“The policy was current at the time of death.”
Momentary paralysis set into Evie’s limbs. “What does that mean?”
“It means there were no problems before he passed. The problems with the policy are coming up postmortem, which is why we need the additional documentation. It’s really just details, Ms. Glass. When the file is complete, we’ll have resolution and disbursement of funds.”
Evie shook her leg to stop it from falling asleep. “Doesn’t anyone care that I have children to feed?” Silence. “How long will this take?”
“I can’t say, ma’am.”
“You can’t say or you won’t say, Mr. Baker?”
“I won’t speculate. Every case is different.”
Evie had started to hate the word different.
* * *
“I’ll stay home with Nicole,” Sam said without looking away from the computer monitor.
“No, you’ll come with me. It’s part of today’s math lesson,” Evie said.
Sam pushed away from the dining-room table. “The grocery store is math. Right.”
“Right. Get your stuff on. Let’s go.”
“We’ll come too if that’s okay,” Nicole said. She looked at Evie and winked.
“Sure,” Evie said. “The more the merrier.” The more the weirder is what she meant, but Nicole was trying to help and Evie knew it. Be nice, be nice, be nice. It was getting easier to be nice.
Walking through the grocery-store parking lot, Evie said, “Now remember, you’re going to estimate the weight of the fruits and vegetables and cross things off the list as we put them in the cart. Maybe you’ll even figure out the total bill before we get to the register.”
“I thought you were joking,” Sam said.
“Yep, I’m a comedian.”
Sam huffed but followed her, and Nicole and Luca followed him. They were a freakish family parade going into Jewel. All they needed were some flags and batons.
“Hey, Evie, nice to see you,” said Gwen Barton, who seemed camped out amid the organic produce. Gwen chaired Eden’s PTO, had launched the neighborhood book club, and was president of their temple’s sisterhood. She eyed the meager contents of Evie’s cart. Evie knew Gwen had already snapped a mental picture of Evie’s hoodie du jour and the banana clip in her hair.
“Nice to see you too, Gwen,” Evie said. Gwen’s cart almost toppled over with the green-stickered produce in her own reusable tote bags and three half gallons of soy milk.
“We miss you at Bunco,” Gwen said, never taking her eyes off the nutrition label on organic soy cheese.
“Sorry I can’t be there anymore.”
“It’s understandable. Karen had been waiting for a Wednesday-night opening, so it wasn’t a problem. She was thrilled to take your place.”
The story of Evie’s life.
Gwen leaned over her cart handle and whispered, “How are the kids doing?” Her eyes were wide. She almost licked her lips. Evie knew Gwen anticipated an avalanche of information, which she could then disperse through an e-mail list or phone tree.
“They’re both doing fine, thanks for asking.” Evie stepped as far back from Gwen as she could get without landing in the arugula and risking a misting.
“I’m so glad. It must be so hard.” Gwen’s eyes shifted across the store, then back to Evie.
“The kids are doing fine. Thanks for asking.” Evie felt like a doll whose string you pull and she says the same thing over and over and over. It was all she said to anyone about her kids. She was too tired to recount details that would evoke pity but no answers. Did Gwen want to know Sam was estimating the total so that they had enough cash? That COBRA ate half of the Social Security checks? Probably not.
Nicole pushed her cart, with Luca tethered into the seat, right up next to Evie. “Hi, I’m Nicole. And this is Luca.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Evie mumbled. “Nicole, Gwen. Gwen, Nicole—and Luca.” Evie put out her finger and Luca grabbed it.
“So, I hear Evie took you in,” Gwen said, lifting one eyebrow at Evie.
Evie gasped. “Where did you hear that?”
“Not much goes on without everyone knowing.”
“Well, maybe everyone should mind their own business,” Nicole said.
Naive Nicole. Gwen made everyone’s business her own, so to her, she was doing just that.
Gwen looked Nicole up and down. “Sweetie, if you minded your own business, Evie wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Knock it off, Gwen. Please,” Evie whispered, and cocked her head to the right toward Sam. Then she remembered Nicole was listening too. “You don’t know the whole story.”
Gwen put up her hand like a crossing guard. “I don’t want to know the whole story,” she almost certainly lied. “I know quite enough.”
“I’m happy to lend Evie a hand,” Nicole said.
“I think Evie’s had enough of your type of help.”
“She’s a big help with the twins,” Evie said, touching Nicole’s foot with her own. No one needed to know their living arrangement was because Evie needed Nicole in order to pay the mortgage. Let them all think it was Evie who was doing Nicole the favor, although Nicole could have used the good press.
Gwen looked at her watch. “Whatever works for you. Truly. I don’t judge. But I do have to go. I’m meeting someone for lunch.” She walked off pushing her cart without acknowledging Nicole.
“I’m sorry she was so rude,” Evie said as Sam dumped bananas and apples and oranges and two cucumbers into the cart. “Get four potatoes,” Evie said.
Sam sighed and Evie watched him scan the bins of yellow, white, red, purple, and sweet potatoes.
“She’s rude?” Nicole said. “You didn’t even try to tell her what’s really going on.”
“And what is really going on?”
“I can go back to my house, I could sell it and buy something else, I could go back to Iowa, I just don’t want to. You need me to stay. You can’t pay your mortgage or your bills without me.”
Nicole had a firmer grasp of the situation than Evie had thought. “Beth told me you rented out the house, so don’t threaten me with moving—because now you don’t have anywhere to go.”
“It’s a month-to-month lease. I can go back anytime.” Nicole turned away and then to Evie. “Beth told you?”
“I know Beth is nice to you. She’s nice to everyone. But she’s loyal to me.”
Nicole shuffled her feet, as if trying to get away without moving. “So you think it’s okay for that Gwen to think this arrangement is charity if the charity is me?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Is it?”
“If I remember correctly, you so desperately wanted out of your house that you kept showing up at mine—uninvited.”
“If I remember correctly, you offered to let me move in and said you’d accept my offer to pay. I didn’t beg, I just suggested it would benefit both of us.”
“Fine. You’re right. Next time I see Gwen I’ll make sure she understands.”
“Thanks,” Nicole said, her voice lifting.
“No problem.” It was no problem because Evie would just make sure she didn’t see Gwen Barton until the insurance money came through or she’d gotten a job, or both.
Chapter 11
LANEY STEPPED OUT OF HER car and trekked through the pristine foot of snow on the patch of grass that separated the friends’ driveways, her boots disappearing under her knee-length coat. Evie knew what would follow.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a showdown with Gwen? I had to hear it from Beth, who heard it from Darcy, who heard it from Gwen! Don’t leave me out of the loop like that!”
Evie clamped her lips to invoke Laney’s silence.
“Hey, Sam!” Laney said, giving him a thumbs-up through her leather gloves. “He didn’t hear me,” she whispered.
Sam stood his shovel in a pile of snow and waved.
“Finish the bottom step and then you c
an be done,” Evie said to him. “I’ll make hot chocolate when I come inside.”
Sam scooped the final bit of snow, stomped into the house, and slammed the door before Evie could tell him not to. Evie wondered if he took off the boots or if she’d slip on the wet floor when she removed her own boots. Time would tell.
“So why didn’t you call me?” Laney said again. “If you’re going to bite someone’s head off, give me a heads-up next time.”
“It wasn’t a showdown. And believe it or not, this isn’t about you.” Evie turned her back and shoveled imaginary snow.
Laney grabbed the broom that was leaning against a bush and swept away the snow dust left on the walkway. “She said you were rude. I said you were exhausted. I have a feeling it was both.” Evie felt pushed into a corner with each swoosh of the broom. Laney cared. Laney meant well. Laney pushed more than snow.
“Really? She said just ‘rude’? She was a pain in the ass. It’s over.” Evie surveyed her blanketed front lawn, then walked down the clean driveway to look at the house from the street. Alan had used his snowblower on the driveway, but Evie insisted he leave the path and steps for Sam. Sam needed to know that being home meant pitching in, not watching TV. Standing at the curb, Evie thought the new snow on her roof made her house look like an iced cupcake; the icicles hanging off the edge of the roof were like candy decorations ready to be plucked and eaten, except that one was big enough, and looked sharp enough, to spear a fish.
Laney, chic even when bundled up, shooshed her way to Evie and stood shoulder to shoulder, speaking without looking at her. “It looks perfect. Your house always looks pretty in the snow.” Evie knew it did. She and Richard had bought it in winter, snow-covered. It looked like the front of the Christmas card she’d never send.
“On the outside,” Evie said. “The inside is a freaking mess.” Although with Nicole’s housework OCD, it was tidier than ever.
Laney looped her arm through Evie’s. “I know.” Laney tugged, and Evie let her friend lead her up the driveway and to the front door. “I won’t tell you what to do, but maybe it’s time for a little housecleaning.”
“What do you mean you won’t tell me what to do? You always tell me what to do.” Evie’s voice was louder than she intended.
“No. I tell you what I think you should do. What I would do. Obviously you do what you want.” Laney rolled her eyes and smirked. Evie knew Laney expected her to laugh, but it wasn’t funny.
“Well, now I want you to come inside and…” She wanted to ask Laney to scavenge in Evie’s closet for interview clothes. She wanted to ask Laney to keep her company while she scoured more websites for jobs. She wanted to sit in the kitchen and sip a lukewarm cup of coffee and solve the world’s—or at least Lakewood’s—problems. Evie wanted help, and asking for it was harder than shoveling snow.
“And what?”
“Never mind.”
Evie turned the doorknob. She was relieved she hadn’t been locked out. Banging on her own front door, Rex barking, Nicole and Sam running to the door to let her in was more action and attention than she wanted at the moment. She wanted to slip inside unnoticed. She wanted to slip inside unneeded. Just for a few minutes. Help from Laney came with effervescence and energy. Evie was too tired for help from Laney.
“Don’t do that to me. I’ll come in, just tell me what you want me to do. You want me to tell Nicole to leave? I’m all over it like wasabi on sushi.” Laney grabbed Evie’s arms and Evie pulled away hard.
“Don’t do that,” Evie yelled, her affection for Laney sidelined. “You can’t do this to me anymore. She’s not going anywhere. It’s working for me.”
“It’s fucked up.”
“Nobody asked you!” Evie pushed open the door and stepped, slamming the door shut behind her.
Laney stood on the other side yelling, “Hey, don’t shut the door on me!”
She didn’t have to be part of the solution, but she couldn’t be another of Evie’s problems. Evie couldn’t deal with Laney and then come in and check the floor for slush, look for a job, chat with Nicole, dole out Sam’s schoolwork, and call Midwest Mutual. Not to mention make hot chocolate.
Heart pounding from exasperation as well as exertion, Evie slid off her boots and put them on the vent. Sam’s boots were neatly off to the side. Coat and hat in the closet, Evie considered her attire. Just like her house, she was appropriately dressed on the outside but a mess underneath. Evie had traded in her robe for a faded White Sox T-shirt, stretchy pants, and a hair clip. She was one sensible-shoe step away from embroidered kitten sweatshirts. She was glad Laney wasn’t there to see the latest outfit; although Evie was surprised Laney didn’t follow her into the house demanding something or other. Evie stayed on the rug in front of the door and looked at the floor in front of her. It was dry, no footprints. She tentatively walked through the living room to the kitchen without slipping.
Then through her thawing nose, Evie smelled hot chocolate.
“Sam? Did you make hot chocolate?” The kids had just started using the microwave on their own, but almost-boiling water was tricky. Two seconds too short, it’s not hot enough; two seconds too long, it’s scalding. Evie wondered if he was gulping clumps of powder or scorching his throat. Or both.
“Nicole made it,” he said as Evie walked in.
Sam was sitting at the kitchen counter, Nicole on the stool next to him. They were slurping. Steam was rising from the cups. Evie looked at the pot on the stove. Nicole had made hot chocolate from scratch. Evie knew it was easy, but her hot chocolate came with tiny, cute marshmallows and out of a paper envelope. Her secret was adding a drop of vanilla and orange zest. Her concoction always smelled like winter—a potpourri of warmth and sweetness. She hated to admit that what had simmered on the stove smelled even better.
“Oh,” Evie said. Yummy as it seemed, she had wanted to make hot chocolate for Sam, to sit and have a mom moment with him before she opened up the textbooks again and became the taskmaster and teacher. She wanted time for just the two of them that wasn’t in the middle of the night when they played with Sam’s demons. Evie fumbled for words. She did not want hot chocolate that Nicole had made, but it was nice of Nicole to do it. Nicole had probably wiped the water from the floor and stood Sam’s boots in the corner. Was this what it was like to have an au pair or a nanny? Those were two things Evie had never wanted—and still didn’t. She wanted help with the bills. But help with the twins was something she wasn’t used to—and didn’t want to get used to. There had to be rules to follow in this new arrangement. Was Nicole a tenant or family? Could someone be both? Did Evie want either?
“There’s plenty left,” Nicole said. “I’ll get it for you.” She slipped from her seat and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grabbed a mug.
“I don’t want any, but thanks,” Evie said. “It was nice of you to make it for Sam.”
“I was glad to have a little one-on-one time with him while Luca is napping.”
Nicole’s having one-on-one time with Evie’s kids wasn’t what she had in mind. Problem was, Evie didn’t know what she had in mind. Thoughts fired like little pops of light going this way and that. Job, kids, house, Nicole, Scott, Lisa, Beth, insurance, Laney.
Laney. She’d opened the door for Nicole, but shut it on Laney.
That was wrong. But wrong was working just fine.
* * *
The house was night-quiet. Evie sat on the couch, water glass on the table next to her, bowl of popcorn nestled in her lap. She closed her eyes, just for a second, and listened to nothing. Then, Rex jumped next to her, and she opened her eyes in time to catch spilling popcorn and push it back into the bowl. She leaned on the big dog for comfort, and he nuzzled into her thigh.
Nicole appeared at the doorway in her robe and slippers. “I just wanted to say good night.”
“Good night.” It was time for movie and popcorn for one.
Nicole leaned against the wall with her shoulder, as though she had wi
ggled into a nook. “What are you going to watch?”
“Just a chick flick.”
“I love chick flicks, which one?”
“Not sure,” Evie said, lying. She always popped in her DVD of My Big Fat Greek Wedding when she needed a laugh. This was her second copy, and she was betting she’d need a third before summer.
“Enjoy your movie.” Nicole stepped backward slowly, navigating the short ridge between the living room and the kitchen without looking. “See you in the morning.” Her feet padded so slowly, Evie knew she wasn’t going anywhere fast. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
“Do you mind if I make some popcorn? I’ll take it downstairs. I’m not really very tired.”
Evie sighed. “Get a bowl. There’s too much here for one person.” Although she knew she could have downed the whole thing, Evie was willing to share the popcorn, but not the movie.
Kumbaya moment complete, Evie assumed she’d cuddle up to Rex, hit PLAY, and giggle into a happy, sleepy stupor. Instead, she hit PAUSE when she heard water flowing, and swishing and scraping noises coming from the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” she said to Nicole, who was up to her elbows in yellow rubber gloves.
“It’s just a little Ajax.”
Evie knew what it was, she just didn’t know why Nicole was doing it. “Why are you cleaning the sink at eleven o’clock?” Anyway, the sink was clean.
“Look, thanks for, um, rearranging the pantry,” Evie said, putting the cleanser under the sink. “You don’t have to do this kind of thing.” Evie had switched back the cabinets, and once Nicole left the kitchen, she’d drip something into the sink. “And thanks for folding Sophie and Sam’s laundry and for feeding Rex, but those are the kids’ chores.”
“I’m just trying to help.” Nicole backed away and into the counter. She pulled off the gloves, stared at the surface of the counter, grabbed a sponge, and rubbed off dried mustard.
“Must be from Sophie’s lunch,” Evie said. She’d have noticed it by tomorrow’s lunch. Probably.
“I clean when I’m tense,” Nicole said, scrubbing harder and longer than it took to remove a raindrop-size bit of dried mustard from the granite. Then her arm stretched across the counter as she wiped stripes of damp sponge in neat rows. Top to bottom, lift, top to bottom, again and again. And then, Nicole started to cry.
The Glass Wives Page 12