“Completely!”
“So listen to this. I had a date with this woman last year and I took her to this new slick restaurant in Atlanta, right?”
“And?”
“Well, she tells me she’s getting sick so I took her home. Stomach flu, she thinks. About an hour later I go to this bar on the other side of town.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s in there raising hell and knocking back dirty martinis with some jerk.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I just went over to her and said, I’m glad to see you’re feeing better.”
“She must have died.”
“No, unfortunately, she did not die. But I think what you said to Phoebe and Max was pretty good.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s hard to be clever on your feet. Well done. I’m gonna take out the trash.”
“Thanks.” Beth turned on the dishwasher and the hum of it sounded like a lullaby and it began to put her at ease.
When Woody returned, he could tell the storm was passing.
“I hate men,” she said, blowing her nose. “How old are you?”
“Not old enough to hate, I hope.”
“Oh, not you, Woody! I don’t hate you.”
“I’ll be thirty in January. Would you like a glass of wine? A small reward for restoring order to the battlefield?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
He took two goblets from the drainboard, dried them, and poured. He handed Beth hers.
“Thanks. And sluts. I hate sluts too.”
“What? Well, I certainly don’t. I mean, you know, they have their place in society.”
Woody smiled at Beth and she smiled back, then she shook her head.
“Woody! You wound me!”
“Wound?”
“Yeah, wound.” She covered her heart with her hand and leaned against the stove. It was obvious that Beth was kidding him. “Men are dogs, Woody. Dogs. Bacon-eating, sniffing, prowling, low-down dirty damn dogs. Well, I say, here’s to having a little virtue!”
“What a waste of a toast. And, not all men are dogs. And one more thing, while we’re on the topic of righteousness, not all women are so virtuous either.”
“You’re right, you’re right, you’re right.”
“Thank you. Now, come on. Let’s go out on the porch and enjoy a few minutes of the night. I’ll bring the vino.”
“Okay. Why not?”
Beth looked around to see Lola curled up and fast asleep in her crate.
“She’s not used to being around a lot of people. Wears her out.”
“She’s a cute little dog.”
“Thanks.”
She followed Woody outside. They settled in rocking chairs and were quiet for a few minutes.
“The scene of the crime,” she said. “Stinks.”
“A lot of stuff stinks. Too much, in fact. Listen, Beth. I’ve known Phoebe for a while. She gets real friendly when she’s had too much to drink. She’s harmless, really.”
“Harmless, my big fat butt. What’s Max’s excuse?”
“Your butt’s not fat. As for Max? My momma’s crazy sister used to say, Well, he’s got one, doesn’t he?”
This made Beth burst into giggles. And she blushed to know Woody had gauged the proportions of her derriere.
“Groooss,” she said, drawing the word out long.
“Boys are gross. And when girls get all liquored up, sometimes their panties have a way of falling off and nobody seems to recollect how it happened.”
“Headwinds. A big old wind flushes up their skirt, and boom! Britches go flying!”
“A windfall!” Woody laughed at his own joke, leaned forward, slapped his knee, and Beth looked at him like he was certifiably insane. “What? You don’t get it? Windfall?”
“No, I get it. I get it fine. Dr. Cornball has arrived.” Beth shook her head and smirked at him. “Great.”
“Who’s corny?”
“Um, you? My stepfather, Simon. He’s always making these ridiculously silly jokes. My mother spends a lot of time rolling her eyes.”
“I’ve been told by many women—many women—that my quick and easy wit is a sign that they should not be intimidated by my superior intelligence.”
“Oh, please. What’d you do? Graduate from Harvard at the top of your class?”
“Uh, yeah. Actually, I did.”
“Graduate school?”
“Yeah. Undergraduate too.”
“Well, bully for you, Einstein. I’ll take another glass of wine if you’re pouring.”
She asked herself how many times she could be mortified in one day? Apparently there was no quota and she didn’t need to touch her cheek to know that her face was in flames.
Woody was chuckling to himself because this wasn’t the first time he had inadvertently flashed his résumé and had the same reaction. He wasn’t a braggart but he did have a lot of pride in his accomplishments.
“Don’t you find it reassuring that your personal banker isn’t a dumbass?”
“Very.” Actually, she thought, I do.
“You went to school in Boston, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, BC.”
“Well, Boston College is no slacker school.”
“Well, I’m weird. I mean, I like to study.”
“Me too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have done as well, I guess.”
“Me either. Well, all I’ve done so far is graduate. I’m supposed to be packing for Iowa, but noooooo!”
“Yeah, I heard about that from Mike. So, what happened?”
“I was hand-selected by the Family Committee of Elders as most likely not to destroy the house.”
“Good thing they didn’t leave it with Mike. He’s been pounding down the booze ever since we got here.”
“Yeah, I noticed. He blew through Simon’s twenty-five-year-old single malt and that’s gonna torch his wallet to replace it.”
“That’s not good.”
“I wonder if he does that all the time. Drinks like that, I mean.”
“Only lately he sort of does. At least when I’m with him.”
“That’s not good either.”
“No, it’s not. Another kind of woman wouldn’t put up with it.”
“Maybe that explains why he chooses idiots. Do we think someone like Phoebe would ever object to him getting wasted?”
“Not in a million years. She wouldn’t object to anything. Gosh, I love this porch.”
“Me too. Best room in the house.”
“So listen, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Just how involved are you with that guy Max?”
Beth was silent then as the porch slowly began to transform itself into the confessional again. Dark porches had a way of doing that. Salt air floating by on slow breezes made you brain-drunk, longing to be understood. Justified.
“Well, I guess the honest answer is that I am not as involved as I would like to be. I mean, I think I could see myself with this guy forever and that is a very weird thing for me to say.”
Beth could almost feel Woody’s regret that she had answered in those words. He had posed the question because he wanted to know the answer for his own heart. But Woody was the consummate gentleman and she had no fear that he would act or speak inappropriately. In fact, she had rarely encountered someone quite so well mannered as he was.
“I see,” he said. “Well, that is a mystery.”
“Why? What’s mysterious about it? Don’t you think, I mean aside from their nonsense tonight…don’t you think he’s fabulous?”
Woody laughed a little and said, “Well, I’m not sure I’d call him fabulous. But I do think he is an interesting man.”
Interesting man was a careful choice of words to her. It could have meant a thousand things. Isn’t it interesting that Beth’s intended boyfriend is such a philanderer, snaking her cousin’s girlfriend right under everyone’s nose?
“So what is that su
pposed to mean?”
“Well, he’s a smart guy, that’s for sure. Maybe a little long in the tooth, but whatever.”
“He’s only thirty-seven.”
“Hey, I’m minding my own business on that one. I have to say that little development project he’s got going is a great idea. But I think he’s underfunded because he sure did pitch us hard to invest.”
“With money from Uncle Henry’s firm?”
“With money from anywhere.”
“Excuse me, but if Max wants my cousin to be his partner, he shouldn’t be coming on to his girlfriend, right?”
“Absolutely. But in his mind actually, one thing has nothing to do with the other. And remember, they all had too much to drink.”
“What do you mean in his mind?”
“Just that. Certain guys think that way.”
“I love the way men can compartmentalize.”
“Yeah, keep it simple is my motto.”
They were quiet then. He could sense Beth’s incredulousness at his opinion on the lines of separation between business and horsing around with a blowsy broad. She thought that he had implied a cocktail binge could excuse certain behaviors. He had implied that. But what he really meant—and this was the more bothersome thing for Beth—was that no one really cared about one another in that unholy triumvirate—not Mike, Phoebe, or Max. It was just about blowing off steam, having fun, getting crazy, and throwing around sexual innuendo until their sassy repartee was exhausted. Therefore, it all didn’t mean a thing.
That opinion didn’t settle well with Beth. She had concluded during her Boston years that that wasn’t how she wanted to approach relationships. She was more serious about her intentions and how others viewed her as well. Someday, she would write about the Phoebes of the world and how all that cavorting around like a cheap hussy would get you nothing of substance in the end. But, she thought, maybe I’m being too prim, too straight. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t know how to have fun, like my old librarian from grammar school. Mrs. Willard with the hairy mole on her chin still gave her the shivers when her face came to mind.
“Woody?”
“Yeah?”
“Okay, think about this before you answer. Am I a cardigan kind of girl or am I a conga line kind of girl?”
Woody started to laugh and Beth giggled too.
“Come on, I’m serious. I know it’s a stupid question but I want you to tell me what you think!”
“Um, well, I’ve only known you for a few hours, you know, so it’s hard to say with real conviction. But I would say that you seem to know when to be which one, more than a dead ringer for either one in particular. Did I say that right?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What I mean, Miss Hayes, is you don’t just conga with anyone and you know when it’s time to suit up.”
“Oh. Well, that’s okay, I guess.”
“To put it in the context of a serious relationship, I wouldn’t want to wake up one morning and find myself married to a woman who couldn’t behave herself half of the time.”
“Who would?”
“Too much work. I mean, life’s not a game for me.”
“Me either.”
“So what do you want, Beth? I mean, where do you see yourself, say, at thirty?”
“Married. Published, I hope. Maybe a baby on the way. Deliriously happy? I don’t know. What about you?”
“Yeah, I used to think I’d be in a serious relationship, maybe engaged, well on the way to my first million. But here I am on the doorstep of thirty and none of that is happening yet. I mean, I’ve got a decent portfolio of my own but my stuff is so conservative I’m looking at very slow growth. But man, the markets are so terrible these days. Scary stuff.”
“Yeah. That’s what you hear all over the news. So what do you think is gonna be?”
“If I knew that, I’d have my own firm.”
“Well, there you have it, sports fans. Life is uncertain.”
“And when times are uncertain, I think you are supposed to hunker down and not do anything stupid.”
“Is that what they taught you at the Har-vard B School?”
“No, Miss Hayes, I learned that from my old man.”
“And what does your dad do for a living? Run the stock exchange?”
“He’s a farmer.”
“Wow. Cool. And your mom?”
“She teaches school. And she helps my dad. And in the interest of full disclosure, I have two older brothers who run the farm with my dad.”
“God, farming sounds so romantic to me. You know, you just get away from the world and make things grow—”
Woody sat forward in his chair with a burst of laughter.
“Are you serious? Tell you what, someday I’ll take you out to the farm and you can see for yourself how romantic it is to get up at four in the morning to feed and milk the cows when it’s twenty below outside.”
He’s taking me someplace? What does that mean? Nothing, she thought, it’s just talk.
“Holy cow, no pun intended.”
“Who’s corny?”
“Okay, okay. But twenty below? I can’t imagine. You’re probably right. So where do they live? Alaska?”
“Nope. Iowa.”
“Iowa? Ah, the elusive Iowa! Well, maybe when I finally get there I’ll meet you at your family home and we’ll all have a big old glass of fresh milk together.”
“You know what? You’d better watch out. It’s stuff like that that gets you hooked on farming.”
“I’ll bet.” She realized she could spend the rest of the night talking to Woody. He was filled with all sorts of stories and surprises and he was kind. When she looked at her watch she saw it was almost two in the morning. “It’s late. Rats.”
“Yeah, I gotta turn in so I can get up tomorrow and get drunk with Mike and Phoebe.”
“How stupid.” Beth got up and straightened her rocker back in its line just as her Aunt Maggie would have done. Then she took Woody’s and did the same.
“You’re telling me? Here, wait. I should’ve done that. I’ll turn off the lights.”
“I’ll help.” When they reached the kitchen she said, “I have to check the stove twice.”
“What?”
“Family ritual. Listen, Woody? Thanks for all your help tonight.”
“It was nothing. Sorry about the mess.”
“No big deal.”
They said good night reluctantly and if asked they would have said that the reluctance was because neither of them was particularly sleepy. The truth was that the conversation between them had come so easily and they had actually enjoyed themselves. No games. No preening. Just friendly banter as they got to know each other a little.
Beth took Lola upstairs to sleep in her room, and as she was washing her face she wondered about Woody and his family. What exactly was it about people from the Midwest that was so appealing? The Midwest was so different from the South, or at least it seemed so to her. People from Ohio and Indiana seemed more reserved, more prudent. More stoic. While she thought that Woody would have told her anything she wanted to know about himself, he was not the kind of guy who fought for center stage to tell the world how amazing he was. Not one little iota. He was honest, or at least he seemed to be, and he was dignified. Whoever gets him will be a lucky girl, she thought, because he’s gonna make a great husband.
Morning came quickly and Beth was in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee when her Aunt Sophie called.
“Hey, girl! How’s my favorite niece I’ve been missing? And don’t tell anybody I said you’re my fave but you know you are.”
“Hey, Aunt Sophie!”
“God, my life is so crazy. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you!”
“Oh, don’t worry about that! It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“I called the house number last night and no one answered. Y’all gotta get voice mail someday.”
“Well, you know it’s the same phone number that we’ve ha
d since forever. Aunt Maggie hates newfangled changes and I guess she thinks it has historic value or something.”
“Maggie thinks everything has value, which is one of her redeeming qualities, if you think about it. It’s also why that kitchen has nineteen billion mugs that don’t match, right?”
“Yep. Actually, there’s an old answering machine in the pantry. I’m going to hook that up right now.”
“Good idea. So what’s going on, sugar?”
“Well, let’s see. I cut my hair and colored it back to normal.”
“Well, good. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s healthier-looking. And I got contact lenses, so I can actually see. And, I got two jobs, and lemme see what else.”
“Two jobs?”
“Yeah, both part-time. Not a burden and they keep me busy. Oh, and Mike is here from Atlanta with some girl he’s seeing and also this guy who works for Uncle Henry’s bank and manages my trust fund.”
“Really? Well, ahem! Are we having a double-date house party?”
“Yeah, right. Well, Mike is having his little honeymoon, but I am locked in my room upstairs with Lola. And if you breathe that, I’ll get killed by the Morals Police.”
“I’m saying nothing! So is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just had a question about the opposite sex, but now I’m not so sure if I need the advice at all.”
“Oh, tell me anyway. There’s nothing like a little romance to get the juices flowing.”
Beth told Sophie all about falling for Max. She told her about their incredible dinner and then about seeing him with the other woman at the very place she worked. But when the time came to talk about the prior night, she went very light on the details of his flirtation with Phoebe.
“Anyway, we’re having dinner tomorrow night and I’m just wondering how to make him, you know, like me. And I should tell you, he’s older.”
“Age doesn’t matter. Men are all the same. Wait. How much older?”
“Maybe like thirty-seven?”
“Yikes. Still, that’s your business. Aren’t you over twenty-one?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Okay, then here’s what you do. Look great and get him to talk.”
“What do you mean? Talk about what?”
“About himself. I guarantee you that’s his favorite topic. But here’s the trick.”
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