She still had the volunteer work. She was on the Friends of the Library committee and was in charge of the monthly book sales. Between that and her quilting and church activities, she had enough to do. And yet she didn’t.
“This is a new chapter in your life,” Dean kept saying. “Now’s your chance to finally get out and explore your options.” He was right, of course, but she still found herself in a quagmire of indecision. Should she go back to school and finally finish her degree? After twenty years? Maybe not. She’d been more into boys and parties than studying when she was in college. She wasn’t sure she was college material.
She could get a job doing...something. Everyone worked these days. She’d worked in retail when she and Dean were first married and had enjoyed it, but now that she was older, going to work for someone didn’t sound all that appealing. The idea of starting her own business intrigued her but she had no idea what kind of business to start. What skills did she have other than baking and finding bargains on sale? And quilting. She supposed she could sell her quilts.
Except who would buy them? Most of the people she knew already had one of her quilts. Anyway, there were many women out there who turned out better work than she did. Her cousin Helen Ross could quilt circles around her.
“Everything looks so great,” Juliet said. “With all these pretty things, your house should be in a magazine,” she told Stacy.
Ha! Take that, Deano. “Tell that to my husband,” Stacy said.
“He doesn’t like your decorations?” Charley asked.
“He thinks we have too much stuff. But I don’t think I have too much,” Stacy added quickly before anyone could agree with Dean.
“I love looking at all of this,” Cass said, “but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes putting it away in January.” She returned to the living room, sat down on the couch and searched in vain for a place to fit her cup of eggnog among the host of ceramic animals and people visiting the Holy Family. She ended up holding it and Stacy found herself wondering if she should’ve set out fewer camels.
“Sometimes our things can own us,” Chita said, making Stacy frown.
“That’s true. And pretty darned profound,” Cass told her.
If you asked Stacy, it sounded like something you’d hear on Dr. Phil.
“I didn’t think it up,” Chita said. “I read it.” She put her cup on the carpet, and then, balancing her plate on her lap, reached for the book she’d brought in. “I’d like us to read this for the new year.”
She passed it to Cass, who held it at arm’s length and squinted at the title. “Simplicity?”
“It’s not a novel,” Chita said.
“Oh.” Cass was obviously disappointed and handed it to Juliet.
“We just got this in at the bookstore,” Juliet explained. “It’s Muriel Sterling’s new book.”
“I love her books,” Charley said.
“This one is all about simplifying your life,” Chita told them. “She talks about discovering what’s important and learning to shed what isn’t.”
Was this some kind of decluttering, purge-your-closets book? Stacy felt herself squirming.
“You mean having fewer things?” Juliet asked.
“Having less, period. Less stuff to deal with, less stress, less craziness in your life. I’m only halfway through it but there are some really good ideas in here.”
“Well, it’s your pick.” Stacy knew her tone of voice probably betrayed that she was less than thrilled with the selection.
“I think it’ll be worthwhile,” Chita said. “I mean, we’re always talking about how busy we are.” She shot a look at Juliet. “And how tired.”
“This will only help me if it comes with a bottle of vitamins and a live-in nanny,” Juliet quipped. “But I’d love to read it.”
“And if it’s by Muriel we know it’s going to be worth reading,” Cass added.
Chita smiled. “I think this book could change our lives.”
Change. Stacy wasn’t fond of it...unless it was good and it was happening to her. And she wasn’t sure there was going to be anything all that good for her in this particular book.
“I think it’s a great pick for the new year,” Juliet said.
“Sounds great to me,” Charley said.
“Me, too,” said Cass.
“Me, too,” said Chita.
“Anyone want more eggnog?” Stacy asked.
Chapter Three
Life should be a joy, not a burden.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Jen was rushing down the street, late for lunch with her sister, when her cell phone rang. It was her friend Ariel.
“Hey, a bunch of us are going to try that new restaurant in Belltown Friday night. Want to come?”
A night out with the girls would have been a welcome change but... “I can’t. I have—”
“A candle party,” Ariel finished with her. “All you do is work. Nobody sees you anymore.”
“I know.” Boy, did she.
“I’m not sure why I bothered to call,” Ariel complained.
She was one of the few who did keep in touch. Most of Jen’s other so-called friends had given up. “I’m glad you did.”
Ariel gave a snort of disgust. “You’re in deep shit with Caroline for missing most of her bachelorette party.”
“I know, but I had—”
“A candle party. There’s more to life than work. And you’d better realize that before you don’t have any friends left.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Jen said. “Glad to see you’re so supportive.” And understanding. Not. She couldn’t help it if she had bills to pay and a failed starter marriage to recover from. And family obligations.
“You wanna talk supportive? Who got you through your divorce?” Ariel demanded. “Who hosted your first candle party?”
Actually, her sister had. She’d been there for Jen when she was going through her divorce, too, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. Anyway, she wasn’t the total scum girlfriend Ariel was making her out to be. “Yeah? Well, who’s always been your designated driver whenever you wanted to go out dancing and get drunk?”
“Saint Jen, who I guess is now too good for her old friends.”
“I’m just busy!”
“If you’re too busy for your friends, you’re too busy,” Ariel snapped, and ended the call.
Jen stared at her phone in disbelief. What was that? Had Ariel just dumped her over the phone?
The clock on her phone screen told her she didn’t have time to stand around trying to figure it out.
Late. It seemed as if she was constantly running to something, constantly trying to catch up with her own life. But, like a dog chasing its tail, she never seemed to. She picked up her pace.
“So you finally got here,” her older sister, Toni Carlyon, greeted her as Jen approached their table at the Pink Door in Seattle’s Post Alley.
“I’m lucky I could get away at all.” Jen took in the antipasto platter sitting on the table. “Aw, you ordered my prosciutto.” She hugged Toni, then settled in her chair and snagged a slice of meat.
“Of course,” Toni said. “I always watch out for you, baby sister.”
Watching out for and bossing around were synonymous in her sister’s mind, but Jen let it slide. Bossiness was unavoidable when your sister was five years older than you. This lunch was a command performance, and Jen suspected she’d be getting a sisterly lecture along with the meal Toni had offered to buy her.
She could feel her sister’s eyes on her as she gave the waitress her order.
“You look like death on a
stick,” Toni said once the waitress was gone. “Mom’s right. You are going too hard.”
Jen opened her mouth to say, “I am not.” Instead, she said, “I hate my life,” and burst into tears.
Toni set her glass of wine in front of Jen. “Drink this.”
“I have to go back to work,” Jen protested.
“Drink it, anyway.”
Jen managed to stem the tears enough to take a sip of wine.
“Jen-Jen, you’ve got to stop doing so much,” Toni scolded. “Start saying no.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Think like that old Nike commercial and just do it.”
Easy for Toni to say. Yes, she was busy with her husband and her children, but when it came to work she could set her own hours. Toni wrote for women’s magazines, focusing primarily on family issues. If she didn’t feel like working she could take a day off, go to the gym, maintain her size-six bod, touch up her blond highlights.
Jen had given up on highlights. She hadn’t been to the gym in months and she wouldn’t be able to take a day off until...2043. “I can’t,” she wailed. Now diners at the other tables were staring at her. She gulped down some more wine.
“You take on too much, Jen-Jen,” Toni said. “Tell your idiot supervisor to plan the rest of the office Christmas party without you.”
Right. “You would never last in corporate America,” Jen retorted.
“At the rate you’re going you’re not going to last, either,” Toni said. “You don’t have time for your friends anymore and you barely have time for your family. That’s not you.”
Toni had a point. “I don’t know what to do,” Jen confessed. “Every time I look at my calendar I want to run away from my life.”
“Have you finished the book I gave you yet?” Toni asked.
“No. I keep falling asleep.” Jen shook her head. “Pathetic. I used to love to read.” Heck, she used to love to do all kinds of things. She used to love going out with the girls on the spur of the moment or catching a movie, walking around Green Lake with a friend on a sunny day. Or...breathing. She barely had time for that these days. “Sometimes I wish I could sell the condo and move to a small town somewhere and just start over. Maybe write a book.” She’d always wanted to try her hand at writing...something. These days it seemed as if everyone was writing a book so it couldn’t be that hard.
“I’ve heard life is slower in a small town,” Toni said, “but I don’t believe it. These days everybody’s busy. But certain somebodies are busier than others. Too busy,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Jen.
“If you think I want to be running around like a roadrunner on speed you’re crazy,” Jen informed her, “but I have to. I’ve got bills to pay.” Obviously, her friends didn’t get that.
“That’s the American way,” Toni said with a frown. “I wish I could help you out but my car’s on its last legs and we found out yesterday that Jeffrey’s going to need braces. It’ll be a few months before our budget adjusts to the shock.”
“I wouldn’t dream of taking money from you, anyway. But if we had a rich uncle I’d have no qualms taking some from him.” Jen sighed. “Working two jobs is getting old. You know, sometimes I wish I’d been born in a simpler time, when people weren’t so busy.”
“You can’t go back. Sometimes I’d like to, though. I watched this old movie the other night about a family living during the Depression and I felt downright jealous.”
“Of people living in the Depression?”
“Not of the money thing. It was all that family togetherness that got to me.” Toni rolled her eyes. “Even when my family’s together, we’re not. Jeffrey’s off in his room playing games on his computer, Jordan’s always texting. Wayne’s on his laptop, doing work. I hate it. Oh, and there’s another expense. Jordan told me last night that she lost her cell phone.”
There was a fate worse than death, if you asked Jen. She couldn’t imagine being without hers. “Part of me would just as soon not replace it.”
Jen couldn’t help smiling. “Mom would agree with that.” Their mother had never been shy about expressing her opinion regarding kids and cell phones.
“Yeah, yeah. We didn’t have cell phones when we were kids and we were fine. But it’s a different world now.” Toni reclaimed her wineglass and took a sip. “I’d never admit this to Mom, but sometimes I wonder if all our technology has really made our lives better.” She fiddled with the stem of her glass. “Sometimes I worry that...” She paused and bit her lip. “My family is drifting apart.”
“Of course it’s not,” Jen said, and shied away from the image of a very bored Jordan trailing them through the gingerbread house exhibit a couple of weeks before, texting her friends at every opportunity. When Jordan was little she’d loved going out with the big girls. Now that she was thirteen, not so much. But, Jen reminded herself, she hadn’t been excited to hang out with the adults when she was that age, either.
“Oh, well,” Toni said. “That’s enough downer talk. Let’s figure out what we’re getting Mom for Christmas.”
Talking about Christmas plans should have lifted Jen’s spirits, but only served to sic her to-do list on her and make her edgy. She hurried through lunch, gave her sis a quick hug and then speed-walked back toward the Columbia Center building.
When she got halfway there, she stopped in midstride. What was she doing? Why was she running like a gerbil on a wheel? She didn’t want to go back to work. She wasn’t going to go back to work.
She whipped out her cell phone and called her supervisor. “Patty, I’ll be at home for the rest of the day.”
“Are you okay?” Patty asked, concern in her voice.
She was probably just concerned about whether Jen had found a caterer for the office party yet.
“I’m sick. It must’ve been something I had at lunch,” Jen improvised. No lie, really. She’d had something at lunch that made her sick—a conversation about her life. She needed a break and she needed it right now.
“Okay, well, feel better soon,” Patty said. “Let us know if you’re not going to make it in tomorrow.”
The only way Jen was going to feel better was if she got a new life. She went home, flipped on her faux fireplace and settled under a blanket on the couch with the book her sister had given her, starting with page one. Again.
When was the last time you enjoyed your life?
“My honeymoon,” Jen muttered. No, wait. She’d enjoyed her life since then. She’d enjoyed it...the first week after she bought the condo, when she was spending money she didn’t have to furnish the place. The fun had lasted until she saw the credit card bill.
If it’s been a while, then chances are you’re due for a change.
Well, there was an understatement. Jen read on, learning about the author’s big life change, how she’d lost her second husband and had to start over. Left to figure out her finances and the rest of her life, Muriel Sterling had sold her big house that she owed a fortune on and rented a friend’s cottage.
It wasn’t easy letting go of that house. It represented so much—the new life I’d begun with my second husband, security, happiness. But I quickly learned that two stories of wood and stone don’t make a life. And owing money on that place certainly didn’t make me secure. What I needed was freedom, not merely from debt but from the past and from my unrealistic expectations. I needed to be free to start again.
Free to start again, huh? Jen read on.
And so I a
sk you now, do you need to start over? The only way to do that is to get free.
Get free? She’d just bought this place. But did she own it or did it own her?
She shut the book and looked around her living room. Her couch was white leather and had a matching beaded chair. Her Beckworth coffee table, handcrafted from exotic demolition hardwoods, was her pride and joy. It hadn’t been cheap but she loved it. Her decorations were from Crate and Barrel. They hadn’t been cheap, either, and she had the high credit card balance to prove it. She really liked this living room. She especially liked the fireplace. Her parents’ house didn’t have one and she’d always been taken with the romantic image of reading by a cozy fire on a cold day. And even though the fire going right now was electric, it was still pretty, and it gave her living room the perfect finishing touch. Except she rarely had a chance to enjoy it.
She really liked her bedroom, too, which she’d dolled up with a vintage brass bed, a pink comforter and a spectacular multicolored gypsy chandelier. It should have been a retreat, a place for sweet dreams, but often she tossed and turned on that vintage bed, thinking about everything she had to do.
The kitchen was another work of art and she enjoyed looking at its sleek granite countertops. But she hardly ever cooked in there.
She gazed out the window at the Seattle skyline. Buildings everywhere and gray skies.
“What am I doing here?” she asked herself.
* * *
Toni was up to her eyebrows in gift bags and wrapping paper when her sister called. “Hey, I was beginning to think you’d run away,” Toni said. “I haven’t heard from you since we had lunch.”
The Cottage on Juniper Ridge Page 3