I can call Rowena in to cover your shift.”

  I shook my head. “It’s easier to be here.” Dang. I shouldn’t have said that. Despite my mini-nap, my brain hadn’t caught up to my mouth yet.

  “I get it.” Sam rose and flipped the chair around again, pushing it neatly under the table. “Work keeps your mind off your troubles, right?”

  Sure. If that’s what he wanted to think, that option was way better than the truth. To be honest, I preferred to stay at work because, lately, my home life sucked dust bunnies. “Yeah.” I got to my feet again, still unsteady but a little stronger. I raked my shaky fingers through my hair. “I can’t believe I fell asleep here.”

  “Forget it. As long as you’re okay. I’m headed home.” He turned to leave, then paused to look at me again. “If you change your mind and want to leave, call Rowena, okay?”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Sam.”

  “No sweat.” He cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Uh-huh.” When he didn’t move, I flicked my fingers at him. “Go. I’m sure you’d rather be with Paige right now.”

  A wide grin split his cheeks, and his face lit up, neon-bright. “Now that you mention it…”

  “Wow. You really are crazy about her, aren’t you?”

  “Since I was seventeen,” he admitted. “I guess you know how that is, huh?”

  I knew what he meant, since Roy and I had been together since my first day of ninth grade. There was a time Roy’s face wore that same blissful expression whenever he saw me. When had he stopped? When did I stop noticing? “Yeah,” I said, forcing a dreamy smile. “Aren’t we the lucky ones?”