Her Sister's Shoes

by Ashley Farley

  “My husband’s mistress or girlfriend—or whatever you want to call her—has plenty of pictures plastered all over her Facebook page. And not just from the event. There are photographs of them taken at restaurants and parties. There’s even a selfie of them lying on the beach together with that woman wearing the most inappropriate little pink bikini.”

  Barbara arched her perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Really?”

  “See for yourself.” Jackie pointed at Barbara’s computer. “Her name is Daisy Calhoun.”

  “I’ll check that out later.” Barbara scribbled a few notes on her legal pad. “Tell me about your boys.” She settled back on the sofa and crossed her legs. “How are they handling the separation?”

  “We haven’t told them yet. They’re away at camp.”

  Barbara looked up from her note taking, an expression of surprise on her face. “I’ve been through a divorce myself, Jackie. As a parent, I strongly suggest you tell them about the separation as soon as possible. The last thing you want is for them to hear about the breakup from their friends. And considering the many means of communication available these days … You just told me yourself that their father’s picture is all over his mistress’s Facebook page.”

  “They are not allowed to have their cell phones at camp.”

  “The twins are what …”—Barbara consulted her legal pad—“sixteen. They’re junior counselors then?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Which means they are privy to more than the campers. If they get their hands on a computer …”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Hot news like this spreads as fast as the speed of the Internet. Kids these days know everything, almost before stuff even happens.”

  Jackie knew Barbara was right. But she couldn’t think of a delicate way to break this kind of news to her boys, aside from making the seven-hour drive to camp. Writing a letter seemed too impersonal and would deprive her of the chance to answer their questions, console, and reassure them.

  For the next forty-five minutes, Jackie answered detailed questions about her lifestyle—about their home and monthly expenses and how much they’d saved for the twins’ college tuition; about the size of Bill’s practice and Jackie’s career as a decorator, or lack thereof since she’d recently resigned. When Barbara asked which parent the twins turned to for advice, Jackie answered truthfully—their father. After they’d discussed Jackie’s immediate family at length, Barbara moved on to questions about her extended family, searching for skeletons in the closet. By the time Jackie left the attorney’s office a few minutes before two, her emotional tank was empty. Lacking the energy to drive home, she grabbed a ham and swiss on rye from a nearby deli and drove down to Battery Park.

  She made her way to the same park bench under the sprawling oak tree. As she took the first bite of her sandwich, her attention gravitated to the scene unfolding at the stately gray home across the street. Pink helium balloons were tied off on the iron stair railings, decorations for what Jackie assumed was Lilly’s birthday party. Dressed in ballet attire—pink leotards, white tights, black slippers—a group of about twenty little girls chased each other around the porch. Lilly ran behind them, desperately shouting to get their attention. When the girls continued to ignore her, she burst into tears and ran inside, returning a minute later with her mother in tow.

  “I’m not sure what to do,” Jackie heard the mother say to her daughter. “Irina is not answering her cell phone. She either forgot about the party or she got tied up in traffic.”

  “But, Mommy, how are we supposed to have a ballet party without Irina? Can you teach us?”

  Lilly’s mother patted her daughter’s head. “No, honey. You know I have two left feet. Your friends will have to settle for Musical Chairs.”

  Lilly stomped her slipper-clad foot. “No!”

  Jackie stuffed the second half of her sandwich in her bag and wandered across the street. “Excuse me,” she called out to Lilly and her mother. “I don’t mean to pry, but I was eating my lunch on the park bench across the street, and I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m certainly not a dance instructor, but I know a few moves I could share with the girls.”

  Mother and daughter exchanged a look of concern about the strange lady intruding on their party.

  “I’m Jacqueline Hart.” She continued up the sidewalk. “I live in Prospect, but I had a meeting in town and was just enjoying a little picnic before heading back home.”

  “Kate Morgan.” The mom extended her hand. “And this is my daughter, Lilly.”

  Lilly tugged at Jackie’s hand. “Oh, please. Can you help us?”

  “I don’t know …” Kate hesitated. “You certainly don’t look like a pedophile, but you can’t be too careful these days.”

  “You’d be doing me a favor, actually. I have twin sixteen-year-old boys. I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to have a birthday party for little girls.”

  One of the little girls slipped and fell and started to cry. “Well … since I am obviously desperate, I would be grateful,” Kate said. “At least for a few minutes while I tend to the wounded and try one more time to get the dance instructor on the phone.”

  “Okay then.” Jackie took a deep breath. “Here goes.” She approached the group, capturing their attention with three loud claps, a technique she’d learned from raising boys. “Girls, are you ready to dance your hearts out?”

  The girls spun around in circles and bounced on their toes in response.

  Jackie spotted a Wi-Fi speaker on a table in the corner of the porch. “Lilly, can you hook us up with some music?”

  Lilly picked up her iPod from the table and thumbed through her playlist. “Hip hop, country, or pop?”

  “Hmm. How about something that will motivate us to be creative?”

  “I know.” Lilly danced a little two-step. “How about The Lion King?”

  “The Lion King is perfect. Why don’t we go down to the garden. Can you bring your speaker with you?”

  The girls lined up behind Jackie in single file and followed her down the steps and around the side of the house. The garden extended the depth of the house. Aside from a small flowerbed that bordered the perimeter, the rest of the garden was grass, plenty of room for the girls to express themselves.

  “I want everyone to gather around me in a circle and close your eyes.” When all eyes were closed, Jackie said, “Now I want you to picture an animal, a leopard or a lion perhaps, roaming the plains in Africa. Lilly is going to turn on the music, and when I tell you to open your eyes, I want you to pretend to be that animal.”

  One little girl raised her hand, her eyes shut tight.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Do you have a question?”

  “This sounds like fun and all, but it’s not exactly dancing.”

  “That all depends on your interpretation of the animal’s movements. Do you know what I mean?”

  Eyes still closed, the little girl shook her head.

  “Well … you can imagine that you’re a cheetah and run as fast as you can with long strides, or you can pretend to be a graceful gazelle leaping and bounding across the open plains. Does that make sense?”

  The child’s face lit up. “Yes.”

  “Okay, music please, Lilly.”

  Lilly turned on the music and the girls bounded across the grass in all directions. After a few minutes, they gathered together and followed one another around the yard, laughing and singing as they leapt. Every now and then, Jackie shouted the name of a different animal and they adjusted their moves accordingly. Giraffes gave them some difficulty, but they had the most fun imitating elephants and monkeys.

  Twenty minutes later, the girls were taking a break, when Kate came down to the garden. “It’s official. Irina is MIA,” she said under her breath to Jackie. “And this isn’t the first time she’s pulled such a stunt.”

  “Do all these girls take ballet from her?”

  “Yes. She’s the dance instru
ctor at Finley Hall. My husband is on their board of directors. He won’t be very happy when he hears about this.”

  “I don’t imagine he will.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for helping out, Jackie. You were really good with them.”

  “This was fun for me. Definitely a change of pace from my boys.”

  “I have a son myself. No doubt boys march to a different beat.”

  Jackie snickered. “Yes they do. My boys like to hunt and fish and play football. Most days, I feel like an alien in my own house. You are lucky to have a daughter on your team.”

  Lilly appeared, once again tugging on Jackie’s hand. “Will you teach us something else? Please, Miss Jackie.”

  She glanced at Kate who nodded her consent. Jackie leaned down and whispered in Lilly’s ear. “What about a little line dancing?”

  Lilly’s eyes grew wide. “Is that okay, Mommy?”

  Kate spread her arms wide. “It’s your birthday.”

  Lilly frowned. “But I don’t have any country music.”

  “Do you have any Taylor Swift?” Jackie asked.

  Lilly bobbed her head with enthusiasm.

  Jackie clapped her hands. “Then what are we waiting for?” She shepherded the girls back up to the porch and divided them into three lines. For the next thirty minutes, they stepped and shuffled and strutted until they were covered in sweat and ready for cake.

  “I’m pretty sure Finley Hall will be looking for a new dance instructor. Is there any chance you might be interested?” Kate asked Jackie as they were cutting the last slice of cake.

  “Me?” Jackie asked, licking the icing from her fingers. “I’m flattered, but dancing has never been anything more to me than a hobby. Anyway, I’m too old to be a dance instructor.”

  “You underestimate yourself. I watched you line dance. You’re agile and light on your feet, and you’re not sweating nearly as much as the girls.”

  Jackie laughed out loud. “You just can’t see the perspiration stains on this white blouse.”

  “Well, you definitely have a special way with the girls.” Kate handed Jackie a slice of cake. “I’m probably premature in saying anything, but if you give me your number, I’ll certainly give you a call if something opens up.”

  Kate removed her cell phone from her back pocket and entered the numbers as Jackie called them out to her.

  Jackie finished her cake, said goodbye to the girls, and set off in the opposite direction of her car, not quite ready to face her empty house. She wandered aimlessly, thinking about the interesting twist the day had brought. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed losing herself in dance, in letting the music invade her mind and control her body. She’d forgotten about a lot of things that were once important to her. She’d connected with those little girls in a way she’d never connected with the twins’ friends. What did she know about baiting a hook or football penalties? Bill had always been the one to take them on Boy Scout hikes and overnight hunting trips. She’d answered Barbara Rutledge’s question honestly—the boys had always turned to their father first for everything, not just for advice. Sure, she’d been meticulous in planning their extracurricular activities. Because, the busier they were, the more free time she had for work. And all for what? She had nothing to show for the sixteen years she’d spent with Motte Interiors. No client base. No portfolio of magazine articles showcasing her talents. No reference, since she and Mimi had parted on such shaky terms. She’d have to find another job. And soon. Otherwise, she’d lose her mind to boredom.

  She had circled back and was four blocks away from her car when Jackie spotted a sign advertising a guest cottage for rent. The main house was similar to Kate’s, narrow in the front but long and deep with a small side yard. She peeked through the iron gate, hoping for a better view.

  “Would you like to have a look?” a squeaky voice from the porch above called down.

  Shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun, Jackie stared up at the elderly woman. “I don’t have much need for a guest cottage at the moment, as charming as this one appears.”

  The woman came down from the porch, moving with surprising agility for someone her age. “The natural light is wonderful, the perfect space for an artist.” She opened the iron gate and waited for Jackie to walk through. “Do you paint?”

  Jackie surprised herself by saying, “No, I’m a dancer.”

  “With hardwood floors, this cottage would make for a wonderful dance studio. Of course you’d have to move all the furniture out, which you might want to do anyway if you have your own things. Furnished or unfurnished. I aim to please.”

  Jackie stopped in the middle of the gravel path. “I’m sure it’s lovely, but really, I don’t have any need for a cottage.”

  The woman looped her arm through Jackie’s. “Let me show it to you anyway. Word of mouth is the best advertising. You never know when you’ll come across someone looking for a place just like this.”

  Jackie allowed herself to be dragged toward the cottage. She was never one to turn down a house tour, especially one of an antebellum home, even if this was the guest cottage out back.

  “I’m Clara, by the way. Clara Graves.” The old woman unlocked the side door of the cottage.

  “And I’m Jacqueline Hart. Very nice to meet you.”

  They entered a small eat-in kitchen. “Kitchen’s a little outdated,” Clara said, “but all the appliances are in good working order.”

  Outdated? Try vintage late ’60s with lime-green Formica countertops and a lemon-yellow linoleum floor. At least it appeared to be clean.

  She followed Clara through a short paneled hallway into the living room. Jackie gasped. With big picture windows stretching across the front and french doors leading to a private terrace on the back, the room offered the most amazing natural light of any room Jackie had ever seen. “It’s stunning. Why would you ever want to rent this out? Surely you must have family or friends who need a place to stay when they come to visit.”

  “Both my daughter and son live on the West Coast. They don’t come this way very often, but when they do, there’s plenty of room for them to stay in the main house. Come on, let me show you the rest.”

  The tour upstairs revealed only two bedrooms and one shared bath. The sunlight filled the bedrooms from dormer windows on both sides of the house. Jackie imagined setting up the smaller of the two as a dance studio and using the main room downstairs as a combination living/work room.

  Was she really considering going into business for herself?

  “My husband recently passed away after a long illness,” Clara said. “I’ve been cooped up here for so long, taking care of him. Not that I minded, you understand. I loved my dear old Howard, God rest his soul.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Clara blinked away her tears. “I’ve been taking care of other people for most of my life, first my children, then my husband. I decided it was time for me to pamper myself a little before I die.”

  Thinking about how quickly time goes by, Jackie couldn’t help but imagine herself in Clara’s shoes.

  “Do you have big plans? To pamper yourself, I mean?”

  Clara spread her arms wide. “I’m planning to travel the world. I have several trips planned for this fall—a three-week vacation in Europe with some friends in September followed by an extended trip to California to visit my children for the holidays. My hope is to find someone to rent the cottage before I leave, to help look after things in the main house while I’m gone.” A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes. “So … are you interested?”

  Jackie laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. But at the same time, she was intrigued by the idea of having her own little hideaway.

  “I’m tempted, Mrs. Graves.” She let out a deep breath. “I live in Prospect, and I’ve recently separated from my husband. My boys are still in high school, but they are basically self-sufficient. Seeing your charming cottage has made me realize how much I need a fresh star
t.”

  Jackie waited while Clara turned out the lights and locked the side door. “It’s not about the rent money, Jacqueline, if that makes a difference to you. We can work out a price that fits your budget. The most important thing is for me to find a nice person, such as yourself, that I can trust to take care of things in my absence.”

  She handed Jackie an old-fashioned calling card, embossed with only her name, address, and phone number. “If you think you might be interested, I’d be happy to hold it awhile for you.”

  Jackie searched her bag for a pen and a scrap of paper. She jotted down her cell phone number. “I need a couple of weeks to think about it, at least until my boys get back from camp and I have a chance to talk to them.” She handed the number to Clara. “I couldn’t ask you to hold it for me, but I’d appreciate it if you would call me before you rent it to someone else.”

  Twenty-Four

  Faith

  After Tuesday night’s rain, the clouds lingered well into the afternoon on Wednesday, casting a somber mood over the household. Faith suggested going to the movies or bowling, which probably wasn’t a good choice considering Jamie’s condition. When the sun finally came out around three o’clock, she tried to convince them to go fishing down at the pier, but neither child could be persuaded off the couch, away from their game box.

  Determined not to spend another day cooped up in her sister’s house with a sulky teenager and traumatized child, Faith packed a picnic and loaded the kids in the car for a trip to the beach on Thursday.

  Faith had begun to feel more like her old self. The bruising and swelling on her face was almost gone and the soreness around her broken ribs had lessened. She even managed to get Jamie’s chair into the bed of the truck, although she hadn’t considered how difficult it might be to maneuver the wheels through the thick sand at the beach.

  Once Jamie was settled, with Bitsy playing in the sand at his feet, Faith made several trips to the car for their supplies—towels and chairs, picnic basket and a cooler, plus the assortment of buckets and shovels Bitsy had discovered yesterday in Sam’s garage.