He slung open a door off to my left and flipped on a light. My breath caught and held. There before me was the most gorgeous bedroom suite I'd ever seen. I didn't care if I had to sell all of Aunt Gert's good jewelry to the man in Oklahoma City. I had to own it.
"Can you make me one just like that?" I whispered. To talk aloud in front of such splendor was sacrilege worse than taking the Lord's name in vain.
.,No, I only make one-of-a-kind furniture. That's why it's called custom-made," he said.
I was unable to tear my eyes from the beautiful queen-size sleigh bed, hutch-topped ten-drawer dresser with matching chest of drawers, bedside tables, and even a tall, skinny lingerie chest. All of which was really too lovely even for the White House. Why had he brought me out here to show me the very essence of my dreams if he wasn't going to make me a set like it? I blew the bottom out of that commandment about not coveting right there and then. It wasn't my neighbor's donkey, which the Good Book said I shouldn't covet, but rather that bedroom suite.
I moaned. "Billy Lee, I could strangle you. Why'd you bring me over here to show me something I can't have?"
"I didn't say that. I said I can't make another one just like it, Trudy. If you want this one, it's yours," he said.
I grabbed him in a fierce hug and stopped just short of kissing him passionately right on the lips. "I was willing to make a deal with Lucifer to get it. How much? I'll write you a check when we get back to the house"
"You cannot buy it. It's already paid for. Gert said to help you fix up the house. This is part of the deal."
"God doesn't have that much money," I protested.
He finally laughed. "God doesn't need money. So you like it?"
"Yes, I do. I really, really want this furniture, and I want you to build more. I want my whole house filled up with your work."
"Honest?"
"Cross my heart"
"Good. I won't have to give back any of Gert's money. I could have the painters help me move it in today. You could probably get a good mattress and box spring down at the furniture store here in town"
"Yes, yes, yes," I singsonged as I ran my hands all over the furniture.
"I measured the spaces you'd have for the dresser and chest, and there was that little place over there in the corner beside the window I thought the lingerie chest might fit into."
"Billy Lee, you are an artist. The next thing I'm going to start talking about is my office. But is all this going to take away from your business?"
"No, the joy of having your own business is that you can take a sabbatical year whenever you want to. I reckon we'll have the house done in about that long. You ready for breakfast? We could make some omelets and French toast if you've got eggs over there"
I was hungry, but I hated to leave my new furniture alone. I wanted to sit there until the men moved it to my bedroom, then spend the rest of the day admiring it.
"There are plenty of eggs. Want biscuits and gravy to go with an omelet instead of French toast?"
He grinned, and I really wanted to kiss him, but I led the way back through the hedge and into my kitchen, where we fell into making breakfast together. He browned a handful of sausage in a cast-iron skillet while I made biscuits. We decided on scrambled eggs rather than omelets. It was as if he read my mind when we worked in the kitchen. If I needed a spoon, he handed it to me before I spoke. I melted butter to just the right temperature, and he had the eggs ready the moment I needed them.
"I bought the new wood, the aspen down in Dallas, for your cabinets in the office. That room isn't as big as the other two bedrooms, so we'll make the most out of all the available space."
I reached up and framed his face with my palms the way Momma did with me when she wanted the truth. "Billy Lee, be honest with me. Did Gert really leave you that much money?"
He looked right into my eyes and said, "Yes, ma'am."
The notion was crazy, but I wanted to talk about something a lot more personal than my office and had no idea how to begin the conversation. I dropped my hands and poured gravy into a bowl.
"Maybe we'd better measure the room," I suggested. "I've been meaning to get a tabletop and a laptop, but I've been too busy to go shopping for either."
"It shouldn't be much bigger than the one in my office. Towers and the new flat monitors don't take up as much real estate as the old ones did. So we can measure my equipment and make the built-ins to fit them"
When had I begun to think of Billy Lee as more than a neighbor? When he'd asked me to stay at the church dinner? Was that the day a friendship had been born? It seemed as if it had evolved slowly from neighborliness to friendship. I vowed I wouldn't ruin it with coveting more, so I started loading my plate with food. But it would have been very easy right then to stop coveting the bedroom suite and start coveting my neighbor.
That evening after we'd stripped paint all day, I took a long bath and went to see Momma. I hoped she was having another good day, because I really, really needed someone to talk to about Billy Lee and my changing feelings.
Lessie shook her head when I opened the door into the lobby. It had not been a good day. I sat down beside Momma on the settee near the piano and patted her leg.
"Crystal came today," Lessie whispered.
My heart dropped all the way to my aching, tired toes. "Crystal was in town?"
"Ungrateful child," Momma said in a strong voice. "You raised her wrong, Trudy. Gave her everything, and now nothing is good enough. What's the matter with young girls today? Want the world laid at their feet. You should send her to Gert for six months. That woman could straighten out the spawn of the devil."
"Gert is dead. Remember?"
Her eyes brimmed with tears that fell down her wrinkled cheeks. "Oh, no, when did Gert die? I must shop for a new suit for the funeral. Is it tomorrow?"
"Momma, Gert died back in May. Remember? I inherited her house, and you came to visit me and helped me decide where to put the quilts." I tried to bring her back to the present gently.
She wiped at the tears and narrowed her eyes at me. "Why do you tell me things like that? Who are you? I thought you were my daughter, but she's dead. She and Gert died together. Oh, Crystal will be so sad. Excuse me; I have to go lie down. This is too much for me right now. Does Drew know?"
"I'll take her to her room, Miss Trudy. You might as well go on. Maybe tomorrow will be better," Lessie said.
It was dark when I got home. Billy Lee was in his shop. I knew because I could see the light out there. What was he doing? There wasn't a sign hanging on the hedge that prohibited trespassing, and he was the one who'd made himself indispensable at my house, so I could go over there if I wanted. Nothing jumped out of the twilight and attacked me when I stepped through the hedge. Sweat dripped off my jawbone and beaded up under my nose. My hands were clammy as I slipped inside the building. The Harley was still in the same place. The room where my bedroom set had been was now empty, but there were four other doors.
Leave me alone in a room, and I'm instantly curious about what's in the drawers or behind doors. Momma trained me early in life that it was bad manners to go prowling around in other folks' belongings, but it didn't keep me from wanting to slip my hand into the pocket of that coat lying on the bed or take a quick peek inside the bathroom vanity drawer. It was an exercise in willpower that had gotten only slightly easier as I got older.
Perhaps if she'd let me prowl around more, I would've caught Drew in those first years of our marriage. Not that I was blaming it on Momma. Who knows what kind of person I would have become if I'd been given carte blanche when it came to snooping?
Which door did I take? The noise had died down, leaving me with doors number one, two, three, or four. Did he keep tigers and lions behind door number one? I eased it open, only to find the beginnings of a headboard, one of those tall, antique cannonball replicas. I could see it in Aunt Gert's old bedroom, which was to be my guest room.
"Hey," he said.
He was close enou
gh behind me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. I jumped as if I'd been caught snooping in a dresser drawer.
Scarlet crept into my cheeks. "I was bored"
He pointed at the starting of the cannonball bed. "You like it?"
"It's beautiful."
"Thought it might look good in your spare bedroom. Maybe with a nightstand and a little vanity dresser with a round mirror. Not many folks come to stay very long, so you wouldn't need a lot of drawer space in that room. You mentioned liking cannonball beds when we were in Jefferson." He looked at me.
The town flashed before my eyes, but the shy kiss on my cheek after the trip made me touch my cheek.
He went on. "So, you're bored. Want to help me work on the built-ins for the new office? I could use another set of hands."
"I would love to help you. I'm completely ignorant of anything mechanical or electrical, but I'll do whatever you can teach me" I followed him through door number one.
"Can you hold a sander and keep it going with the grain of the wood? This is the first room I work in. This is a table saw. That's a planer. Over there is a jointer. It gets the wood cut into pieces and ready for the next room. Here, put on this mask. You don't want a sinus attack because you breathed in too much dust." He handed me a white paper mask, and I slipped it over my nose and mouth.
He handed me a sander, told me to sit on a bench in front of a workstation, and gave me a five-second lesson. Not a single piece of gym equipment could give the arms a workout like that sander did. It took a while before I convinced it I was the boss, but after that we got along fairly well. When Billy Lee was ready to call it a night, I'd sanded several pieces of wood-some short, some narrow, some long, some wide. I didn't know how it would all fit together, but Billy Lee was the magician. I barely qualified to be in the show.
He inspected my work. "You did a good job. I'll hire you to work any evening you want to come out here"
"Hire me. I'm just privileged to learn from the master. I should be paying you."
He grinned.
I pulled off the mask and laid it aside. "You are a genius with wood. Where all have you sold your work?"
"Far and near," he said.
"Okay, details. Where is the most impressive place one of your pieces of furniture sits right now?"
"Your bedroom"
"I'm serious."
"Okay. I made a dining room table to seat twenty and chairs to match for the governor's mansion in Oklahoma City," he said.
"I'm surprised it's not in the White House. If the president ever comes to visit Oklahoma and sees it, I'm sure he'll order one. Want a glass of iced tea? There's a pitcher already made in the refrigerator."
"No, I think I just want a long bath and a good night's sleep," he said.
"Well, then, good night," I said.
"Good night, Trudy," he said softly.
I thought of him taking a long bath while I did the same. And even though I was literally tired to the bone, both mentally and physically, it took a very long time before I went to sleep.
Awarm breeze rattled the wind chimes and added to the chorus of crickets and tree frogs. I wasn't complaining. It was the last week of July, and we had a breeze, even if it was a hot one.
The outside of the house was painted a buttery yellow. With the white gingerbread trim and new windows, it looked like a Thomas Kincaid picture. Billy Lee had made and hung a new porch swing on the east wing of the porch, back in the shadows of a mimosa tree. I enjoyed the swaying motion with my left knee drawn up and my right foot hanging close enough to the porch floor that I could push off and keep the swing moving.
The sun had fallen behind the treetops, and the last light of day filtered through summer leaves in fading rays. I loved sunsets and sunrises more and more, especially when doubts crept up. Most days I could keep them at bay; on others it was like being at the starting gate at a horse race.
One moment the doubts were behind bars, the next they were running full speed ahead. That night I worried. How many more sunsets would I enjoy before I was diagnosed with Alzheimer's? Would I be in the nursing home when I was sixty-five years old? Billy Lee had said that we'd cross that bridge if we ever came to it, but he was my dearest friend; I could never burden him.
Then there were those other two more pressing matters. Number one: whether or not to go back to work in two weeks. If I was going to quit my job as a teacher's aide, then I should resign in time for the school administration to find a replacement. I thought about the pros and cons. I didn't need the money, and we weren't finished remodeling. Lately I'd been going out to the shop with Billy Lee in the evenings and working until dark. The equipment and all that power terrified me. I didn't even like the sander. But I enjoyed finish work, staining especially. Billy Lee used a spray gun to apply the sanding sealer and coats of varnish, but staining was done by hand using a paintbrush and wiping rags. I loved the way the grain popped right out, every knothole and swirl coming to life when color was applied.
I pushed off with my foot again and contemplated going inside where it was cool. When I'd first moved into the house, I could hardly wait for the air-conditioning to be installed. And here I was sitting out in the hot night air, sweat beading up under my lip and on the back of my neck, trying to think my way out of my problems.
Without reaching a firm decision about school, my thoughts went to my other big concern: Crystal. It had been longer than I'd ever gone without talking to my child. When she was young and every other word was Momma, I would have gladly been Gussie or even Minnie Mouse if I didn't have to hear a threeyear-old whining "Momma" again. Now I'd love to hear her say that one word.
Should I make the first move and reach out to her? Or should I wait? If she needed me, she had the phone number. But-in motherhood, there's always a but or two lying around in the wings-I should be the one calling the shots.
A dark colored pickup slowed down and turned the corner, coming to a stop in my driveway. I figured someone had turned at the wrong corner and was using my driveway to turn around. The engine stopped, and the door opened. That got my attention, and I recognized Drew the moment he stepped out of the truck. Squared shoulders. Belly sucked in. Chin up. He wore confidence as casually as his dark, pleated slacks and a white long-sleeved, lightly starched shirt. An evening breeze carried the smell of expensive shaving lotion across the porch as he shook the legs of his trousers down and rang the doorbell.
My heart caught in my throat. Something was wrong with Crystal. She'd had a car wreck and was dying or already dead. That was the only reason Drew Williams would set foot on my property again after the stunt with "his" car. He rang the bell a second time, waited a moment, and rang it again. When I didn't answer, he knocked hard and long.
"I'm around here" I finally got words to come out of my mouth.
"Where?" he called out.
"Side porch."
He strolled around the porch and sat down beside me without an invitation. He didn't look too shook up, so maybe our daughter wasn't hooked up to every known medical device in an intensive-care unit.
He slid a look from my dangling foot up to my hair. "Good evening, Trudy."
Wonder how he liked the jeans cut off just below my knees and frayed at the hems. I hadn't had time to hem them. I had a house to work on, furniture to stain, a mother in the nursing home, a child who wasn't speaking to me, and decisions to make. If he didn't like my jeans, he could take his charisma and go visit with the devil about it.
"Drew?"
"I've come to ask you nicely to come home where you belong, Trudy."
If that didn't beat all. Drew Williams asking me to come back to him and saying it was where I belonged. Had Charity found someone younger with even more money? Or did he like cut-off jeans with paint splotches these days? And to think of all the lovely lingerie I'd bought through the years.
He laid a hand on my knee. "Well?"
I picked up his hand and dropped it.
He sighed and l
ooked out across the yard. "Okay, I was wrong. I've been a fool. But I don't like coming home to an empty house in the evenings. I miss supper being ready. I miss everything you did to keep a home together."
Not a single endearment. He missed having toilet paper on the roller and pot roast on the table. I couldn't remember the last time Drew had told me he loved me. I think he'd said the words when we were dating, but, sitting there beside him, I wasn't sure he had actually said those three words even then.
He threw an arm across the back of the swing but was careful not to touch me. "What do you say? Let's call a truce. I'll forgive you for the car. I'll forgive you for taking my money. We can sell this property and reclaim most of it. You've done a pretty good job of making this old place decent, so it should bring a fair amount. We'll put it back into the savings account."
Still he didn't mention loving me or apologize for all the misery and embarrassment he'd put me through. I was being offered my old car that no doubt still smelled faintly of sardines. And Charity got one of those new Thunderbirds.
"I've got a bottle of wine in my new truck. We'll celebrate tonight. Go lock up the house, and come with me. Your clothes are still in the house. I'll move them back into your closet if you'll come home. Please, Trudy?"
"Back into my closet?" I whispered.
Were Charity's short skirts and skinny little size-extrasmall shirts on my hangers? Were her red satin thongs folded neatly in my underwear drawer? The drawer would be offended if my Hanes Her Way white cotton briefs were put back in there after it had known such tasty little treats. I just couldn't do that to a perfectly good dresser drawer.
"No, thank you," -l said loud and clear.
His tone changed. "Don't play hard to get. I know I made a mistake or two, but you were so busy with Crystal and your own life, I just wanted someone to make me feel special. I'm past that now."
So now it was my fault. I'd spent too much time with our child. He hadn't felt special. Poor baby. Bless his heart.
"Marriage is built on trust and respect, and when that's gone, it's like sticking dynamite under the foundation of a house and expecting it to go on standing. I could never trust you again. Every time you got a phone call, I'd be wondering if you were setting up a date. Every time you said you had to stay overnight on a trip, it would be in the back of my mind that you were with another woman. So no, thanks. I'm not interested."
The Ladies' Room Page 14