by Sophie Gunn
She’d put her rugs on eBay tomorrow.
The doorbell rang and they looked up at one another, surprised.
“It’s midnight,” Jill said.
“Drunk, lost Galton University students,” Georgia said, busting another kernel, inspecting it carefully, then eating it. “Frat boys are the only ones who ring this late. Ignore it and they’ll stumble away, barf in the gutter, then realize that campus is across the street.”
“What if they’re cute?” Jill asked. “I think we should let them in.”
Lizzie shook her head. “That’s disgusting. They’re children.”
“College students are legal,” Jill pointed out.
“Please tell me you’ve never acted on that knowledge,” Georgia said.
Jill just smiled.
“I’m telling Santa,” Nina said, sounding deadly serious.
The bell rang again.
“Stubborn buggers,” Jill said. “Can’t we at least look at them?”
“I’m sending them away before someone gets hurt.” Nina was the nice one, always had been. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone, even drunk Phi Delts, out in the cold.
When Nina came back into the room, a small woman was following her. She was at least twenty pounds overweight, wearing mom jeans and a green sweater with an enormous calico cat appliqued onto it. Her hair was disheveled and she didn’t wear any make-up. “Um, Georgia, this is Sophia,” Nina said.
“Hi?” Georgia said.
“Hi!” Sophia seemed inordinately excited. Was she an old patient, gone off her meds?
“I’m sorry. I’ve had too much wine. Do I know you?” Georgia asked. It was odd for Georgia not to recognize a former patient. Who could this be?
“Not really. I mean, we’ve never actually met,” Sophia said. “Wow, I like your place. I can’t believe I’m actually here.” She bent down to pick up a stray popcorn kernel by her feet.
Sophia wasn’t wearing a coat or hat or gloves despite the December chill. She was, however, wearing slippers shaped like reindeer, complete with red bead noses.
If she wasn’t a former patient, she was certainly a potential future one.
Had someone known that Georgia was the town psychiatrist? Had they dumped this poor soul on her doorstep the way desperate people sometimes abandoned sick patients at the doors of emergency rooms? Holidays were prime time for that sort of thing. It would be unusual, but not impossible. This time of year set everyone, especially the mentally ill, on edge.
Everyone stared at Sophia. Sophia stared back at everyone as if she was delighted to see them all. Her over-familiarity made them all fidget uncomfortably.
Schizophrenic? Georgia wondered. Borderline?
“So, um, how can I help you?” Georgia asked.
“Right. Of course. Sorry. This is just so odd. Okay. Here goes. Ahem.” Sophia cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “You can’t marry Stuart Zeppalt.” She said it as if it were her only line in the school play.
“Stu?” Georgia cried, her thoughts knocked off their trajectory. How did this unhinged woman know Stu? How did she know Georgia was planning on marrying him?
“You’re a friend of Stuey?” Lizzie asked.
“Well sure.” Sophia sat down next to Jill. “You smell good. Like lemons. I never knew that. Lemons.”
They all looked to one another uncertainly.
Jill asked, “You’re Stu’s lover?”
“Good God, no. Of course not,” Sophia said.
“You’re his mother?” Nina asked. “No. I’m sorry. You’re not that old. I didn’t mean that. His sister? His aunt?”
“Don’t worry about who I am. I’m not important. What’s important is that we don’t have a lot of time. Stu will be here tomorrow. You need to change your mind about this proposal.”
“Tomorrow?” Georgia said. “No, he’ll be here on my birthday—December 24th. The day before Christmas. That’s—what? Seven days away?”
“No. Sorry. He’s coming tomorrow.” Sophia was into the homemade sugar cookies, muffling her voice. “Have to keep the pace up, you know.”
“The pace?” Nina asked.
“Of the story. I’m your writer, Georgia. The less time we have, the more exciting and fast-paced the read. Of course, it makes my job harder. Ticking clock and all that!”
They all looked to one another to see if anyone was making heads or tales of this.
“I’m so sorry. I think I lost the thread of the conversation. What are we talking about?” Georgia asked gently.
“I can’t let you make such a terrible mistake. Especially this close to Christmas. If you marry this man, you’ll commit yourself to a life without passion. Imagine if everyone lived without passion. Without conviction. Imagine what the world would be like—everyone settling for the easiest way out.” A strange, faraway look came over Sophia’s face. “Imagine! Galton without passion.”
“I think I smell cookies burning!” Nina jumped up. “In the kitchen!” She grabbed Georgia’s arm. “Show me where the oven is, again.”
“Oh, dear!” Georgia said. “I’d better help you. Excuse us one minute.”
Georgia and Nina hurried into the kitchen.
“Something’s wrong with her,” Nina whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.
“I noticed,” Georgia said.
Jill and Lizzie bustled into the room, glancing back apprehensively behind them.
“What the heck?” Jill asked.
“We should call 911,” Lizzie whispered. “See if anyone’s missing a nutcase,”
“We don’t use that word here,” Georgia reminded them. “Mental illness is a serious thing. She’s perhaps a bit unsettled, that’s all. We don’t know her story.”
“She’s a nutcase. Who else would wear a sweater that ugly and slippers in the snow at midnight?” Jill said.
“She ate all the cookies,” Lizzie said, holding up the empty tray.
“But she knows Stu,” Nina pointed out. “She’s not totally out of the blue.”
“Call him,” Lizzie suggested.
“At midnight? No, I couldn’t. You know he goes to bed at nine. I’ll call him in the morning,” Georgia said.
“How did she know you’re going to propose?” Jill asked.
“I have no idea,” Georgia said. “She’s a very interesting case. Deluded, but not completely removed from reality. I say we let her stay. Listen to her carefully. See if we can figure out who she is. It is, after all, Christmas season. We have to have compassion. We have to find her family. They’re probably worried sick.”
“It’s a mystery!” Nina said. “I love mysteries.”
“I still wish it had been frat boys at the door,” Jill said. “I like romance better.”
“That’s not romance, that’s erotica,” Lizzie pointed out. “Now, come on, get more cookies and let’s see what we can discover.”
But when they went back into the living room, Sophia was gone.
#
“Inserting herself in the story,” Jane said, adjusting her quilted throw and shaking her head. She and the embroiderer were having tea in the small drawing room. The fire was starting to die down. “Classic rookie mistake.”
“I think she realized that as soon as she got into the room,” the embroiderer said. She took a small cake from the tray and slid it onto her delicate china plate. “That’s why she left. I’m sure she has a plan.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Jane, adding another cube of sugar to her tea. “Georgia deserves to find happiness. Especially on Christmas.”
“Let’s give her a little more time before we move in. I have faith.”
“Indeed. Then so do I.”
Chapter Four
Georgia didn’t sleep well that night, the odd, chubby woman in the colorful sweater playing through her dreams. Stu Zeppalt…you can’t marry him. How had she known that Georgia was going to propose to Stu? And who was she to say whom Georgia could and couldn’t marry?
&
nbsp; As soon as her digital clock flipped to eight a.m., Georgia dialed Stu.
“You’re coming up on the 24th, right?”
“Actually,” Stu said. “It was going to be a surprise, but since I just passed Binghamton, I suppose I ought to tell you, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes. I’m bringing breakfast.”
Georgia felt the blood drain from her body. What did it mean that Sophia had been right? And more importantly, what else had she been right about?
Georgia caught herself mid-thought. She was being ridiculous. She didn’t believe in—
—in what?
Pudgy women in bad clothes?
“Georgia?” Stu asked. “You still there?”
“I’m here. Oh, Stu! It’s Enemy Club weekend!”
“Oh. Shoot.” A pause. “I forgot.”
Georgia could hear the hum of the road over the uncomfortable silence. This was the man she was about to ask to marry her. How could she tell him to turn around and go home after two hours of driving—three hours the way Stu drove? What if he never came back?
“It’s okay,” Georgia said, knowing it wasn’t at all okay, but trying to talk herself out of that knowledge. “Come. You’re practically one of the girls.”
“Ouch,” Stu said. But he hurried on before she could fix her faux pas. “Listen, here’s the deal. Pastor Richard called and asked if our quartet could play for the Christmas pageant. They’re making a huge deal of the show this year. Apparently, Nina went a little nuts on new sets and costumes and Pastor Rich wanted to bring the music up a notch to match. I thought it would be a great reunion for all of us to play. Susan and Brad already said yes and I got off Wednesday through Friday so I can come up later in the week to Galton and we can all practice. I was hoping to see you today, but no big deal. I understand. It was a risk. If you’ll play with us, I’ll come by and drop off the music and disappear.”
“Oh, of course I’ll play. How fun,” Georgia said. “And stay a while. You can’t just turn around and drive all the way home.”
“It’s fine, Georgia. I’ll be happy just to see you. Okay, I hate to talk on my cell while I drive. I’ll see you soon.”
“Wait—Stu. One more thing. Do you know a woman named Sophia? Forty-fiveish. Graying hair? Interesting sweaters?”
“Sophia? I don’t think so. Why?”
“No reason. Just checking.”
“That crazy lady was right,” Nina said. “Creepy.”
“Forget her,” Jill cried. “He can’t come. It’s girls’ weekend!”
“It’s fine,” Lizzie said, but Georgia could tell her mind was also racing at the strange turn of events.
They were in Georgia’s kitchen in their pajamas nursing their first cups of coffee of the morning. Georgia’s was black; Lizzie took cream with extra sugar; Jill’s had just a splash of skim; Nina drank chamomile tea. Georgia wondered if any of them felt as hung over as she did.
Georgia said. “Look, this isn’t so bad. I wanted you all to be there when I proposed next week, so this will be perfect, just sooner than I planned. Once he’s my fiancé, I can kick him out.”
“I think you have to wait until you’re married to treat him like that,” Jill pointed out.
“No, no. It’s not like that,” Georgia said. “What I mean is that he’ll understand. He won’t mind leaving. That’s all I’m saying. That he’s a very nice man.”
“She’s saying that he’ll be so happy, he won’t care if he has to leave for the weekend,” Nina said. “He’ll be the happiest man in the world. And you’ll be the happiest woman!”
Silence descended on the kitchen.
“She will,” Nina repeated.
No one said anything.
“Every love is different,” Nina insisted.
“I will be the happiest woman in the world,” Georgia insisted. “This is the right thing to do, ladies. He’s bringing his viola. We’re going to bring the quartet back together for the Christmas pageant. It’s all good.”
They’d talked through the Stu situation a million times before. Georgia had listened to each of them, considered, and then gone her own way. There was nothing left to say. It was time to pack up their objections and start giving support.
A knock at the door broke the tension.
“It’s too soon to be Stu,” Jill said.
“Maybe Sophia is back!” Georgia said hopefully. She vacillated between being terrified of the woman, and having a professional interest in getting her into some sort of treatment program. Also, she had to admit that despite the oddness of the situation, Georgia liked Sophia. She reminded Georgia of someone, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly who.
But it wasn’t Sophia at the door.
It was a man.
The most beautiful man that Georgia had ever laid eyes on.
“Now she’s getting somewhere,” said Jane.
“Shush!” said her companion. “I want to listen.”
“You don’t want to listen, Charlotte. You want to watch. Look at him. So dark and brooding. Your type absolutely.”
“Nothing wrong with watching. There’s always something to learn. Now hush! The man is about to speak.”
“Dr. Jonah Black.” The man introduced himself, shaking hands firmly all around in the foyer. His name was fitting. His hair was black, his eyes blacker. His skin was tinged with olive undertones that set off his plum lips. His hand in each of theirs was warm and all-encompassing.
“And you are Georgia Phillips,” he said to Georgia. “I’ve seen you from afar at conferences. I was at your talk, Mood Disorders, Antidepressants and Mitochondrial Functions. Detroit. 2011.”
“If I’d known men like him went to talks like that, I’d have tried to pass chemistry,” Jill said to Lizzie.
Dr. Black continued. “Anyway, all that’s not important now, although I’d love to speak to you about it later. What is important is that I saw your ad in the back of the Northeast Psychiatric Journal.”
“You put a personal ad in the back of the psycho journal!” Jill cried. “Way to go, Georgie!”
“It’s not a psycho journal,” Georgia corrected. “It’s a psychiatric journal. And it wasn’t a personal ad.”
Dr. Jonah Black turned to Jill. “She’s selling her practice.”
A murmur of surprise and dismay went up, but Dr. Black kept his eyes firmly focused on Georgia. “I’d be honored to be the first to offer to buy it.” He handed Georgia his card and bowed slightly.
Jill fanned herself with her hand. Lizzie steadied herself against the too-close foyer walls. Nina took a half-step closer as if drawn by a magnet.
Georgia wasn’t affected by the man in the least. She looked the card over. Dr. Jonah K. Black, Classic Freudian Analysis. San Diego, California.
Georgia began, “How did you—”
“Find you?” Dr. Black asked.
“He’s finishing her sentences,” Jill whispered to Nina.
Georgia rolled her eyes.
Dr. Black’s raven eyes remained fixed on Georgia as if the others didn’t exist. “I was going to send a letter to your post office box as you requested. Discrete inquiries only. Very old fashioned. But when I saw the zip code on your post office box, I knew I had to act boldly. You see, I’ve been planning to move closer to my mother—”
“Mrs. Black! Chicken salad on toasted rye, side garden salad, vinaigrette on the side, ice tea extra sugar!” Lizzie cried. She remembered all her regulars’ orders at the diner. “Did you go to Galton High? Why don’t I remember you?”
“I would definitely not have forgotten a man like you,” Jill said.
“Sadly, I was put into boarding school from the age of eight. But yes, Mrs. B is my mother. She’s not well. I’ve been trying to figure out how I could get her to San Diego or get myself here—and then there was your ad. It felt so perfect, I just had to stop by the moment I got into town.” He moved a step closer to Georgia and took her hand. “You’d make my mother’s Christmas perfect if
I could tell her that I am buying an excellent practice and relocating here!”
“Fate!” Lizzie sighed.
“It’s not fate,” Georgia said, removing her hand. “There’s no such thing as fate. It’s coincidence.”
“It’s one heck of a gorgeous coincidence,” Jill murmured softly, so that only Georgia could hear.
Dr. Black said, “You have guests. I shouldn’t have come this early in the morning and I should have at least called. I’m a passionate man, and I often get ahead of myself. Can we set a time to talk?”
“Stay!” Jill insisted. She shot Nina and Lizzie a look.
“Yes, stay!” Nina jumped in. “We have cookies.”
“And alcohol,” Jill added.
“And alcohol laced cookies,” Lizzie said.
Georgia ignored her friends. “Your mother is probably anxious to see you. Of course we can set up a time to meet later.”
“Aw, she’s old. She’s probably still in bed, recovering from Lizzie’s chicken salad,” Jill said, taking Jonah’s arm. She pulled him into the hall, not an easy feat as he was at least a foot taller than her. “So, you’re a doctor, are you? Georgia is, too. But then, you know that. Do you love her house? Nice, huh? She’s very rich.” Jill practically yanked him into the living room.
Georgia looked at her two remaining friends. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing. Just—he’s a very very good looking man,” Nina said.
“And a psychiatrist to boot!” Lizzie said. “You two have so much in common!”
“Except that I’m about to propose to another man,” Georgia reminded them.
“Well. Okay, Yes,” Nina allowed. “But that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Stu will be here in half an hour.”
“Isn’t it odd, then, that this beautiful man arrives just in the nick of time?” Lizzie said.
“The nick of time for what?” Georgia asked. “To change my mind? You can’t be serious! Look, even if I do fall madly in love with him in the next thirty minutes.” She looked at her watch. “Twenty seven.”
“The way Stu drives, you’ve got at least an hour and a half,” Lizzie said.