Slightly South of Simple

by Kristy Woodson Harvey

  “I called it, Mom,” Caroline said. “I have the text to prove it. I called the guesthouse before she even told you she was coming home.”

  “Honey,” I said, “I’m sure she isn’t trying to take the guesthouse.”

  “Then what does it look like she’s trying to do?”

  It looked like she was trying to take the guesthouse.

  I stepped out of the car and said, “Hi, Em! I didn’t know you were coming today!”

  She skipped over and hugged me heartily. Well, as heartily as those bony arms could possibly hug. “Hi, Mom! I just couldn’t wait to see you.”

  She was so thin. I loved thin. Thin was good in my book. But she was too thin. That was the part that scared me the most about her job. The pressure to be perfect was too much. I was always afraid it would get to her. Looking at her now, I couldn’t help but think that it had. But this was a very sensitive topic with Emerson. You couldn’t just bring it up.

  “Emerson, no,” Caroline said, a smug look on her face. “Go into the house and have a milk shake. I know you’re trying to compete in Hollywood, but you have taken this weight thing too far.”

  I guess someone could just bring it up.

  “Caroline!” I scolded.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Emerson said.

  Vivi got out of the car. “Aunt Emmy!”

  “Hi, my gorgeous girl!” Emerson said. “Come give me some love.”

  At that moment, Kyle walked out of the guesthouse.

  Unbelievable. She had been here no more than two hours, and she was already sleeping with my barista. Good Lord. Children. I was wondering why I had agreed to this, but then I remembered that I hadn’t agreed to it. Not at all. But I’m their mother. And this was my job.

  Caroline crossed her arms. “If you think you can keep me out of my guesthouse by having sex in it, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “Caroline!” I scolded.

  “It’s OK, Gransley,” Vivi said. “I know what sex is.”

  “Well, it’s not nice to talk about it,” I whispered to her.

  “Are you serious?” Emerson asked, anger rising in her voice. “Is this what you think of me? I’m some whore who runs into town and sleeps with the first thing she sees?”

  We all knew Emerson wasn’t exactly demure. I was actually relieved when she moved to LA, so I wouldn’t have to hear about her conquests around town anymore.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Caroline said, planting her feet in the driveway.

  “Vivi, darling,” I said, “why don’t you and I go inside and get all your groceries organized in the fridge?”

  “Oh, and I can show you how to use the Vitamix, too!” she said brightly, as if World War Three weren’t happening on our manicured lawn. “Gransley,” she said seriously, “it will change your life.”

  You couldn’t help but smile. Eleven going on twenty-five.

  As Vivi and I were unloading the car, that damn Mr. Solomon appeared. “What’s all the commotion out here? Can you keep it down? The dog is trying to sleep.”

  “The dog?” Vivi whispered. “Seriously?”

  I shook my head.

  “You might want to invest in some earplugs, Mr. Solomon,” I said. “The third one isn’t even home yet.” I paused, then, unable to help myself, added, “You’ll be wishing that fence was longer, taller, and denser before long.”

  “I’ll have you know,” he said, “that I’ll be running my tomato plants up that eyesore you call a fence. Since it’s on my property.”

  “Great,” I said, glaring at him. “I can’t wait. I’ll have fresh tomatoes all year long. Since they’ll be growing on my property.”

  Caroline and Emerson were glaring at each other now, too. It hadn’t been one minute. We hadn’t made it one minute without a fight. But I couldn’t help but think it was a little hypocritical to be mad, considering that I was doing exactly the same thing with Frank Solomon.

  “Who is that?” Vivi asked.

  “My horrible, rude neighbor.” I practically yelled so that he would be sure to hear me. “Girls,” I said, “why don’t we talk the whole guesthouse thing out? This isn’t worth fighting over. We’re all going to be here together like old times, and it’s going to be great.” I paused. “I know,” I said brightly. “Maybe Emerson could stay in the third bedroom of the guesthouse until the baby comes.”

  Win-win. They wouldn’t fight, and that would be one fewer person in my house.

  “I don’t even want the guesthouse!” Emerson yelled. “I was doing something nice for my wicked witch of a sister. Now I see I shouldn’t have bothered.”

  Poor Kyle was standing there totally flustered, as if these two bantering hyenas on the lawn were from a species he’d never encountered. He saluted me. “Ansley, I don’t know much about this stuff. I sort of move the boxes and leave. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “The boxes!” Vivi exclaimed.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Caroline yelled. “Emerson!” she called, running after her sister, which stressed me out because of her pregnant state. “I’m sorry, Emmy,” she was calling. “I love you. You know you’re my favorite.”

  But it was too late to apologize. Emerson was already in the house, halfway up to her room, I assumed. And all I could do was look apologetically at Kyle and hope that it was smooth sailing from here.

  EIGHT

  a total no-brainer

  caroline

  My sisters have always accused me of having the biggest mouth. They aren’t wrong. Things fly out of it. It’s like I don’t know what I’m going to say. Mom says I should be able to control this, but I swear I can’t. I blame it on the New Yorker in me. We don’t filter like Southerners. If you can’t take the truth, stay out of the Yankee’s way. And the truth now was that Emerson, as much as I loved her, was kind of a slut and looked like she had an eating disorder. I didn’t think I should be punished for pointing out these very true things.

  To defend myself further, she looked like she was taking my house. And I was nesting. It was a very fragile time. I didn’t need to be goaded during my fragile time.

  “Emmy,” I called. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I misjudged the situation.”

  I tried her door. It was locked.

  “I’m a hormonal, moody cow, and I have even less filter than usual, and I can’t be trusted.”

  “No, you can’t!” she called.

  “Could you please unlock the door so I can apologize to you properly?”

  The door flew open. She was wearing a gauzy white tank top that showed a hint of her practically nonexistent midriff when she moved just right. Her hair was that gorgeous LA blond, kind of wavy and very multidimensional, like she had spent a day on the beach and her hair had just happened. And she still had those eyes. Those big blue eyes, just like Mom’s. When you saw her on-screen, she was stunning. In real life, she was almost so beautiful you had to look away. It was like a light so bright you’re afraid it will burn your eyes.

  I was thinking how insanely lovely she was, maybe more so than ever, when she said, “You are like twice the size you were when you were pregnant with Vivi.”

  Well, now. That stung. I nodded and bit my tongue. “OK. I deserved that. I probably am. I am old and alone and giant. And that’s what I deserve, because I’m such a bitch to my sweet, loving sister.”

  She threw her arms around my neck. “No, you aren’t! You aren’t any of those things. You’re positively glowing. You look better than I’ve ever seen you. I’m sorry I said that.”

  That was the difference between the two of us. She couldn’t stand to be the least bit mean, even if she was telling the truth, which clearly she was.

  “So did you really unpack my stuff for me?”

  She nodded. “Yes. There wasn’t nearly enough closet space, so Kyle and I set up some racks. I wanted you to feel settled and at home.”

  I put my hand on her cheek. “You’re such a good, sweet sister and person.”

&nbs
p; She grinned. “I really am.”

  Emerson looked out the window. The only benefit her room had over mine was the glorious view of the harbor. She had a direct view of Starlite Island, the one we loved so much, with its few feet of sand, perfect for beach chairs and football, and the thick, dense tree line behind it. Those stunning horses that looked so gentle but were really so powerful would come and go, eating the grass and sea oats. Sailboats of all varieties—old and new, classic and shabby, large and small—occupied mooring balls in the harbor. Watching the sailboats was like a meditation on life. They made their way so gracefully.

  “You should really rebound with Coffee Kyle,” Emerson said, raising her eyebrows at me.

  I laughed. “Yes. I’m sure the hottest twenty-something guy we’ve ever seen will be deeply interested in a mid-thirties pregnant divorcée. He will be crawling all over me.”

  She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

  I couldn’t imagine it, starting over again. I hadn’t been on a date in fourteen years, hadn’t slept with a man who wasn’t my husband. I couldn’t envision having to become that comfortable with someone again, having to get to know him, fall in love. In some ways, I couldn’t fathom that it was possible. And so I guess I understood my mom a bit better. Opening your heart again, letting someone in after you knew what intense damage was possible . . . It was scary, to say the least.

  “You don’t want to sit around here forever and get old and dry up. Just saying. You might want to start hunting.”

  “Emerson, there are three thousand people in this town. How many single men could there be?”

  An alarm buzzed on her phone. “Time for my green juice!” she cried, as if she were saying “Time for my seven-layer chocolate cake!”

  I took her hand. “Look, hon, I know I was mean earlier about how thin you are. But my apology didn’t change the fact that I mean it. You look sort of scarily emaciated.”

  “I’m sure I do. I had to lose ten pounds for this role. I’m playing a model.”

  “Promise that’s all it is?”

  She grinned at me. “Of course I promise. Caroline, it’s my first starring role ever. And millions of people will actually be watching me!” she sort of half squealed.

  I couldn’t help but smile. I wanted it all for her. I always had.

  “You know how much this job means to me.” Emerson practically bounced up off the bed. I sort of lumbered off. We stood side by side, and she bumped her skinny hip with my heavily padded one. “I think this job means a little something to you, too.”

  She wasn’t wrong. I loved saying that my sister was on her way to stardom. Rumor had it that she would be one of People’s 50 Most Beautiful People this year. That was a total no-brainer to me. She should be the one most beautiful person. Well, maybe once she regained that ten pounds. It was an honor that we all believed would take her career to the next level.

  We walked downstairs, and it made my heart happy to see my girl down there, so quiet and so demure, so unlike her mother and her aunt, baking with her grandmother. Mom said something to Vivi, and they both laughed. I couldn’t help but think that while I certainly wouldn’t say we belonged here, this was a good diversion from all the turmoil back home. Vivi deserved as normal a life as possible. That was what I would say to the judge when he was trying to put me in jail for kidnapping her.

  I ran my hand along the railing—it was original to the house—and continued down the stairs. Mom had done such a beautiful job with this place. When we moved here, it was so old and out of date. And now it was the brightest jewel on a very shiny street, without a doubt. I remembered well when the kitchen had had layer after layer of green linoleum, outdated appliances, fake paneling on the walls, avocado-green laminate countertops with big chunks missing.

  At the time, she had put tile on the counters and floors, bought white appliances, painted the walls yellow. Now the kitchen had been further updated to hardwoods, white marble, Thermador appliances, pale blue walls. She had added an island with huge, gorgeous white and gold pendant lights hanging over it. It was the perfect place to roll out cookie dough, which she and Vivi were currently doing.

  “I had no idea,” Mom said, “that you could make cookies with no wheat, no eggs, and no dairy. Learn something new every day.”

  “None for me, thanks!” Emerson said. “If you guys haven’t ever done a juice cleanse, you really should. You will feel amazing.”

  Mom gave me a withering look.

  “I’m going to run to the farmers’ market,” Emerson said. “Anyone need anything while I’m out?”

  “I think I’m good,” I said.

  “Me, too,” Mom chimed in.

  Emerson had barely closed the door before I said, “So what’s up with that? Do we think she’s OK?”

  Mom shrugged. “I don’t know. She is awfully thin.”

  On that note, I joined Vivi in scraping up bits of cookie dough. It was so good. I wasn’t sure if it was because I hadn’t had real cookie dough in so many years that I’d lost perspective or if this stuff really was delicious.

  As I chewed, I said, “She says she’s playing a model in this new movie, and she had to be thinner than usual for the part.”

  Mom nodded. “She has been awfully hush-hush about this role. Has she said anything to you about it?”

  I shook my head. “Just that she is excited to be filming close to home for a while. I’m not sure I thought to ask what the movie was about.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Vivi interjected. “Do you think I could be like an extra or something?”

  Mom smiled at me, and I knew what she was thinking. A shudder of fear ran through me at the mere mention of my daughter being on any size screen, being a part of that world, living that life. It was cosmic payback for my encouraging Mom to let Emerson act all those years ago.

  I ran my finger through Vivi’s light hair. She had big brown eyes, but in some ways, she reminded me of Emerson. They both had Mom’s bone structure, all sharp and angular. Sloane and I were much rounder in the face. When I was young, it made me furious. Now that I’m older, I realize a little padding isn’t so bad. It hides the wrinkles.

  “We’ll see, sweetheart. I’m sure Emmy will get you a part if she can, but she might not have any control.”

  Vivi was cutting the dough with flower cookie cutters, setting each perfect one on the pan. She was so grown-up, so self-sufficient. The panic that I kept trying to push away rose to the surface. I was grateful, of course, to be pregnant again. After the years of fertility treatments after Vivi was born and nearly losing my mind with every negative pregnancy test, I would never have imagined that this little miracle would simply appear one day of his or her own volition. But I was starting all over. And this time, I wouldn’t have James to hand the baby to after a long day. This time, it was all on me. It made me realize what a good thing it was that I was going to be home for a while. If I couldn’t have my husband, at least I could have my mom.

  My husband. I wasn’t going to have a husband anymore. I wasn’t going to be James Beaumont’s wife. I was all alone.

  While I knew how much Emerson valued her freedom, how her career had taken center stage and was all she could think about, I knew that would never be me. What James had done to me, that he could have just discarded me like that, hurt more than I could have imagined. Still, being without him was like becoming an entirely different person, rewriting the last fourteen years of my life and my entire future. And it occurred to me how much I wished I could stay in the same story. Rewind a few years and replay an old sweet song that I had come to love so very much.

  NINE

  bubble gum

  ansley

  As the sun began to set on Caroline and Emerson’s fourth day back in Peachtree Bluff, as I remembered that Sloane would be joining us the next day, I realized that this was as good a time as any to take a peek at Jack’s boat. I knew it needed a ton of work. What that work was exactly was as of yet unclear.

&
nbsp; I turned left onto the sidewalk and right onto the boardwalk, my flats tapping on the wood beneath them, proud of myself that I hadn’t even changed my clothes or fixed my hair. I was pretty sure that meant I was safe. Just work. Nothing else. I had thought of Jack more than I would like to admit over the past few days, but I rationalized that I think about all of my projects a lot.

  I wasn’t sure if Jack would even be there, but then I saw him, sitting in a plastic chair, sipping a beer, his feet propped up on the stern. “Oh, wow,” he said when he spotted me. “You actually came.”

  I shrugged. I still felt uneasy around Jack. But at least it wasn’t written all over my face now—and I could breathe, which was always good. He seemed more relaxed with me as well. But he was drinking, so it wasn’t a fair fight. He tried to help me into the boat, but I avoided his hand, jumping onto the deck and landing with a thud.

  Jack made a face. “That was optimistic.”

  “What?”

  “Believing that you wouldn’t fall through the deck.”

  I may have avoided his hand, but there was no way to shirk his wrapping me in that same hug he had all those years ago. I’ve never given much thought to hugs. But Jack’s was one you never forgot. It was an earnest hug, a comforting one, like being wrapped in an afghan a beloved relative had knitted just for you. I inhaled deeply, remembering the smell of him, a mix of sunscreen, Old Spice, beer, and wood. I relaxed into him, as if by memory, and then scolded myself for it.

  I held up my camera, and Jack said, “You take pictures. I’ll get you some wine.”

  “Oh, that’s OK,” I said. “I don’t really—”

  But he was already gone before I could say “drink.” And, honestly, between Mr. Solomon, the scene on the lawn with the girls, and seeing the interior of the boat that Jack swore was seaworthy but looked as though it had seen its best days half a century ago, when Jack offered me a drink, there was no way I could say no. It had definitely been a drink kind of day.