“Pretty much.”
“I’ll find something,” Beth said, trading places with Laney.
Evie heard the fridge open and close again. Being home alone with her friends wasn’t much different from being home alone with her kids.
“What did you find?” Laney said. “I’m starved.”
“Cheese and crackers,” Beth said. “I’ll make up a platter.”
“Of course you will,” Laney said.
Beth replied with a “Ha!”
Laney turned to Evie. “I don’t want to ruin our fun, but when’s that widow of yours moving? I know she stayed longer at Sophie’s game than you expected.”
“I wanted her to see Sam.”
“So, she saw Sam, and then what?”
“No, he spent the whole time watching the boys’ team. We’re going to see them tomorrow.”
“You’re kidding me,” Laney said. “I thought she was leaving.”
“She is. I think. I don’t have any details. I don’t want any details.”
“That’s for the best,” Laney said.
“No, it’s not!” Beth appeared under the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room, one hand holding a tray like a waitress, the other hand on her hip like an irritated best friend.
“I said she could see the kids before she left, and I said we’d keep in touch. Other than that, I didn’t make her any promises. I don’t trust her. She knows that.”
“Good for you,” Laney said. “She has made a lot of bad choices. People don’t change. She’s proof of that.”
“People can learn from their mistakes,” Beth said, holding the tray in front of Evie, then Laney, then placing it on the end table. Beth constructed a cheese-and-cracker sandwich and popped it into her mouth whole and sat on the floor facing her friends.
“Nicole hasn’t learned,” Laney said. “You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.”
“Nicole grew up in a nice small town, Laney, not a trailer park,” Beth said. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“We assumed she was married once. We assumed she moved in with Evie just to help her out and because she was lonely. So, please don’t defend her. You know what they say, the best indicator of future behavior is past behavior. And I assume you have a good reason for knowing so much about her that we don’t know?”
Beth looked away from Laney and didn’t answer.
“Don’t get your granny panties in a bunch,” Evie said. “I’m not saying I can ever trust her again.”
“Trust can grow over time,” Beth said. “People learn from their mistakes, Laney. You’ve learned from yours with Herb.”
Laney threw a cracker at Beth. She caught it and tossed it back.
Evie didn’t know if she could ever trust Nicole, but as her friends played combat crackers, Evie pictured a small town, haystacks on the sidewalk, one traffic light—actually, no traffic light. She envisioned Nicole holding Luca and walking up rickety, wooden steps to a double-wide trailer and Nicole’s mother opening the door. Nicole was thin from smoking instead of eating and smiled to reveal summer teeth—some are there, some are not, an inappropriate dentist’s joke Evie had learned from Herb.
She was finished with Nicole, but hoped these assumptions were wrong too.
* * *
When Laney left to check on the kids at her house, the door clicked shut and the sound echoed in a moment of cavernous silence.
“I know she means well,” Evie said to Beth, who insisted on staying and getting Evie’s pot of coffee ready for the next morning. “And I agree with her a lot of the time, but she can make it worse when she’s so…”
“Unforgiving,” Beth said, counting scoops. “With Laney, there’s no wiggle room.”
Evie nodded. “There is no universal right and wrong. I’ve learned that.”
Beth shook her head while pouring the water into Mr. Coffee’s tank.
Evie slid her ring off her finger and spun it on the counter.
“Can I ask you something without you getting angry at me?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Think about this, and be honest. Do you still want Nicole and Luca in your life?” The coffee job complete, Beth searched the kitchen for busywork and walked from cabinet to sink to counter.
The constant activity gave Evie the heebie-jeebies. “Sit. You’re making me nervous.”
Beth sat and folded her hands, then started twirling her thumbs, like on the day their friendship tumbled like a block tower that was now being rebuilt.
“I look at Nicole and see poor choices and bad judgment and selfishness,” Evie said. “I was starting to see good things—and then she ruined it.”
“So why can’t you focus on the good parts?”
“Like with you and Alan? That’s totally different. We’ve been friends for years. And you didn’t try to take away my children’s security.”
“I know it’s different—and I’m grateful it’s different. But Nicole is leaving. Is that what you really want?”
“Absolutely!”
“You want your kids to grow up without their brother?”
“No, but I want Nicole to leave, and I can’t have both.”
“People can change, deep down. No one is just a collection of her mistakes. And that includes Nicole.” Beth smiled. “You have to trust yourself. Can you do that?”
Evie didn’t know. Although she did know she was worn out from counting pennies, rebuilding her family, and doubting herself.
“If your gut is telling you to forgive her,” Beth said, “or that you want to work toward that, you should. I’m not saying forget, but you have good instincts, you just have to listen to them. You can be really, really angry with someone and still move forward with them instead of without them.” She was almost pleading.
* * *
Evie shooed Rex from the bed and folded down the comforter. She smoothed it across the bottom third of the bed, tugging to make it even on both sides. Knowing she would kick it between the mattress and the footboard as soon as she got into bed didn’t matter; the routine was better than a dose of NyQuil. She patted the bed and Rex jumped back up, curling at the bottom like a kitten instead of a one-hundred-pound, muscular Lab. She wiggled under the lighter cotton quilt, maneuvered the pillows, and lay on her back. Then her side. She pictured a softball game, a field covered in daisies, silently recited a recipe by memory.
Evie thought about her job, her syllabus, her students, her wardrobe, her colleagues. She thought about Sandy Perlman.
Evie sat straight, and Rex’s head popped up as if he knew what she was thinking.
Sandy Perlman would be alone on Passover.
Chapter 24
SAM AND SOPHIE POKED AT each other even though the minivan had rear bucket seats specifically designed to help avoid such things. The bickering was a welcome respite from pondering moral turpitude.
“We’ll be there in a minute,” Evie said.
“Why aren’t they just coming over?” Sam asked.
“Because it’s a beautiful day. And because it’s the Spring Festival.”
“Can we go out for dinner?” Sophie said.
“You just ate lunch.”
“I know, but that way we can be with Luca all day long.”
Evie’s stomach tightened.
“There they are.” Evie looked across the parking lot to Nicole’s car. The trunk was open and Evie spotted a jumble of suitcases. Her stomach tightened again. “Get the blanket out of the back, Sam. Soph, grab the water bottles for me.”
Evie didn’t want the kids to see suitcases. She hadn’t told them Nicole and Luca were moving.
Nicole shut the trunk as the twins rounded the minivan. A woman Evie had never before seen stood next to Nicole.
Everyone in Lakewood knew everyone in Lakewood. Newcomers were usually married couples or young families; this woman looked older than Evie. Much o
lder. She must have stopped by Nicole’s car to ask for directions or for a neighborly chat. But then why were they walking toward Evie together, their stride and sway in sync?
Mousy-haired and starchly dressed, the woman looked like a White House–age Nancy Reagan. She also looked familiar, as if Evie had met her before or passed her a hundred times without being introduced. One of this woman’s hands helped Nicole steer Luca’s stroller onto the grass and to the edge of Evie’s blanket. Nicole and Nancy Reagan brushed hair off their faces at the same time, with the same sweeping motion.
Iowa’s Mother of the Year.
Sophie threw her arms around Nicole’s waist, then reached out and touched Luca’s hand. Sam picked up one hand in a casual, teenager-like wave.
“Sam, Soph, this is my mom,” Nicole said.
Evie looked at Nicole and raised and lowered her eyebrows. The twins, almost eleven, straddled childhood and adolescence and mumbled hello.
“Say, ‘Nice to meet you,’” Evie mumbled.
“Nice to meet you,” the twins said in unison.
Nicole’s mom stroked each twin’s shoulder and smiled wide.
She has all her teeth. They were white and straight and accented by light pink lipstick.
“I’ve seen your pictures,” she said. “You look much more mature in person. At least twelve.”
The twins beamed and looked at Evie. She nodded, and they ran to the giant blowup slide, which conveniently emptied in front of the pony rides.
Evie stood and put out her hand.
Nicole gasped. “I’m so sorry, that was so rude. Mom, this is Evie. Evie, this is my mother, Margaret.”
“Call me Peg. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. Seems we have quite a bit in common.”
This was going to be good. “Really?” Evie said. “How so?”
She was polite, not sarcastic. This woman was sturdy Iowa farm stock with a firm handshake, proper grammar, and good dental hygiene, but coming to Lakewood had to be a big deal. Evie should make a good impression even if Peg was here to scoop up her daughter and grandson and take them away. Take them home.
“Oh, Nicki didn’t tell you what I do for a living, did she?” Peg shook her head and grimaced with maternal disappointment.
“No, she didn’t,” Evie said, looking at Nicki.
Nicole smiled and rolled her eyes the way Sophie would have.
Peg slid her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to Evie.
MARGARET H. SMITH, PH.D.—PROFESSOR OF AMERICAN LITERATURE, UNIVERSITY OF IOWA.
She probably didn’t live in a trailer.
Evie rearranged her perceptions and stared at the distant conglomeration of play equipment. Sam giant-stepped up the sliding board. Sophie scaled the climbing wall. Evie monitored the appropriate risks and moderate challenges enjoyed by her kids. Anytime they played, she smiled.
“How about if I take Luca over to the twins?” Peg said.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Nicole said.
“I am here to help, aren’t I?” Light sarcasm flitted through the air.
Nicole nodded.
“So, would that be helpful to you, Nicki?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Peg swiveled the stroller and walked quickly toward the corner of the park.
“You didn’t tell me your mother was a college professor.” Evie sat on the blanket. Nicole did the same.
“You never asked.”
Evie had not asked. Evie had assumed. “So I really don’t understand what’s been going on. You said your mother couldn’t take time off to come to the funeral.”
“She couldn’t. It was finals week.”
“You said she didn’t approve of your marriage because Richard was Jewish. Is she really that narrow-minded?”
Evie had been that narrow-minded as well. She’d lectured Lisa for the year she was engaged to what’s-his-name, saying it would never work because of their cultural differences. Three years later, Lisa and no-name divorced because they were too much alike. They were both workaholics.
Nicole stretched out her legs and crossed her feet at the ankles. She pointed her toes as if imitating ballet and then flexed. “She doesn’t approve of anything I’ve done since I got pregnant in high school. I’m not exactly a daughter she can brag about.”
Evie leaned back on her hands, stunned. Her parents would never have turned her away. She would never turn away Sam or Sophie. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s no secret that I haven’t lived up to her expectations. That’s why I moved away. After Peter and Lucy, she wanted me to go to college and start over. I didn’t want to do it. I had been a wife and mother; I didn’t want to be a sorority girl. I couldn’t be. So I moved to Chicago and went to cosmetology school.”
“She didn’t understand that you needed a new life?”
“Not really. She had my brother and me in her late thirties, worked two jobs, went to grad school. She always said it was for us, but she did it for herself. She was never around.” Nicole nodded and shrugged in surrender. “But now I understand why.”
“So, she was thrilled with your choice to go to beauty school—which you did for yourself.”
“Not half as thrilled as when I told her I was dating a man twenty years older. She figured out pretty quickly that he was married.” Nicole looked down, away from Evie. “She didn’t talk to me for months. Even on the anniversary of Peter’s and Lucy’s deaths. Or on their birthdays.” Nicole looked back at Evie with a forced smile. “I thought the fact that Richard had a Ph.D. and taught at Pinehurst would make her happy. I thought they’d have a lot in common and she would realize that I’d done okay for myself even without going to college. Then I thought when I had Luca, she’d want to be a grandma again.”
“But she didn’t, did she?”
Nicole looked right at Evie, with a gaze stronger than any Evie had seen on Nicole’s face since Richard died. “I hadn’t done any of the things she’d planned for me. And when she wanted to get back into our lives, I told her it was too late.”
“It’s never too late.” Of course, until it is. “Why did you tell me she didn’t like Richard because he was Jewish?”
“I didn’t want you to like her,” Nicole said.
Evie didn’t like Peg. Nor did she want to be like her. Peg had been so grief-stricken, so bitter, so cemented in the past, she had been without the capacity to let go in order to move on. Nicole had to live hundreds of miles away and become a widow the second time before her mother would accept her—flaws, faults, funky family attachments, and all. Evie would never let that happen. She would not become the next Peg Smith.
“It’s okay,” Nicole said. “We’ve been having long talks, and I think we’ve come to an understanding.”
That was probably a good idea considering Nicole was moving in with her.
“She understands that I don’t want what she wanted for me,” Nicole continued. “And I think I finally understand that it’s okay for her to wish things were different as long as she can just accept that they’re not. She doesn’t have to like it, but if she loves us, she’ll learn to deal with it.”
“So things are good between you?”
“They’re better. We even talked about Lucy.” Nicole scooted closer to Evie, almost invading her personal space.
Evie leaned away, boundaries intact.
“She was glad I got a job, that’s for sure,” Nicole said. “Unemployment is not high on her list.”
It hadn’t been high on Evie’s list either.
“I renewed my cosmetology license,” Nicole continued. “I’m going to cut hair again and manage the front desk at a really nice salon. Finding a babysitter for Luca is the only thing standing in my way.”
“Why won’t your mom help?”
“How is my mom going to help?”
“Look, I know your mom is a professor, but maybe the university has child care.”
“Why would Luca need child care in Iowa?”
“Because you’re working? You can’t take him to a salon, there are too many chemicals, it’s not safe, and there are so many sharp tools. It’s dangerous!”
Nicole grinned. “I’m working at Hair Expressions in New Meadow.”
“Our New Meadow?”
“Is there another New Meadow?”
Evie exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. New Meadow, just a few miles east of Lakewood, was a post–World War II town built around the old Amtrak line that ran from Chicago to Minneapolis. The town was filled with classic bungalows, apartment complexes, and newer town-house subdivisions named after Native American tribes.
“Oh, that would be a bit of a schlep.”
They chuckled.
Evie released her public reticence, put her hand on Nicole’s arm, and left it there. “I didn’t want you to go. For Sam and Sophie.” Evie remembered she had wanted to be careful. “But if you’re not leaving, why is your mother here? What were all the suitcases in the back of your car?”
“Mom took the train. She said she’s going to start acting like a mother and a grandmother. She was on sabbatical this term and changed her plans to help me move and to spend some time with Luca. And hopefully to get to know you and the twins.”
“What made you change your mind about leaving?”
“My mother.”
“Your mother convinced you to stay here?”
“My dad left us with nothing. He took off and left a wife and two kids and he never turned back. I never wanted Luca to think Richard abandoned him and left him nothing. My mother pointed out that not only did I have Social Security, but Luca would never think that if I didn’t let him think that. She admitted she fueled our bad feelings about my father. I don’t blame her, but she’s right. It’s different. And she’s putting all the money she had saved for me to go to college into a fund for Luca. He’ll be okay.”
“Yes, he will,” Evie said.
“Your kids will be fine too, you know.”
“I know.” Evie’s throat softly closed and kept her voice from cracking.
“And my mom and I are going to be okay too. She’s offered to watch Luca while I find a babysitter.”
Evie’s wheels turned in a million directions, mimicking the inside of an elaborate clock. “Why wouldn’t she help you before now?”
The Glass Wives Page 24