by Ava Miles
“Let’s go back to work,” June said, her head still down. “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Gertie said, taking her hands when they reached for the container. “Tell us what’s wrong. Are you and Tom having some troubles because of all of this? Has he not touched you lately?”
Clara wondered if she should leave. The others had been friends for a long time, and this was clearly a private discussion. But Tilly came up behind her and put an arm around her waist, and Carol joined them too, completing the circle.
“Lately?” June’s mouth worked. “Tom hasn’t touched me in eight years. Before that, he… We… I thought it was a normal part of getting older. We only had sex once a month or so even when we were in our forties, but it’s all dried up. He says it’s the long days on the farm, especially as he’s gotten older. Ben’s dying wiped out my desire for a while. I haven’t wanted to believe otherwise, but in here…” She pounded her heart. “I knew something wasn’t right between us.”
“Oh, honey,” Gertie said, hugging her. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Because it’s embarrassing,” June said, tears starting to leak from her eyes. “Besides, it’s like crying over spilt milk. There’s nothing I can do to change it.”
“Have you talked to Tom about this?” Tilly asked.
“Talk to Tom?” June said, stepping back. “He’s not much for talking. Never was. Not even when we were courting. He listened back then, and I did the talking. But he doesn’t listen to me anymore.”
“Hence all the volunteering you do,” Carol said, cupping her arm. “I’ve always wondered why you keep so busy. It’s admirable.”
“But crazy,” June said, sending Clara a watery smile. “Last year, I was the president or organizer for fourteen different events in town. So much so the mayor gave me a citizen of the year award last spring.”
Clara appreciated the women’s trust in her—June’s especially—so she said, “My first husband and I were married for nearly fifty years. We’d gone separate ways decades earlier when I learned of his many infidelities. Unlike you, June, I retreated from life. Hargreaves can attest to that. I barely left the house, so much so at one time he feared I had agoraphobia.”
Carol gasped, and Tilly rubbed her shoulder sweetly.
“I’m only saying I let my depression lock me away from life.” She faced June. “I admire you for still putting yourself out there and helping others. I wonder how my life might have been had I chosen differently.” Arthur always said it didn’t help to wonder about such matters, but to Clara, it was downright human to do so.
“I appreciate that, Clara,” June said, taking her hand.
They shared a look, one Clara felt penetrate the pain she still carried in her heart. Sharing a hurt with someone else created a powerful connection.
“Why didn’t you leave your husband?” Gertie asked. “If that’s not too rude of me.”
Clara fingered her diamonds. “I’ve often asked myself that since I reconnected with Arthur. He and the Merriam children have given me the courage to ask the questions I wasn’t brave enough for back then. I can’t say it was because of money. Because I would have been fine. I also can’t say it was because I was religious or old-fashioned.”
All four women were gazing at her, so she found the courage to admit to them what she’d never said out loud. “When it comes down to it, I’ve realized I didn’t want to admit I’d failed. Growing up, I was told my greatest purpose in life was to be someone’s wife. I’d already failed to become a mother. We never could conceive.” She still wondered if it would have been different with Arthur.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey,” Carol said, tears in her lovely brown eyes.
The empathy Clara felt from her, rolling over her in warm, comforting waves, had uncharacteristic tears burning in her eyes. “Ultimately, I feared getting divorced would peg me as a complete failure, as a wife and a human being. Part of me wants to say it’s ridiculous, and it is, but another part of me still feels the shame of such an admission.”
June brushed her nose and sniffed, and Clara appreciated Gertie for taking the woman’s hand in comfort.
“If I kept things the status quo, I could pretend I was still okay,” Clara said. “Preserve that illusion, to myself and the outside world. Even though I didn’t venture out much, I was scared of other people’s judgments. I was also scared of the judgment I’d level on myself.”
“I understand all that,” June said, touching her wedding ring. “It’s not like it used to be with Tom, and it hasn’t been for a long, long time. Staying busy reduces the number of hours I have to face it. I mean, I’m seventy-two. What in the world would I do if I left him?”
“But what if you live another twenty years?” Tilly asked, gesturing to her. “Didn’t your parents live until they were in their nineties?”
“Twenty more years of this,” June muttered. “Land sakes, that’s depressing.”
“Oh, June,” Gertie said, worrying her hands. “I’m so sorry I put that silly song on and started all this.”
“Don’t be,” the woman said, taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Maybe it was time for it to come out. Clara, thank you. For telling me how it felt for you. Somehow it helps.”
She reached across the circle and took the woman’s hand, and they shared another moment of connection. “It helped me too.”
Tilly rubbed her hands together. “Gracious, Clara, your marriage with Arthur is even more of a miracle now that I know what came before.”
She touched her simple wedding ring, feeling his love on it. “Yes, he and I are a miracle.” And because she knew it was time for a little levity, she gave them all a wink. “And if it’s not inappropriate or boasting, I’ll say he and I sometimes do it as much as three times a day. How’s that for changing around a lifetime of misery?”
Gertie’s laughter erupted, and so did Tilly and Carol’s. She gazed at June, who finally smiled and said, “Good for you, Clara.”
Damn right, good for her.
Chapter 23
For the first time in ten years, Annie felt an itch to pull out her makeup. Preparing for her date with Flynn tonight, she felt something struggling to break free inside of her. His presence in her life was making her feel bolder, and she wanted to see that passion, that renewal on the outside.
She slid her medicine cabinet open and gazed at its dismal contents. Instead of the face powder, concealer, eye shadow, and blush she craved, all she had was toothpaste, a toothbrush near its end, Neosporin, some Disney Band-Aids, and diaper rash ointment. Diaper rash ointment? Why in the world did she still have that? Amelia had been out of diapers for over two years. She needed to purge, and that was the first thing she chucked into the wastebasket in the corner.
“Mommy,” she heard Amelia call from the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“I’m throwing some things away,” she said, glancing over. “You girls getting settled down? Grandma is coming over in a little while so I can go have some fun with Flynn tonight.”
Hargreaves had seen to the girls’ dinner, an ongoing joy to Annie, although Clara and the rest had not joined them. Clara had pulled her aside earlier and told her she was having her own date night with her miracle man. There’d been tears in her eyes as she said it, but Annie knew enough about tears to know they were tears of happiness.
Amelia swayed in her princess nightgown. “Can I see Flynn before I go to sleep?”
She traced her eyebrows in the mirror and pulled out the tweezers. Goodness, she’d let the shape of her brows become like a jungle bush. Wincing as she plucked, she said, “You can see him tomorrow, sweetie. Maybe you can go to the portable with Grandma and the others and help with the baskets.”
“I’m good at scooping up the bath salts, aren’t I, Mom? But I need to get to work on my article tomorrow with Mr. Hale. I’m preparing for an interview.”
Normally she would have laughed, but the article had become a very ser
ious matter to her daughter. Arthur had told her it was Amelia’s way of communing with the twins. Something that was going much more smoothly of late. Iris and Eloise had been so much sweeter to her since Tom’s behavior. She appreciated the change and hoped it stayed.
“Why don’t you go back to your room and read a story?” she said, ushering her daughter out of her bathroom and into her bedroom. “I’ll come in and kiss you in a bit. I need to figure out what to wear.”
Her normal jeans and sweater look wasn’t working for her. She was feeling more dramatic tonight, and she wanted something like…black velvet bolero pants, a pearl-white silk shirt, and a carmine red sash. She laughed at herself. Like she had that in her practical closet. Still, she had to figure something out. Amelia trailed her as she opened the louvered doors of her closet and scanned its contents. God, she didn’t have anything she liked. Everything was plain, designed not to stand out. She didn’t want to dress like that anymore.
She didn’t want to be like that anymore.
Heading out of the room, she listened to the pitter patter of feet coming down the hall after her. Locating her phone in the kitchen, she picked it up and texted Emily.
I have a date with Flynn tonight, and I have NOTHING to wear. I miss clothes.
Her friend shocked her by replying, given she was somewhere in Europe, and it was likely after midnight there. She was probably at a party or something. Man, Annie wished she were there, but she couldn’t imagine partying at this hour anymore. The only time she was up that late was for a kid who was sick or had awoken from a bad dream. Or sex with Flynn. She fanned herself. God, she hoped they could find a way to make love tonight, even if it meant doing so in his SUV. Was she being ridiculous about not going to his room in the B&B? A part of her yelled, yes. Then her phone signaled a text.
Prepare for a fashion onslaught. Glad Flynn is bringing out the old you. I’ve missed her.
Crap, that made her tear up hard.
What about makeup? I have droves. Never mind. I remember what you like. Annie, honey, your fairy godmother Emily is on her way. I’m getting to my parents’ place on the twenty-third! In the meantime, throw on that cashmere scarf you bought in Paris with that antique pin you found in Piccadilly. And make a lip gloss. Be inventive.
Right! Lip gloss. She could make something. Duh! Maybe blush too. Hmmm….
Throwing open her treasure chest, she dug in the bottom for the scarf and gold rose pin. She rubbed the silky soft texture between her fingers before storming back into the bathroom and arranging it around her in the mirror at an angle. Her simple jeans and sweater were transformed. Satisfied, she clasped the pin through the folds.
“You know how to arrange a scarf?” Iris asked.
Annie looked over her shoulder. All three of her girls were standing in the doorway now. “Of course. Did you think Aunt Emily was the only one?”
Eloise walked forward and touched the scarf gently. “Why didn’t you teach us?”
She went for truth. “I didn’t dress like that anymore when I came back from London.”
“You should, Mom,” Iris said, coming closer as well. “You look great in red. Where did you get these?”
“London and Paris,” she said, turning back to the mirror and fluffing her hair. “I’m about to pull together some makeup. Anyone want to help me?”
She knew they were coming up on their normal bedtime, but this was the first time the twins had shown any interest in connecting with her about Flynn. They hadn’t said much about her trip, but she suspected they’d seen what was obvious—that she’d come home different somehow. Happier. She’d been walking on clouds the past few days. It didn’t hurt that they were ahead of schedule with the additional help. Tomorrow, her shipping helpers were coming in to assist with the first shipment.
And she was so in love with Flynn she felt like everything was possible again.
“Makeup?” Iris asked, her hair still damp at the ends from her bath. “But you don’t like makeup anymore.”
The ache in her heart shot outward in all directions as if someone had pulled a thorn from it. “I love makeup. I just haven’t worn it because it made me sad.”
The twins exchanged a look before Eloise said, “Sad because you had to come home and have us?”
Oh, somehow that question made the pain so much worse. She hurried over to them and cupped their sweetheart-shaped faces, one in each hand. “Never for one second should you feel I was sad to have you. I love you girls. So much.”
“So much!” Amelia mimicked, holding out her arms. “And we’re gonna make some makeup. Yay! I want to help.”
“Me too,” Eloise said, gazing up at her with an eager look. “How do you do that?”
“We might have to get creative, but I figure it’ll have to turn out better than my first lip gloss.”
She told them about her first DIY recipes as they headed into the kitchen. She pulled out some cornstarch, cocoa powder, cinnamon, and ginger from the cabinet. “Face powder. Eye shadow.”
Iris’ mouth dropped open at that, and she found herself grinning. Man, it felt good to be back. Even though these were rudimentary measures, it still ignited a pilot light long since snuffed out.
She opened the fridge and pulled out the leftover cranberries. “Lip stain,” she said, shaking the bag. “But we need a lip gloss over it to hold it in place. I’m going to get some things in the lab and be right back.”
She rushed out without a coat on, enjoying the frosty winter air on her cheeks. The stars were shining bright overhead in the clear night sky. The smell of woodsmoke from Tom and June’s fireplace touched her nose. In the distance, she could have sworn she saw the green streaks of the aurora borealis trailing across the heavens. She realized she was happy. Excited about life even. Tonight was special. She and her girls were making their first makeup together. Somehow the moment felt like a landmark they’d always remember. Her mother had never done this with her. How different might their relationship have been if she had?
Opening her lab, she sent up a prayer of gratitude as she grabbed some ingredients in a basket. When she rushed back to the house, she found all three girls huddled around the kitchen counter. She plopped the basket down and hefted her youngest onto the counter so she could see better.
“Iris. Eloise. Do you want to sit on the counter too?”
They both boosted themselves up, and Iris exclaimed, “Mom, did you pluck your eyebrows?”
Were they still red? In her eagerness, she’d forgotten about that. “Yes. Do they look okay?”
“They look awesome!” Eloise said, her mouth forming an O. “How do you know how to do that?”
“It’s something I learned in makeup school,” she said, “but really, Aunt Emily and I started learning those kinds of things when we were just older than you. Now, let’s get going here. I don’t have much time before Flynn picks me up.”
She pulled out some bowls and started spooning in ingredients, not caring about measuring. This was for her and her alone. She could go by feel. Adding only a touch of ginger to the cornstarch, she frowned. “With colors, we always start with yellow. We add white for volume. Hopefully ginger won’t make my skin red. But this small amount should be fine.”
“Wow,” she heard Eloise breathe out while Iris peered over, her brows slammed together in concentration, like she was trying to figure out what Annie was doing.
Annie added the white kaolin clay and stirred. “I’m pretty fair, so we don’t need much color.” Dabbing it on the back of her hand, she liked the silkiness of it. “Just a touch of cinnamon, I think.” When she tested it again, she knew it was closer.
“Would someone get my brushes and the hand mirror from the bathroom?” she asked.
Eloise jumped off the counter and started running. “I’ll get them.”
Her smile of satisfaction couldn’t be contained. Her daughter hadn’t run like that for anything around the house since she was a toddler.
“How did you know
you needed yellow?” Iris asked. “And why?”
“All skin has a shade of yellow to it. White alone would be too harsh. For darker skin, you need more brown. Now we need a little red.”
She opened her spice cabinet and pulled out paprika instead of chili powder, which had too much brown in it.
“Why red, Mom?” Iris nestled closer until she was touching Annie, and she inhaled the moment. Orange blossom still lingered in her daughter’s hair from the products Annie had made for the girls. But it was the warmth of her daughter’s touch she wanted to soak up.
“You need to build up the color to achieve the right skin tone. You start light with yellow and then add red to balance it. We’re talking a minuscule amount of these colors because I’m so fair.” She tested it again and liked what she saw.
Eloise ran toward them with the brushes and mirror and handed them to her. Annie smiled as she selected the brush with the largest head and dabbed it in the powder. Knocking the extra off, she dabbed at the lower crest of her right cheek and reached for the mirror.
“It’s perfect,” Iris said, awe lacing her voice. “Wow, Mom.”
“Not bad for a quick DIY powder,” she said, turning her face in the light and noting the evenness of the color for her skin tone. “Let’s put some jojoba oil on my brows to reduce this redness.” She did it as she spoke. “Now, let me show you some quick eyebrow powder and eye shadow.”
She stirred a touch of cacao powder into some kaolin clay, dabbing the mixture on her brows before she added in more cocoa for her eyeshadow. She wasn’t so sure about putting cinnamon on her eyes. Using her make-do face powder for her full lid, she accented the darker color around her lashes. Goodness, she missed her old kohl pencil. That sucker was one of five makeup choices she’d take to a deserted island.
When she was ready for lips, she used a spoon to crush a couple of cranberries and then used her lip brush to paint her lips in the mirror. Iris took over holding it, her eyes glued to Annie’s face.
