Women of Washington Avenue

by Linda Apple

  “Gay? Yeah, you didn’t know?” Scott grinned at Avalee. “I thought you had told your friends. Or did you want them to think we were living in sin?”

  “It just never occurred to me to say anything.” Ava looked at me with a quizzical expression. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. More like tongue-tied, embarrassed, at a total loss for words. “It’s just that … well, I’ve never met a homosexual before.” My face burned. Shut up, Molly Kate, for heaven’s sakes.

  Scott touched my arm. “It’s all right. Being gay isn’t contagious. You’re safe.”

  His remark struck me as funny, and I got the giggles. Those were contagious. We all laughed till we were dabbing our eyes with our sleeves.

  “Well now, at least that mystery is cleared up.”

  Avalee frowned. “What mystery?”

  “How you could live with such a good-looking man without, well, you know.”

  Scott started laughing again. “Molly Kate, you and I are going to be great friends. I can tell already.”

  “Good.” I wrapped my arm around his and lead him to the couch. “Let’s get to business. So what do you suggest?”

  “How about a delicate balance of white rose buds, white Calla Lilies, with pops of red holly berries and green holly leaves?”

  “Sounds pretty. It will look beautiful against my dress.”

  Avalee raised her eyebrows. “You bought one? I want to see it.”

  “When the girls get here. I’ll model it.”

  The words had no sooner left my mouth than Jema and Lexi rushed in with their bags and plates. Lexi set her Grey Goose on the bar and rubbed her hands together. “It’s freezing out there.”

  Jema took her platter to the kitchen. Once again, like a starving puppy, Scott followed. “What did you bring?”

  She lifted the foil. “Fried up some dill pickles and made hot crab dip.”

  “Fried pickles?” Scott’s look of wonderment could have easily matched a child seeing Santa Claus land on his roof.

  “Try some.” She held the platter up.

  He took one and popped it in his mouth. While he chewed, a slight shiver shook through his shoulders. “That’s incredible. The marriage of flaky fried goodness and tangy pickle ought to be illegal.” He took a couple more.

  Since everyone had arrived, I decided it was time for the fashion show. “Y’all have your drinks. I’m going to put on my wedding dress and model it for you.”

  Lexi looked up while pouring her martini. “When did you get it?”

  “Avalee will fill you in. And be careful, you’re missing your glass.”

  “Oh, shoot.” Lexi grabbed a napkin and mopped up her spill. “What a waste.”

  I motioned to Jema. “Come help me?”

  “Sure thing.”

  When we were in my room, I closed the door and pulled the dress out of the closet. Jema’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, my word. Molly Kate. It’s beautiful. It’s... positively wicked. I love it.”

  “Wait until you see it on.”

  It took a while to wiggle it on and awhile longer for Jema to zip it up. I had a vague understanding how Marilyn Monroe must have felt when she was sewn into her dress before singing for the president. Thank goodness for the thigh-high slit on the side or I wouldn’t be able to walk at all. After positioning the twins in the strapless, beaded bodice, I made a slow turn for Jema. “Well?”

  “All I have to say is you better not let Stan see you in it until the wedding or he just may want to elope. You’re stunning.”

  “Let’s go show the girls.”

  “And Scott.”

  “And Scott. Oh, FYI, he’s gay. In case you didn’t know. I made an idiot out of myself when I found out.”

  Jema frowned. “No, I didn’t know.”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “That’s too bad for women everywhere. He sure is fine looking.”

  “Yea, I know.”

  When I made my entrance, all talking stopped. Just as I had hoped. “Didn’t think an ample woman like me had the nerve, did you?”

  Lexi was the first to find her voice. “Hoooneeey, do you ever have some pumpkins on your porch. Wow.”

  Avalee walked around me taking it all in. “You are gorgeous. I’ll bet Stan has never had a Christmas gift wrapped up so pretty.”

  Scott delivered the best compliment of all when he said, “Lady, I’m rethinking my orientation.”

  I raised my empty martini glass. “Here, here! High praise indeed!”

  “A toast to the bride-to-be.” Jema passed out flutes of champagne.

  We all hoisted our glasses and then drank. While everyone laughed and talked, I surveyed the room. This would be the last time we’d meet like this in my house on Washington Avenue. A lot of sweet memories lingered here. In a few days, I’d live in my new home on Nightingale. It felt so bittersweet. The page in my life was about to turn, but I had no regrets. Fools refuse to move forward into the future. And I’m no fool.

  ****

  The move to our new home was a simple matter of packing up my clothes, my cat, the things I couldn’t bring myself to leave, and walking out the door. Since I didn’t need the furniture, I left everything for Carli. After all, her life began on Washington Avenue, and all her childhood memories were made in this house.

  After I’d cleared out my stuff, we met in her new home and walked through it room by room, reminiscing, weeping, laughing. When we finished, I gave her the keys.

  “Here, baby. From your momma and daddy.”

  She took the keys and held them to her heart. “Thank you, Mom.” Then she lifted her face. “Thanks, Dad.”

  No more duplex living for her. She was now a homeowner, and her girls had rooms of their own.

  As if I hadn’t been blessed enough already, I was overjoyed how Carli and Stan had bonded on the spot. He had always wanted a daughter. She needed a father, and her girls needed a grandfather. It was all so right. I hoped Stan’s sons and I would bond like Stan and Carli.

  In no time, Gypsy and I had settled, more like nestled, into our new home. As strange as it sounded, it seemed as if the house was pleased to have residents once again. Gypsy spent most of her time exploring interesting nooks and crannies. Me? I loved reading in the sunroom that connected our house to what would eventually be the Norton Mansion B&B. Stan and I had discussed other names for the business, such as Montgomery House or Moonlight B&B, but I felt we should preserve the historical integrity of the mansion. And I think Mr. and Mrs. Norton, God rest their souls, would approve. And if by chance any of the Norton family came by, I hoped they would appreciate it, too. We also decided to keep the Norton family portraits on the walls. Apparently, the paintings were either too large for the homes of the remaining family members, or they didn’t fit the family’s decorating schemes. It seemed like such a shame to put them in storage where they’d be forgotten.

  After Stan and I returned from our honeymoon, I intended on researching the Nortons and have their historical information available for our guests. Who knows? I may even invent a ghost. I heard haunted rooms always stay full.

  For the past few weeks, Avalee and Scott practically lived at the house, sketching and planning. To be honest, I was glad for the company. Overwhelmed didn’t begin to describe me, and they kept me organized. In five days I would be married in a virtual fairy tale. Scott bought Christmas trees for every room. We all decorated them together while eating cookies, drinking eggnog, and listening to Bing Crosby. Garland graced every doorframe and flowed down the banister. But what made it a real fairyland were the thousands of tiny white lights. When the rooms were dark, it looked like brilliant stars sparkled everywhere.

  I spent my days roaming from room to room imagining my life with Stan. How I wished he were with me instead of in Salina finalizing the sale of his farm. I picked Gypsy up and rubbed my cheek against her soft fur.

  “I’m ready for daddy to come home. How about you?”

&nbs
p; “Mrrr?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I put my cat-child down and decided to make a cup of tea. When I passed through the foyer I heard footsteps thump across the porch, and then the doorbell rang. Who could that be? I wasn’t expecting anyone?

  When I opened the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as if I had gone back in time. There stood the Stan I knew years ago. This had to be his son.

  “Yes? May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “I’m Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “Do you have a daughter named Molly Kate?”

  “No. I am Molly Kate.”

  The man stepped back with a quizzical expression, then studied me from head to foot. His mouth hardened in a thin line, and he shook his head.

  “You must be Stan’s son. You look just like him.”

  “I am. Stanley Jr.”

  I stuck out my hand. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

  He stepped back and clenched his hands against his sides. “Mrs. Fairchild. This is no social call. I need to speak with you.”

  Alarm raced through me. My heart slammed so hard I could hear it. I gripped the door to steady myself. “Stan? Has something happened? Is he all right?”

  “Something has happened all right, and no. In my opinion he isn’t all right. You have a lot to do with that.”

  Cold wind lifted my hair and whipped it in my face. Just what was he saying? “It’s chilly out here. Come in and let’s talk.” He stepped into the foyer. “Make yourself comfortable in the parlor, and I’ll bring some coffee to warm us up.”

  “No ma’am. I’ll not go another step in this godforsaken house.”

  “I beg your pardon?” This boy began to frighten me.

  “Look. I don’t know how you did it, but my father has sold his land and his farm and bought this monstrosity. For who? You? A stranger he met on the Internet? I at least expected some voluptuous twenty-year-old. Not someone so,” he twisted his mouth in disgust, “so, matronly. How did you do it? Are you blackmailing him?”

  By now the man’s face flamed red. His blue eyes took on an iridescent glow. Sweat beaded his brow and wisps of hair stuck to his forehead.

  “My dad and mom were married forty years. Did you hear that? Forty years. He loved my mom. There has never, ever, been any other woman in his life. They built their farm together.” He pointed his finger in my face. “It was supposed to be my brother’s and my inheritance. I find it strange that in a few months’ time he sells it all for a woman he barely knows. And why? It can’t be your looks. It clearly has to be something else.”

  I knew I should say something in my defense, tell him I knew his dad before his mother knew him. But I was so dumbfounded I just stood there speechless.

  Like a gathering storm his anger grew. He flailed his arms and spewed obscenities. His lips turned back over his teeth in a snarl, and he stepped closer and closer, invading my personal space. “I promise you this.” He pressed his finger in my chest. “I will find out.”

  The room took on a surreal appearance. Stanley Jr.’s voice sounded distant. Once again I heard my heart’s erratic beats. Tiny lights flashed before my eyes, and I flailed for the stair rail.

  He turned and stomped to the door. Before he left, he gripped the knob and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll make you another promise. If you marry my father, he will never see his sons or his grandchildren ever again.” After a hard glare, he turned and slammed the door behind him.

  My back hurt, I couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted to throw up. God, help me.

  Chapter 21

  AVALEE

  Last Word

  I started out the kitchen door on my way to pick up a few things for Momma at the Piggly Wiggly when the phone rang. Never fails. “Hello?”

  “Help me...please.”

  The breathless whisper made it hard to recognize the voice on the other end, but it sounded like...

  “Molly Kate?”

  “Call 911.”

  Panic seized me by the throat, and I screamed into the phone, “Molly? What’s wrong?” The line went dead.

  Momma ran into the kitchen. “Good Lord, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know. Call 911, and tell them to get to the Norton place. Something has happened to Molly Kate. I’m going over there right now.”

  Mom grabbed the phone and started punching. I flew out the door, jumped in the car, and roared toward Molly’s. When I turned down Leslie Lane, I noticed a man standing on the corner, staring at her house. The ambulance had already arrived. I dashed up the walk and ran inside. Molly was on the stretcher mumbling answers to the EMT’s questions. They put an oxygen mask on her face, kicked the gurney wheels up, and rushed her toward the ambulance.

  I reached for one of the EMT’s arms. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”

  Without looking back he yelled. “Possible heart attack.”

  “Heart attack?” I watched from the doorway, frozen to the spot, helpless, as they slipped Molly into the ambulance and sped away. The man who watched from the corner approached me, clearly distressed.

  “What happened to that lady?”

  “Heart attack, they think.” Fear buckled my knees. My body wracked and I cried out, “Oh, dear God. Please don’t take her. Please.”

  He knelt beside me. “You know her pretty well?”

  Tears blurred my vision, but I could swear I had seen this man before. “I’ve known her all my life. There isn’t a kinder, more giving, loving, honest, or harder working person in the world. I’d be lost without her.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “Damn.” And then he stood and left.

  How strange.

  Finally I got my emotions under control enough to call Stan. When he answered, I whispered a prayer of thanks. “Hi, Stan. Listen, honey, I have some bad news.”

  “Molly? Has something happened to her? What? What?”

  The level of panic in his voice made it hard for me to keep my composure. Tears forced their way to my eyes and my voice cracked. “We think she’s had a heart attack. They are taking her to the hospital.”

  “Oh God, help me. I’m almost home. I’ll meet you there.” He hung up.

  I jumped in my car, threw it in reverse, and spun onto the street, straightened it out, and then pressed the accelerator, daring a policeman to stop me. This was an emergency.

  By the time I arrived at the ER, they had already taken Molly Kate in for tests. In the far corner of the waiting room, I noticed that man again.

  This was getting weird. What did he have to do with Molly Kate? While trying to determine if I needed to approach him myself or get security, Carli, Jema, and Lexi ran in.

  Carli’s face was streaked with tears. “Where’s Mom?”

  “How is she?” Jema threw her purse in a chair. “Miss Cladie just called. Is she okay?”

  Lexi slumped in a chrome and black vinyl seat and laid her head in her hands. “She has to be. She just has to be.”

  The man in the corner leaned over and rested his arms on his knees, hung his head, and then I noticed his shoulders shaking. I made up my mind to go speak to him, but then Stan ran in. “Where is she? Where’s Molly? Please tell me she is still with us.” He bent over and braced himself with his hands on his thighs trying to catch his breath between sobs.

  I never could bear hearing a man cry, much less completely break down. I hurried over to him with Jema and Lexi close behind. We enveloped him in a hug.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “She’s in for tests. All we can do is wait.”

  We led him to a chair. After a while, he gained control and reached in his pocket for a handkerchief. When he lifted his bloodshot eyes, he noticed the man in the corner staring at him.

  Stan froze. Then said, “Stanley?”

  The man in the corner looked away.

  Stan lurched forward and strode to him. “Stanley? What are you doing here?” His mouth hard
ened, and he fisted the handkerchief in a ball. “You are responsible for this, aren’t you?”

  The man never looked up. “I didn’t know she’d have a heart attack.”

  Stan’s cheek twitched, and his eyes narrowed. In one swift fluid movement he seized Stanley by his collar and yanked him up out of the chair. “I told you to stay away from her.”

  “Dad, stop. You’re choking me.”

  “I told you to stay away. Now look at what you’ve done.”

  Stanley began to weep and he pressed against his father. “Not here, Dad. Let’s go outside before someone calls security.”

  “No. I have nothing to say to you. Do you hear me? Nothing. Now get out of here before I do something we’ll both regret.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “There is a lot you don’t know.” Stan released his hold, then slung his finger toward the sliding glass doors. “Get out.”

  Stanley kept his gaze on the ground as he strode away.

  When the emergency room doors closed, Stan slumped into a chair and scrubbed his face with his hands. We surrounded him like mother hens, crooning and petting. That was all we knew to do.

  In what seemed like forever, the doctor finally came in. We jumped to our feet and charged him. Holding his hands in self-defense he said, “She’s fine. She will be anyway.”

  Stan leaned against the wall. “Oh, God, thank you.”

  The doctor gestured to the chairs. Let’s sit down, and I’ll explain what happened.

  We moved like zombies to the seats.

  “Mrs. Fairchild told me she’s been under stress lately. And even though it has been for a happy occasion, it is still a strain. And given the shock of the verbal attack she received this afternoon, it simply pushed her over the edge.”

  “Verbal attack?” I stared at the doctor. Lexi, Jema, and I turned to Stan. “Is that the reason you were so angry at your son? He attacked her?”

  Stan’s face steeled. “I have no doubt.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and then asked the doctor. “What about Molly Kate? Did she have a heart attack?”

  “No. She had what we call a stress cardiomyopathy. For several days she has probably had surges in her adrenaline and today’s event, for lack of a better way to put it, stunned her heart. We will keep her here a couple of days. And she should be as good as new.”