She put on her new boots and fur-lined hoodie and set out for Noel’s, deciding to walk because it would give her a little time to think over how to break the news. Plus, Debbie and Charmaine needed to get out. She stared vacantly as the dogs pulled her past the beautiful homes. Even after months, she wasn’t sure how to break the news.
Noel, you remember that night we slept together?
Noel, remember when we had sex?
Noel, we had sex. You were there. Remember?
By the time she got to Noel’s doorstep she had nothing better than: I’m pregnant followed by a quick line reminding him that they had, in fact, had sex. After three months of elapsed time and a trip around the world, he’d probably forgotten.
Unbeknownst to Ruby, Noel was not engaged in a dignified solitary activity, as a proper object of romantic fancy should be. He was not brooding over unrequited love for Ruby in a leather-backed armchair, managing his rambling estate, contemplating buying a new horse, or even playing a video game like the star of a Judd Apatow movie. Instead, he was entertaining his family.
Grand Theft Auto would have been better.
It just slipped her mind that he had a family. Romance without family is perhaps one of the great fallacies. Really, it could explain the insanely high divorce rate. Instead of the obligatory premarital counseling sessions where a pastor verifies that the couple might or might not be from the same faith and might or might not want to have children, engaged couples should be required to spend a solid month with their future in-laws. At the very least, those who survived the experience could not complain that they did not see “it” coming—“it” being the propensity to let dishes pile up, passive-aggressive name-calling, obsessive list-making, genetic predisposition to toenail fungus, familial hypochondria. “It” is impossible to predict.
If Ruby had any inkling about Noel’s weekend plans, she would have waited to tell him. She certainly wouldn’t have shown up on his doorstep with a couple of dogs in a spandex hooker dress. When a middle-aged woman answered the door, Ruby stammered, “Uh, uh, hello. I think I have the wrong house.” She stepped back to take a look at the house number. “Is this Noel’s?”
“Yes. I’m his mother.” Upon inspection, Ruby noted the similarities. Noel’s mom was tall and statuesque with strong features and the build of a linebacker, but dressed head to toe in Ralph Lauren, sort of like a female impersonator decked out for charity golf event. Ruby’s mother would probably nod gravely and say, just a little too loudly, “Poor thing.”
Noel’s mom waited for a second and asked pointedly, “And, who might you be?” In a louder voice meant for Noel, she said, “I didn’t realize Noel invited another friend to dinner.”
“Uh. I’m Ruby. I…” She stopped, uncertain how to classify her relationship with Noel. Workmate didn’t really capture the pregnancy part, ex-girlfriend didn’t work since they never dated. Finally she went with Mrs. West’s description: “I’m a friend of Noel’s.” Then she added, “We’re both lawyers,” as if that explained why she was knocking on Noel’s door in hooker garb.
“Come on in. I always love to meet Noel’s friends.”
“Where are you from, Mrs. West?”
“Please call me Victoria. Noel’s stepfather and I are both from Emerald, of course.” She said this as if Ruby should know, which she didn’t. Nothing is more boring than history and geography than local history and geography, so Ruby certainly knew nothing about the Wests, despite numerous field trips to the local history center in grade school. She certainly didn’t read the plaques in front of each display explaining the local West empire who started out in wheat and cattle, then moved into banking and credit. She had even attended West Middle School and had two accounts at Bank of the West, though, in her defense locals referred to these institutions as “the middle school” and “the bank.” Victoria said, “We were just about to sit down for dessert. Why don’t join us.”
“Okay. That would be nice.”
After settling the dogs in the garage, she walked into the living room. Noel, who must not have heard her knock, stood up. “Ruby!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t hear you come in. It’s so good to see you!” After almost two months, it was a surprise to see him. It was like meeting Prince Charming all over again, except this time he was a little tanner than she remembered. Apparently, he hadn’t spent his entire trip in the mall. She saw his eyes graze her belly and move back to her face. He probably just thought she’d put on weight. “I see you’ve met my mom. Have you met my stepdad?”
“No.”
John, the stepdad, looked up from his paper briefly and mumbled, “Hello. Always nice to meet a friend of Noel’s.” Then, he looked right back at the paper, clearly not nearly as interested in his son’s dating life as his wife.
“How was your trip?” she asked Noel.
“Great,” he said. “I learned so much. Glad to be back, though.”
Ruby’s heart sank as another woman walked out of Noel’s kitchen. In her kitschy apron and pearls, she looked like a young Jacqueline Kennedy posing for a Good Housekeeping photo shoot. It was Rolly Bag in the flesh. Even without a file cabinet she looked fully alphabetized. Rolly Bag stopped and tilted her head. Through a tight-lipped smile, she asked, “And who might this be?”
Victoria said, “Ruby, I’m sure you know Moira, Noel’s fiancée.” She might as well have dragged out the word fiancée and tagged it as “Exhibit A” in list of reasons Ruby should go home.
“No we haven’t met,” Moira said, looking Ruby up and down. To Noel’s mom she said, “You know we’re not engaged anymore.” Her smile said, But we will be again soon.
Victoria smiled conspiratorially and said, “Of course, darling. How about we sit down? The table is set and I am dying to try Moira’s pear tatin,” pronouncing tatin in a perfect French accent. “Did you say you were serving it with a brandy-infused cream?”
“Yes. It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” answered Moira. “She was French.”
“How lovely!” answered Victoria. “I’ve always admired the French. We’re 100 percent Welsh. If the Windsors hadn’t married in and turned the whole family into a bunch of Hanoverians, we would still be royals.” She laughed as if it was funny rather than simply pretentious.
“Really?” Moira asked with a little too much interest, as if investigating the pedigree of her future children.
Ruby smiled in secret amusement, delighted that she was the one incubating the royal bloodline.
“What does your family do, Ruby?” Victoria asked.
“They’re parking lot contractors. They put in all of the Biomall lots.” Paving Emerald was a big job being that the Biomall had more parking spaces than any other structure in the country. You had to ride a tram to get to the mall from some of the farther spaces. Her dad liked to brag that his lots could cover the state of Rhode Island twice over. Some “alarmist liberals,” according to her Dad, even claimed that the Biomall and its parking facilities were creating their own weather patterns.
“Your mother is in the parking business too?” Victoria asked in a superior tone.
“She designs the lots and does the books.”
“Did she go to school for that?” Victoria laughed.
Noel’s stepdad, still sitting the corner, and speaking to no one in particular said, “Too bad Oz isn’t renewing their contract.”
“Really?” Ruby hadn’t heard that one, but maybe it explained why her parents hadn’t repainted the house or gone on their yearly gambling trip to Vegas.
“Yep. Oz is starting to cut costs. He’s banking on that new development, Elysian Fields, saving his skin. Wonder what those places are going for?”
Noel said, “I have some more ideas after the trip. There are so many ways to make the Biomall more sustainable and save money. The place is essentially a greenhouse. We should be using it to grow food for shoppers. Solar power is a no-brainer. So many things.”
Victoria looked at John with pure hatred. Her mouth formed
the words, “John, you’re keeping everyone from the table. It’s time for dessert,” but everyone clearly understood, “I hate you. Get to the table before I divorce you.”
In a bland tone, John answered, “Thanks, sweetheart.” To no one in particular he said, “Can you believe your mother and I have been married for thirty-five years?” Then, he flashed his wife a smile that said, “Eat it.”
Ruby sat down next to Noel. She was on one side, Moira on the other. She felt as if she were in a bad reality TV show, maybe an episode where Jerry Springer drops in on the royal family. As each moment passed Ruby became more aware of her incongruous presence. Her skirt felt too short, her hair too done-up, her nails too pink, her belly too protuberant. She sat in silence as Victoria fussed about Moira’s tatin recipe and inquired about her French relatives who turned out to be from Champagne, which she pronounced shom-pon-ya. “Shom-pon-ya! How delightful! Noel’s father and I happened to stop there for lunch a few years ago and have wanted to go back for a proper visit. Maybe you could do us the honor of being our guide sometime.”
Noel remained mysteriously silent until his mother brought up the governor’s race. The way she talked about it made it sound like Noel was running.
“Governor’s race?” asked Ruby.
Noel clarified, “Joel Smelch is running for governor. He asked me to join him on the ticket as lieutenant governor. I haven’t decided.”
“Oh.” Lieutenant governor. That sounded like Miss Congeniality to Ruby. It was probably all photo ops or something.
John raised his eyebrows and said. “I suppose he picked you because you’ll fit in with his ‘Average Joel’ campaign. I hope he didn’t pick you only because of the name, Noel.”
Noel’s mother shooed that topic under the rug. “Flashy campaigns win elections, John.”
Ruby wondered if this remained true even if the campaign was a little on the dumb side, but she didn’t comment. She wanted to leave. “I think I’m going to walk home before the snow piles up. I wore the wrong shoes.”
Noel stood up, “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Definitely.” When she stood her belly ended up at the family’s eye level, the electric blue fabric stretched taut and the tiny tinsel threads reflected the light, emphasizing her rounded belly. Moira noticed and smiled, her first eye-wrinkling smile of the evening, clearly delighted that her competition was a bloated prostitute.
Ruby wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to Noel anymore, but she desperately wanted to get out. Noel went to get her coat, a thigh-grazing hoodie lined with faux fur.
“I’ll be back shortly. Moira, if you need to leave, I’ll see you at work next week.”
Noel walked Ruby to the door and pointed towards his antique Ford pickup. He loaded the dogs, who looked eager for car ride, into the back. To Ruby, his pickup looked more like a hobby than transportation and completely lacked a back seat. She wouldn’t have guessed that Noel, the Economist subscriber/political candidate, would drive an old truck. This truck also provided a quick reminder of Noel’s lack of plans for a baby. Discussing her electric blue baby bump would have felt more appropriate if he already drove a minivan or maybe a Volvo. Of course, if he drove a Volvo, they wouldn’t be in this situation. Volvo owners probably didn’t have unexpected pregnancies, at least no more often than statistical failure rate on birth control pills. She pushed the thoughts aside. She hated Volvos anyway.
In the intimate atmosphere of a pick-up cab, Ruby felt almost like his girlfriend, especially after meeting his family. The whole experience shone with the surreal varnish that generally coats a life-altering experience. It transported Ruby back to the night she had met her prom date’s parents, senior year of high school. That night she had been concerned about third base and keeping her strapless bra up, events which had felt just as daunting at the time.
Noel started the truck and eased out of the driveway without saying a word. Ruby couldn’t think of a thing to say but, I’m having a baby. As the moments passed, it became clear that this drive was to be more awkward than prom, even considering that her date’s dad had chauffeured them around town while making awkward jokes about “leaving enough room for the holy ghost.”
Noel looked at her and said, “Whadya say, do you want to out for a drink while we’re at it? Are you still dating that police officer?”
“I never was dating him. The picture just made it look like it.” She stopped to catch her breath. “What about you? Your mom introduced Moira as your fiancée.”
“I told her to stop that. Moira is not my fiancée. We broke up months ago, but my mom is attached and Moira is lingering. I’m sorry you had to end up in the middle of that. I need to have a serious talk with my mom.”
“Oh.” Well that was at least a start, him not being engaged to someone else. It wasn’t as if she had unrealistically high expectations about their future. Well she did, but she had hoped that they wouldn’t crumble this early. “I need to talk to you about something else, too. Something…important.” Ruby was thankful that he was staring at the road rather than at her. He pulled up to a stoplight. She looked directly at him and said, “You know our one night?”
He nodded.
She waited a moment, giving him time to draw his own conclusions. As a fairly smart individual, Noel connected the dots. His placid expression changed to panic in the span of a few seconds. He looked at her for confirmation.
Ruby confirmed. “I’m pregnant.”
Noel didn’t react dramatically. He expelled his breath and sagged into the driver’s seat. She would have thought that he hadn’t heard her, except he accidentally sat through nearly an entire green light.
“The light’s green.”
He put his foot on the gas. “Are you sure? Have you already been to the doctor?”
“Yes.” She pointed at her belly. “I know I haven’t been eating that much.”
“Are you sure it’s mine?”
Shocked, she said, “Yes. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
He didn’t say anything, but she could see the question written in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. He confirmed this by asking again, “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you sure it’s mine, 100 percent sure?”
The question made her want to die. She was the kind of girl who made fun of Jerry Springer, not the kind of girl who would be on Jerry Springer. Why didn’t Noel know this? Emphatically, she answered, “The baby is yours.”
Noel continued staring at the steering wheel like a frozen computer in need of a reboot.
Because she couldn’t stand the silence she tried to think of something to say. “Well, your family seemed…nice,” she lied.
He laughed. “They did not.”
“Well, your dad did.”
“Stepdad,” Noel clarified. “Everyone I’m related to is an ass, except maybe my real dad. I’m finally getting to know him.”
“Who’s your dad?”
“You really don’t know?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Oz.”
Ruby felt like was she living in a child’s Viewmaster toy. Every time the kid pressed the button the slide changed and her world turned upside down. Click, Estelle’s dead. Click, you’re pregnant. Click, Oz is your baby’s grandpa. “Oswald Rancka,” she confirmed. “As in Ozcorp?”
“That’s the one.”
She looked at Noel more closely. He had Oz’s dark hair and his charismatic personality.
“Do you talk to your dad?”
He gave her a funny look. “Only just recently. He helped me with that trip.”
She took a troubled breath and rubbed her belly. Her baby’s father was the heir to Ozcorp, the same company that cost Ruby her job and planted a sign in Estelle’s yard the day after she died. This did not sit well.
Her life was getting way too complicated. Tonight alone was like five episodes of Gossip Girl rolled into three hours. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this new information. Now that’d faced her fears, she got nothin
g but a lukewarm response and bad news. If she played out her fantasy and married Noel, she’d have her number one murder suspect for a father-in-law. Sure, they’d get whatever venue and caterer they wanted with his pull, but still, yuck. All she wanted to do was go to bed.
“Want me to come in?” he asked.
A minute ago she would have said yes, but not now. “I think I need a little space tonight.”
Inside, she made herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with a fresh yellow legal pad and a brand new Bic pen. She started on a list. Besides figuring out Estelle’s murder, she also needed a paycheck and probably health insurance. Her options included:
A. Start own firm. Pros: knew how to “be a lawyer,” opportunity to be own boss. Cons: required an office, clients, management skills, fax machine, people skills, secretary (Todd maybe?). Also not too keen on “being a lawyer.”
B. Marry Noel. Pros: immediate insurance, husband with income, marriage to biological father of baby, possible move to a vineyard, also a fairly trendy choice, as it followed the plot line of Knocked Up, a popular Katherine Heigl movie. Cons: basing her career on the plot of a Katherine Heigl’s movie might not be as good of an idea as it seemed on the outside.
C. Job at Starbucks. Pros: free coffee and employer-provided insurance. Cons: Might have to fib on resume about barista experience (list Ming as reference?).
D. COBRA. Pros: Olivia recommended. Cons: What is COBRA? Also, sounded expensive. Definitely would have to fill out form.
Looking at her hastily scrawled list, she thought, “C” is always the best answer. Ignoring the fact that she had created the list and assigned the letters, she decided, Starbucks it is!
Chapter Eighteen
Roses are Red, Violets are Blue
Ming walked into the kitchen and switched off the Christmas music.
“Hey, I was listening to that,” said Ruby.
“When you start paying your half of the rent again, you can pick the station.”
“You’re such a scrooge. Christmas is in like two days.” Ruby poured her fourth cup of coffee and sighed dramatically. “Ming, I don’t know what to do. Everything is so confusing…my job, Noel, and I keep thinking about Estelle. I feel like I gave up on her.” Despite her nonexistent budget, she’d picked up a glittery Christmas wreath the other day. It reminded her of Estelle. She’d intended to hang it up. Instead, it sat in a box next to the front door. That also reminded her of Estelle.
Ruby's Misadventures With Reality Page 14