Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Beatrice glanced at Tara with a raised brow, obviously surprised. Tara ignored her.

  No further comment was made as Justin returned to the room with Beatrice’s drink.

  The woman took the glass, then slurped from it loudly before setting it down. “Certainly is delicious…” she commented, smacking her lips. Then, as she reached to dish up more salad, the only thing she’d eaten, the tongs slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.

  Winnie scooted her chair back. “I’ll get that. Don’t worry, dear.”

  Flustered, Beatrice frowned. “They—they’re slippery.”

  Winnie collected the tongs, but Justin jumped up and came to her side, taking the utensils. “You cooked, Winnie, sit and eat. I’ll grab a spoon.”

  Ready to disagree, Winnie took a step toward him, but Justin hurried away, leaving her to settle back in her chair with a shrug.

  Lizzie developed a distinct wrinkle across the bridge of her nose as she watched her mother lift her fork and continue eating. Suspicion began to form in the back of her mind as Justin returned to settle back into his chair.

  Silence filled the room but for the clink of dishes.

  Julia turned to Justin. “How is the play coming along? Any more mishaps or calamities?”

  Justin chuckled as he spread his napkin across his lap. “Not so far. It seems to be coming along.”

  “Play? What play?” Lizzie’s mother asked, her eyes bright with interest.

  “The high school is doing a production of Annie in our barn theater,” Tara answered.

  “When?!” Beatrice exclaimed loudly, obviously thrilled.

  Tara turned to Justin, now hunched over his plate, his overloaded fork nearly to his mouth. “When is opening night? I don’t remember,” she asked.

  Justin froze, then shrugged.

  “Do you know where I put the paper with the dates?” Tara continued. “I think the dress rehearsal is the day after tomorrow.”

  Justin’s fork dipped and he sighed, clearly irritated.

  Beatrice turned to her husband. “Did you hear that, Harold? We will be here for a play!”

  Lizzie’s father stabbed more turkey onto his fork.

  “I’m sure they’re not that close to production,” Lizzie blurted, panicked, her eyes darting from face to face for help. Her parents couldn’t possibly plan to stay for three more days. She’d never survive.

  Tara stood. “I’ll go find that paper, I think it’s in the office.” But as she took a step, her face went pale and she paused to grab the back of her chair.

  Winnie and Becky reached out in concern, and Justin dropped his fork with a clatter to hurry to her side. “You sit right here, I’ll go find it.” Pushing his wife back into her chair, Justin eyed her with concern.

  Tara frowned. “I’m fine. I…”

  “Already gone,” Justin said as he hurried away, not giving Tara a chance to argue.

  All eyes were glued to Tara. She blushed. Seeing the color in her cheeks, the group heaved a sigh of relief. In the silence a loud slurp could be heard as Beatrice drank long gulps from her lemonade glass. Happily, she plopped the glass onto the table and looked up, pleased to see all eyes on her, oblivious to any distress about Tara. “Well, I for one certainly hope the play is soon. I’d love to attend.”

  “Mother…” Lizzie began.

  “Did you all know that my Lizzie starred in many plays when she was younger?” Beatrice gushed. “Annie was one of her favorites. She had a prominent solo part.”

  All heads turned to Lizzie, who stared miserably at her plate, her fork pushing furiously at the green beans, as if searching for a place to hide. She felt ten years old again, trapped and alone. Pushed onstage under glaring lights. Embarrassed. Self-conscious.

  Tara grinned widely. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Me neither,” murmured the group.

  Beatrice waved her hand in the air dramatically. “Oh, she was so talented. All the little girls wanted to be Lizzie.” She paused for effect. “It’s true. She was far better than the other girls, even the nasty little brat who got the lead.”

  The group glanced nervously at each other, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

  The memories came flooding back, surrounding Lizzie like a torrent from a broken dam. She was no longer confused; she knew without a doubt that her mother was drunk. “ Mother, please…”

  “It’s true!” Beatrice exclaimed, raising her glass once more to slurp down the remaining lemonade. She licked her lips, then continued. “Oh, my Lizzie. She sang and danced. I was the most popular mother backstage.” She paused, looking off over the dinner guests’ heads, envisioning her glory days.

  Elliot glanced down at Lizzie by his side. Seeing her misery, he reached under the table to take her hand. “I’m sure she was adorable,” he said with a smile, but Lizzie was far too upset to notice or accept his compliment.

  Tara turned to her new friend. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me you’d been in Annie.”

  “I knew she was gifted,” Beatrice interrupted. “I knew she had a bright future ahead of her, it was plain for all to see.” She shook her finger toward Tara. “But I had to stand up for the poor child and demand she be given the parts she was destined for.” A scowl darkened her wrinkled face, causing jowls to appear. “Oh, make no mistake, I fought for her tooth and nail. She could never speak up for herself.”

  Uncomfortable silence hung over the table. Everyone’s eyes were on Lizzie, wondering what they should say to help.

  Julia spoke first. “That must have been fu—”

  “She could perform like a little monkey back in the day,” Beatrice continued. “But once you got her off the stage she fell to pieces.” The woman frowned. “I prodded and pushed and threw fit after fit to get her into the roles I wanted, but finally the stage managers and directors sent me packing. I was devastated!” She elbowed her husband. “Wasn’t I, Harold, absolutely devastated.”

  Harold sat staring off into space, obviously somewhere else altogether.

  Glances darted back and forth across the table, from Beatrice to Lizzie. Julia, feeling terrible for Lizzie, looked as if she would cry. Tara, on the other hand, always protective of her friends, was angry, her face turning bright red.

  Lizzie slumped in her chair. The only thing worse than her mother’s nitpicking was her drunken bragging. Sadly, even her pride had a nasty bite. There was no pleasing the woman.

  Winnie’s chair clattered back with a scrape as she bound to her feet, her motherly ways overwhelming her manners. “Lizzie, dear, I’m taking Beatrice to see the view from the deck.” Without waiting for a response, the old woman shuffled to Beatrice’s chair and pulled her to her feet with surprising strength.

  Stunned, Beatrice staggered and glanced toward her half-filled plate. “But— but I’m not finished…”

  Winnie dragged Beatrice from the table and Becky jumped up to help. “Oh, I think you are…” she said in a singsong voice, grabbing Beatrice’s other arm and smiling over her shoulder at the group. “We’ll be back, after we’ve enjoyed the sunset.”

  The group around the table stared in amazement as Becky jerked open the French doors and gave Beatrice a tug. The drunk woman dug in her heels, but Winnie brought up the rear to offer a solid push. The three women nearly toppled onto the deck before finding their footing, causing Elliot and Chad to jump up. But before they could leave the table, Winnie tossed them all a “Don’t you bother with us” nod and slammed the door behind them.

  “Oh my…” Julia whispered.

  “Should I do something?” Elliot asked the group as a whole, his hands in the air.

  Tara laughed out loud. “I love Winnie.”

  Justin returned to the room triumphantly waving a paper. “I found it—” But his pleasure in the accomplishment faded as he scanned the group. “What—what happened?”

  Lizzie had her elbow on the table, her forehead in her palm. Elliot sat down next to her and put a h
and on her back. “It’s okay, Lizzie, we’re all friends here…”

  Julia hurried to her side. “Come with me,” she said, motioning for Elliot to pull out the chair so she could drag Lizzie away. He gave the chair a tug, pulling Lizzie’s elbow off the table, and she nearly toppled onto the floor. Tara joined Julia and they led their friend from the room.

  Justin stood staring, the paper still raised in the air. “What happened?”

  Elliot plopped back into his chair to survey the table covered with half-filled plates, the chairs hastily pushed back at all angles. Harold, however, remained unbothered, now shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  Chad snorted and tipped up his drink.

  “Will someone please tell me what happened?” Justin demanded, shaking the paper at the men.

  Elliot sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “It would appear that Beatrice needed a break.”

  “A—a break?” Justin stuttered.

  Chad raised his glass to toast Justin. “’It would appear your handling of the drinks overstepped a bit.”

  Justin’s shoulders fell as the situation dawned. “Oh no…”

  “Oh yes,” Elliot replied, standing to collect his and Lizzie’s plates. “Looks like dinner is over.”

  Justin glanced toward the French doors with a frown, then back toward the living room sofa where Tara and Julia hovered on either side of Lizzie, talking quietly. “Wow, I really botched this one, didn’t I?” His appetite ruined, he picked up his full plate, collected his silverware, then turned toward the kitchen.

  Harold’s head finally lifted from his plate and he surveyed the near-empty table in confusion. “I say…” he commented to Chad. “Where’s everyone going?”

  Rising to circle the table, Chad patted Harold on the shoulder. “What do you say we find another drink…”

  * * *

  Julia draped her arm around Lizzie as she hunched in misery on the sofa. “It will be okay…”

  “Right,” Tara added. “We’ll help you figure this out. You’re not alone in Boston anymore.”

  Lizzie’s head came up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thanks, but I don’t know what you can do.”

  Tara patted her knee. “Oh, we can do plenty, you just hold on to your hat.”

  “Like what?” Lizzie asked, her lip quivering. “No one can change my mother or control her. Believe me, people have tried.”

  Julia frowned, hunching her shoulders as if to shield herself. “I believe you.”

  Tara scowled at Julia and continued. “We can’t change anybody, but we can run interference.”

  Julia’s eyes got big.

  Interested, Lizzie dabbed at one eye with her knuckle, mindful of her makeup. “Like what?”

  Tara bit her lip, thinking. “We need to get you out of town…”

  “But my animals and the spa—”

  Raising her hand to shush Lizzie’s protests, Tara continued. “Just a day trip, to give you time to regroup.”

  Lizzie sniffed. “A trip where?”

  “I’m thinking…” Tara replied as she stood to pace.

  “I don’t mind going up to feed the animals in the evening if you need me to,” Julia offered.

  Lizzie smiled sadly. “You’re sweet.”

  “I’ve got it!” Tara exclaimed, causing Lizzie and Julia to jump in surprise. “I’ve been wanting to take you up to Pittsburgh to visit the flea markets.” Tara perched back on the edge of the sofa, her face bright with excitement. “The spa is closed tomorrow, so it would be the perfect day to disappear!”

  Justin, Chad, Harold, and Elliot wandered into the living room. Elliot cupped a mug of steaming coffee in his hands, and Lizzie’s father sported a fuzzy expression.

  The older man grinned at the women. “I believe I’ll call it a night,” he mumbled, thumping Elliot on the back, causing coffee to slosh over the rim of his mug. Elliot scrambled to catch the dripping coffee, then sighed, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling, and headed to the kitchen for a paper towel.

  Harold raised his hand as a goodnight gesture and headed up the stairs to his room.

  The remaining group watched in silence until they heard his footsteps clomping overhead.

  “Disappear? Who’s going to disappear?” Justin finally asked.

  Tara stood and scowled at her husband, her hands on her hips. “I should disappear you!”

  Justin raised his hands in the air. “What did I do?”

  “Besides sloshing Beatrice?”

  Chad snorted at Tara’s comment and Elliot returned, bending to sop up coffee from the hardwood floor with one hand, the other balancing his mug.

  Shoving his hands in the pockets, Justin glanced toward Chad for help, but his friend shrugged. Justin resigned himself. “Yeah…well, I take full responsibility for that, but I was trying to help. Harold told me she liked vodka…”

  Tara wasn’t impressed.

  Lizzie stood to smile weakly at Justin. “I know you were trying to help me, it’s okay.” She leaned to one side, watching Elliot’s progress, then peered past the men. “Are they still outside? I’m worried about Winnie and Becky.”

  Justin snorted. “You should be worried about your mother—”

  Tara glared, taking a step toward her husband.

  “I’m sure the ladies are fine,” Justin corrected, his expression contrite. “Becky made coffee. They’ll fix Beatrice right up.”

  Elliot stood and raised his mug as proof, then headed to the kitchen to toss the paper towel.

  Justin’s answer appeared to soothe Tara, who turned her attention back to Lizzie. “We’re going to Pittsburgh tomorrow. You’ll have a great day, you’ll see.”

  Justin’s expression darkened. “You are not leaving me here to deal with that theater full of kids all alone. Besides, we have guests.”

  Tara pulled a face, her eyes turning up toward the guest rooms. “Right, right. Well, I can handle them for a day. They’ll probably sleep until noon anyway.”

  “I’ll take you to Pittsburgh,” Elliot offered as he returned. “What’s going on up there?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “Tara thinks I should spend a day at the flea market, to get away.”

  Elliot glanced from Tara to Julia, and both women nodded. “Sounds like a good idea…” he drawled, unsure exactly what a day at a flea market would involve.

  Lizzie waved her hand in dismissal. “You don’t need to do that, I can drive up alone.”

  “Flea markets are no fun alone!” Tara protested. “It’s a plan. Elliot will take you up tomorrow morning. Early, before your mother gets wind of it.” She smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

  Elliot grinned at Lizzie. “I guess you’ll have to show me how flea markets are done…”

  Justin groaned and ran his hands down his face. “Flea markets are never done.” he mumbled. “They just go on, and on, and—”

  “You’re not off the hook yet, mister.” Tara scowled, shaking her finger at her husband, causing Justin to hush.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lizzie tossed a pitchfork of hay onto the floor of Ingrid and Lily’s pen. “What have I gotten myself into?” she huffed. “As if having Mother in town wasn’t bad enough, now I’m running off to spend the day with Elliot. Falling right into the damn trap.”

  From the corner, Lucky lifted her head and offered a whine of support.

  “Why are you on his side?” Lizzie asked the dog. “Just because he can handle Mother doesn’t mean I’m going to give in. He’s not my type, he’s Mother’s type.”

  “Woof.”

  Lizzie sighed. “Yes, he’s charming…and handsome…and sweet…and damn sexy, but you don’t know my mother.” She leaned on the pitchfork. “That woman is not going to be satisfied until I’ve married Elliot at her country club, and I’m having tea at her benefit luncheons wearing a polyester pants suit. There is no happy medium with her.”

  The dog eyed her silently, causing Lizzie to stab again at the hay. “Sh
e’s probably already naming our babies.” She tossed the hay into the pen and turned back to the dog. “I don’t want to be within a hundred miles of her, and the only way to make that happen is to make my life a place she doesn’t want to be!”

  Lucky padded silently across the barn and plopped down next to Lizzie, listening patiently to the tirade.

  With a groan of frustration, Lizzie leaned the pitchfork against the wall and pulled a face at the dog. “Don’t give me that look.” She stood on tiptoe to reach over the water trough to turn the faucet. “You know I’m right.”

  Ingrid strutted into the barn, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Hi, girl.” Lizzie smiled sadly, unable to stay grumpy around her favorite pet. “How are you today?”

  Ingrid hummed, lowering her head for a rub.

  “Oh, you like this, don’t you.” Lizzie chuckled as she scratched the tuft of fleece on Ingrid’s head. “You silly thing…”

  Lily joined them, attentive, but more cautious than her sister and kept her distance. Pleased that the alpacas were feeling more comfortable with her, Lizzie turned off the water. “I do feel a little bit bad that I’m running off before my mom even recovers from her hangover.”

  Ingrid shook her head, as if to agree that Lizzie was indeed a bad daughter. Or was it to disagree? Lizzie wasn’t sure.

  “I’ll only be gone one day… It’s not like I won’t be back.”

  Lucky yawned and stood, shaking off dust motes that danced in the sunbeams filtering between the old boards of the barn.

  “You know he’ll be here any minute, don’t you?” Lizzie said, squatting to dog level, but Lucky’s shaggy fur prevented any eye contact. “You also know he makes my toes curl too. Are you in there?” She brushed aside the mop of tangled fur.

  Lucky responded with a low woof.

  Standing, Lizzie brushed her hands together. “Well ladies, evidently I’m a real downer today. I promise to get my crap together.”

  All three animals craned their necks toward the driveway at the sound of a car approaching. Lizzie gave Ingrid one last pat. “Gotta go face the music now. Julia will come feed you guys tonight. Okay?”