by Karen White
Merilee smiled. “Yes, well, I love her dedication. It’s going to be an amazing event and I’m glad to be a part of it. And I’m thankful she’s not making us wear hoop skirts and corsets to go along with the theme.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure. I think you’d look lovely in a hoop skirt and corset.”
Merilee grinned. “Well, thank you, suh. But what about the curtain rods?” she asked, recalling the famous Carol Burnett skit. “Should I leave them behind?”
He laughed, and Merilee felt relieved that he’d recognized the reference. But she figured anybody who loved Hogan’s Heroes as much as he did probably would have. She was glad to have found another friend, especially one she respected. She remembered what he’d said about Heather, and why he’d selected the ring for her. It had touched Merilee, to see that kind of devotion from a husband toward his wife.
He stopped the car in front of her house. “Stay here, and I’ll run in and get it.” Without waiting for a response, she went into the house and pulled out the beautifully wrapped box, glowing in its iridescent gold and silver paper with coordinating ribbon. As she closed the drawer, she looked up through the side window by the fireplace in the front room and saw a small white dog in the yard.
It was just standing there, looking toward the drive, where Dan’s car sat idling, its tail wagging slowly, its little pink tongue hanging crookedly out of its mouth, as if it had just run a long distance and was catching its breath.
Merilee slammed the drawer shut and raced out the front door and down the steps, looking out toward the side yard. But it was empty, with no sign of the little dog.
Dan opened his door. “Anything wrong?”
“Did you see the dog?”
He raised his eyebrows. “A dog? What did it look like?”
“It was small and white, and he was right there in the middle of the side lawn, but now he’s gone.” She shook her head. “Colin’s been seeing a little white dog and I’d begun to think he was imagining it. And now I think I am. Maybe it’s a mirage.”
“Maybe,” he said, his face thoughtful. “It’s not always easy to recognize what’s real and what’s not.”
His expression had changed, almost as if he were closing something off from her. She focused on the package as she handed it to him. “I wish somebody had told me that years ago. Might have saved me some heartache.”
“Nah. You still would have made the same mistakes. But how are we going to learn if we don’t make a few mistakes along the way?”
She studied the package for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet his. “True. Thanks for stopping by—and I hope Heather loves the ring as much as we do.”
“Me, too.” They said good-bye before he closed the car door and drove away.
Merilee walked back to the side yard and around the house, looking for the little dog, thinking about what Dan had said, and wondering if she’d ever learned anything from the mistakes she’d been making her whole life.
• • •
The gate guard at Prescott Estates waved her in, the barrier going up as soon as her car rounded the corner into the entrance. She was there so often these days that she was now on a first-name basis with all the guards.
She parked in front of the multicolumned clubhouse, then headed inside, her purse and water bottle tucked securely under her arm. It was Thursday evening and they were supposed to be having their weekly committee-head meeting, which was why she’d been confused when Heather told her to wear her workout gear and bring water and then had refused to answer any more questions.
The guard on duty in the reception area stopped her and rerouted her from the dining room, where they usually met, to the workout room on the lower level. Merilee opened the door and stopped, her eyes blinking under the bright fluorescents, ten or so vibrantly colored rubber mats covering part of the floor like a patchwork. Two eager-looking women stood in front of the mats, smiling toothy grins.
“Merilee!” Heather shouted, nearly hopping over to the door. She was wearing what only a model might consider workout gear—a marbled tank with a small bow in the back and matching capri pants with a flattering wide white stripe going down the sides, delicate ruching at the calves. It was in stark contrast to Merilee’s old UGA gym shorts and the ratty T-shirt she’d pulled from the ragbag when she realized she didn’t actually own workout gear.
“You look like a college coed,” Heather gushed. “You’ll need to share your secret on how you stay so youthful.” She pulled on Merilee’s arm. “Come on over and meet Laura and Lauren—they’re my Pilates trainers, so I’ve hired them tonight as a nice break from all the hard work we’ve been doing. They’re going to teach us some core-strengthening exercises we can use to look great in our evening gowns. And other reasons, too, but sometimes it’s easier to get started on something if you set short-term goals.”
Heather continued to speak as she led Merilee across the room. “They have their own teaching styles, but tonight I told them they need to have only one style—mine.” She grinned. “I love these ladies, and they’ve brought their business cards so that if anyone wants to continue, all they need to do is call. And first class is on me!”
“That’s very generous of you, Heather.”
Heather gave her a serious look. “This is what friendship is, Merilee. And I choose to be generous with my friends. Besides, everybody should take fitness very seriously. It’s not only important to our own minds and bodies, but it’s also important for our children—especially our daughters—to see us taking care of ourselves. Being fit isn’t an accident. And we certainly don’t want inactive, overweight children any more than we want to be inactive or overweight ourselves.”
Heather introduced Merilee to Laura and Lauren—she couldn’t remember which one was which. Laura—or was it Lauren?—was the tall, slender one with extraordinarily long arms and legs, and the other instructor, presumably Lauren, was shorter, with dark hair and a small yet efficient and well-toned body. They both made her nervous, like they could tell at a glance that she’d once been slim and fit and had let everything go. Not that she was overweight, but there were definitely lumps where there hadn’t been before, and if she had any muscles, they were hiding.
“No need to be nervous,” the taller one said. “We won’t push anybody to do anything they’re not ready for. It can actually be very relaxing—especially a mat class, which we’re doing here. If you come to the studio, you can see the other kinds of equipment we have for all levels.” She smiled warmly, making Merilee believe that she might actually enjoy exercising again.
“I love your lipstick,” the shorter one said. “It really brightens up your face. I always tell my clients that on days when they don’t feel like exercising to put on a pretty shade of lipstick, and it’s an instant pick-me-up.”
“Absolutely,” Heather agreed. She faced Merilee, her expression earnest. “What lipstick is that? I want to try it.”
Merilee dug in her purse and pulled out the tube of lipstick that she’d bought on a whim at Kroger. “It’s Revlon—nothing too exciting, I’m afraid. But the color does stay on for hours and I love the texture. Doesn’t dry out my lips.”
“Don’t you hate that?” Heather exclaimed. “There’s nothing worse than dry, cakey, so-called long-wearing lipstick that doesn’t last. And believe me, I’ve tried every single brand—from super expensive to drugstore—and I’m still searching. If this works, I will owe you big-time.” She took the tube from Merilee and glanced at the bottom. “Do you mind if I borrow this for a minute? I want to run to the ladies’ room and give it a swipe. I promise I’ll wipe off my germs when I’m done.” She winked, then speed walked herself in the direction of the restrooms.
Laura and Lauren were occupied speaking with two other women, leaving Merilee to glance around. She noticed several of the other committee members in the room, some of whom had already claimed a mat and most
of whom were all dressed in coordinated workout outfits not dissimilar to Heather’s. Merilee self-consciously tugged on the hem of her shorts, feeling like Daisy Duke in a room full of Patty Dukes.
She spotted her carpool partner, Sharlene, behind a table near the far wall; little triangles of fabric covered the plastic folding table in front of her. Curious, she headed over to say hello.
“Hey, Sharlene. What’s all this?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s my new business venture—Canine Couture. I’m making kerchiefs for dogs. I’ve always bought cute fabrics and made little kerchiefs for my own dogs, and then friends started asking me to make some for them, and then I just had this idea that maybe I could charge money and start a business.”
Merilee fingered through the fabrics, admiring the wide-ranging themes—school logos, autumn, Halloween, Christmas, florals, cartoon characters, and even—surprisingly—cats. “How’s it going?”
“Pretty well. I mean, not as much as if I were an interior designer or real estate agent, but not too shabby if I say so myself. I bought my ball gown using my own money. I’m thinking of expanding into a line of dog car seat covers, too.”
“Dog car seats?”
Sharlene nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. If you love your dog like family, you need to treat him like family and be concerned with his safety, just like a child’s. Coordinating your dog’s kerchief with his car seat cover will just make it more fun.”
“Good for you,” Merilee said, and because she felt bad walking away without making a purchase, she bought a UGA-themed kerchief for the dog she did not own.
Lindi Matthews arrived shortly afterward, and they each claimed a mat in the last row. Lindi wore running shorts and a tank top, which showed off her muscled legs and arms, but made Merilee feel better by complimenting her on how nicely shaped her legs were. Merilee had forgotten that, and even hated wearing clothes that showed off her legs. It had taken her years to figure out that it was probably because her legs were what her mother always told her were the only pretty thing about her.
They survived the class, and Merilee was feeling optimistic enough at the end to take a business card from each of the instructors and promise she’d call. As she headed toward the exit, Sharlene ran after her. “You forgot your kerchief,” she said, waving it in front of her.
“Oh, right. Thanks.” She said good-bye to the other mothers as they filed out into the parking lot. It was only when she got to her car and was fumbling in the dark for her car keys that she realized Heather hadn’t returned her lipstick. She looked up and saw Heather deep in conversation with one of the other tennis moms, whose first name Merilee thought might be Liz.
Not wanting to interrupt, she slid behind the wheel and shut her door, realizing that in the grand scheme of things, a tube of lipstick was a small way to begin to repay Heather for all of her kindnesses.
She waved as she drove out of the parking lot, and Heather waved back, a big grin on her face.
Twenty-three
SUGAR
“Joyful, joyful, we adore thee . . .” It was the closing hymn of the Sunday service and Sugar sang as loudly as she could. She’d been told often that she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket and for many years had kept silent during the hymn-singing portion of the service. At least until the day she’d stood next to a tone-deaf child who belted out the words with such joy and abandon.
She’d learned two things that day: that singing in church had nothing to do with how good a singer you were, and that she was too old to care what she sounded like, anyway. So she belted out her favorite hymns and paid no attention at all to the heads turned in her direction.
Merilee sat next to her, also singing, and occasionally going off pitch, but most likely due to Sugar leading her astray. Merilee had a good voice, strong and clear and probably in tune if standing next to like-talented individuals. She was there because Sugar had needed a ride to church and Merilee had obliged.
Not that either of them had been looking to ask a favor or to fulfill one, but Merilee had been on her way to the grocery store—the children at their father’s for the weekend—and had passed Sugar just as she’d delivered a swift kick to the back tire of her car. It wasn’t that she was angry at the car. It was old, after all. She was irritated because she would probably have to buy a new car at this stage in her life, when her chances of getting her money’s worth were next to nil.
When the hymn ended and Merilee made to move out of the pew, Sugar put her hand on her arm. “Just wait until they’ve all left. I can’t stand the jostling and the crowds.” She sat back and waited for the people to step around them, patient smiles on their lips.
After everyone had left and the organ had stopped, Sugar took a deep breath. Her family had been coming to this church for more than a hundred years. The church had built a new, larger sanctuary a while back, but one service a month was still held in the old one, and that’s the one Sugar went to.
“Is this where you and Tom were married?” Merilee asked in her church voice.
“Yes. And my grandparents. Not my parents, though; they were married in Savannah, where Mama was from. All the funerals were here, too. Just memorial services for Bobby and Tom, though, since they’re buried overseas. Mine will be here, too. I’ve already worked out all the details with the pastor. Wade has a copy.”
“Of course you have,” Merilee said. She stood and moved into the aisle and waited for Sugar to haul herself up, even waited patiently while the blood began to flow again into Sugar’s extremities so she could move. Sugar assumed she was used to waiting on small children, so it probably wasn’t something Merilee had to think about.
“Nothing wrong with being prepared. That’s the problem with the young people today. Everybody thinks nothing bad will ever happen, so they don’t plan for it.”
Merilee held up her elbow and Sugar surprised them both by taking it. “I don’t know if you’re including me in ‘young people,’ but I’m prepared. You should see your cellar. I could live there for a month without having to come up for air once.”
“How old are you?” Sugar asked. “Just in case I need to change my classifications.”
A corner of Merilee’s mouth twitched. “Thirty-six. But remember that thirty is the new twenty.”
“Humph. And ninety is still the old ninety.”
Merilee laughed out loud, then slapped her hand over her mouth when she remembered where she was. They were silent as Merilee led Sugar down the front steps one at a time, Sugar’s other hand clasped tightly to the banister. The older she became without falling, the more nervous she became that she might.
A slip and fall on her front steps was the whole reason Willa Faye’s daughter had decided it was time to move her mother out of her house and into that retirement community with the ridiculous overblown name—the one Wade was always telling Sugar she should consider. As if she had any inclination to move into what was basically a dormitory for the elderly, complete with rubber chicken at dinner and motorized scooters.
Willa Faye was happy there, had even started sharing meals with a younger gentleman of eighty-seven. But Sugar couldn’t leave her home, not while she still had breath in her. And not just because she was stubborn and liked things her own way, and had no interest in doing anything on anybody else’s schedule. If only her reasons were that uncomplicated.
“I don’t mind taking you straight home, but if you need anything at Kroger, I was headed that way . . .”
Sugar shook her head. “Seniors’ day is Wednesday and the store has coupons and discounts for the old people. I’ll wait to go then.”
“Oh, of course. I didn’t know.” Merilee began walking in the direction of the parking lot, but Sugar held her back. “I’d like to walk a bit, if you don’t mind. I get stiff sitting for an hour. I should tell the pastor he should write shorter sermons.”
“Sure.” Merile
e moved in beside her and tucked her hand in the crook of Sugar’s elbow. “Lead the way.”
She’d thought they’d walk down the sidewalk adjacent to Main Street for a block or two—just enough to get her hip joints moving again. But her feet seemed to have another idea entirely, and they ended up on the path leading them to the graveyard. She was a frequent visitor here, her friends now seeming to die with alarming regularity.
They walked slowly, admiring the old-growth trees that shaded the paths and the leaves that had just started wearing their new autumn colors. “Is this where your family is buried?”
Sugar stopped, suddenly tired. “No. We have a family cemetery. Pretty much everyone, except for Bobby and Tom, is buried there.”
“Is it nearby?”
“Near enough.” She spotted a bench and began leading Merilee toward it, eager to get the pressure of standing off of her knees and hips.
Merilee waited for her to sit before joining her. “I can take you sometime, if you’d like. I mean, if you don’t want to drive or go alone, I’d be happy to take you.”
“I can go by myself.” Realizing she’d been rude, even for her, she said, “Thank you. But I go there to talk with Jimmy and Mary. They don’t answer—I suppose I’d need to seek a doctor’s advice if they did—but I try to make up for all the conversations we didn’t get to have.” She paused. “And I speak to my mama sometimes, too, for the same reason.”
She felt Merilee looking at her. “I wasn’t aware that you had a good relationship with your mother.”
Sugar started to press her lips together, wondering what it was about this woman that made her share so much. Maybe it was the simple truth that there was so much unsaid, and too few people remaining whom she could tell. “I’m no doctor, but I’d say my mama had depression or one of those mental diseases they all talk about today, and there’s now probably some pill she could have taken to make it go away. But all we had then was something to make her tired so she didn’t notice how unhappy she was. I wish I could go back with all I know now and apply it. Then maybe I could have the kind of conversations I always imagined a girl would have with her mother.”