Maggie squealed. “Red?”
“Maraschino cherry red.”
She squealed again. “Oh, wow, Jarrett. Did you drive it yet?”
“Just around the block. My old man wanted to go over the safety features.”
“And how was it? The ride, not the safety features.” She laughed with him at her own joke.
“Better than I thought it would be.” There was a pause on Jarrett’s end of the phone line. “I really wanted you to go with me to test drive her. That’s why I waited. I thought we’d cruise for a while and then get pizza at Tony’s.”
Maggie glanced in the bathroom mirror. She couldn’t go on a date looking like this. She didn’t have a lick of mascara on and her hair was limp from the humidity. She’d been cleaning out the refrigerator, for heaven’s sake.
“So, you think you can go?”
Maggie stared at the face from hell in the mirror. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“Your parents will let you go?”
She shrugged, already yanking the rubber band from her hair. Maybe her sister would let her borrow her curling iron. “My mom’s out—volunteering.” That was what she was instructed to say when Ruth was working, because mothers from well-to-do families didn’t work. “And Dad doesn’t care as long as I’m in by eleven.” That was usually when he woke up long enough to walk from his recliner to his bed.
“Great I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, knowing it was going to be impossible to do anything with it on a hot afternoon like his. “Sure.”
He paused again. Maggie waited.
Finally Jarrett’s amused voice came across the line again. “Maggie, you have to tell me where you live if I’m going to pick you up.”
She laughed, hesitating for only an instant. “Right. Of course. 107 Ivy Drive. I’ll be out front.”
“Great. See you.”
Maggie leaned against the bathroom door, savoring the moment. Jarrett McKay had asked her out. This was it. Finally, her life was going to begin. “See you.”
Maggie stepped out of the bathroom and Ruth followed her down the hallway to the kitchen. “So what did the McKay boy want?”
“His name is Jarrett, Mother.” She hung up the phone on the wall. “And he asked me out.”
“Finally.” Ruth turned and followed her daughter back down the hallway covered by faded green carpet. “Where’s he taking you? Swimming at the county club?”
“We’re just going for a ride, Mother. That and pizza.” Maggie tried to sound nonchalant. “No big deal.”
“No big deal? Thank God I took that second mortgage out to pay for your braces. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”
Maggie stopped at the door of the bedroom she shared with her sister. “No, it’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, Mother. I just like him. He’s nice. Not like the other guys.”
“He’s going to Georgetown University, Maggie. They say prelaw.”
Her mother was always full of “they says” but Maggie could never figure out just who they were. “Jarrett’s uncle is a lawyer. Everyone in his family’s pushing him to go into law, too, but he doesn’t know what he wants to do. He’s taking business classes for now.”
Ruth stood in the hall, her cigarette dangling from the lipstick-smudged corner of her mouth. “Well, you behave. Be polite. If he asks you to go home with him, you go. Meet his parents. You establish yourself right away. Once you meet some of his friends, you’ll be free to move on.”
Maggie looked away, embarrassed by her mother’s litany. “I’ve got to get ready, Mom. Have a good night at work. I hope Mr. Jansen stays in his bed.” She ducked into her bedroom.
“Maggie? Where did you say you lived?”
Maggie stuck her head back through the doorway and sighed. She felt guilty for the deceit, but it was the only way her mother would let her go out. “Ivy Drive.”
“Good. You keep it that way.” Then Ruth was gone and Maggie was left to get ready for her first date with Jarrett in peace.
Forty-five minutes later, Maggie hurried down the sidewalk, her satchel purse slung over her shoulder. Shoot, she was going to be covered with sweat by the time she reached the house. She’d just die if Jarrett pulled up and her pits were wet. She flapped her arms as she walked, hoping the summer breeze would keep her underarms dry.
She’d dressed carefully for her first date with Jarrett, changing three times. She wanted him to think she was fun, but that she was no Lisa. Finally she’d decided on denim shorts and a sleeveless white blouse that buttoned up the front. Casual, but classy. “Dress like your daddy’s got a million, even if he hasn’t,” Ruth’s voice buzzed in her head.
Maggie had used Lisa’s new curling iron and done a half-decent job with her hair, wearing it long down her back, pulled back at the crown of her head with a leather barrette. Sexy, but sophisticated.
Ahead and across the street, she spotted the house at 107 Ivy Drive. It was a two-story brick Colonial with a two-car garage and a lawn sprinkler system that went off like clockwork at seven a.m. every summer morning.
Years ago Ruth Turner had picked this house, two neighborhoods over, as their established residence. Mail came to a PO box in town, but this was where the Turners officially lived—or at least pretended to live.
Maggie had thought her mother was crazy that August day in the summer before her sixth-grade year when they’d moved from the trailer park in Exton to Belltown. That was really when her mother’s obsession with the Belltown elite had begun. Ruth had crammed Maggie’s belongings into the trunk, Barbie dolls and all, leaving Lisa at the trailer to help her father load everything else into a borrowed bread truck.
Ruth had driven Maggie directly to the house on Ivy Drive and parked their rusty Chevy across the street from the brick Colonial. Maggie instantly fell in love with the house and the neighborhood. Here the air had smelled of fresh cut grass and steaks cooking on a grill. Maggie had never had a steak cooked on a grill, but she could just imagine what it would taste like from the heavenly scent in the air. There were no junked cars or yard sale leftovers thrown in the street, no weeds in the manicured lawns.
“There she is. Isn’t she beautiful?” Ruth smiled, a rare occasion.
“We bought this house?” Maggie breathed, staring out the open window. It was the most beautiful house she had ever seen in her life, prettier than a dollhouse in the Sears catalog. On the side porch, a swing glided in the breeze.
Ruth ground her butt in the ashtray and reached for another cigarette in the same motion. “Where do you think I’d get the money for a damned mansion like this? Certainly not from The Bread Man.” That was what she called Maggie’s dad. Not honey, not sweetheart, not even Bob. The Bread Man.
Maggie sagged in her seat. Of course she hadn’t believed she was going to live in a brick house with a white picket fence and flowers in the window boxes.
She was too old to believe in fairy tales. But it had been fun to think so, if only for a few seconds.
Maggie stared at the worn sneakers on her feet. “So why did you bring me here?”
“Because I told the school this is where we live.”
Maggie stared at her mother, whose short-cropped helmet of hair and blue eye shadow had gone out of fashion years before. “I don’t understand.”
“Our new house is a couple of streets over. The cheap neighborhood, Maggie. This,” she pointed, “is the house we’re gonna say we live in.” Ruth blew smoke in exasperation. “The school will think you live here. The bus will pick you up on this corner.” She indicated Ivy and Walnut with a nod of her pointed chin. “I already took care of it. Talked to the principal of Belltown Intermediate myself.”
“But, Mom, someone already lives here. The school’s going to find out—”
“The Costas, José, and Roberta. They stay here summers and winter in Miami. They have two grown sons, but the boys don’t come home to visit much. Nobody ever sees the Cost
as, and of course they don’t belong to the country club. Latinos.” She looked at her daughter, obviously pleased with herself. “I did my research. I was careful to pick the right house.”
“But what about my friends?”
“You’ll have to break up with your old friends. They were the wrong kind anyway. Your new friends will think you live here. They can’t come over, but that’s all right, because you need to go to their houses. Swim in their pools. Play tennis on their courts. Somebody brings you home from choir after school, this is where they drop you off. You disobey me, and there’ll be no going out until you graduate from high school.”
“I'm supposed to get off the bus here and then walk home?” The idea was laughable, but she could tell by the determined look on her mother’s face that she was utterly serious. “Mom.” Maggie stared at her. “That’s lying.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it is, but this is the only way I know to get you ahead. People see the dump we live in, even the new dump, they won’t take you seriously, Maggie. Rich people like rich friends. It’s the only way you’ll ever be one of them. The only way you’ll get invited to their parties. The only way you’ll get into a decent college. The only way you’ll get to medical school.”
~~~
Maggie came to a halt on the sidewalk in front of 107 Ivy Drive, the same brick Colonial her mother had brought her to the summer she was eleven. Slinging her purse over her other shoulder, she stared at the house beyond the picket fence. Nothing had changed, except that now Maggie thought of it as her house, in a dreamy kind of way. She enjoyed waiting for the tulips and daffodils to bloom in the spring, worried about whether or not the grass was getting enough water, and in the winter, she prayed no pipes would break while the real owners were in Florida.
Maggie knew the whole charade was dishonest, but as the years passed, she had come to realize that this house on Ivy Drive insulated her from her family and the world she had built beyond them.
Maggie heard a horn beep as a red convertible rounded the corner, music blasting. The driver waved.
Maggie waved back. Praying she wasn’t still perspiring, she walked to the edge of the curb just as Jarrett pulled up.
“Jump in.” Jarrett revved the engine as Maggie climbed into the seat beside her and pulled the door shut. “Rock Star” was blaring on the radio.
To cover her nervousness, Maggie made an event of searching for her seat belt and fastening it, singing along with Smash Mouth. Jarrett was so good looking, with his short blond hair and suntanned face; he reminded her of one of the Greek gods she’d read about in her Classical Civilizations class. With his high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and even, white teeth, he had the best smile she’d thought she’d ever seen. And at this moment, his smile was directed at her.
“You don’t want me to come in and meet your folks or anything?” He waited until her buckle clicked before he pulled away from the curb at a reasonable speed. “I don’t mind.”
Maggie dropped her purse onto the floor, scanning the dash, afraid if she looked at Jarrett she’d say or do something really stupid. He was so nice. “Nobody's home. Mom’s volunteering at the hospital, then bridge club.” She was amazed at how smoothly the line came to her lips. Bridge? Ruth Turner couldn’t have played a hand of bridge to save herself from falling off one. “Dad’s . . . out.”
She ran her hand over the tan dash that had obviously just been wiped down with some type of upholstery cleaner. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d done it for her benefit. She hoped so.
Maggie dared a quick look in his direction. He was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a light blue polo shirt that matched his heavenly blue eyes. A pair of expensive sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose.
“You like the car?”
“Love it.”
As they rode through the streets of Belltown, laughing and somehow finding things to talk about, Maggie’s nervousness began to ease. She liked Jarrett because he wasn’t just another good-looking guy from the rich side of Belltown. He had character. He had a good sense of humor. He had morals. And Jarrett didn’t just talk about himself. He asked her questions about herself and was genuinely interested in her answers. When Maggie admitted hesitantly that her dream was to become a doctor, Jarrett never blinked. He didn't laugh at her. All he did was smile that handsome smile of his and say she’d make a good doctor.
That night as Jarrett said good-bye to her on the sidewalk beneath the streetlight at 107 Ivy Drive, he kissed her, and Maggie melted in his arms. She was in love. By the time she waved good-bye and watched him drive off in his convertible, she already had another date with Jarrett McKay.
Chapter 2
The summer passed with unbelievable speed for Maggie. Before she knew it, it was late August and she’d soon be returning to Belltown High for her senior year and Jarrett would be going back to college. Just the thought of not seeing Jarrett every day made her heart ache. She loved him so much.
They hadn’t spent a day apart since their first date. They went to movies, swam in his parents’ pool, and went to pork roast luaus at the country club. Maggie watched Jarrett compete in tennis matches and he came to the stables to watch her ride. When Jarrett’s family went to stay in their beach house, he refused to go without her, and she was invited to go along.
Maggie and Jarrett spent a magical summer getting to know each other and falling in love. He introduced her to his family and though he asked about hers, he didn’t press her. Jarrett met Ruth only once, and that was at a horse show. She had made a fuss over him, embarrassing Maggie to death. After that, Maggie made sure she kept Jarrett away from her family. She used the excuse that her parents didn’t really approve of her dating Jarrett exclusively. It was only a half-lie. The truth was Ruth had been badgering her daughter to date other guys she’d met through Jarrett. She didn’t want Maggie and Jarrett to become serious.
Maggie pulled her beach bag from the closet she shared with her sister and began to pack, trying to think over the sound of her sister’s rock music.
“Where’s your rich boyfriend taking you now?” Lisa asked from the bed where she lay, painting her toenails with fluorescent pink nail polish.
Maggie glanced over her shoulder at her sister. Lisa’s bleached-beyond-repair hair was piled on her head. Her eyes were so heavily made up with black eyeliner that she reminded Maggie of a raccoon. She was dressed in a halter-top, her breasts more visible than not and her short shorts bordering on obscene.
“I said, where you goin’, Mags?” She nodded her head to the pounding beat of heavy metal rockers.
“To the beach.” Maggie picked up her one-piece bathing suit and dropped it into her bag. She didn’t want to get into an argument with Lisa.
“Ah, the beach. Mr. Rich Boy’s beach house in Talbany Beach, of course.” Her nails done, Lisa reached under the double bed the two girls shared and drew out an ashtray.
“Please don’t smoke in here,” Maggie said. She hated the stench of the smoke from her mother’s cigarettes, and her room was the one place she could escape it.
Lisa lit up with exaggerated pleasure and leaned back against the scratched headboard to take a drag.
Maggie hurriedly stuffed a hairbrush and her makeup kit into her beach bag. The more she said to Lisa, the worse her sister was. She just had to ignore her. “Have you seen my sweatshirt, Lisa? The one Jarrett gave me?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She blew a perfect smoke ring from her pursed red lips. “Never seen it.”
“Oh, you have so. It’s gray and says Georgetown U. on it.” She dropped a hand on her hip, turning to face her sister. She waved at the smoke in the air. “Please, Lisa. I left it right on the dresser. It’s cold on the beach. I might need it.”
“So why not get that rich boy to keep you warm?” Lisa lifted a plucked and penciled eyebrow suggestively.
Maggie frowned. She didn’t know what the problem between her and her sister was. They had never gotten along parti
cularly well, even as children, but it was getting worse. Ever since Maggie began dating Jarrett, Lisa had been more confrontational than usual. “Forget it. I’ll borrow one of Jarrett’s. I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll borrow one of Jarrett’s,” Lisa mimicked as she jumped off the bed to follow Maggie out of their bedroom. She didn’t even bother to put out her cigarette.
Maggie waved at the smoke as she went down the hallway. “Criminy, Lisa. You look like Mom.” She stopped at the living room archway and stuck her head around the corner. Ruth was sitting on the couch in her housecoat, watching her soap opera, her feet propped on a pile of newspapers. “Going, Mom. We’re going to his beach house.”
Ruth waved and then looked back in Maggie’s direction. “Are you smoking again in my house, Lisa Turner?”
Maggie looked back into the hallway, where her sister stood puffing on her cigarette.
“No, Mom. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good,” Ruth called. Then she turned back to the TV and both daughters were dismissed.
Maggie secretly vowed to herself that when she was a mother, she’d do a better job. Oh, yes, Ruth was concerned about Maggie if she missed a tennis lesson or didn’t get on the cheerleading squad, but there was no emotional attachment. Some days Maggie wondered if her mother loved her at all.
Lisa might as well have not existed. Ever since junior high, she had hung out with “the wrong crowd.” She drank. She smoked. Through her high school years, she came and went as she pleased. When she dropped out the middle of her senior year, Ruth barely blinked. “I expected as much,” she’d commented as she’d hung wet clothes on the line to dry.
Maggie went down the hallway toward the kitchen, her beach bag flung over her shoulder.
“What, you’re not even going to say good-bye to your sister?” Lisa taunted.
“Bye, sister.” Maggie went out the back door. The screen door slammed behind her.
“Hey,” Lisa called after her, pushing open the door again. Her tone had softened. “Me and Rick are goin’ up to the pits tonight. Us and some friends. We got beer. I might even give you underagers a sip or two. Want to come?”
Maggie's Baby Page 2