by Kay Shostak
“Can I help you?” I ignore Laney and greet the person entering the door. I pour another black coffee, point out the leftover muffins on the tray, and hope my so-called friend will leave.
Should’ve known better than that.
“Besides, Leslie leaving for school made me think. Look at them.” She points to her girls seated near the window. “They both graduate next year. You and Susan have younger kids. Mine are gone in one fell swoop.”
When I look up at her, she tilts her head away from me a bit, but I can still see the tears gathered on the edge of her lashes. Since I met her last year, I’ve seen her in all sorts of moods, but never sad, never fearful. I’ve not even known her a year, and yet this shakes me. Her confidence has pulled me into so many things, both good and bad. To even imagine her not being confident? Not being sure she was right?
She turns, never raising her head to look at me, picks up her coffee. She heads across the floor and out the door. That’s when I know things are really bad. The world is off its axis.
Laney Conner is wearing flats.
Chapter 22
“Hey, Mom. Anybody sitting here or there?” Will points to the place beside me and, across the booth, to the seat beside Susan.
“Nope, join us.” I work to keep the sigh out of my voice, but I knew better than to think with three kids in town, hungry after church, I wouldn’t be feeding all three. Four, if you count Anna. Bryan is understandable, but he’s easy. He and Grant are fine on their own at a little table for two pushed right up against the front window and only three feet from the Chinese buffet. They’ll eat their weight in General Tso’s chicken and those sugared balls of dough. Then, they’ll go next door to the pet store until we track them down there and say it’s time to go home.
Savannah supposedly has this job thing now, so she could, if she truly wanted to, go somewhere I wasn’t. Somewhere that doesn’t include talking to me, since she obviously wants to avoid talking to me at all costs. But, no. There she is in the booth behind me, sighing and texting and sighing and rolling her eyes and texting and ignoring that Ricky didn’t pay for a lunch but he’s eating off her plate from the buffet. She’s also ignoring me motioning at her to quit filling up her plate for him. As I was contemplating tripping her as she passed with another empty plate, Will and Anna came in the door and straight to the booth Susan and I are seated in.
Susan scoots over, and I do the same, again, trying not to sigh too loudly. Anna slides in next to Susan and Will next to me. When the waitress comes over, Will motions shakes his head no. “We’re not eating. Just here for a minute.”
He turns to me and smiles big. I smile back and him, then he opens his mouth. “Anna said you offered to tell Missus about the wedding.”
“I don’t know that I exactly offered…” but as my words dwindle off to end with a question mark, Anna sniffles. “Yes, of course I did. Whatever I can do to help.”
Will takes a long breath in and lets it out. “Okay, good. Yeah, that’s good. Um, could you talk to her this afternoon? She has a wedding strategy meeting planned for tonight at Peter’s house. It’s supposed to be a chance to see his renovations, but she’s turned it into a planning session. You know how she does.” He says all this as he’s sliding out of the booth, reaching for Anna’s arm and pulling her up next to him so that when he finishes talking he can just wave, say “thanks,” and leave. Which happens just as I laid it out. The front door closes with the jingling of a string of brass bells hanging beside it.
I spear a piece of broccoli and lift it to my mouth where I chomp on it like a T-rex.
Susan laughs. “What did you get yourself into now? What’s going on with the wedding? From everything I’ve heard, it sounds beautiful. Right around dusk, like Leslie’s party last night. Missus asked to borrow the blue chair covers and table clothes. Of course, after I get them dry cleaned.
Can broccoli make you nauseous? Because my stomach doesn’t feel so good. “Anna wants to combine her wedding with Patty’s at noon.”
Susan’s mouth opens in slow motion. Her brow creases, and she begins to slowly shake her head back and forth. “Oh, I don’t think so.” Then it dawns on her what she just heard. “And you volunteered to tell Missus?”
“No, I offered to help Anna with getting Missus off her back, and Anna took it to the next step. Then with the tears always on standby, and the whole constant throwing up thing, how am I supposed to get out of it?”
Susan purses her lips. “You’ve got to get better at not getting into situations, instead of always having to get out of them. Missus won’t have it. She just won’t have it. She softened up a bit when she found out about the baby, but now that she’s got her great-grandbaby being born right here in Chancey, she’s gotten more stubborn than ever. There’s no way on God’s green earth she’ll share her spotlight with Gertie Samson.”
I stretch my neck around and happen to see Ricky and Savannah having a major make-out session right there in the next booth. “Cut that out,” I hiss. Ricky sits up straighter, but he no longer looks scared or caught. It’s like he’s grown up in the past couple weeks. Savannah isn’t looking at me, but she no longer appears in control of the relationship. She looks like she had completely forgotten where she was. That is so not a good look on your teenage daughter.
Susan sees it. I can hear it in her voice. “Ricky Troutman. Go home. Right now. How dare you act like that here.”
He slides out of his seat and walks past us with only the faintest nod in our direction. Savannah follows him, then turns back to me. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll see you at home.” She smiles a bit, but then reaches for his hand. The bells beside the door are jingling again.
Susan and I meet eyes. She says, “I’m sorry. He’s my nephew, but he needs to go on to college. He’s getting a little too big for his britches.”
“Guess in addition to talking to Missus today, I need to have another heart to heart with Savannah. She always seems so in control when we talk about sex, but, well…” I shrug.
Susan waves at the waitress. “Let’s get the checks and you can get on out of here. I’ll walk over to the pet store with the boys, and they can hang out at our house. Griffin is going to be on the golf course all afternoon, and Susie Mae has a pool party after softball practice.”
We take our bills to the front counter, and as we pay I remember why I texted Susan to have lunch. “Oh, yeah, what’s with Laney? She came by MoonShots this morning and looked positively matronly.”
“Laney? She wasn’t at church today. Said she was going over to the church in Collinswood to make connections for her new job, and then she was making a family dinner for just her, Shaw, and the girls. Did she looked sick?”
“No, she looked like she felt fine. It was her dress and her hair and, mostly, her shoes.” I drop my wallet into my purse. “Susan, she was wearing flats.”
Susan starts to laugh, then freezes. “Seriously? She’s worn flip flops occasionally, but not to town. Real, honest-to-goodness flats?”
“Yes. Nice flats, black leather with a little silver buckle on them. Like something she would buy, if she bought flats.”
Susan pushes open the heavy wooden door, and we step out into the afternoon sunshine with the boys right behind us. They head straight for the pet store, and we step to the side in that same direction.
“Okay,” she says. “You have your talk with Missus, I’ll find out what’s going on with Laney, and let’s meet at Ruby’s tomorrow morning. Around nine?”
“It’s a plan. Well, thanks for letting Bryan hang out with you and Grant. I better get home to make sure Ricky isn’t there.”
We part, and as I get in the hot car, I check my phone for messages. There’s only one, a text from Missus telling me about the wedding strategy meeting tonight at Peter’s.
Okay, but first to deal with Savannah. Ricky better not be there when I get home.
“Mom, I know what you’re going to say.” Savannah is rocking on the front porch when I
get home. Apparently she’s waiting for me to tell her what she already knows I’m going to tell her.
“I’m glad to see Ricky’s not here,” I say as I step past her to the rocking chair on the end. It’s a beautiful early summer day with a breeze, no humidity, dancing sunlight and air so full of fresh smells, it’s like sticking your nose in a box of dryer sheets.
“Mom, he’s just kind of bored waiting to go off to school. I told him I don’t want to date anymore, but then he comes around and he’s so cute, and, well…”
She speaks so confidently, until she doesn’t, and her voice fades. I watch the doubt crawl around on her face. “Honey, it’s called physical attraction. It serves its purpose when you’re in a relationship you know you want to be in, but you don’t really like your partner at times. Like when you’ve got babies, no money, and your husband gets on your last nerve. Then that physical attraction keeps you together when everything else says, get out of this.”
“Mom,” she huffs and looks away from me.
“Just being honest. But it can also get in the way of you getting out of a relationship you need to get out of. You are letting things go too far. You want to break up with him? Then do it. If you’re meant to get back together, there’s lots of time for that. Do not have sex with him by accident. Just because he makes you feel, so, you know, so good.”
I’m talking fast because she’s now standing up. Long, meaningful sex talks with your kids are the stuff of fantasy. You’ve got to say what you’ve got to say fast. And really, that’s easier for me, too. If I had to think about what I’m saying, or have her look me in the face? I couldn’t do it. Just blurt it out and go on your separate ways.
“I’m going inside,” she says pulling the screen door open. “And Missus called the house phone. Said you’re not answering your cell again.” And she’s gone. Now, if my heart can calm down from this talk before I have to talk to Missus.
However, as I pull my phone out of my purse and turn up the ring tone volume, it rings. It’s her. Great.
“Hi Missus, sorry I missed your calls. Had the volume turned down for church.”
“No, you didn’t. I heard you get a text in the middle of the sermon. I do not care if you’re trying to avoid me or someone else. I will only be avoided if I chose to be avoided. You should know that by now.”
And as delusional as that is, it’s true. It also makes dashing her dreams of the perfect wedding easier. “Of course, Missus. Now, about the wedding. Anna and Will want to have it with Patty and Andrew at noon. Jackson and I are fine with that.” (Well, Jackson will be once I tell him about it.)
I wait, but there’s only silence. “Missus? You still there?” The silence continues for a while longer, and then the call ends.
Holding my phone out in front of me, I stare at it. Maybe the call dropped before she heard me. Maybe she’ll call back. Maybe she dropped dead of a heart attack. The phone doesn’t make a sound. I drop it back in my purse and take a deep breath. Laying my head against the rocking chair back, a smile for the deep blue sky above the trees ends in another deep breath, and another smile. I had both my difficult conversations inside of a half hour.
See, God loves me even if I spent Sunday morning in a coffee shop instead of a sanctuary.
Chapter 23
So, Missus isn’t dead.
She sent a group text about still meeting at Peter’s at 7 pm. Savannah avoided me all afternoon. (A definite advantage to mentioning sex to your teenager.) Will and Anna hung out on the couch watching a marathon of some TV show. I mentioned several times how beautiful it was outside, but they ignored me. So I sat out on the deck and read.
Such a relaxing afternoon has me in a very relaxed attitude, but my cool dissipates as I drive down the hill toward town. The sun still shines, just from behind the surrounding mountains, and that soft blue light that set the scene for Leslie’s party fills the air. It’s soft and warm and fresh. Missus is right, it would be a beautiful time of day for a wedding.
But don’t tell her I said so.
Passing the stores on the main street, I look for lights or people in MoonShots or the florist and bookstore. Lights in the back point out that no one is in either business. With a quick look upstairs I see that both apartments are lit up. I can even see movement in Jordan’s. I hoped working with her would cause her to open up, but she seems surlier than when she first came to town. At the corner, I slow down to look inside Ruby’s windows. There I can see a person. Ruby is in the back kitchen area. No telling what she’s making back there. She sells a ton of muffins every morning, but she also has big side business in pies and cakes and anything you want her to make. For such a small town, where everybody supposedly cooks, she sure sells a lot of food.
Where the street ends at the row of antebellum homes in a wide array of repair and disrepair, I turn right. Missus and FM’s home is to the left just a bit. Then two houses past it is the library. They sit right on the square and across from the town park. Peter’s house is just off the square, and that is as dire as it sounds.
His front porch faces the side of the last business on Main street, which is a solid wall of old, dark brick. Only a slice of the park can be seen from his front yard. And while his home is as old as the others on the street, his looks it.
There’s very little paint left on the warped boards, so it’s mostly weathered gray planks. Overgrown bushes crowd up next to the house on all sides, even the front, so the porch is in permanent shadow. I pull up alongside the front sidewalk, and it’s evident the town hasn’t spent any money to repair the sidewalk off the square. Out of my car and looking back to my left, even with the sun tucked behind the mountains, there is light and airiness in the park and up towards Missus’ house. The dark brick of the building behind me, the shaggy, low-hanging trees meeting the out of control bushes, makes it feel darker here. Walking up the front steps and onto the porch feels darker still.
There is no screen, so I knock on the splintered wooden door. Peter pulls it open, but his face looks anything but welcoming and I can hear why. Anna is crying, Missus is preaching, FM is pacing, and Will is… where is my son?
“Where’s Will?” I ask as I lay my purse on a pile of boxes beside the front door and head straight for Anna, who is huddled over on the old-fashioned love seat. Peter closes the door, then comes up behind me.
“Mother sent him down to her house for something,” he says, following me to the love seat. As I sit down beside Anna, he steps around to stand in front of Anna and face Missus. “Mother, stop this. Anna and Will can do whatever they like. You don’t have to come.”
Anna jumps up. “Oh, no. She has to be there. She has to be.” She pushes around Peter and puts her arms around her grandmother. “You wouldn’t not come, would you? I couldn’t stand that. Please say you’ll come.”
Missus melts. Right there in front of us. Her mouth softens, her eyes close, her shoulders relax, and she murmurs into Anna’s hair. “Of course, I’ll come. Of course.”
Peter slumps into the place where Anna had sat. FM walks past us into the well-lit kitchen mumbling about needing some water. The love seat is one of those old ones with wooden scrolling on the back and little arms and it’s pretty small, so I get up.
I take the moment to look around and see that the inside of Peter’s house has as little life as the outside. Everyone has talked about the remodeling Peter is doing. Looks to me he was just making it habitable, not actually renovating. This house has none of the nice details of his parents’. No thick crown molding, no glossy hardwood floors, no windows with trim worthy of stain or even paint. It’s rather bare. Just a room with a staircase to one side. A plain staircase with carpeted stairs and a skinny banister that looks cheap. The windows are small and don’t even have a real sill, just a little inch-wide lip.
From what I can see of the kitchen, it appears serviceable. The cabinets look like those you find in a scaled-down model home, oak with shiny brass handles and knobs. The counter isn’t grani
te, just plain butcher-block laminate. Problem is, I know all this is new. He just had the kitchen and living room area remodeled. It is also pretty small, with the kitchen, which is at the back of the house, only a few steps past were we are, and the front door is only a few steps the other direction. And, of course, there are boxes everywhere, as the upstairs is being worked on right now. His house reminds me of our house. Just an old house, but at least ours was habitable when we bought it. No wonder he got such a good deal. Hopefully, the work should be done soon, sounds like he actually has workers upstairs on a Sunday night. That’s a good sign.
When Will comes in the back door, then through the kitchen, he holds out to a notebook to Missus and puts his other arm around his wife’s back. Anna turns into him. Missus takes the notebook, visibly wiping her eyes. Peter stands up and steers Anna and Will to sit down. The couch is the only place to sit down, besides some kitchen chairs placed around the boxes.
Missus says something about water and joins FM in the kitchen. Peter and I move toward the front of the house. In the corner, to the right of the front door, I turn and look at Peter. He has his back to the staircase, and he runs one hand through his hair.
“Man, that looked like it was going to be awful. Mother was furious when she got here. She hid it until she sent Will off to her house. Then she let into Anna. Caught me and Dad completely off guard.”
We both catch our breath, and then a giggle pops out of me. “Can you believe we’re actually agreeing to put on a wedding with Gertie Samson?”
He quietly laughs. “It’ll be a nightmare. She’s impossible, you know.”
“Oh, I know. She’s living at my house, remember? And we haven’t even met Andy’s family. Just hearing him talk about them has scared Patty nearly to death.”