Sherry lived in a triple-decker, a three-flat house of the type that had served as Boston’s main form of housing for blue-collar city families for hundreds of years. It was where the Jewish and then the Irish lived before they fled the area of the city now populated mostly by people of color, though the Irish maintained their stronghold over South Boston. Many of these houses were built in the early 1900s and managed to maintain their charm and classic New England look over the years. As the real estate boom drove up prices and consequently drove many families out to places like Brockton and Fall River, other newcomers moved in, especially the West Indians, and bought up a lot of the houses in North Dorchester. They would occupy one flat with their families and rent out the other two flats. It was one of the easiest ways to pay the backbreaking mortgages of the city of Boston.
And once the stigma of living in sometimes crime-ridden Dorchester faded, other groups began to get wise to the opportunities. Gay couples and white investors were now snapping up these houses, further driving up the prices. Houses that fetched one hundred forty thousand dollars in 1994 were now tagged at four hundred thousand dollars and up. And the owners were selling, taking the money and buying single-family homes near the affordable parts of suburban Milton and Randolph.
Sherry’s house was one of three investment properties owned by her family. They had not sold out totally. Her father, who had made enough money running a grocery store and investing in real estate to never work for anyone else, had just married a Haitian woman and still lived in Dorchester near Codman Square, a burgeoning Haitian enclave. Her brothers and sisters were all living the American dream in quiet suburbs with their spouses and children. Sherry kept the family business going, collecting the rents on her father’s three triple-deckers and seeing to tenants’ needs, all the while balancing her own life and career.
“Girl, I was so worried about you when I didn’t hear from you the last couple of hours,” Sherry said as Weslee wearily stepped out of her Honda, her knees sore from the long drive.
“My cell phone died, and then I just couldn’t get a signal down here.”
Weslee realized with some satisfaction and a little chagrin that Sherry’s neighborhood reminded her of certain parts of South Side Chicago. It was nice, but the cars driving by with the booming music would be a problem.
“I have the AC blasting, so hurry up and come inside,” Sherry said, grabbing a bag from the car’s backseat.
“We can unload the rest of it later,” Weslee said breathlessly as she kicked off her slides and sat at Sherry’s kitchen table.
“Did you paint again, Sherry?” Weslee looked around. The kitchen was now a misty heather green, not sunny yellow as it had been the last time she visited Sherry’s house.
Sherry nodded, a guilty look on her face. “You know me. I saw the paint at Home Depot and I just couldn’t resist. Look at the curtains I got to match it at Macy’s.” She pointed to the curtains.
Weslee shook her head. Sherry was a domestic goddess in addition to all her other talents. She was able to whip up a four-course meal in no time at all and serve it using all the right utensils on a beautifully decorated table.
They made chit-chat and drank lemonade from Ralph Lauren glasses, which Sherry washed immediately after they had finished drinking. Weslee made a mental note to remember her friend’s freakish cleanliness.
Weslee couldn’t wait to get started seeing her clients again. She decided to start with Rainee Smalls. Her plan was to see her clients strictly in their homes, at least the ones who had home gyms. No need to get HealthyLife Spa involved. That way she could charge them whatever she wanted and not have the spa taking money away from her. It would be a hassle come tax season, but it was worth it, she figured.
“So, are you up for some golf and then dinner with Larry and me later on?” Sherry asked.
Weslee demurred. “I think I’ll be pretty tired once I get those boxes out of the car.”
Later Sherry left for her golf game, ordering Weslee to take chicken breasts out of the freezer for dinner.
Weslee took it in stride. Sherry could be very bossy and controlling, and Weslee knew that she could not possibly last more than a month living under Sherry’s roof. It had only been a few hours since she arrived, but she was beginning to feel like a child. Sherry, in a way, reminded her of her father. Her wood floors were like mirrors. There was not a speck of dust in her multicolored home. Weslee wondered about her seeming knack for acquiring friends with extreme personalities.
She hoped she would not be cramping Sherry’s style by staying in her guest bedroom. She knew from Sherry’s strict religious beliefs that as close as she and Larry had become, they still were not sleeping together. But still.
With Sherry’s house to herself, Weslee decided to get started on making phone calls. The first was to Lana at her parents’ house on the Vineyard. She was not in, and Weslee was not surprised. Probably off whale-watching or boy-hunting, she thought.
She nervously dialed the number to Rainee Smalls’s summer home on Oak Bluffs. What am I doing, she fretted. What if those people already found new trainers? What if they’re not interested anymore?
Rainee Smalls was more than pleased to hear from Weslee. “I am so relieved you are back in town. Peony is getting married soon, and I have another huge wedding to attend on Labor Day weekend, and I’ve gained five pounds! Five pounds! You are just a godsend, Weslee.”
Weslee was more than happy to take Rainee Smalls’s invitation to visit her home on Oak Bluffs.
Encouraged by Rainee’s enthusiasm, Weslee dialed Marie Bunting, then the rest of them. Some were away for the summer. Others were happy to hear from her. Still others were caught up in the malaise of summer and said they would get back to her in the fall. When she was through with the phone calls, she had made six appointments over the coming two weeks. That’s at least four hundred fifty dollars, she calculated. It was a good start.
Chapter 36
The blind date had been Sherry’s idea. Weslee had never been on one before and did not want to go on this one. But Sherry would not take no for an answer.
Weslee knew the minute he appeared on Sherry’s doorstep that he was not the man for her. For one thing, he looked old. He was only thirty-four, but he was just one of those men who aged early and badly.
Sherry had said he was distinguished, a software-analyst friend of Larry’s who also happened to attend Sherry’s church.
Weslee steeled herself to be bored as he gallantly opened her door on his large Mercedes. He had barely said two words since he introduced himself. As they drove off, he remained silent. Weslee wondered if he had been as disappointed in her looks as she was in his. Oh, well. She decided to make small talk.
“So, Kamar, which part of Nigeria are you from?”
“North,” he said and stopped at that.
It was going to be a long night.
The city was hopping on the warm Saturday night, and it made Weslee long for the days of hanging out with Lana on Newbury Street. She chose to remember only the good parts: the people-watching, the food, the excitement, her initiation into the world of fashion.
Sometimes it was amusing to Weslee to remember her vehement opposition to changing from dowdy, penny-pinching Plain Jane to her still frugal yet more fashionable self. Yes, it had hurt seeing her carefully crafted financial plan fall to pieces, but look at how nicely she had recovered. Her savings were now back to a respectable level. She had money coming in again, and she felt and looked so much better now. When Lana was being her worst, it was hard for Weslee to imagine that she could have brought anything good to her life. But Weslee made a mental note to thank Lana for showing her another side of living that she could not have encountered through any other person in the world.
“Where do you want to eat after the show?” Kamar broke into her thoughts.
“Um. I haven’t thought about it yet. Do you have any place in mind?”
“How about the Brasserie?”
Kamar suggested Legal Sea Foods. It wouldn’t have been Weslee’s choice, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned the night was dead on arrival. At least she would get to see the musical The Music Man. She had never seen it before, though she knew most of the songs.
“I’ve never been to a musical before,” Kamar said.
“Oh, really? I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” Weslee said, trying to sound upbeat.
She hoped the production would make this night worth something.
Larry’s car was parked outside the house when Kamar dropped off Weslee at eleven-twenty P.M.
She tried to be quiet as she turned the key in the lock, hoping to slip off to her room and not interrupt. To her surprise, they were not in the living room watching DVDs as they usually did. Nor were they in the kitchen playing Scrabble. Weslee went straight to her room, confused. Larry’s car was outside, so he was obviously in the house. There was no light under the slit of space between Sherry’s bedroom door and the floor.
The truth of what was going on made her feel uncomfortable. She felt like an intruder. There was no way she wanted to be a witness to so personal an aspect of Sherry’s life. For some reason she felt betrayed. Sherry had preached to her so many times about abstaining from sex until marriage. Yet here she was sleeping with a man she was not married to.
She undressed quickly and picked up the Wall Street Journal she hadn’t managed to finish earlier in the day. But it was hard to concentrate on what she was reading.
There was a knock on the door.
“How was your date?” Sherry asked, popping her head in.
Weslee looked past Sherry. “Well, Music Man was great, and the chowder at Legals was good. But Kamar, he was just a little too quiet.” Weslee was doing her best to sound normal.
“Poor thing. I think he’s a little shy. But hey, at least you got to get out.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, Larry left his car here for the rest of the week. He’s gone to Cleveland to visit his family. He didn’t want to leave it on his street. They’ve had problems with car thieves lately.”
“Oh!” Weslee said, sounding a bit more relieved than she wanted to.
“So don’t go getting any ideas.” Sherry winked and walked off to her room.
“What ideas?” Weslee called innocently.
“I know how you think, woman,” Sherry called back, laughing.
Weslee exhaled deeply. She couldn’t stomach the idea of having another duplicitous friend. Thank God, she thought.
A half hour later, Weslee tried to fall asleep as one of Sherry’s neighbors decided to turn up his stereo to full volume just after midnight. She sighed. That never happened in the Hyde Park neighborhood she grew up in. The neighborhood community would tell that person when and where to get off the next morning. And it certainly did not happen in the Loop condo that she and Michael had shared. One month, one month, she kept repeating to herself as she tried in vain to sleep over the booming bass of the reggae music.
Chapter 37
Taking up Rainee Smalls on her invitation to spend a weekend at her Oak Bluffs home had been an easy decision. Weslee was desperate to get away from Sherry’s noisy neighborhood, and it would give her a chance to see Lana, who had not been returning her calls lately.
Weslee had just left Marie Bunting’s sprawling home in the Chestnut Hill section of Newton and was rewarding herself with a shopping trip to Neiman’s. Marie was one of her most divalike clients. “Now, honey, I don’t want to look too muscular, so don’t make me lift those heavy weights, OK?” It was the same thing every session. Marie hated to sweat, hated to hurt, but wanted to be slim. Weslee told her that unless she gave up food altogether, there was no other plan out there that would help her. So she was exhausted when she pulled out of the woman’s home. Richer, but exhausted.
A couple of workout outfits and a bathing suit was all she planned to buy. But the sale racks beckoned over in the dress section, so she answered the call.
“Do you have this in a six?” a tall, stunning woman to her right asked a clerk. The woman looked a bit familiar, Weslee thought. Hmm. Maybe I saw her in a magazine.
“Actually, we do. There’s one right behind me.” The clerk rifled through the overburdened rack and found the size six red dress.
“Perfect,” the woman said. “I don’t need to try it on. We’re in a hurry.”
“Great,” the clerk said. “Would you like this on your store charge?”
Weslee was trying to mind her own business, but the woman looked so familiar she couldn’t stop looking at her.
“Actually, my fiancé’s paying,” the woman said, looking around the cluttered department.
“Honey,” she called out. “Just a minute,” she said to the clerk, smiling her perfectly bleached smile.
Weslee’s heart almost jumped out of her chest when she saw the man who approached the cash register where the tall woman stood smiling at him.
He looked exactly the same. His skin was golden, the way it was when she had first met him late last summer. His slacks were as neatly pressed, his entire look as put together, his brown eyes still sexy and mysterious.
He turned and looked right at her. She couldn’t move.
“Honey, get your card,” the woman nudged him.
“Oh, yes,” he said.
The sound of his voice tore through her like a tornado. She held onto the edge of the rack. She turned away from the register but did not have the strength to move.
She heard his fiancée thank the clerk.
“Thank you, Ms. Jarrett,” the clerk said. “That is such a beautiful engagement ring.”
“Oh, thank you. And it’s Susan.”
They walked past Weslee together. Weslee kept her eyes down, focusing on the clothes rack, but she could feel Duncan’s eyes on her as he walked past, his fiancée chattering at his side.
Susan. Susan.
Susan, she now realized, was the one she had seen him with that first night she had laid eyes on him at the party where she had also met William for the first time. Morticia. Susan.
Susan? Someone had mistakenly called her Susan while they were out in the Berkshires. Yes, one of his law firm partners. Even back then, Susan was in the picture? Weslee felt sick.
“Do you need any help finding a size?” the clerk asked politely.
“No. No, thank you,” Weslee said feebly.
She didn’t dare take the main escalator. She did not want to run into them again. She walked to the handicap elevator, pressing the button for the parking garage. She had to get out of that store.
She clenched her fists as she walked to the Copley Square parking garage. Duncan’s very existence on the planet seemed to be too much for her to take. Why doesn’t he just disappear for good? she asked herself. It seemed that every time she thought she had successfully slain that demon, it reincarnated into some other unwelcome life form. And this time he had to bring company. Until now, the fiancée had been a faceless ghost that she’d tried not to give too much thought to. She’d imagined her pretty but New England bland. But suddenly Susan had to pop up in her tall, golden glory. She was a striking woman, and Weslee found herself wondering why Duncan would cheat on someone like that.
I never even stood a chance, Weslee thought as she mentally placed herself alongside Duncan’s fiancée and compared. Susan Jarrett, cold and poised and beautifully aloof. That Susan. The whole time. Weslee bit her lip. All the old feelings came rushing back. The sharp pain she’d felt that night when he’d said he couldn’t breathe. Then Lana breaking the news to her about the engagement. And his calm. His smug, smirking calm when she’d called him that day . . .
She stood stock-still in the underground parking lot, shaking with anger. That bastard, she thought. “That sorry b
astard!” she yelled out, her voice echoing through the dark, dank, car-filled lot.
Chapter 38
Weslee ran into the house, thankful that Sherry was not yet home from the office. She needed a good, king-size cry, and no one else needed to see her that way.
It lasted a good hour. She just let it all out. She had been holding it inside for months. She had tried and tried to forget him, even managing to persuade herself that she had and was ready to move on. But who was she kidding?
And to see him like this, with his perfect fiancée, who probably never flinched when she was asked what her father did. Weslee pounded the pillow with her fist.
“I’m so stupid!” she said through clenched teeth, her eyes burning.
How could she even think that someone like him could go for a girl like her? She had no pedigree. No exotic beauty to speak of. She was just a regular old black girl from South Side Chicago. Who was she kidding?
She stayed in her room the rest of the night, ignoring Sherry’s knocks. She had one thing she could do. It would hurt, she knew. But she wouldn’t get any rest until she knew the whole truth, and she knew where to get it.
Lana had seemed mildly perturbed to hear Weslee’s distraught voice on the other end when she’d picked up the phone. Weslee could hear conversation in the background, and it briefly occurred to her that Lana might be hosting company. But she didn’t care. She had to get the truth, and she begged for it, though Lana was not very good at hiding her decreasing tolerance for the conversation. She even seemed irritated that Weslee was asking her for information. “I don’t know why you want to know all this stuff. It’s only going to make you feel worse. Why can’t you just forget about it, about him, and move on?”
But Weslee persisted.
Lana sighed heavily. “I warned you about him from the beginning,” she said calmly.
She Who Shops Page 24