The Glass Wives

by Amy Sue Nathan

  “I didn’t ask her before now.”

  It wasn’t easy to ask, Evie knew that.

  “Do you think you might consider letting me see the kids sometimes? You know, with Luca?”

  “Okay,” Evie said.

  “Just okay?”

  “Yep, just okay.”

  Evie thought about Beth. Beth and Alan moved somewhere no one knew their story in order to start over. No one who Nicole met in New Meadow would ask if Richard was married when she’d met him. They’d know she was a widow with a baby, and they’d learn about Sam and Sophie and probably about Evie. Nicole would leave out the details that no longer impacted her life and that might affect her future.

  If Nicole was lucky, one day she would have a friend whom she trusted with the truth.

  When the troops arrived at her feet, Evie reached into her purse and pulled out dollar bills.

  Peg shook her head and reached into her pocket and corralled the twins and Luca for an ice cream run. “Last one to the ice cream truck is a rotten egg,” Peg sang out. The twins took off running. Maybe she would figure out the mother thing and the stepgrandma thing.

  “I’ll watch Luca,” Evie blurted. “When you go to work.” Evie spoke before thinking it through. Why not? She loved babies. More important, she loved Luca.

  “You will?” Nicole’s eyes grew wide, and Evie saw a thin ginger border around the green. She had noticed it the night Richard died, when Evie hugged Nicole and they ended up nose to nose, but without a haze of tears Nicole’s irises looked like peridot rimmed in gold.

  “Well, I guess I should say, if our work schedules mesh. I need someone to watch the twins too.”

  “You got the job at that college?” Nicole said.

  Evie nodded. “And I’m going back to Third Coast.”

  “Mazel tov.” Nicole grinned at her command of universal Yiddish. “When do you start?”

  “I’m going back to work at the store after Passover. Just a few hours one or two mornings while the kids are at school. I start teaching in June, but that’s at night. Once your mother leaves, we can coordinate our schedules.”

  Nicole nodded.

  As if she held a flipbook, Evie scanned the future. Rickety images emerged and bled into one another. She and Nicole and the three kids together—in the park, on the bleachers, at the kitchen table, on birthdays, for holidays. Nicole would care for the twins. Evie would care for Luca. It wasn’t what Evie had planned twenty, ten, or one year ago—but the pictures in her head slowed her pulse. This was about choices. Evie had chosen to accept the job at County, and now she chose to keep Nicole in the fold. Nicole had chosen to stay near them. It could work. This time she and Nicole would choose to be on the same side of the picket fence, and to stay there.

  Sam and Sophie ambled to the blanket, cones in hand, with an ice pop for Luca. Peg lowered herself to the blanket next to Nicole. Sam pulled off the white paper wrapper of the ice pop and twisted it around the stick. He hesitated, and instead of handing it to Luca, he knelt and held it at his brother’s lips. Luca licked the green Bomb Pop, smiled, licked it again, and shivered. The April sky teased them into believing it was spring, but the wind off the lake reminded them all that steady, warm breezes wouldn’t blow in until summer.

  “We’re going to babysit for Luca while Nicole goes to work,” Evie said.

  Sophie clapped and bunny-hopped in a circle, her smile wide and bright enough to dissolve any of Evie’s suppressed uncertainty.

  Peg crossed her arms. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Yes,” Evie and Nicole said.

  “I’m just here to help,” Peg continued. “You two know best.”

  “And when I start teaching this summer, Nicole will keep an eye on you guys. How’s that sound? Remember, that’s two nights a week.” She said it as much for Nicole and Peg as the kids. “So you’ll have lots of time with Luca. And Nicole. I guess we’ll have a lot of time together.”

  “Like a family,” Sophie said.

  “Not like a family, Soph. We are a family,” Evie said.

  “Daddy would like that,” Sophie said.

  Evie hadn’t added Richard into the equation, but Sophie’s emphatic tone convinced her.

  Sam looked at his feet and kicked the grass once.

  “You okay, Sam? You want to sit with me?” Evie patted the blanket, away from Nicole.

  “No, I’m fine.” He looked up. “I just think he—Dad—would think it was weird. Good weird, but weird. None of this is normal, you know.”

  Evie jumped on his words, her own tinged with defiance. “This is going to be normal for us. And that’s all that matters. Now, which one of you is going to give me a lick of ice cream?” She smacked her lips loud.

  Sam and Sophie laughed and drew back the hands that held their cones. Evie hadn’t expected the twins to share their ice cream. Their lives, their hearts, their home, their mom, yes—but their Rainbow Cones? No way.

  Chapter 25

  THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK CHIMED FIVE times and then the doorbell rang. Nicole and Peg were on time.

  Evie held the front door open with her foot as Nicole, with Luca on her hip, stepped inside. Peg handed Evie a plastic-sleeved, oversize bouquet of pink, yellow, and orange gerbera daisies.

  “Luca and flowers,” Evie said, kissing the not-quite-toddler on the head. “What a great combination.”

  Nicole and Peg pulled off Luca’s jacket in tandem. Peg took Luca and stood him on the floor, holding both his hands. He raised his leg to walk, but Peg was not ready to go anywhere.

  “Happy Passover,” Nicole said. “I knew we couldn’t bring food, so I hope these are appropriate.”

  “I told you they were appropriate, Nicki.” Peg shook her head.

  Evie grabbed Nicole’s hand on instinct and squeezed. “Thank you, they’re beautiful. I’ll put them in a vase. Do you want to introduce your mom to everyone? They’re in the living room.”

  “Do I have to?” Nicole muttered.

  “I heard you, Nicki. I won’t embarrass you, I promise.”

  Peg and Luca baby-stepped toward the sound of voices.

  “Take a deep breath,” Evie said, letting go of Nicole’s hand.

  Nicole nodded and put her purse on the floor by the bench. Then, she leaned and peeked into the dining room. The lights were dim, but the crystal goblets sparkled. Bubbe’s Passover dishes—Lenox Daybreak, with its gold flowers—“popped” against the white linen tablecloth. Bubbe would have kvelled. The middle of the table was crowded with candlesticks, Elijah’s cup, a soup tureen, bottles of Manischewitz wine and Kedem grape juice, seder plates, and stacks of matzo.

  “Wow,” Nicole said. “It looks beautiful.”

  “Thanks. Just don’t ask me where all the kids’ art supplies are.” Evie cocked her head toward the hall closet. “Open that at your own risk.”

  Nicole walked into the room. She touched the back of each chair as she circled the table, set for sixteen. Evie knew Nicole was hoping Luca would handle the grandma introductions.

  “Is the table usually this big?” Nicole asked.

  “I have all the leaves in. I haven’t done that in a long time, but it’s a holiday. My family and friends are here, and I just decided—why skimp when I can make lots of work for everyone?” Evie grinned, jostled the chair at the head of the table, and patted the pillow. She picked it up and pointed to the handprints scattered across the pillowcase. “Ever since the twins were little, they’ve done this at the end of the night. It was Richard’s idea.” Evie found the tiniest prints and outlined them with her index finger.

  The smallness of the handprints, coupled with the grandeur of the tradition, choked her. Evie flipped the pillow from front to back to front to back to front again and plopped it onto the chair, pounding it into the seat much harder than necessary.

  * * *

  Everyone sat in the living room, so the sofa, chair, and folding chairs were filled. With several conversations and a White Sox game on TV,
it was boisterous. The way it should be.

  “So, this is liver?” Nicole said, nodding at the bowl.

  “Chopped liver. Try it on a cracker,” Evie’s mother said. Shirley took a Tam Tams cracker from the basket and put a spoonful of chopped liver on top.

  “It’s like pâté, dear. Have you ever had pâté?” Peg said, placing a dollop onto a small plate as if she were teaching everyone how to use a spoon.

  Evie seethed. It was her holiday, her house. Any wisecracks would be hers too.

  Nicole remedied the situation by ignoring her mother. “I thought you couldn’t have crackers on Passover,” she said, eyeing the small, hexagon-shaped cracker.

  “It’s matzo so it’s fine.”

  “But liver?”

  “Trust me, it’s good. Richard loved my chopped liver.”

  “Mom!” Evie stomped her foot.

  “Your mother has a point, Evie,” Peg said. “If Richard liked it, Nicole should try it.”

  Shirley smiled. “Thank you, Peg. I knew another mother would understand.”

  Evie and Nicole had apparently been demoted and demotherized.

  Nicole bit the corner of the cracker. She placed the remainder on a plate and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “It’s good.”

  “You don’t have to say it’s good,” Lisa said. “I don’t eat it, and she’s my mother. Sometimes mothers are troublemakers.”

  Nicole smiled. Evie knew her sister had just initiated a truce with Nicole.

  “I’m going to tell you something, Luca my man,” Evie’s dad said. He leaned out of his chair and reached to the floor. Luca looked up at him, mouth open. “Chopped liver is good. But women?” He blew a raspberry and Luca giggled. “Smart kid.” Bob built a tower with the primary-colored blocks and handed a red one to Luca, who gently placed it on top.

  Beth and Alan walked into the living room, arms full of Tupperware cake carriers filled with matzo-made goodies. Laney, Herb, Jocelyn, and Jordyn followed with foil-topped plates. Evie wanted to set the table and lead the seder and host her family and friends on a holiday, but she quaked at the expense. Everyone cooked to help with the cost and to show off a little.

  “Let’s get all that in the kitchen,” Evie said. “Sam? Take their jackets, please.”

  Sam stood and everyone laid their light spring outerwear over his arms. Herb put his jacket on Sam’s head like an Indian headdress, and Sam marched out of the living room and up the stairs. Sophie motioned to the girls to sit with her on the floor by Luca.

  Laney and Beth followed Evie into the kitchen and placed the containers and plates on the counter. The trio swatted Alan and Herb into the living room.

  “How’s it going?” Laney asked.

  “I told my family to behave, and so far so good.” Evie poked up her eyebrows for a temporary lid lift. “Same goes for you.”

  “What? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yet.”

  Beth laughed and winked at Evie. Friends back in the fold of understanding and acceptance. Pointing at Beth, Laney tore the tops off her plates, revealing carrot tsimmes and potato kugel. Beth’s famous matzo-meal rolls, often mistaken for hockey pucks, were displayed in one of her favorite Longaberger baskets with a blue-and-gold-striped liner.

  “Why aren’t you scolding her?” Laney asked.

  “She’s always nice,” Evie said, basting the brisket.

  Laney mimicked her, and they all laughed. Beth stared at Evie, who fixed her gaze on a baking pan sizzling with roasted vegetables.

  The voices in the living room melded into white noise, an unobtrusive backdrop for cooking. Evie stirred the chicken soup and turned off the burner but didn’t turn around. If Beth was still staring at her, this wasn’t going to work. Evie counted to ten in her head and looked over her shoulder. Beth and Laney were counting Haggadahs.

  “How many do we need?” Laney asked.

  “Sixteen.” Evie turned to the stove and stirred, waiting.

  “I think we only need fifteen,” Laney said.

  “Oh, no, sixteen,” Beth said.

  Evie left the spoon swirling and turned from the pot.

  Laney rattled names and counted. “Fifteen. Are you counting the widow-mama twice?”

  “Very funny.”

  Laney licked her forefinger and gave herself a tick mark in the air. “Laney, one. Evie, zero. You only put a cup out for Elijah the Prophet, you know, not a whole place setting.”

  “I know,” Evie said.

  “I’m going to put a book on each chair.” Beth recounted sixteen Hagaddahs.

  “What am I missing?” Laney said.

  “I invited Sandy Perlman to the seder,” Evie mumbled.

  “I get to meet the History Hottie? Woo-hoo!” Laney shoved Evie’s shoulder. “So it’s official? You’re dating?”

  “I am not dating him. Or anyone else. He has no place to go, what was I supposed to do? Plus, he knows Alan.”

  “Well, he accepted your invitation.”

  “He’s just a busy man with no family here.”

  “And no friends?” Laney asked.

  Beth and Laney looked at each other.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Laney said.

  “Look, I never thought I’d invite him, but it just happened.”

  “Fancy that. Doing something you never thought you’d do. Like, let’s see—teaching college.” Laney threw her arms in the air. Drama was never far from her reach.

  “We’re proud of you,” Beth said. “For getting the job and for inviting Sandy tonight.”

  “Just because I invited him to seder and can admit he’s handsome doesn’t mean I like him.”

  “It means you’re baaaaack,” Laney said. “Although do we know if this History Honey is single? Because if he’s off-limits, this is much less fun for me, and you may just have to tap into the coed population.”

  “He’s divorced.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Lane, I’m sure.” Evie was not wrestling morals with Laney with Beth in the room. “Now how about I concentrate on brisket instead of my imaginary love life?”

  “If you must,” Laney said.

  Evie’s mom walked into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

  “We’re all set,” Evie said.

  “I like you-know-who’s mother very much. Did you know she’s a college professor?”

  “Yes, Mom, I know—and can you just say Nicole’s name please.”

  “I agree she’s not so bad, Evelyn, and that baby is a cutie-pie. Even the mother is nice, and well-spoken, although she could do with a bit of a makeover. I guess fashion doesn’t matter much in Iowa. But are you sure you can be happy in this situation?”

  “What situation?” Evie pulled her mom next to the refrigerator, hoping the hum would drown out the ridiculousness. “The situation where my kids have to grow up without a dad or the situation where I do what’s best for them—which includes you-know-who and the baby?” Evie smiled.

  “You’re right,” Shirley said. “But why did you invite them to the seder?”

  Evie lifted the lid on the pot and fanned the steam toward her nose for a quick chicken-soup facial. “Aren’t we supposed to let anyone who is hungry or needy come and eat? Isn’t that how we are supposed to behave on this holiday” She thought more about Sandy than Nicole.

  “You’re right,” Shirley said. “But they’re—”

  “It doesn’t matter that Nicole isn’t Jewish.”

  “It used to matter very much.”

  “That’s true,” Evie said. It was easy to dismiss Nicole as the shiksa, but the truth was, Evie hadn’t been fond of Richard’s Jewish mistresses either.

  “If she was Jewish, you’d have some common ground,” Shirley said.

  “We do have common ground. Our kids.” Evie wiped her hands on a towel and puttered with the soup bowls. “Nicole’s going to watch the twins when I go to work, and I’m going to take care of Luca when she works.”

  “Just be careful,�
�� Shirley said with a tsk-tsk-tsk. “People don’t change too much, you know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Evie thought of Beth. And then, Evie thought of herself.

  Sophie skipped into the kitchen. “When are we going to start the seder? I’m hungry.” Her declaration was answered by the doorbell.

  Laney poked her head back into the kitchen. “I think Professor Preppy is here.”

  * * *

  Sandy held a box of Bartons chocolates in one hand and flowers in the other. His mother—or his ex-wife—had taught him well.

  In one motion Sandy stepped into the foyer and leaned toward Evie with an unexpected hug, his arms as warm as if the heat were turned on in his car. Evie reached around him, her arms gliding on his lightly starched shirt. Sandy squeezed with gentle strength, swayed, and stopped. She patted his back and they both released their arms to their sides. Her cheeks burned. She’d blame it on a hot kitchen if anyone asked why her face matched the fuchsia horseradish set out for the gefilte fish.

  “Thank you,” Evie said, gathering the flowers and the box Sandy pushed into her arms. “I just want to warn you, this is not going to be your ordinary family seder.”

  “Good.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Ordinary’s boring.”

  Sandy winked and Evie’s temperature spiked from smoldering to five-alarm blaze. She looked at the floor, and with his finger under her chin, Sandy tipped up her face, leaned down, and kissed her on the lips. The soft, quick kiss was not a cousin—or a colleague—kind of kiss. Sandy stepped back, smiling. “Want to introduce me to your family?”

  Evie stared at him. He wants to meet my family? After one kiss and a box of Passover candy?

  “Your family is in the living room with your friends, right? Shouldn’t we go in so I can meet everyone?”

  “Oh, right. Everyone. In the living room. It’s Passover. Right!”

  Evie knew he enjoyed flustering her and just shook her head on the way to the living room, listening to Sandy chuckle behind her. Uncertain of her ability to mutter a coherent sentence, Evie nodded at Alan, who introduced Sandy to the crowd. Laney smiled so wide her eyes were almost closed. Herb shook Sandy’s hand. Beth hugged him. Nicole stood and shook his hand, then introduced him to Peg. She and Sandy would have a lot in common.