The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

  Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer for the souls of those she loved most, and yes, one for Ed Landry.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “This is absolutely adorable, Mama,” Eleanor said, reaching up to pull open a few cabinet doors. “Plenty of room for your endless collection of dishes and cookware.” She smiled at the playful swat that comment earned her.

  “I don’t know,” Emma said, hands on hips as she looked around the small, two-bedroom bungalow. “These houses all seem so close together here.”

  Eleanor glanced out the kitchen window, noting the neighbor’s house just on the other side of the small fenced-in yard. “Yes, but that’s what you’re wanting, right? Not so far out, not so much yard or land to deal with?” she reminded, opening the icebox to see it was pristine, like the rest of the house. In her opinion, the place would be perfect for her mother’s needs, but at the end of the day, it was up to her.

  “True,” Emma conceded, blowing out a breath. “I don’t know,” she said, meeting Eleanor’s gaze from across the small kitchen. “I’m just not feeling this one.”

  “Okay, no big deal. Janice gave us several to look at today. We’ll just keep going.” She smiled and walked over to the older woman, an arm going around her shoulder as they headed out of the house, pulling the front door shut behind them.

  Back in Emma’s car, Eleanor got behind the wheel as Emma sat shotgun. She removed the slip of paper the Realtor had given her, using her pen to mark off the address they were leaving.

  “Okay, the next one is at 242 Campbell Street,” she said.

  “That’s a cute little area,” Eleanor commented, getting the car moving.

  They drove in silence for a few moments before Emma asked, “How’s your friend doing? Scott, right?”

  Eleanor nodded. “He’s,” she hedged with a shrug, “okay, I guess. I finally got him to go to lunch with me a few days ago.” She pulled the car to a stop at a stop sign. “I talked him into coming back to school in the fall.” The way clear, she pushed on the gas.

  “But aren’t there still a couple months left in the year?” Emma asked, pen poised over the Realtor sheet as she glanced at Eleanor.

  “Yes,” Eleanor agreed, meeting her gaze for a moment before returning it to the road, driving along the beautiful and quiet tree-lined avenue. “But he’s still incredibly jittery with loud noises and,” she smirked, “let’s face it, teenagers are very nosy.”

  “Amen to that,” Emma muttered.

  “Hey, now.” Eleanor smiled. “He’s also still having pretty bad dreams, from what he told me. I honestly think it would be a huge mistake for him to go back too soon.”

  “That poor young man,” she said with a sigh. “Have they caught who did it?”

  Eleanor smirked, anger instantly springing into her tone. “That would require the police to see this as a crime, Mama,” she murmured. “They paraded Scott in front of a few lineups, but honestly, I think it was more to make them look like they’re actually doing something than to solve this thing.”

  “You hungry?” Emma asked suddenly, cheery tone changing the heavy energy in the car after the short discussion about Scott. “Let’s get some lunch before we see the next house. What do you think?”

  “Yeah, okay. What are you in the mood for?”

  Ten minutes later, they were getting settled in the local diner, seated across from each other in a booth. Eleanor had grabbed them both a laminated menu from the chrome holder that was tucked against the wall by the salt and pepper shakers. She placed one in front of her mother and had opened hers when she was startled as her mother began to bounce excitedly in her seat and knock on the window they sat next to.

  “Mom!” she hissed. “You’re going to get us thrown out of here.”

  Emma obviously wasn’t listening or didn’t care as she flew out of her side of the booth and ran down the aisle between their row of booths and the counter lined with stools.

  Head whipping to see what on earth was happening, Eleanor was shocked to see Lysette fly through the door and right into Emma’s embrace, both women holding on tightly and the tears flowing and a baffled Bronte watching from the door.

  “Look at you!” Emma gushed, pulling out of the hug just enough to hold the younger woman by the arms and take her all in. “You’re so beautiful!”

  Eleanor wasn’t sure what to do. She knew that moment belonged to her mother and Lysette, but was she being rude or standoffish staying by the booth where she stood, or should she walk over there?

  There was no need to decide as her mother was finishing a smothering hug of Bronte and inviting the pair to join them for lunch.

  “Scoot, scoot, scoot!” Emma exclaimed, backhanding Eleanor’s thigh as she sat back down in the booth when she saw everyone headed her way. She slid across the vinyl, surprised to see Lysette slide in next to her as Emma dragged Bronte to her bench.

  “Hey.” Lysette grinned at her.

  “Hey, yourself,” Eleanor responded, the surprise evident in her voice.

  “You don’t mind if Bronte and I crash your lunch, do you?” Lysette teased.

  Eleanor grinned and shook her head. “Of course not.” Her attention was grabbed when she felt her hand taken in a calloused one. Glancing across the table, she saw that her mother had reached across with both arms, taking a hand of both women. The look of absolute joy and peace she wore took twenty years off her prematurely aged features.

  “Got my girls back,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “As it should be.”

  Eleanor squeezed her mother’s hand, swallowing her own emotion as she glanced over at Lysette, who was already looking at her.

  “Well,” Lysette said softly, giving Eleanor the sweetest of smiles before turning her focus to Emma. “We’re all here now.”

  As the lunch went on, Eleanor felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. Her mother seemed to have found a new best friend in Bronte, the two giggling like school girls over music and horses. Little had Eleanor known about her own mother, but she’d ridden extensively as a child on the family ranch.

  “I think Missy Roberts is going to get jealous,” Lysette whispered, leaning slightly into Eleanor.

  “Who’s Missy Roberts?” Eleanor asked, sparing a glance at her.

  “Bronte’s current best friend,” Lysette responded, meeting her gaze. “You know, because there’s a new little girl paraded through my house every other week.”

  Eleanor grinned. “Were you like that?”

  Lysette rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? I didn’t switch out besties when I was Bronte’s age, I collected them.”

  A short but loud burst of laughter escaped Eleanor’s lips at the image that popped into her mind at the comment, which sent Lysette into quiet chuckles beside her. “I can see them all,” she whispered back, using her hands to pantomime her words, “all lined up in a row in that curio cabinet you had in your bedroom.”

  Lysette gave her the mischievous grin that Eleanor remembered so well. She grabbed her unused knife and spoon, as well as Eleanor’s knife, standing them on end on the table. She hummed a little tune as she made the three pieces of flatware dance.

  She sang in a quiet, high-pitched voice a horrible rendition of Singin’ in the Rain that made Eleanor laugh.

  Eleanor was torn out of her giggles when she felt eyes on her. Goofy grin still on her lips, she glanced over to see her mother and Bronte staring at them.

  “Is this a private joke or can anyone join in?” Emma asked.

  Eleanor cleared her throat, smile sliding from her lips as she tried to sober, but Lysette blew out a laugh, which got her going all over again.

  ****

  Eleanor pulled the car into the driveway of the three-bedroom, two-bathroom house that sat on a corner lot on Beth Sayers Court. She could feel her mother’s gaze on her, so she met it. “What? You’ve been staring at me for two minutes straight.”

  Emma chuckled. “I liked your rendition better than Lysette�
�s.”

  Pulling the key from the ignition, she rested her hand on the door handle. “What are you talking about?”

  Emma opened her door as she began to sing the chorus to Singin’ in the Rain, her voice as clear and loud.

  Eleanor rolled her eyes and grinned. “Yeah, yeah.”

  The two women stood in the driveway that stretched out from the single-car garage. There was a small front yard, and it was in fairly bad shape but was ripe for Emma’s imagination and magical touch with anything that needed love to grow.

  “This is really cute, Mama,” Eleanor said, hands on hips.

  “It is.”

  They walked up the stone path to the covered front porch to the wall-mounted mailbox where Janice told them they’d find the key.

  “Quite the unexpected interlude,” Emma said as Eleanor unlocked the door. “Running into Lysette and Bronte.”

  “Unexpected is right,” Eleanor agreed. She pushed the door open, letting her mother enter before her. “You and Bronte seemed to hit it off, though.”

  “Oh, she’s a wonderful little girl!” Emma gushed, entering the home.

  “I actually don’t know Bronte that well. Today is the most time I’ve ever spent with her, but I agree, great kid.”

  The living room was spacious and was a good shape to furnish, a beautiful stone wall and fireplace the centerpiece.

  “This is great, Mama,” Eleanor said, easily imagining her mother’s things there, including the old rocking chair by the fireplace on a cold Colorado night. “You could read or crochet by the fire.” She walked over to the fireplace and opened the glass doors to look at the condition of the inner hearth.

  “This house has good energy,” Emma said, standing in the middle of the empty living room with hands on hips. “Let’s look at the kitchen.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Eleanor breathed, taking in the expansive space, much larger than most kitchens were popular to have. But what was truly special was the attached greenhouse that jutted off the back of the house with a door off the kitchen for entry.

  “Sold!” Emma declared.

  Eleanor chuckled, not surprised. “Whether you buy this place or one of the others, promise me you’ll take it easy and won’t overdo it when packing the old place, okay?” she said, eyeing her mother.

  Emma waved her off as she headed into the greenhouse, followed by Eleanor. “You know who you haven’t talked about in a while is Anne.” She glanced at Eleanor. “Are you still going with her?”

  Eleanor shrugged. “I suppose. She’s been gone since just after the new year,” she said, looking up to check the condition of the overhead panes.

  “Gone? Where?”

  “Family stuff, I think. She either quit her job or got a leave of absence, I forget which. But funny you should ask, though. She called last week and wants to have dinner Wednesday. So I guess she’s coming back to town.”

  ****

  Eleanor was nervous. She honestly couldn’t fully pinpoint why, she just knew that she was. She stood outside of the steakhouse Anne had asked her to meet her at, a hand resting on the lamppost as she stared at the restaurant entry. She still had a few minutes before she was scheduled to meet Anne, and after standing there for five minutes already, she was surprised she hadn’t seen Anne arrive, just a steady flow of people coming and going.

  Something in her gut was telling her that this was a strange situation. Anne had been gone for more than two months, nearly three with nary a phone call or letter from her during that time. She’d left town before to see her family or for business, and when she’d returned, she’d exploded back into Eleanor’s life with rambunctious knocking on her apartment door or stolen kisses in the classroom.

  Neither of these things had happened this time. Simply the short phone call a handful of days before, requesting dinner, had been her greeting. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at her watch and saw that she was a minute late.

  “Damn it.”

  Hurrying inside, she was met by the host. She was about to ask for a table for two when she noticed Anne already seated in the dining room. She gave him a polite smile, then walked passed him and toward Anne’s table. She was confused when a waiter was clearing off a dirty dinner setting from the place opposite where she sat with her fingers wrapped around a wine glass that had already been half-finished.

  For a moment, Eleanor thought perhaps Anne had planted herself at a recently vacated table to claim it for them until she heard the waiter ask her if she or the “gentleman” would be having dessert.

  “No, thank you,” she said, glancing up at Eleanor. “Unless you want anything.”

  Perplexed and curious who this phantom “gentleman” was, she shook her head and took the empty chair. “Uh, no. I guess I already missed dinner.” The knot in her stomach grew. “You know what,” she said, turning to the waiter, who was about to leave, arms loaded with gathered dishes and glassware. “I’ll have a glass of the house white, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a small bow before hurrying away.

  Eleanor turned her attention back to Anne, who brought her own glass of wine to painted lips, her gaze never leaving Eleanor’s. “So how are you? It’s nice to see you.” She felt awkward, as though she were addressing a complete stranger. Normally, Anne oozed sensuality, playfulness, sometimes to the point of making things uncomfortable. Now sitting across from her, Anne looked at her with cold, calculating eyes.

  “Good,” she said, placing the glass back down on the table. “How about you? How have things been in Woodland since I’ve been gone?”

  “Okay, I suppose. Scott’s doing his best to heal, but he’s struggling. My mother finally settled on a house to buy, over on Beth Sayers Court. Real happy for her.”

  “That’s wonderful. What’s wrong with Scott? Did his parents finally throw him out?” she asked with a smirk. She gave the waiter a charming smile as he dropped off Eleanor’s glass of wine and a fresh one for Anne.

  Eleanor was angry; she could feel her hackles rise. “No,” she drawled, voice low. “Scott and Ronnie were shot while parked out past Emery Park. Probably targeted.”

  “So if Scott’s struggling, he obviously survived. Ronnie?”

  “Ronnie’s fine. Moved away,” Eleanor said, eyeing Anne as she grabbed her wine. She knew that, like her, Anne thought Scott should have his own home as a man in his thirties, but other than that, as far as she knew, Anne liked Scott and Ronnie. She was surprised by the indifference she heard in her voice.

  “I’m glad they’re oaky, but people like that should know better. What do they expect to happen?”

  “People like who?” Eleanor asked, her anger turning to confusion. “People like us, you mean?” She indicated Anne and herself. “Are those the kind of people?”

  Anne studied her for a long moment before looking away, grabbing her fresh glass of wine, even as the first still had a few sips left. “I invited you here tonight to tell you something, Eleanor,” she said, completely ignoring Eleanor’s question and changing the topic.

  “All right,” Eleanor said, sipping from her own wine, feeling she’d need a bit of liquid courage for whatever was about to come.

  “Patrick and I got married,” she announced. “We just returned from our honeymoon.” She gave her a sexy little smile. “He took me on a cruise around Europe.”

  Eleanor couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, not entirely sure she’d heard her correctly. It wasn’t until her gaze landed on the hand that held the wine glass that she noticed the giant diamond that rested there.

  “Who’s Patrick?” she asked stupidly.

  “He’s the cousin of my sister-in-law. We met at Thanksgiving,” Anne explained. Though her voice sounded strong and confident, she wouldn’t meet Eleanor’s gaze.

  “Anne,” Eleanor said, incredulous. “Not only is Patrick a man,” she hissed, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard, “but you met him four months ago!”

  “Yes, and I want children!” Anne near
ly growled, though instantly she looked repentant. She cleared her throat and took a long drink of her wine, finishing half the liquid. “Sometimes, you just know,” she added stubbornly. “I knew with Patrick.”

  “What, that you want him to father your children?” Eleanor gasped, stunned. “What, you sleep with him, let him knock you up, then leave him for women again?”

  Anne glared at her. “I don’t appreciate how you’re speaking of my marriage or my husband.”

  “And I don’t appreciate how you’re making a joke out of your life, yourself, and people like us.” Furious and utterly disgusted, Eleanor pushed back from the table, hitching the purse strap higher on her shoulder that she’d never even removed. She took one last look at Anne before turning to leave. She stopped when she heard her name called. She glanced at the seated woman over her shoulder.

  “I tried to get you to give more,” Anne said quietly. “I found someone who would.”

  Nothing more to say, Eleanor walked away, unable to not consider the fact that Lysette had also married a man. Yes, the circumstances between the women were very different and her place in their lives at the time were very different. But still, was it not possible to find someone like herself?

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “You’re cheating!” Bronte exclaimed, shoulders slumping and lower lip protruding as she stared down at the two dice that each sported six dots.

  Lysette chuckled as she unloaded the last of her Bakelite discs into their compartment that lined one side of the backgammon board. She eyed the sulking twelve-year-old who sat cross-legged opposite the carved wood and leather game case on the living room floor, the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace on the chilly spring evening.

  “Come on, don’t get upset. Let’s play again,” Lysette encouraged, wiping the board clear. “Do you want to be blue again?” At the barely perceptible nod, she reset the board. “See, the problem is, you’re so concerned with landing on my pieces and putting them in jail that you’re not focusing on getting your own guys home, honey,” she explained gently. “It’s a game of strategy, not just attack.” The board set, she studied Bronte until her gaze met her own. “Okay? Want to try it?”