Hollyhock Ridge
Page 30
“I love my little house,” Kay said. “I don’t want to leave it.”
“Then we’ll add on,” Sonny said. “I know a guy who’ll do it cheap. He’ll even work for food.”
“Good to know,” she said. “Considering I now have to drive to Pendleton to buy food, I’ll need to stock up.”
“Do you think Grace will be okay with all of this?”
“She was surprised,” Kay said. “I was, too.”
“It was always meant to be,” Sonny said. “It just took us a while to realize it.”
“When did you know?”
He paused, looked off in the distance, and then smiled.
“I came to hear you speak at the IWS hospice fundraiser back in June,” Sonny said. “You were so eloquent, and gracious to Marigold, even though she was so rude to you. And you were beautiful; I could see the teenager in you, you know, right in there with the woman you grew up to be. I thought to myself, that Kay Templeton is one class act. Then I thought, I’m single and she’s single; why don’t I call her up and ask her out?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because what could a woman like you possibly see in a man like me?’ ”
“Only everything,” Kay said. “Everything I love best.”
“Well, then,” he said. “I have a question for you.”
“Yes,” Kay said. “The answer is yes.”
“We can get a license today,” he said. “I’m not kidding around, here.”
“Let’s do it,” Kay said. “Quietly and quickly.”
“Good idea,” he said. “What with my dad and Diedre, and, of course, Matty. So many tender feelings; it would probably be best.”
“We can go down to the Pendleton courthouse and do it,” she said. “We’ll get Pauly and Julie to be our witnesses.”
“My mother’s going to flip out,” he said.
Kay had a feeling his mother was going to be more relieved than anything else.
“You’re feeling what you need to feel, right?” he asked. “You’re not just getting carried along by me.”
“It feels right,” she said. “I think Dottie would approve. You?”
“Oh, I got no doubts,” he said. “We’re gonna do fine.”
Claire was cleaning the house in anticipation of her mother coming home later that day. As she put the tall stack of paper plates back up in the cabinet above the refrigerator, she rediscovered the bottle of whiskey and Pip’s baggie of pot. Overcome with fresh grief, she sat down at the kitchen table to cry, and was still there, the bottle in front of her and the bag of pot in her hand, when Ed came in through the back door.
“This looks serious,” he said.
“It’s Pip’s,” she said. “I don’t know whether to flush it or smoke it.”
Ed took the baggie from her and went down the hall, where she could hear the toilet flush.
Claire’s phone rang and she answered it.
“Your twenty-four hours is almost up,” Gwyneth Eldridge said. “What are you going to do about Pip?”
“Not a blessed thing,” Claire said. “Thanks anyway.”
“But …” Gwyneth started to say.
“Listen, Gwyneth,” Claire said. “What Pip or your sister do or don’t do is up to them. We gotta quit trying to control everything. As for me, I’m not going to waste another minute worrying about Pip, and I’m sure as hell not going to decide what’s best for him. It’s none of my business.”
“I assume this means you’re not interested in the spa position,” Gwyneth said, contempt and condescension dripping from her words.
“Nope,” Claire said, “but thanks, anyway.”
She ended the call and began pouring the whiskey down the kitchen sink drain.
“I would have helped you drink that,” Ed said.
“Nope,” she said. “Nobody’s drinking this.”
Ed sat down at the kitchen table, and it was then that Claire noticed he didn’t look like he felt well.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
He shook his head, and she was taken aback to see he was fighting back tears.
“Hey,” she said, “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, took a deep breath, and wiped his face with his hands. When he looked back up he gave her a weary, sad smile.
“Have you been on the Internet today?” he asked her.
“No,” she said. “Why?”
“Looks like Eve’s senator got careless with his emails and texts.”
“Uh oh,” she said. “What happened?”
“Someone on his staff turned it all over to a reporter at the Washington Post.”
“He’ll just say his accounts were hacked.”
“I don’t think he can get away with that. Apparently he sent naked photographs of himself and certain parts of himself,” Ed said. “There’s no way he’ll be able to run now.”
“What’s Eve say?”
“She’s pretty pissed,” Ed said. “Not all of the emails were to her.”
“Oh, no,” Claire said. “Poor Eve.”
“More women are expected to come forward,” he said. “More than a few.”
“So much for her exclusive access to the next president.”
“Not so exclusive, as it turns out.”
“Does this change anything for you and her?”
“You might say that,” he said. “She’s anticipating that her confidential emails to him will be revealed any minute. If they are, her career will be over.”
“She can say her account was hacked,” Claire said.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Ed said.
“She sent photos, too?”
He nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I don’t know why,” he said. “You tried to warn me; I just didn’t listen.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s on her way to Atlanta, to meet with her agent and attorney.”
“I guess the baby …”
“Not mine, never was, and never will be.”
He looked so woebegone that Claire’s heart, or whatever was functioning in its place this morning, went out to him. She sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “You didn’t deserve to be deceived like that. You were willing to stand by her and take care of her and the baby.”
“Like a chump.”
“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” she said. “She’s the one who should be ashamed.”
“I’m sorry to dump this on you today,” he said. “You’ve got your own stuff to deal with.”
“We’re friends, pal,” she said. “This is what friends do, remember? We pick up the broken pieces and help put them back together again.”
There was a knock on the front door, and it turned out to be an express shipping driver delivering the shoes Claire had forgotten she had ordered just a few days ago. She didn’t feel excited anticipation like she usually would. Now she felt irritated with the person she had been only a few days ago. She tossed the box into a chair and returned to the kitchen.
She leaned against the doorway, and looked at Ed. She felt so fond of him. The sane realness of their relationship was calm and deep and comforting to her. It felt like what you hoped was on the other side of the uncertainty of attraction, the passionate courtship, and the sexual frenzy of a new relationship. It felt like home, the one she had longed for from the other side of the world, and from the crossroads under the town’s only traffic light, here, in Rose Hill.
“If our friendship can survive this year, it can survive anything,” Claire said.
“What will happen to us, though, after life gets through with us?” Ed said. “All our years might be like this one, with one sad thing after another.”
“We’ll hold hands and walk,” Claire said, “or you’ll push my wheelchair up and down Rose Hill Avenue so I can still wear my high heels.”
“Thank you,” he said, as he
stood up, “for being my friend.”
Ed pulled her into a tight hug and she let herself sink into it, feeling the strength of his arms around her and the weight of his chin on her shoulder. There was comfort and acceptance there, and all the peace and stability she longed for in the deepest recesses of her heart.
Claire’s phone jingled and she pulled away, saying, “With the whole family on the road today I have to answer.”
“Miss Fitzpatrick,” a woman said. “This is Susanna; I’m the volunteer coordinator down at Pineville Hospice. First of all, I want to tell you how thrilled we are that you’ve agreed to volunteer, and how happy you made the two families you helped yesterday. I have several patients that would love to see you, so I was wondering when you planned to be here again.”
Claire had forgotten about her commitment to volunteer. It seemed like a week ago that she’d been there, instead of just the day before. She thought about the feeling she’d had when she’d left there. If she was going to be addicted to something, that seemed like a good choice.
“I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Claire said.
They settled on a time, and Claire ended the call.
“What was that about?” Ed asked her.
“I finally figured out what I want to do with my life,” Claire said. “And I’m starting tomorrow.”
“How about who you want to be with?”
“You already know that,” she said, as she wrapped her arms around him. “Everything else is just details.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am blessed with family and friends who love me, support my addiction to writing fiction, and are generous enough to overlook my many faults and foibles. In return, I hope I communicate to them how much I love them. If not, here’s the perfect opportunity: I love you people, and everything else is just details.
Thank you to Betsy Grandstaff, Terry Hutchison, Joan Turner, Ella Curry, and John Gillispie for their encouragement, proofreading, and feedback.
Because I love my dog family, I want to mention June Bug, who still has the spirit of the young frisky pup I rescued 13 ½ years ago. Her younger brother George is a new addition, and although it’s too soon to tell how he will measure up, we love him dearly, so that’s a good start.
Thank you to Tamarack: The Best of West Virginia, for selling my paper books in your beautiful building. And last, but not least, I want to thank the people who buy and read my books. It’s such a pleasant surprise every time it happens. Thank you so much.
Rose Hill Mysteries:
Rose Hill
Morning Glory Circle
Iris Avenue
Peony Street
Daisy Lane
Lilac Avenue
Hollyhock Ridge
Children’s Books:
June Bug Days and Firefly Nights
Ella’s New Hat and Her Terrible Cat