“You must do this for us, Rachel,” Dianne urged. “Please.”
“I’ve already told you why I can’t do it.” You two are not taking advantage of me again. I’ve let you work me to death in the past; no more! I hardly have time to write as it is now.
Dianne frowned. “Well, I suppose we can ask Betty Burke. She’s busy, too, but I’m sure she won’t refuse such a worthy cause.”
“Perhaps you can loan Betty your personal secretary for a few days to help her get the lists, calls, and mailouts done,” Becky suggested.
“I’m afraid I can’t spare her,” Dianne replied, “she isn’t there enough as it is to handle all of my chores. I certainly can’t add more to her duties.”
Becky shifted her packages and smiled. “As Janet said, ‘We all have to make sacrifices for worthy causes.’ Surely you can loan out your secretary for a few hours a week until the project is underway.”
Dianne glanced at the tall clock near the escalator. “That’s impossible. You’re really putting us in a bind, Rachel, with your shocking refusal.”
“I’m sorry, Dianne, but it can’t be helped. A person has only so much time and energy, and mine are committed elsewhere until after Christmas. It isn’t as if I haven’t done my fair share for the club; I’ve handled three out of the last five projects and assisted on the other two. As large as our club is, surely there’s somebody else who can do this one if Betty can’t accept.”
“The timing seemed perfect for you, Rachel,” Janet said, “with your family gone and without a husband underfoot.”
“That’s why I agreed to do the other projects. I gave them my word, so I can’t let them down by giving our club first priority for six weeks.”
Jen tried to help Rachel. “Why can’t the club hire a temp for Betty like Adam does when extra help is needed or somebody’s sick in his office?”
Janet exhaled loudly. “Jennifer dear, our budget doesn’t need unnecessary expenses right now. We have to finance our annual ball that’s coming up in October. Our treasury would suffer fiercely if we splurged on this charity event.”
“Why can’t we deduct secretarial fees from the sale’s profits?” Rachel asked. “Surely that’s a legal expense; we could ask Newton. It is an awful lot of extra work for any member.” Getting help from them will be nearly impossible during the summer, so the chairwoman will do most of it.
“Some members don’t mind being generous with their time and energies,” Janet scoffed. “Thank heaven for unselfish and loyal people.”
Jen forced an innocent expression and tone, and faked enthusiasm as she suggested, “Why don’t you and Dianne head up the project? You two have more help at home than the rest of us. You could take your wonderful idea and do a fabulous job for the club.”
Rachel watched Janet look at Jennifer as if Jen had lost her wits.
“Jen dear, wherever would Dianne and I find time to do it?”
Becky laughed, “In the same place Betty or Rachel or one of us would, by stealing it from other sources.”
“That isn’t amusing, Rebecca Hartly Cooper. And you shouldn’t joke about it, either, Jennifer Davis Brimsford. If Rachel can’t do this tiny favor for the club, I’m certain Betty Sims Burke will be delighted to do so.”
Good grief! Rachel thought, she’s pulling out those maiden names with bloodlines a mile long to put them in their places and point out I have no such pedigree! What a hateful snob you are, Janet Rayburn Hollis!
“Not to change the subject, Rachel, but what lipstick is that?”
What now, Janet? Sharpening your clever knife to stick in my back? “Soft Carnation by Elizabeth Arden.” She didn’t ask why. From experience, she knew the woman would tell her.
“You really shouldn’t wear that shade; it’s too harsh for your pale skin and dark hair. It makes you look washed out and downright…deathly.”
As expected, Rachel watched Janet smile as if she were being helpful. For once, she almost laughed in the woman’s face!
An annoyed Becky spoke before thinking, “No, it doesn’t; it’s fabulous on her. It looks so good, Jen and I bought the same color this morning.”
Janet glared at Becky. “Surely not, you two know better. Maybe it’s Rachel’s loud outfit that’s clashing with it. Or that shade of brown on her hair. Dianne’s honey-brown color would suit her better.”
Let’s see if two can play at your game, Mrs. Hollis. In a phony sweet tone, Rachel said, “This is my natural hair color, Janet; I haven’t changed it since you’ve known me, so I don’t know why it looks different today. As for this ‘loud’ pants suit, it’s also listed as soft carnation. They seemed to match perfectly to me when I purchased them. Do they really clash?” She saw Janet gaze at her as if trying to decide if she were being challenged.
“Oh, well, maybe my eyesight is off today or maybe it’s the lighting in here. If it isn’t, I’ll give you the name of a color and cosmetic specialist I used last year when I seemed to be making wrong choices for myself. He’s a wonder with problem cases. You would love him and he’ll be worth every dollar he charges. I’m sure you won’t mind that he’s gay since you used one of those to do Evelyn’s wedding. I’ll phone you later with his address and number.”
“That’s kind of you, Janet, but unnecessary; we all had our colors done last year. This is supposed to be one of my best.”
“The girl must have made an error. If I were you, I’d have them done again. You wouldn’t want to make another bad impression in public.”
“We really must go, Janet, or we’ll be late,” Dianne said.
“You’re right, Dianne. We’ll see you all at church on Sunday. ‘Bye, ladies. Jen, Becky, don’t forget the class reunion next week.”
Rachel was relieved neither Becky nor Jen slowed Janet’s departure by mentioning they were bringing her along. As soon as the two women were out of hearing distance, whispering and glancing back as they left the area, she sighed and said, “I’m glad that’s finished. They were determined I wasn’t going to say no to them. Who in the world could do so much work in six weeks without becoming completely exhausted? If those two ever did any of the labor themselves instead of just dishing out orders, they’d realize how much time, energy, and sacrifice is involved in such enormous projects and why six weeks will leave the chairwoman and committee no breathing space. It’s a good cause, but I hope Betty and everyone else refuse the job. It would serve them right to either be forced to call off the sale or postpone it or to take on the work themselves.”
“Can you envision Janet Hollis and Dianne Blackwell making collections, tagging items, packing them, and all the rest?” Becky jested. “Can you picture them dusty and sweaty, nails chipped and dirty, surrounded by boxes, hair a wreck, and no makeup?”
“That would be the highlight of my summer, if not my year.”
“Mine, too, Rachel,” Jen concurred.
“Janet can act so conceited and hateful at times, so childish and ill-mannered,” Becky fumed. “If she wasn’t Clifford Hollis’s wife and the Raburns’ daughter, no one would put up with her snide remarks and cruel digs. You’d think someone with her education, breeding, and social position would have more class. The only reason Dianne pals around with her is to keep Janet from picking on her, and she’s about the only person who will hang out with that bitch; they’re only using each other. Dianne had better run fast and hide if she ever gets on Janet’s blacklist because Janet will shred her to pieces with delight.”
“Janet thinks by smiling and cooing, she can say anything nasty she pleases and her victim won’t tell her off,” Rachel added. “If anyone dares to call her on an insult, she plays the innocent and makes the accuser look like a fool. She has her dirty strategy down pat. But, if you’ve noticed, she mostly does it to women,” women from outside her birth clique, like me, “and in situations where her target won’t want to create a scene. Or she does it to men she considers wimps. I’ve overheard her say some really risqué things just to embarrass or fl
uster a person.”
“She was certainly after you today, Rach,” Becky noted. “I wonder why.”
“When I was at the bank Monday doing business with Cliff, Janet came in with her brother to pick up Cliff for lunch. Her brother is divorced again and on the prowl. He asked me out and I politely refused; Janet took it as an insult to her. You both know her temper can be as fiery as her hair when she doesn’t get her way. Now, she couldn’t force that position on me. I suppose I’m on her blacklist.”
“I’m surprised Cliff doesn’t put a stop to her rudeness. He can’t be so blind that he doesn’t notice her offensive conduct. Scott would have a fit if I behaved like that to his friends or clients. One day,” Becky predicted, “she’ll get her comeuppance.”
“I hope I’m around to witness it.” Rachel murmured, “You know, Cliff probably stays silent to keep the family peace. You can imagine what Janet would do if he tried to correct her. He’s been wonderful to me and I don’t want to cause trouble for him, so I’ll endure her as long as I can. But I’ll tell both of you that her spiteful antics are wearing thin on me. I’m starved. Let’s have lunch and forget about Janet and Dianne.”
“Excellent idea; right, Jen?”
“I fully agree. Let’s go before we lose our appetites.”
Friday evening, Rachel put away the groceries, did her exercises, and ate her supper. Afterward, she sat down at her desk to write letters to her daughters and to wrap packages with small gifts for her grandchildren so she could mail them the next morning. Before beginning those tasks, she looked through a family album as she sipped raspberry tea and relaxed. There were pictures of special events, holidays, and various activities involving Karen and Evelyn that lessened her loneliness. She looked at pictures that included Daniel and his family and remembered the days they had been taken. How tragic, she thought, that he hadn’t lived to see his children grown, to share in their successes and joys, and to hold his grandchildren.
After Daniel’s death, two years following those of her parents, her only goal for a while was just living day to day and taking care of her children. When they were both in school, she filled her remaining schedule with social and volunteer activities which only partially fulfilled her. Now. that her girls were grown and had their own lives, why shouldn’t she feel restless? She was still young and energetic. One solitary night she had taken out an old dream that got stored away, dusted it off, and now was trying to complete it. She told herself she shouldn’t be afraid of the unknown, should try to conquer it. With help from God, her friends, and her daughters, she had gotten past depression, many fears, and any self-pity. She had come to believe she had work to do, a new life to live. She didn’t want to just amble along; she wanted to run, jump, enhance her existence and improve herself. She had to forget the past and her mistakes, except for what she had learned from them. She had been a good wife and mother; she tried to be a good grandmother. Now she needed a new challenge, her writing.
Rachel felt fortunate she had become best friends with Rebecca Cooper and Jennifer Brimsford, as both had helped her in many ways over the years. She wished she could confide her remaining secrets to them but had decided they were too personal. She knew they wanted her to be happy, and true southern happiness included being married. The general opinion was, as soon as a woman lost a husband to death or divorce, especially if she was young and had children, she found a replacement as promptly as possible. She suspected most people wondered what was wrong with her since she had never remarried. Being single did present disadvantages in certain situations, but she could not settle for just any man. She wanted a wonderful man; next time, one with an equally wonderful family.
Rachel scooted down in the chair and leaned her head back. She closed her eyes and reminisced about the birthday cruise she had taken twelve years ago. She had not confessed the story of her passionate shipboard romance with “James Rawlings from Texas” to her friends or to her daughters. Perhaps because he had been much younger than she and she feared they would think her wanton to have carried on with a stranger for two weeks on a ship and in foreign ports. Maybe she had needed to “feel alive,” feel safe and desirable in a man’s arms. She had been a widow for over two years; she’d had children to rear alone; she’d had inlaws who disliked her. Maybe a wild and rebellious streak had attacked her, weakened her.
She would never forget that night in November seven and a half years ago when she discovered “James” ‘s identity. She had been doing needlepoint when she heard his voice on the television, the same one that had whispered tantalizing pillow talk into her ear in a mellow tone that made her hot and willing to surrender. Thank goodness the girls had both been out on dates when she was enlightened by that commercial Quentin Rawls did for that cola company. At first, she had been stunned and angered; then, realized she had no right to feel that way considering they had made no promises or commitments to each other four and a half years earlier, only shared a wonderful vacation.
A smile lifted the corners of Rachel’s lips as her mind visualized him. That night, she had become a closet football fan just to watch him, when he wasn’t sidelined with disabilities or denied the starting position. From what the announcers and commentators said recently, he was getting too old at thirty-eight to play, and his virile body was weakened by several injuries. It sounded as if Quentin Rawls’s “golden arm” was rapidly tarnishing and that was sad, even if he had duped her about his identity long ago. Maybe, she mused, he had a good reason for deceiving her, as she had done with him. After all, she was the one who bolted like lightning without saying good-bye or giving him the chance to exchange addresses and phone numbers.
Get him and what might have been off of your mind, Rachel, or you’ll keep comparing all of your dates with him. You’ll never see him again, and it’s been too long since you last saw him to try to contact him. Besides, he’s too young; mercy, you were having babies when he was a kid! He’s been married and divorced twice, so he must not be good husband material. The tabloids paint him as a playboy, and you aren’t looking for just another brief affair. He’s a sports jock; you have nothing in common with him. Don’t let him and silly dreams haunt you. If you want a man, check out Keith Haywood as Becky suggested; he sounds more suited to you and your lifestyle. No, if you do and it doesn’t work out, you may have a hell of a time discouraging him without creating hard feelings with him and mutual friends.
Rachel opened her eyes, straightened in the chair, and changed her line of thought. She glanced at a framed picture on the desk, one of her parents, and wished they were still alive, but was glad their lives had been full and happy until their seventies. Perhaps she had inherited female problems from her beloved mother, because she herself had been born when her mother was forty and after suffering several miscarriages which had denied Rachel siblings. It would have been wonderful to have had a sister who was a close friend and confidante, someone to whom she could tell anything and from whom she could get advice on things she could not discuss with her friends. She knew she was lucky to have come from a close family and to have been blessed with special parents. On Father’s Day, she had driven to Athens to place flowers on her father’s grave and to make certain it was being tended properly. She had mailed a card to Richard Gaines, but had not heard from him and doubted it meant anything to the man.
Howard Tims and Daniel Gaines had been excellent fathers, so good memories made their losses bearable. Daniel had been a good husband; and their marriage a pleasant one, except for his parents’ resentment of her. She had loved him and he had loved her, but the grand and glorious passion in her life had come from a man she hardly knew and could never forget.
Don’t start thinking about Quentin again!
Rachel looked at the remaining pictures in the album, ones from recent years. She closed it, put it away, and smiled. She had so many things to be thankful for, so many blessings and so few problems. Yet, a curious restlessness consumed her. She needed new adventures and successes of he
r own. Perhaps while the children were away, she could spread her wings and travel new and exciting roads. But if a man as irresistible as Quentin Rawls came along, she decided, she would be ready and willing to go after him.
The following Friday night, Rachel arrived at the Julian Smith Casino with Becky and Scott Cooper and Jennifer and Adam Brimsford. The lot was crowded with cars, trucks, and a few jeeps, so the women were let out at the entrance while the men went to find a parking space. Music from the sixties was playing inside the oblong building, constructed of big rocks with smaller end sections made of pine logs. A large stone gazebo with a windows-enclosed center and narrow outside walkway rose high above the tall roof. After being closed off for years, it was being repaired and cleaned so it could be opened to guests the following year.
As they waited under the porch’s overhang, Jen apologized again for making them tardy due to a problem with one of Adam’s insurance clients.
“Don’t worry about it,” Becky told her, “we aren’t late; we just aren’t early. I’m sure people will straggle in for the next hour. We’ll have plenty of time to party before one o’clock.”
Jen smiled in gratitude. “You look terrific, Rachel. The old gang will be delighted to see you. We’re so glad you came with us.”
“Thanks. I think Dawn did a fantastic job on all of us today.”
“Our new duds look good, too,” Becky remarked. “At least it’s not too hot and humid tonight after those horrible storms during the past week. I wish they had voted to air-condition this old place sooner than next year. Open windows and doors and huge floor fans don’t cool it in summer, not in Augusta. At least the dress is casual, though, so we can be comfortable.”
“We couldn’t hold the reunion anywhere else,” Jen said firmly. “This is our place. It has atmosphere and history. Forget we graduated thirty years ago; pretend we’re young again and don’t notice the weather and pesty insects.”
Anything For Love Page 4