The presenter from the district's personnel office had begun to drone on with information Faith had heard at least a thousand times —or at least it felt like that many. She knew the numbers. She knew the union contract. She knew she couldn't retire yet. Yet she sat in the required meeting anyway.
"Could you step outside for a minute? I have something I want to ask you?" Amy whispered.
Faith nodded and followed her principal out the door.
"What's up?" Faith asked, wanting to know as soon as possible. She didn't like surprises.
"I have a line on someone who didn't sign a contract in September, but is willing to for the second half of the year, starting in January. She's great. A real find."
Faith knew how difficult it was to compete for new teachers —especially good ones. And Amy knew good ones when she saw them. It would be great for the elementary school that Faith had dedicated decades to and it was one of the things she admired most about Amy.
"I know you're not ready to retire, and please don't take this the wrong way but I thought maybe you might appreciate a helping hand. If I want to hire her, I need to grab her right away. I have budget to offer her a student teaching position for the rest of this semester, and I thought maybe you'd like to have her with you."
"Oh," Faith said slowly. "Am I losing it? Do I need a babysitter?"
Amy laughed and held up her hands. "I was afraid you'd think that. That's absolutely not the case. I just thought of you first. I'm sure lots of people would love the help. You know how that is. She's a great find, excellent teacher, and in addition, she could really benefit from your experience and organizational skills. Not to mention your expertise in handling the little ones."
Faith felt a little bit better after, and let out a sigh of relief. She actually could use the help, and if Amy thought highly of this teacher it was a safe bet.
They talked over the particulars and agreed she'd start on Monday, and Faith tried to stay awake through the rest of the presentation by thinking how excited she was to get to the beach house.
She hurried home to change and grabbed the clothes she'd laid out earlier when she packed. She tugged on her favorite beach pants and sighed.
Faith tugged at the zipper one more time, thinking maybe one last pull might do it. These weren't even her skinny jeans, and it took a while for her to admit defeat.
She wriggled out of the capris and tossed them onto the chair in her bedroom. She could swear that they'd fit fine last week when she pulled them on to head to the beach house for the weekend. Could she have gained that much weight in just a week that she couldn't zip up her favorites?
As she rummaged in her closet, it occurred to her that maybe it had been more than a week since she'd worn those. The weeks were going by so fast, what with being back in the classroom with her kindergartners and spending every weekend down in Newport, working at the boutique. Maybe she hadn't worn them in a while after all.
Still. She grudgingly turned to the "other" section of her closet, the one with the next size up. Like most everybody else she knew, she had probably three sizes for different times of her life, but she hadn't wanted to visit this size again.
The elastic waist slid right up when she pulled them on, and she rolled her eyes even though she was alone. "No more potato chips for you," she said out loud —again, to no one.
The new information required that she quickly re-sort her weekend bag with clothes from "that" section. She made sure to leave the bathing suit she wouldn't be wearing, but she made quick work of it and headed downstairs.
She'd packed a small ice chest with things she didn't want to let go bad while she was gone, and as a last thought, she took the box of small potato chip bags that had sat on her counter for a couple weeks and tossed them in. Maybe they had been too easy to grab and she could pawn them off on Jen and Carrie. They were always skinny —their weight didn't seem to bounce up and down like her own. They could handle them.
The pillows that she'd made this past week were already in her ancient Toyota, so this was her last load. When she'd first gone back to school, she'd left her sewing machines at the beach house. She'd quickly found herself at loose ends, though, so she'd brought them home and made more pillows when she could spare the time.
Which wasn't all that often, but it was a nice creative outlet for her. She spent hours on designing them, adding beads or appliqués, sometimes hand-sewing on sequins or delicate little mirrors. She loved it, and it helped her forget about all the other things she was doing.
As she got on the freeway, her old car vibrating more than it should when she tried to get to the beach house as quickly as she could, she caught the last part of the news.
* * *
"Another windy weekend, with fire danger off the charts..."
* * *
"Great." Faith clicked off the radio. Fire season in Southern California had been getting worse and worse in the past few years, it seemed. She made a mental note to mention it to Jen —it was much less windy down at the beach, but with all the eucalyptus trees at Jen's house inland, fire was always a worry. She'd had some close calls in the past.
The traffic wasn't too bad for a Friday, and the temperature had dropped considerably by the time she turned onto the Newport peninsula. The temperature gauge in her old car had risen during the drive, so she slowed down, turned the A/C off and rolled down the windows.
The salty, cooler air swept through the car and she almost felt like she'd been transported to another place —but of course she had been.
She glanced toward the passenger seat at the retirement brochures that peeked out of her tote bag. There was no way she could afford to retire yet, although she'd give anything to be down in Newport full time with Jen and Carrie.
She reached over and tucked the paperwork down into her bag so it wouldn't mock her. Passing Carrie's dental office, she noticed that Carrie's convertible wasn't in the parking lot. The girls were probably waiting for her, glasses in hand as they watched the sunset from the deck.
She threw caution to the wind and sped up, not wanting to waste a moment of the precious time she did have at the beach. She was ready to get the weekend started.
Four
Jen's brief encounter with Joe earlier had reminded her that it was Friday, her favorite day of the week —the day Faith would head down from her job inland. Jen was busy enough during the week just going through Nana's things —she was surprised how much was left even after she and Faith and Carrie had gone through everything for the fashion show a few weeks earlier. But when she really thought about it, a life well-lived for over ninety years was bound to accumulate some interesting things.
And some of the things she'd found were extremely interesting. As she went through the many boxes up in the annex filled with scrapbooks, pictures, jewelry, knick-knacks —it was fairly frequent that she'd glance at her watch and hours had gone by as she learned more and more about her beloved grandmother.
One of the things she found that surprised her was an old recipe book dated from the 1940s. It wasn't one that had been published, and when she first flipped through it, she'd wondered whose handwriting it was. On the very last page, she'd found an inscription:
* * *
To my new daughter-in-law. In these pages are all of my son's favorite recipes to start you off right as you leave for California. Welcome to the family.
* * *
Jen had turned it gently over in her hands, her mind traveling back to the Midwest during that time. It would have been right before World War II, and many of recipes were quite basic and simple. But if Nana hadn't known how to cook at all back then, it would have been invaluable. And as she looked at it more closely, many of the pages were worn and tattered, with the regular splotches of oil or butter that adorned her own favorite cookbooks.
She tucked that one in the stack that she intended to keep, separating it from other things that seemed less meaningful. She'd planned to take as much as she could to the vintage st
ore, but as she glanced around the room she realized that the stacks she wanted to keep were much bigger than the ones she planned to donate.
She finally ended her trip through Nana’s world and realized she’d better get started if she wanted to pull off her plan. The cookbook she'd set aside was on the kitchen island, and she laughed as she glanced at some of the things she'd tried during the week just for entertainment. She wasn't at all sure how the girls were going to feel about what she'd made —but she was fairly positive they weren't going to oooh and aaah over the spicy pickled beets that Nana's mother-in-law said were her son's favorite. Jen had just finished tidying up the beach house when her phone buzzed.
* * *
I forgot about a staff meeting after school. I'll be a little late. Darn!
* * *
Jen was definitely disappointed when she read the text, but knew it must be important, because Faith was looking forward to coming down as much as Jen was looking forward to Faith’s arrival.
If Faith still wasn't on the road, Jen probably had time to take Daisy for a walk. A good one, which she hadn't had in a while. Jen wasn't much of an early riser, and when Daisy panted in her face at the crack of dawn, all she had energy for was a quick walk before the coffee pot called her name and brought her back to the porch.
But if she had a little extra time, it might be a good opportunity to give her a little more exercise. And maybe they'd run into Boris and Joe, if they were lucky.
Jen was grateful for Joe and Mrs. Russo, and usually stopped by to chat when she could. The dogs loved to play on the small plot of grass outside Joe's beachfront home, and Mrs. Russo was always fun to hear from.
But Joe had turned into a very good friend. He'd always been a good friend to Jen and her late husband, but since they'd been able to spend time together after Joe moved back to Newport from Chicago, it was as if Jen was getting to know him all over again. Getting to know the Joe he was now —and sharing with him a Jen much different than the young girl he'd known before they each married and moved away.
She'd purposely not mentioned to either Faith or Carrie that he'd been spending a couple of evenings a week at the beach house, having dinner and watching design shows afterward while the puppies played.
Jen told herself that Daisy needed Boris's company, and it had only been recently that she'd admitted to herself that she enjoyed Joe's company as much as she did. And after this morning —when he kissed her —it was probably time to talk about it. She never really did know what was going to come up during their Friday night get-togethers, but this would be a doozy.
Five
"She's here!"
Jen rushed down the stairs and out the front door, Carrie right behind her. Jen gave Faith a big hug, as did Carrie, but she paused for a minute as she stepped back and took a look at Faith.
"Wow, Faith. You look, um..."
Faith glanced down at her waist, and her cheeks flushed. "I know. I've gained a little weight. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."
Jen shook her head and frowned. "No, it's not that. You're fine. We all go up and down."
Jen reached for the bag Faith held out before she turned to get the rest of her things out of the car. Jen peered inside and laughed.
"Where did you get all these potato chips?"
Faith shook her head. "I think that's part of the problem. Maggy sent me a whole box of them, and of course I seem to grab one every time I pass by the bowl I put them in. Can't help myself. You guys need to eat the rest."
"Happy to help with that," Carrie said. She grabbed some things from Faith and they took the load upstairs to Faith's bedroom.
"Ah, thanks," Faith said, plopping down on a deck chair. "Quicker with all three of us."
Carrie handed Faith a glass of wine, and Jen still hadn't pinpointed exactly why Faith looked a little different. It really wasn't the weight, although it wasn't the thinnest she'd seen her friend of thirty years. No, it was something else.
"How was work this week?" Carrie asked, and they all laughed as Faith recounted the story of Jack, the hamster.
"You should have brought him down. He would have fit right in around here," Jen said.
"I may have to for the Thanksgiving holiday. I'm not sure he'd survive that long without me, and I can't trust any of those kindergarteners."
Carrie finished her bag of potato chips and reached for another one. "I see what you mean about these. They're addicting."
"I know, and there are three flavors. It's been a nightmare."
Jen nodded toward the sour cream and onion flavor Carrie held up, and caught it perfectly when Carrie tossed it across the deck.
"Why did Maggy send you all of these?"
"Oh, she was having some friends over after volleyball and I helped her plan a menu. You know, since she's realized she's allergic to wheat it's been hard. She wanted to do barbecued chicken sandwiches but not make a big deal about not being able to eat the bun, so I suggested potato chips and she could just dip them in the barbecued chicken. I said it sounded really good and I'd make it myself, except I didn't have any barbecue sauce or potato chips, for that matter. Next day, a big Amazon box arrived on my doorstop with both. She said that was the smallest amount she could find. And I've been paying for it ever since," Faith said, tugging at the elastic waistband of her sweatpants.
"Aw, that was really sweet of her. She's so thoughtful," Jen said as she polished off the small bag of chips.
"She is, but sometimes the thought is better than the reality," Faith said, wiggling her eyebrows as she reached for a bag of chips. "How's Bethany?"
Carrie nodded and smiled. "She's good. She's done with tennis season, but we play pretty regularly after school. She's away this weekend at a tennis camp. Said she doesn't want to lose her edge. She's being scouted already, and she really wants a tennis scholarship."
Faith whistled. "Wow, that's impressive. And I'm glad you guys are having fun."
Carrie held out her empty wine glass when Jen lifted the bottle to offer refills.
A strong gust of wind swept across the deck, and Carrie grabbed the stack of napkins before they took flight.
"Oh, I meant to tell you. On the radio they said that there are supposed to be pretty big Santa Ana winds this weekend. Just wanted to let you know. I don't think they'll be too bad down here, but I was thinking of all the eucalyptus trees back at the house."
"Shoot. Really?" Jen's stomach dropped at the words. They'd had so many close calls with wildfires over the years, and now she wouldn't be there in case there was fire close by. "Maybe I should go spend the weekend, just in case," she said, although she really didn't want to. She looked toward the waves crashing against the beach and remembered that this weekend was supposed to be a particularly high tide.
"I know you worry about the house, but that would be awful if you had to go. Well, not awful, and I don't mean to make it all about me, but I've been really looking forward to a break. I need you guys. I'm tired."
Jen snapped her fingers the second Faith said that. "That's it. You look tired." She hadn't quite been able to put her finger on it. It wasn't as if Faith had dark circles under her eyes or anything, but she definitely looked —well, maybe weary was the right word.
"Thanks," Faith said with a laugh. "Between having to change into bigger sweats and that compliment, I'm feeling pretty lovely."
Jen nudged her arm. "I don't mean it in a bad way. I really just want to know if you're all right."
Carrie leaned forward in her chair. "Yeah, you really are doing a lot. Working during the week and on the weekends, and all the pillows."
Faith nodded slowly. "I know. I really am a little tired. Just trying to hang in there until Thanksgiving, and we only have a couple of weeks to go. I'll be fine. And Amy got me a student teacher, so that should help a lot."
Jen cocked her head and studied her long-time friend. "Well, that's good but I still think you're trying to do too much. I hate to use the 'R' word."
Carrie's
eyes widened, and she looked from Jen to Faith.
Faith held up her hand and stopped Jen's train of thought. "I actually was late today because they had a retirement seminar after school. Why they'd do that on a Friday afternoon, I don't know."
"And?" Jen asked, her eyebrows raised.
Faith leaned back in her chair and hugged her knees. "It confirmed for me that I've got a few more years to go. I can't afford to retire yet, no matter how tired I am."
"Darn. I was hoping you could move down here with me and just work at the boutique on the weekends."
"That would be fantastic. Maybe in a few years."
"Not even if you sell your house?" Carrie asked. Jen shot her a look, but it was too late. Jen could only think that Carrie didn't remember that Faith had had to mortgage it to the hilt to put Maggy through college, after what her ex, Jeff, had done.
Carrie flushed and looked down at her orange sandals. "Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot."
Jen cleared her throat. "I hate to mention it, but have you considered quitting at the boutique? I know you enjoy it, but maybe you need to back up a little bit. You can't stay this stressed for this long."
Faith closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Honestly, I don't get paid much there, but I've been putting away every little bit. Putting it toward the mortgage so that maybe if I ever can sell it, I'll get a little out of it."
Jen sighed and looked out at the crashing waves, wishing she could help. The sun had just set, and she watched for the green flash as she always did. Both Carrie and Faith watched, too.
"Nothing?" Carrie asked.
"Nope, not me," Faith said.
"Me, neither," Jen added. "Wow, the wind's really picking up. You guys ready for dinner? Well, appetizers, really. I found an old cookbook of Nana's, from her then new mother-in-law. We're having appetizers from the forties."
A Newport Sunrise Page 2
