“You’ve got me. But unfortunately, I think it is only going to get worse.”
“I know,” I nodded my head as I sat back down at the kitchen table. “I hate that Amanda is going to have to grow up in such a superficial town. These aren’t the values we believe in.”
“She doesn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?” I looked around our newly remodeled kitchen. “This is where we live. This is our home.”
“It doesn’t have to be it forever.”
I took a bite of my cookie, “What are you talking about?”
“Maybe we should consider making a change, Syd.”
“What kind of change?”
“A move?” His statement ended up being a question.
“A move? Why on earth would we move? We love our house and look at all the work we did. It’s finally perfect.” Craig and I are renovation junkies. We have spent years improving this house. We actually did a lot of the work ourselves.
“I know. Our house is great,” he looked around the room. “But let’s face it; we don’t love this town anymore. Honestly, I’m not sure we ever really did. We moved in when we first got married. We were never a part of the community. We kept to ourselves, and it was wonderful. The people here are not like us. We don’t belong. You carried on all last year about how obnoxious the mothers were, and you kept fretting about how Amanda may become spoiled by having to keep up with her classmates. The school year hasn’t even started yet, and the drama is already in full force. Do we really want to raise our daughter in this environment?”
I swallowed hard. He had some valid points, but this was my home, “I don’t know.”
“Consider your commute. When we moved here, you were working in the city, but now your not. You spend a lot of time in your car. If we moved closer to your office, you could have more time with Amanda.”
“That would be nice.”
“It would also be nice,” Craig continued, “to live closer to your family.”
Unlike Craig’s siblings who dispersed across the country when his parents retired to Florida, my sisters stayed close to where we grew up, where my parents still live. “Yes, it would be. I’d love to be able to just pop over randomly rather than plan an excursion. But Craig, I love it here.”
“Do you really?”
My temper flared again, “Of course I do. Where is this all coming from anyway? We’ve lived here for ten years. Since when have you thought about moving?”
“I really haven’t. But last week I received an email from a real estate agent. She has someone who is very interested in buying a house in this neighborhood. She inquired if we’d consider showing ours. I didn’t reply, but it has been gnawing at me ever since.” He rubbed his forehead, “This town is very hot right now. People want to live here, and not many houses go up for sale. When they do go on the market, they sell pretty much instantly and usually for more than the asking price.”
“I know. It’s crazy.”
“Maybe we should consider it, Syd. We can probably get top dollar for this place. We could probably move into a bigger house in a more relaxed kind of town.”
PLAN BEA - A SNEAK PEEK
“Oh my God!” I jumped up from a deep sleep and turned on the light over the bed. My heart beat a mile a minute as my stomach took a nosedive. No good ever came from a call in the middle of the night. Trust me, I knew. I learned that lesson the hard way, twelve years ago.
Thankfully, the phone was on Cole’s side of the bed. I knew it was probably silly of me, but when we moved into this house, we placed the phone on his side of the bed for this very reason. I wanted my husband to be the first line of defense if the police or a hospital called with an emergency in the middle of the night. I didn’t think I was emotionally strong enough to experience that again.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Why was Cole letting the phone ring so long? I didn’t want the kids to wake up. It would be impossible to get Harley back to sleep.
As the fourth ring began to sound, Cole thrust the phone at me. “It’s for you. It’s Beatrice.”
“Mom. What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Wrong?” she repeated in a singsong voice as if I was deaf. “Why do you always assume something is wrong, Annabel?”
“Um, maybe because you’re calling me in the middle of the night?”
My mother let out her slow, sarcastic chuckle. You know, the kind that made you feel insignificant and so inferior. I should have been used to it by now, but sadly, I was not.
“Annabel, really? Middle of the night, aren’t you being a bit melodramatic? It’s what time? It’s only—”
I glanced at the cable box across the room. “Ten-thirty, Mother. To you, it may not be late, but Cole and I were both asleep. With work and two kids, we’re exhausted by the end of the day. Call us crazy, but we like to go to bed at a reasonable hour.”
Cole was watching me. As I covered my face with my hands and shook my head in frustration, he must have realized my mother was being her usual self. He flicked off the light and rolled over. He’d be snoring in moments. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.
My mother exhaled. “I guess I can understand, although I really do think it’s too early for you and Cole to be sleeping. You know Annabel; you really do need to keep that husband of yours happy. I would think you’d have other things to be doing at this time of night if you know what I mean.“
“Mother, I’d love to debate our sleep patterns with you, but I guess that’s not why you called, especially at this hour.”
My mother and I never called each other just to talk. In fact, I didn’t actually remember the last time either one of us spontaneously picked up the phone to have a little mother-daughter chat. Our calls were all business, prompted by life events, breaking family news, or just plain old forced. In fact, we have a standard fifteen minute “touching base” phone call each Thursday, precisely at eleven forty-five in the morning when my mom drove to the nail salon for her weekly manicure.
“You’re right, Darling. I did have a reason for my call. I have big news for you. Very exciting news, I must add.”
“Okay. I’m all ears.” I said as I flopped back against the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
“Remember the lovely gentleman I told you about? Walter?”
“The one you met a couple of months ago when you went on that cruise with the ladies you play bridge with?”
“Yes!” She exclaimed. “That’s him. Well guess what?”
I couldn’t help it and I certainly didn’t mean it, but a huge, loud yawn escaped my mouth. “Sorry, Mom. I don’t know, and I’m too tired to play guessing games.” I glanced over at a snoring Cole. Lucky bastard.
“Okay, I had such a great time on the cruise with him. If you remember, we met by the pool bar. I know everyone says the cruise line has impeccable service, but I didn’t experience it. The staff wouldn’t last fifteen minutes at the club that’s for sure. Good help is so hard to find these days. Anyway, we both must’ve been waiting for the bartender for a full five minutes. Five minutes! Can you believe it? When he finally came over, we both blurted out our order at the same time. Turns out, we both ordered the same drink! We began laughing the moment the words left our mouths.”
“Yes, you told me this.” While my mother had no patience listening to me discuss my children, my husband, or really anything going on in my life. But when it came to one of her stories, you’d better pay attention... Well, unless Marcella, her manicurist, was waiting. In that case you got a free pass. One thing to know about my mother, Beatrice Buchanan, she has two conversational speeds. One was slow and drawn out, and the other was slower and more drawn out. There was no point in trying to rush her. So I laid my head down on my pillow and prayed I wouldn’t doze off before she got to her point.
“Oh yes. I did mention it, didn't I? But it bears repeating. So after we got our drinks, we sat down together. The cruise ship had these amazing chaise
lounges. They were so comfortable, way more comfortable than the ones they have at the club. Walter sat in the sun, but I was under the umbrella. You know, Annabel, I’ve haven’t sat in the sun in twenty-five years. You should take a lesson from me if you don’t want to be all wrinkled up when you are my age.”
I grunted.
“So, as I was saying, once we started talking, we just couldn’t stop! He was so interesting and funny. I was kind of shocked—you know most people aren’t worth paying attention to. Anyway, one drink led to another and by the second gin martini, I was feeling a little tipsy, but I was having a blast!”
“I know, Mother. You told me this story already, right after you got home from the trip. Can we please cut to the chase?” I felt bad that I rushed her but I was fading fast. I feared this could go on for hours.
“Annabel, please. Let me tell my story, maybe if you stopped interrupting me I could finish.”
Why did I even bother? I couldn’t decide if I should stay in bed or go downstairs and brew a cup of tea. Maybe snack on some of those double-chocolate chip cookies I made this past weekend. I decided to forgo the snack, once I’m out of bed there’s no chance of getting back to sleep.
My mother continued. “Where was I anyway? Oh, yes. I remember. We decided to meet up after dinner. As I ate, I wished I had arranged to have dinner with him instead of the ladies. You know I love the girls, but can they gab. I swear if I heard one more word about Miriam’s granddaughter’s college acceptances, I would've had to abandon ship. Stella was no better. She just couldn’t stop talking about her son’s promotion. And don’t get me started on how Wilma kept droning on about her daughter’s new house. She carried on so much you’d think she discovered a new continent, I mean really it's just a house. Some people are so self-centered.”
I couldn’t even reply for fear of what I would say.
“As soon as dinner ended, I ran back to the room to fix my face. The sea air really wreaks havoc on your makeup, you know. I met Walter in the lounge. We ordered an after dinner drink; it sat there untouched. There was a five-piece band, and they were playing the oldies. He asked me to dance, and let’s just say that man can really trip the light fantastic. Before I knew it, it was the wee hours of the morning. I don't remember the last time I had so much fun. We were docking in Cozumel the next day. I was supposed to spend the day with the girls. But I couldn’t handle being with them one more minute. Did I mention how annoying they were?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Oh, well instead I stayed on the ship with Walter. Best. Decision. Ever! Let’s just say for the rest of the cruise I didn’t have to hear anymore about the great Harvard/Yale debate. I spent all my waking and,” Beatrice paused to clear her throat, “my non-waking hours with him.”
“Mother, please. Can we not go down that road, again.”
“Okay, okay.” She chuckled before continuing. “As I was saying before you interrupted me again, I started to worry as the trip came to an end. I didn’t want to lose Walter. But, as usual, my worry was for nothing! Walter lives in Manhattan. We’ve been seeing each other ever since we got home. And… get ready for it…”
I stifled another yawn. “I’m at the edge of my bed.”
“Walter asked me to marry him!” Beatrice screamed so loudly into the phone I was surprised she didn’t wake up Cole. I glanced over at him; he was still fast asleep.
I sat straight up. “He what?”
“You heard me, dear. He asked me to marry him. And I said yes! But it gets even better; I need your help. I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Prepare dinner tomorrow night. Walter and I are coming over. I want you to meet him, and I want to go over what I need you to do for me.”
“But—”
“No buts. Dinner. Tomorrow. We’ll be there at seven o’clock. Oh and one more thing: no carbs. I have to watch my weight. I’m going to be a bride, you know.”
DANGLED CARAT - A SNEAK PEEK
December 31, 2003
I NEVER INTENDED FOR IT to happen. The words just came tumbling out without warning…
“It’s New Year’s Eve, and you know what that means, Marc. Time is up… I told you that you had until New Year’s to propose, and, well, here we are. It’s New Year’s Eve. So, what will it be?”
Despite the deep tan that he was sporting just moments before, suddenly Marc, my long-term boyfriend, turned ghostly pale. He took a deep breath, and it was clear by the expression on his face that he was confused, as well as slightly angry. But could you blame him? Why shouldn’t he have been upset? Who wants to be faced with an ultimatum? Especially when the demand is being delivered by someone other than your girlfriend?!
You see, Marc and I weren’t alone. We had escaped the frigid New York temperatures and pending snowstorms to spend some time in Fort Lauderdale with our close friends from Utah, Eric and his wife, Jaye. It was Jaye who questioned Marc while Eric and I busied ourselves making grapefruit martinis.
I wasn’t surprised by Jaye’s question, though how she delivered it did shock me. Jaye, like all of Marc’s friends and family, had been pestering him for quite a while about when he was going to marry me. Unlike most long-term relationships with commitment phobic men, I had never pressured Marc about marriage. If our relationship was going to move to the next level, I wanted it to be his choice. I didn’t want to live my life wondering if he married me because he really loved me and wanted to spend his life with me, or if he married me because I threatened to leave him if he didn’t. But… despite my resolve not to pressure him, I encouraged others to do my dirty work. And no one let me down. Everyone important in his life took on the role with gusto. But of all the people closest to Marc, Jaye had been my staunchest ally.
When Marc didn’t reply, Jaye continued, “So, I guess the silence means you are okay with this. I guess you are engaged!”
Eric didn’t wait for Marc to regain his senses. He followed his wife’s lead. Jumping on the bandwagon, drink in his hand; he patted Marc on the back. “Congratulations, buddy! You are a lucky man!” Then Eric turned and kissed me. “You will be a beautiful bride!” Raising his martini into the air, Eric toasted, “To the happy couple! I hope your marriage is a long and happy one!”
“Woo hoo!” Jaye cheered. “Kiss the bride!”
Marc didn’t move a muscle. It was as if Jaye had rendered him catatonic. I jumped up from my seat and pretty much floated over to where he sat, leaned down, and gave him a gigantic kiss.
Marc didn’t utter a word, but he did manage to take a humongous gulp of martini. Marc is more of a wine man. He normally grimaces at the first sip of hard liquor, but not tonight. I think he would’ve been able to down the entire bottle of vodka in one sip.
I took a sip of my drink. This was all great fun to me. Sure, I knew Marc and I weren’t really engaged, but we could pretend for the night, couldn’t we? Where would the harm be in that? Also, I couldn’t help wonder, maybe this pseudo engagement might be the kick that Marc needed to take our relationship to the next level. After all, neither one of us were getting any younger, especially Marc—who at forty-three, was thirteen years older than me.
“So, Marc?” I asked, not wanting to be the only one not joining the fun, “how does it feel to be engaged?”
He grunted in reply. He raised his drink to his mouth, took another sip, and slowly stood up. All eyes were on him as he opened his mouth to speak. “Eric, did you even put vodka in the drink?”
Eric nodded his head.
“I don’t believe you. I need more.” Marc walked over to the bottle and uncharacteristically topped off his cocktail.
As soon as he sat down, Jaye started up again. With a wink, she said, “So, Hilary, it doesn’t seem like Marc answered your question, so I will ask you the same one. How do you feel to be engaged?”
“Wonderful. Fabulous! Unexpected!! Like winning the lottery!!!” I said, my voice getting louder with each adjective I used, as it always does when I am excited.
Eric,
Jaye, and I all chuckled. “Did you ever expect to be engaged tonight?” Jaye continued.
Solemnly I replied, “No, never.” And then, with a wink, I continued, “But I have to admit I did have some hopes.” I turned to Marc and I said, “I guess dreams really do come true. You have made me the happiest girl in the whole wide world.”
Eric and Jaye struggled to suppress their laughter.
“You guys are really having fun, huh?” Marc asked.
In unison, we answered yes, and then the three of us burst out in hysterics like a bunch of middle-school kids. Marc was the only one not amused.
I turned around so that I faced him eye to eye. “Oh come on, lighten up. You look so petrified. Don’t worry; I know we are not really engaged. Sheesh… You are supposed to be the funny one. Can’t you take a joke? Did you leave your sense of humor in New York or something?” I tried to sound nonchalant as I addressed him, but I felt nothing of the sort. After dating Marc for close to four years, I had hoped that eventually he would come around and realize I was the best thing that ever happened to him. There was no legitimate reason for Marc to be so opposed to the idea of a serious commitment and marriage. His parents had been happily married, only separated by the death of his mother. Following in their footsteps, Marc’s brother and sister also led happy married lives. Of course, he had a couple of divorced friends, who didn’t? But for the most part, like his family, his friends all lived the happy life of matrimony.
The only reason Marc really had for being so against the idea of marriage were the very same reasons you find listed in all the girly magazines under headlines such as “why he will never take a wife”. Marc was the poster boy for the fortyish bachelor. He was set in his ways, successful, and extremely self-sufficient. He was a whiz in the kitchen and equally as capable with a washing machine and vacuum. He didn’t need anyone. But let’s face it: need and desire are two different things. And it had become crystal clear to me, and everyone around us, that he cherished the time we spent together. But was that really enough to change his ways?
Plan Cee (Secrets, Lies, and Second Chances Book 2) Page 23