by Gary Smalley
She kept her eyes on Sophie and her friend for the next five minutes as they strolled leisurely through the store aisles, picking up this thing or that. They seemed to be having a marvelous time. During those moments, Marilyn got hold of herself. She decided she didn’t care what Sophie thought. Why should she feel embarrassed working at a retail store, or anywhere else for that matter? She needed the money because of her . . . new circumstances. But even if she didn’t, she was enjoying herself. She’d been wanting to work here for months.
Finally, Sophie appeared from the last aisle in the store, carrying one of the many collectible angels, and headed toward the cash register. She was still talking with her friend when she looked up and saw Marilyn. A startled look came over her face. She looked up and down, as if to persuade herself that she really was seeing Marilyn Anderson standing behind the cash register. Her eyes zeroed in on Marilyn’s name tag. “Marilyn,” she said as she set the figurine on the counter. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m working here. Just started today, as a matter of fact.”
“Really.” Sophie’s eyes widened, forming little wrinkles on her forehead. She quickly recovered and forced a smile. “How nice.”
“Sophie,” her friend said, “I think I’m going to go back and get that other angel we were looking at.” She walked back to the last aisle.
Sophie leaned over the counter and said quietly, “I heard Jim’s business has been struggling lately, from things Harold said.” She left the next sentence unspoken, but Marilyn was sure it was supposed to be, But I had no idea things were this bad. Harold was Sophie’s husband. He served on the deacon board with Jim, and they occasionally golfed together.
“Actually, Sophie,” Marilyn replied in the same quiet tone, “me working here has nothing to do with Jim’s business. It’s something I wanted to do. And I might as well tell you—you’re going to find out soon enough—Jim and I are separated.”
The look on Sophie’s face was priceless.
Just then, her friend came back with her angel. “Will that be all for you ladies?” Marilyn said. She rang up their purchases, hoping she did everything right at the register. Not another word was said. At least not until the two women exited the store. Immediately after, Marilyn saw Sophie through the front window, her mouth moving a mile a minute, certainly filling her friend in on the news.
Harriet came walking from the back hallway, carrying a small stack of boxes. “So how did your first sale go at the register?”
“I think it went . . . just fine,” Marilyn said, smiling. A few lines from that song “Something to Talk About” began playing in her head.
7
For the past two hours, Jim had been roaming the streets and apartment parking lots throughout River Oaks in search of Marilyn’s car. It seemed absurd that he hadn’t found it yet. He began to wonder if she might have lied about staying somewhere in town.
His search had brought him back to Main Street, where he was now stopped at a traffic light. Two well-dressed, middle-aged women crossed the intersection in front of his car. At first, he didn’t recognize them. When they reached the sidewalk, one of them turned and hurried back to his car, waving.
“Jim Anderson,” she said. “I thought that was you.” She talked so loudly, he heard her through his closed windows. It was Sophie Mitchell, his friend Harold’s wife. He could stomach time spent with Harold, as long as they had a round of golf between them. But Sophie was another matter. She had always been Marilyn’s responsibility. He looked up at the light, wishing it would turn green, then lowered his passenger window. “Hi, Sophie.”
“Well, look, I know you’ve got to go. Just wanted to say how sorry I am about you and Marilyn. Does Harold know?”
“What?”
“You and Marilyn, you know, being separated. So sorry to hear it.”
This was just great. “Uh . . . when did you hear that? From who?”
“Just now, over there.” She pointed to one of the stores. “From Marilyn at Odds-n-Ends, where she works.”
The light turned green, and the man in the car behind him tapped his horn.
“Better go.” Sophie waved and hurried back to the sidewalk.
Great, now the whole church will know. It was only Friday, couldn’t even wait till Sunday. Jim sped through the light but looked for the first parking place to pull into. He put the car in park and got out, looked across the street at Odds-n-Ends. Guess that’s how she plans to earn her own keep, he thought. Working at a retail store.
Why should that surprise him?
He was wrestling with himself about walking right over there to confront her when his phone rang. It was Lynn, his secretary. “Oh shoot,” he said, noticing the time. “Hey, Lynn.”
“Mr. Anderson, Dr. Franklin is here. Do you see the time?”
“Yes, how long’s he been there?”
“He just got here a few minutes ago.”
It wasn’t like Jim could say he’d been held up in traffic, not in River Oaks. “Tell him I’m so sorry. I’m just around the corner and will be there in three minutes. Offer him some coffee and chat with him till I arrive. Can you do that?”
“I suppose so.”
“Great.” He hung up. The confrontation would have to wait.
Later that evening, after grabbing a bite to eat at a Burger King, Jim pulled up to a Starbucks in Lake Mary. He couldn’t believe he had to eat his dinner at a fast food place, another consequence of Marilyn’s selfishness. Doug’s red Mazda was already in the parking lot. Jim was meeting him and Tom. That morning, when Jim and Tom had talked, Jim said he’d call Tom tonight. But as the day wore on, Jim decided this was something he should tell his sons in person.
Of course, Doug had pitched a fit about it. “Why can’t you just tell me now?” he’d said when Jim called him an hour ago. “And where’s Mom, anyway?”
“That’s what this is about,” Jim had said. “Just be there. Grab something to eat someplace and I’ll pay you back.” Doug still hadn’t gotten a part-time job. Another thing Jim had been after him about. Doug had grown up when their cash flow was running high. Jim realized now they had been way too easy on him. Doug was having a hard time accepting the idea that he was going to have to start paying his own way. As Jim walked into the Starbucks, Doug got up from a nearby table, his smartphone in hand.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Is Tom here?” Jim asked.
“Not yet. Wait.” Doug looked out to the parking lot. “There he is. His car just pulled in.”
“Guess we can get in line,” Jim said.
“You paying?”
“Yeah, I’m paying.”
“Uh . . . can you pay me back for dinner too? I ate at the mall food court. It was eight bucks.”
“Let me get some change when I pay for the coffee.”
“Hi, Dad,” Tom said as he joined them in line. “Sorry I’m late. Had to help Jean get the kids ready for—”
“You’re not late,” Jim said. “Go ahead and order. Looks like I’m buying.” They stepped up to the counter. Well, he and Tom did. Doug was somewhere else, his face glued to his cell phone: texting, Twittering, or Facebooking someone. “Doug, would you put that thing away?”
“What? Oh.”
“You’re not going to be on that thing the whole time.”
“No, I just had to—well, never mind.” He got behind Tom.
After they’d gotten their drinks, they settled back at the table in the corner Doug had picked out earlier. “This won’t take long, guys,” Jim said. “We’ll probably be done before you get a chance to refill your coffee.”
“They don’t give out refills on caramel macchiatos, Dad.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Sounds like something big is up,” Tom said. “Are you okay? Is something wrong with Mom?”
Something was definitely wrong with Mom. “Well, let’s start with, I’m not okay. It’s nothing physical. Nobody is dying. But . . .” He looked down at the
floor. How should he say this? “It’s about me and your mom.”
“You guys getting a divorce?” Doug blurted out.
“No,” Jim said, looking back up. “We’re not getting a divorce. At least . . . not now.”
“What?” Tom said. “Are you and Mom having some trouble?”
“That’s one way to put it,” Jim said. “The truth is, well . . . I came home yesterday to find she’d walked out. She’s left me.”
“You’re kidding,” Tom said.
“I wish I was.”
“That’s why she hasn’t been around the past two days?” Doug said.
Jim nodded.
Tom shook his head. “Where’d she go?”
“I don’t know very much at the moment. She left me a note, asked me to give her some space.”
“What does that mean?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But you guys are both believers,” he said. “Why would she leave you? Have either one of you . . . started seeing someone else?”
“I haven’t,” Jim said.
“You’re saying Mom has?” Doug said.
“No . . . I don’t know,” Jim said. “Michele said there’s no one else.”
“C’mon, Dad.” Doug set his drink down. “Mom would never go out on you. There’s no way.”
“I hope not,” Jim said. “But I can’t figure out why she’d leave like this, with no warning.”
“You guys haven’t been fighting or anything?” Tom asked.
“No. No more than an occasional spat. Small stuff, like every couple has.”
Tom sat forward in his chair, released a sigh. “Wow. This is pretty intense. I’m glad neither of you are sick. That’s what I was expecting. But this . . .”
“It’s very intense,” Jim said. “I know.”
“So where’s Mom now?” Doug asked.
“I don’t know. Michele said she’s staying with a single woman somewhere in town. An apartment somewhere.”
“She won’t talk to you?” Tom said.
“No. Not now anyway. I’m waiting on a call from Michele. Hopefully, she’ll at least tell me where she’s at.”
“So Michele’s taking her side, I guess,” Tom said.
“Looks that way.”
“I guess that’s no surprise,” he said. “You want me to call her? See what I can find out?”
“You mean your mom?”
“No, Michele.”
“That might help,” Jim said.
“Then again,” Doug added, “it might backfire. You know Michele.”
All three of them sat in silence a few moments, and each took a few sips of their drink. “This is really something,” Tom finally said. “Definitely didn’t see this coming. Jean’s not going to believe it.”
“I’m having a hard time believing it myself,” Jim said. “The only thing I know is, she says she’s been pretty unhappy for a long time.”
“I knew that,” Doug said. “You couldn’t tell?” He had almost a look of disgust on his face. Jim decided to let it drop.
“Well, I didn’t,” Tom said. “I don’t see what she has to be unhappy about.”
Doug just shook his head as if to say, Whatever.
Jim knew Doug and Tom weren’t the best of friends. Tom had made it pretty clear he thought Doug was a lazy, spoiled brat. He had appealed to Jim several times, saying he didn’t understand why he and Marilyn coddled Doug so much. They had been a lot stricter with him and Michele growing up.
“Well, that’s about the size of it,” Jim said. “Needless to say, we could use your prayers.”
“Where do we go from here?” Tom said. “Is there a next step?”
“Honestly, Tom? I have no idea. I’m playing it totally by ear.”
“Do you think she’ll agree to go to counseling?” he asked.
“Not at our church,” Jim said. “In her note, she said she was going somewhere else for a while.”
“Man,” Tom said. “I just can’t believe it.”
Doug stood up. “Well . . . I guess I can. So are we done here?”
“Hey, Doug,” Tom said in a reprimanding voice.
“That’s okay,” Jim said, shaking his head. “Yeah, we’re done.”
Doug picked up his caramel macchiato and turned to leave. He stopped, turned around, and said, “I’ll tell you one thing. There’s no way Mom is seeing someone else. I’ll never believe that.”
8
Marilyn got out of her car and walked toward the riverfront park. It was Saturday morning around ten-thirty, and the morning’s cooler temperatures still prevailed. She didn’t have to be at the store until one, then she’d work until they closed at nine. Last night, she’d slept wonderfully, probably due to being on her feet so much yesterday, something she wasn’t at all used to.
But she’d get used to it. She was having a great time at Odds-n-Ends—it hardly felt like a job. After Emma had arrived yesterday, Harriet had shown Marilyn how to restock the candle and knickknack aisles and taught her a little about her reordering system. Before Marilyn knew it, it was six o’clock, and she was off.
Her first day of paid work in twenty-five years.
She stepped from the sidewalk onto the park’s main walkway, which was lined with decorative pavers. The whole riverfront park was amazing. There to greet you in the center, fairly close to the road, was a magnificent fountain. At the top, water poured out and down the leaves of a sculptured palm tree, into three layers of stone bowls, each a little wider than the one above. The entire park was shaded by ancient live oaks. Manicured walkways wound their way in and around the trees, with ample seating provided by ornamental iron benches.
Along the river itself a sea wall had been built, and just beyond it a small beach area. Parallel to the river, the widest walkway in the park ran the full length of the downtown area. But the place Marilyn was most interested in was a large grassy area on the farthest end. A small gazebo had been set up there, and she thought it would be the perfect place for Michele’s wedding.
As she cleared the fountain, she saw Michele already there, taking large steps in a straight line, as if measuring the distance. “What do you think?” she yelled as she got closer. “Isn’t this perfect?”
Michele didn’t reply until she’d gotten to the end. “I think it’s beautiful,” she said. Michele’s wedding wasn’t till the end of September, two months away. “I was just trying to get an idea of how many rows of chairs we could fit.”
They hugged. “Have you and Allan come up with your guest list yet?”
“Almost, just needs some tweaking.”
“How many people so far?”
“About 220,” Michele said. “Of course, that number might shrink considerably, depending on what happens between you and Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Michele. I picked a lousy time to leave your father.”
“Don’t apologize, Mom. The ones we’d be taking off the list are people I’d rather not have at my wedding anyway.”
“You mean people from our church?” Marilyn said. “My old church?” The wedding ceremony had been planned at the church she and Jim had attended together. It had a gorgeous sanctuary, but neither she or Michele felt comfortable having the wedding there now. Besides, Michele had pretty much left the church when she’d gone off to college. That’s why she’d thought of the park. People did weddings here all the time, weather permitting.
“I’ll have to go over the list with you soon,” Michele said, “so I can get the invitations printed and mailed. We should have had them out several weeks ago, but now I’m so glad we didn’t send them.”
“Let’s sit over there,” Marilyn said. They walked across the grass and sat on one of the benches positioned symmetrically on each side of the gazebo. Marilyn handed Michele a piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“A girl named Emma works at the store with me. She had her wedding here three years ago. That’s a link to a bunch of her wedding pictures online
. She thought it would help give us some good ideas.”
“That’s great,” Michele said.
“She goes to a church that meets in the high school. I’m going to start going there tomorrow.”
Michele sighed.
“What’s the matter?”
“That’s another snag. I don’t really want Pastor Hagen to do the ceremony now.” He was the pastor of their old church. “But I don’t know who else we can get to do it. I wish my pastor in Lakeland could do it, but he’ll be out of town.”
“I asked Emma about it,” Marilyn said. “She thought her pastor might be willing to do the service, but she knew he’d insist you and Allan go through some premarital counseling with him first.”
“Hmm,” Michele said. “That could be a problem. Allan and I have already been doing that with our pastor in Lakeland. We’re almost done.”
“Well, maybe not. I’m sure Emma’s pastor is mostly concerned that you’re getting that kind of help. Maybe the two pastors can talk so her pastor can find out what’s been going on. I’ll see Emma in a little while at work and ask for his phone number.”
“You could text it to me,” Michele said.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“Do you know his name?”
Marilyn shook her head. “I don’t know him at all. But she says he’s really nice. Kind of young, midthirties, I think.”
“That’s not that young, Mom.”
“I guess.”
Michele looked up, her eyes scanning the trees.
“Are you worried about the heat? I know it can still get pretty hot in September, but your wedding’s in the late afternoon. I think these trees will provide plenty of shade.”
“No, I was wondering about something else. Do you think they’ll provide any protection if it rains?”
That was the only problem Marilyn had thought about with this plan. September was still officially hurricane season. They hadn’t had one come through central Florida for almost ten years, but thunderstorms were always a possibility here. “Well, you and Allan should be fine. You’ll be under this gazebo with the pastor.”