As Young As We Feel

by Melody Carlson

Less than one week later, Caroline's condo looked so amazing that she almost didn't want to move. Almost. "Wow," she said as Lindsey artfully arranged some sunflowers in a large clear vase. "This doesn't even look my place anymore."

  Lindsey set her creation in the center of the dining-room table. "And that's a good thing, right?"

  "Absolutely." Caroline walked around, admiring how Lindsey had brought in color and life by using simple things like artwork, pillows, candles, rugs, and lamps. Also, she'd painted a couple of walls, switched out some furniture, and rearranged everything to make the condo look much more spacious than its eight hundred square feet.

  "I think it's ready for the open house tomorrow." Lindsey glanced around one last time, nodding with what seemed to be satisfaction.

  "And I'm ready to get out of here." While Lindsey had worked on the condo, Caroline had worked on packing. Other than a few pieces of large furniture that would be sent to her after the condo sold, she had packed all but her personal items and clothing into a PODS container, which would be transported to a storage facility in Clifden sometime next week. After that, Caroline wasn't sure where she'd put her things. Not in her mother's house. Not without bringing in a bulldozer to clear the place out first.

  The last time Caroline had spoken to Beverly, the social worker, she found out that her mother had been approved for admittance into Evergreen Nursing Care Center, but Mom was not budging. "We can use force if we need to," Beverly had told her, "but I'd like to see if you can talk her into it first. She mentioned you yesterday."

  "Me, she mentioned me?" Caroline was pleasantly surprised.

  "She called you the hamburger girl."

  "Oh." Caroline had explained that she would be in Clifden by the end of the week and would do what she could to sort things out.

  Her phone conversation with Abby hadn't been much more encouraging. First of all, Janie's house wasn't anywhere close to finished yet, although Abby said she was working like a dog on it-those were her words. Besides that disappointment, Abby also explained that Janie might not list the little house after all. On the positive side she told Caroline that Marley had decided to move back to Clifden as well. Apparently she was on the lookout for housing too.

  "Is it still okay for me to crash with you for a while?" Caroline asked hopefully. "I plan to get there on Sunday." She didn't want to admit that she was tight for cash and that she'd be even tighter until her condo sold, but she wasn't sure what she'd do if Abby had changed her mind. Her only option might be to clear out one of her mom's jam-packed bedrooms and attempt to "live" there.

  "You're welcome to the guest room," Abby had told her. "But I'll warn you: Paul and I are, well, not exactly on friendly terms."

  "Oh dear." Caroline felt bad now. "Are you sure you want-"

  "Yes. It might be a good thing," Abby said. "In fact I think I'd enjoy your company. Please, do come."

  "Okay." Still, when Caroline hung up, she was uncertain. She sure didn't want to get in the middle of a marital spat. She was surprised that Paul and Abby were capable of a squabble. They seemed so compatible. Plus they'd been married for forever. Maybe Abby was exaggerating. Or maybe Caroline would just need to find accommodations elsewhere.

  That afternoon, as she drove her fully packed mini-SUV north on the first leg of her trip, she realized that none of this was going quite as she had hoped it would. She had no idea when her condo would sell, or even if it would. Not only that, but her checking account was frighteningly low, and her credit cards, which she had maxed out during her cancer treatments, still carried hefty balances. Yet she felt strangely at peace ... and that made up for everything.

  Chapter 23

  ABBY

  Abby poured herself a cup of coffee. She knew she should've told Caroline that her arrival was really bad timing. Having a house guest right now, while Abby and Paul were barely speaking, was not wise. Telling people no had never been Abby's strong suit.

  Paul had already left the house, presumably for an early golf date. He slipped out of bed while he thought she was still sleeping, but she listened to every step he took. As usual, he did the exact same things he did every Saturday morning when he was getting ready for golf. She heard him using the toilet, brushing his teeth, and taking his Prilosec, but no shower, because he never showered before golf. Then he went into the closet, where he stayed briefly, emerging in his favorite golf pants and a yellow polo shirt, athletic shoes in hand. She watched with one eye as he tiptoed out of the bedroom.

  This stealth preparation was not unusual. He had always been thoughtful to let her sleep in on Saturdays when he got up early to play golf. This habit began when the girls were young and Abby got up before six all week long in order to have everything ready for everyone before the day began. Saturday was her one chance to sleep in, because back then they often went to church on Sunday. This morning Abby had listened from her bed as Paul made coffee, probably had some orange juice and toast, then eventually headed for the garage and started up his Corvette.

  Now, as Abby sipped her coffee, she replayed the conversation they'd had last weekend after Paul returned Lucy to her parents. Abby had used the two hours of his absence to strategize her inquisition. When Paul got back at seven, exactly when she expected him, she calmly began.

  "That was quick," she observed as he hung his Blazers ball cap on the hooks by the back door. "Hopefully you weren't speeding with Lucy in the truck with you."

  "Not with Lucy." He grinned obliviously. "But I pushed it a little on the way back."

  "Good thing you weren't in the Corvette."

  "I wouldn't drive the Corvette in this weather." He leaned over to see what she was cooking. "Not that green spaghetti," he said with disappointment. Abby knew he didn't like pesto pasta, which was exactly why she made it.

  "But you drove the Corvette yesterday," she reminded him.

  "Yeah, and I didn't think it was going to rain."

  "The paper predicted afternoon showers."

  "Well, I didn't know that I'd still be in the Corvette in the afternoon."

  "So what did you do after golf?" She turned away from him to fuss with the boiling pasta and to keep him from seeing her face.

  "Work."

  "You went to work in the Corvette?" She turned back around, eager to see his expression.

  "I went to meet a client."

  "Oh?" She tried to look only mildly interested. "Who?"

  "No one you know. A friend of Rob's wanted me to give him an estimate."

  "For what? New construction, a remodel?"

  Paul frowned at her. "Since when are you so interested in my work, Abby?"

  She turned back to the pasta, removing it from the stove and carrying it to the sink to drain. "If you'll remember, I used to be pretty involved in your work, back when you were just starting out."

  "Well, that was a long time ago. Why the big interest now?"

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She was determined to follow this thing through, to voice her concerns and ask her questions. It would be so easy to back down, to smile and pretend that nothing was wrong, to sweep it under the rug the way she handled things like this in the past. She turned to face him again. "Where were you yesterday afternoon, Paul?"

  "I told you. With a client." He looked uncomfortable, almost as if he was squirming. He turned from her and opened the fridge, removed a Corona, and popped the lid. "When will dinner be ready?"

  "Wait." She set down the colander of pasta. "Where did you go with the client?"

  He shrugged then took a swig. "To the building site."

  "Where's the building site?"

  "Right here in North Shore."

  She frowned. "You spent hours at the building site?"

  "Why are you obsessing over this?"

  "Because. Because I saw you in Newport."

  Now he looked like he'd been caught. "In Newport?"

  She just nodded.

  "What were you doing in Newport? Spying on me?"

&nbs
p; That made her mad. "Why would I do that? Or maybe I should ask, do I need to do that? Are you doing something that should be spied on?"

  "No, of course not."

  "So why are you so reluctant to tell me why you were in Newport?"

  He looked confused now. "You really saw me in Newport?"

  "Yes." She glared at him. "I had picked up Lucy, and she decided she wanted to go to the aquarium. I saw your car and then I saw someone in the passenger seat, and it was not some guy friend of Rob's, either." She could feel her heart racing, and she felt lightheaded. Her blood pressure must've been high. She grasped the edge of the countertop to steady herself.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "Of course I'm not okay. I'm mad, Paul. First you lie to me, and then you won't even answer me. Who were you with yesterday?"

  "I told you. A client."

  "You said it was a guy." The dizziness wasn't going away, and so she sat down at one of the island stools. "The person with you was not a guy."

  "Well, the friend of Rob's is a guy. But I was with his sister-in-law."

  "Whose sister-in-law?" She had no idea why she asked this. Perhaps to stall until she gathered her wits.

  "Rob's friend Glen's sister-in-law."

  "So why were you with Rob's friend Glen's sister-in-law?" And why did she feel as if she were questioning a six-year-old?

  "Because she's the one who wants to build a house."

  "Well, why didn't you just say so?" Abby could hear the volume in her voice.

  He matched her volume. "Because you didn't just ask."

  Now she was confused. She thought she had asked. Hadn't she?

  "Her name is Bonnie Boxwell." His voice was stiff and his sentences clipped. "She wants to build in North Shore. She's already picked out the lot. She asked me to look at a house in Newport. One that she wants to replicate. She wants me to give her an estimate." He took another swig, then sighed in exasperation. "But maybe you think we don't need money anymore, Abby. Maybe you think I should pass up a job just because there's a woman involved?"

  "I didn't say that." She stood and glared at him. "But you were being evasive and dishonest with me."

  "I had no idea what you were talking about. You were playing some kind of mind game, asking your paranoid questions, acting like you were catching me in the act of something." He swore. That was something he didn't often do, at least not in front of her. "If you're going to be suspicious and jealous all the time, maybe I should just go out and have an affair." He put his face close to hers. "Is that what you want? Would that make you happy?"

  She didn't know what to say.

  "Because it seems like nothing I ever do makes you happy. I work my butt off so you can live in this beautiful home, but does that make you happy? No! Do you know how many women would like your life, Abby? And yet you just sit around and feel sorry for yourself, and when you get tired of that, you decide to go after me, accusing me of sneaking off with a woman who just wants me to build her a house, not sleep with her." He swore again, then tossed his halfdrunken beer into the trash compactor. "And if you think I'm going to eat your green spaghetti for dinner, you better think again!" He stormed out, started his pickup, loudly revved the engine, and left.

  Abby had cried as she dumped the unwanted dinner down the garbage disposal. She blamed herself for everything. Paul was right; she was ungrateful. She cried even harder as she cleaned up the kitchen. Cried as she got ready for bed. Cried as she went to the spare room-the room she had shared with Lucy the previous night, having told Paul that Lucy was having nightmare problems and couldn't sleep alone. Finally she had cried herself to sleep.

  Now Abby refilled her coffee cup, trying to make sense of what felt more and more senseless each day. She and Paul had seemed to adopt some kind of unspoken agreement by Monday. Both gave each other the silent treatment. By midweek Paul quit stomping around angrily. And by Thursday, Abby returned to sleeping in their bed, mostly because it was far more comfortable than the guest bed. Also, she didn't want Paul to get used to having the master suite to himself.

  Friday morning they had an actual conversation. She supposed it might've been Paul's way of saying he was sorry. Her way of saying she was sorry was to cook a dinner that he liked. Caesar salad, T-bones, twice-baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and blackberry cobbler a la mode for dessert. Not exactly heart-smart, but it must've warmed Paul's heart, because he uncorked an expensive bottle of merlot, and when dinner was finished, he asked if he could draw Abby a bath.

  Abby could probably count on one hand how many times he'd "drawn her a bath," and she'd have fingers left over. Still, she had accepted. She even accepted another glass of wine as she luxuriated in the bubbles. Part of her was a bit skeptical and suspicious. Did Paul plan to get her intoxicated so that he could quietly drown her, then run off with Bonnie the brunette?

  But after Abby finished her bath, undrowned, Paul continued to be sweet and attentive, and the evening culminated in lovemaking. Abby had been surprised at how good it was, which was what worried her this morning. It was like it was too good. And that was bad.

  She'd heard about this exact thing on a talk show not too long ago. She couldn't recall which show, but she remembered how a guest "expert" had described common patterns of husbands who cheat. He listed things like a sudden interest in hygiene, unexplained absences, and too much time on the computer, or mysterious cell-phone calls and bills. But the one that caught her attention, perhaps because it didn't really make sense, was when the cheating husband became unusually attentive and generous toward the wife he was deceiving. She thought of it as a distraction technique, or maybe even a guilt offering. Now all Paul needed to do was to show up with the routine diamond bracelet, and she'd really be suspicious.

  On the other hand, what if he was just being sweet? What if this female client was simply that? And what if Abby was blowing this whole thing totally out of proportion?

  One good thing that had come out of all this was that Abby had a reason to throw herself into Janie's renovation project. No one would be able to tell by looking at the place, but Abby had been lining up workers, ordering materials, and she expected the house to turn a corner by mid-September. And if all went well, it might even be habitable by early October.

  The golf course wasn't on the way to the grocery store, but Abby drove her SUV as if it were programmed to go there of its own free will. It was just past noon when she found herself cruising through the parking lot at Shore Links, scouring the parking lot for a certain red Corvette. She eventually spotted it parked by the clubhouse, and she was about to drive away when she was seized with the urge to find a private spot where she could lurk and spy on her husband.

  Her impulse was ridiculous, but it was there just the same. So, feeling like a stalker, she went over to a shady corner of the parking lot and backed into a space that was screened by a club cab. She considered waiting for Paul's car to leave so that she could follow.

  Her phone rang, startling her so badly that she jumped. "Hello?" She glanced over her shoulder as if she might have been spotted doing surveillance.

  "Hey, Abby, it's Marley."

  It took Abby a moment. "Oh. Marley. How are you?"

  "I'm great, but you sound odd. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

  "No. Not really."

  "So what are you doing?"

  "Stalking my husband." Abby actually giggled. She knew it was crazy-that she was slightly crazy-but she just didn't care.

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes. I think I may be losing my mind."

  "Hey, welcome to the club. Want to meet for lunch?"

  "In Seattle?"

  Marley laughed. "No, darling, in Clifden. I hope you're not too disappointed."

  "Actually Seattle did sound rather exciting."

  "More exciting than stalking Paul?"

  "I don't know. Espionage might agree with me."

  "Okay, now you really have to meet me for lunch. I'm dying to know what you're up to."
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  So they agreed to meet at The Wharfside in fifteen minutes. Abby, still feeling like a double agent, looked furtively about before she started her vehicle and then quietly exited the parking lot, taking a back road to make her getaway. Really, what had she been thinking? Thank goodness for Marley. Who knew what Abby might've done if Marley hadn't called?

  As Abby drove to town, she told herself that she, once again, had been making a mountain out of a molehill. She was scouting trouble for no good reason. From now on, she vowed, unless she had real evidence, she was going to put her suspicions about Paul behind her.

  Chapter 24

  JANIE

  If Janie had thought the previous weekend was hard, this one was far worse. It was no wonder; her week had been catastrophic. She'd known she wasn't ready for her court case, but she had counted on her normally faithful legal assistant to fill in the missing pieces. Unfortunately Holly had let her down. Whether it was intentional sabotage or simple neglect was unclear, but Janie had been infuriated with the young woman. In what was arguably not her smartest move, Janie had lashed into Holly outside the courtroom, reducing the poor girl to tears. Janie wasn't proud of her actions, but at the time she was too angry to make amends. She'd hoped Holly would forgive her later, and bygones would be bygones.

  As it turned out-and this had been news to Janie-Holly was Grant Weisner's niece (on his wife's side). Grant Weisner was the most senior partner of Weisner, Potter and Sorenson. In fact it was Grant's grandfather who had started the firm nearly one hundred years ago. Holly, feeling terrorized, had told her mother the whole horrifying story. Naturally Holly's mother relayed it all (and then some) to Mrs. Weisner.

  So it was that after losing the case on Wednesday, Janie was called into her brother-in-law's office Friday morning. Ross's expression was grim. "Is everything okay with you, Jane?"

  "Okay?" She frowned at him. "I just lost a big case, but I'm sure you heard about that."

  "As a matter of fact, I did." He cleared his throat. "I also heard about Holly."

  "Holly?" Janie felt blindsided. "What do you mean?"