By the time they got to Jen's, they were all starving. Jen had burgers laid out and raised her eyebrows and a spatula toward Carrie.
"Of course," she said and reached for the burgers but Dirk beat her to it.
Michael, Amber, Maggy and Faith were there, and Carrie made the introductions before heading back to the barbecue. Dirk followed with the plate of burgers and a bag of buns.
"How do you always get barbecue duty?" he asked, setting down the burgers.
Carrie waved the spatula. "Everybody knows that I can barely boil water, but my dad taught me to barbecue. It's the least I can do to help out."
They chatted as the burgers sizzled. Carrie reached in to flip one of the them, and since she was laughing, her finger grazed against the upper rack. She pulled her hand back and dropped the spatula. "Ouch!"
Dirk caught the spatula and frowned, gently taking Carrie's hand. "You need some ice. Be right back."
He returned in a flash, carrying some ice in a small plastic bag. He rested it on Carrie's finger, and she knew her hand should have felt freezing with the ice but it didn't. It felt warm.
She looked up at Dirk to thank him, and his eyes were trained on her. He looked concerned, so she smiled at him. She didn't want him to worry.
"It doesn't hurt that bad. I'm fine," she said softly. "Thank you, though."
His eyes softened, and instead of letting go of her hand, he squeezed it, pulling her a little closer. When he leaned toward her and closed his eyes, her heart beat faster and she closed her eyes, too.
"Hey, you okay?" she heard. They both took a quick step away from each other, and she pulled her hand away.
"Just wanted to check on you. Dirk said you burned yourself," Bethany said.
"Yeah. We were worried. Looks like we didn't need to be," Abby said from behind her, and they both giggled and turned to head back to the party.
"Uh, we'd better get these burgers off. I think they're done," Dirk said quickly, and Carrie handed him the spatula.
He made quick work of getting them on the platter, and she couldn't get back to the party fast enough.
Apparently, Joe, Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Grover had arrived while Carrie and Dirk were out back and there was quite a lively conversation going on.
"There isn't anybody else. Everybody wants to enjoy the show. The best dresses won't even be in the show if we don't find a couple of small types. Well, smaller than us, anyway."
"What size are the dresses again?" Carrie asked as her heartbeat came back to normal and Dirk smiled at her.
Mrs. Russo's eyes traveled to Bethany and Abby and she raised her eyebrows. "Exactly that size."
Bethany and Abby looked at each other and back to Mrs. Russo.
"What do you mean?" Bethany asked.
Mrs. Russo explained the fashion show at the village and as she finished, Mrs. Grover stepped out the door holding the sequined black cocktail dress.
"Wow," Dirk said, and Joe said, "Nice," in agreement.
"Why don't you girls come inside and try a couple of things on? The show is called 'Bold Not Old' and we'd love to have you in it. All generations would be so fun." Mrs. Russo looked at the girls hopefully.
"After we eat, okay?" Jen said, setting down a bowl full of baked beans and another of barbecued potato chips. A cut-up watermelon was already on the table.
It was quite a feast, and everybody chatted happily. When Jen served Nana's famous chocolate lava cake, the girls ran inside with Mrs. Russo.
Jen was serving coffee by the time the girls came out, giggling.
"So you in?" Dirk asked.
The girls looked at each other and nodded. "It'll be fun. There's no tennis that day and we'd like to help."
The two older generations sat on the deck, each savoring sweet Port dessert wine that Joe and Mrs. Russo had brought while the kids did the dishes.
"Ah, this is the life," Joe said, leaning back in his deck chair as the sun set and the breeze picked up.
Carrie reached in her bag for the sweater she'd brought. It was October now, and the evenings cooled off quickly. Dirk took it from her to help her put it on, and Jen mouthed, "Ooh-la-la" when their eyes met.
Carrie looked around at her friends, and as it grew dark she could see into the house. She smiled, watching the kids do the dishes, and a sense of peace washed over her. This was how she'd thought her life would be. And it wasn't until she remembered that Bethany would only be around for one more week that the feeling faded.
Thirty-Four
Carrie looked around when they’d come in. The auditorium at the Back Bay Village was decorated with autumn-colored flowers—orange, yellow and white—and Carrie would have added a bit of lime green if she'd been in charge. Thank goodness she wasn't.
Everything was ready to go. Jen peeked out between the stage curtains just for a moment to see how big the crowd was—and it was big. The ladies from Back Bay Village—no, there were people from all over Newport, Carrie noticed—seemed to be enjoying their lunches, eager for the entertainment.
"Uh-oh. Is that your mother at the door?" Jen squinted against the bright sunlight coming through the main door and pointed.
Carrie looked and determined that yes, it was her mother. She just stared in her direction for a little bit, wondering why she was one bit surprised that her mother ignored Carrie's request that she not come.
"You told her you didn't want her to come," Bethany said, peeking out from behind the stage curtain. "Why did she ignore you?"
“I guess that’s the million-dollar question that will never be answered.” Carrie stood watching, her hands on her hips. Her breath started to quicken, and heat pricked her cheeks. "She's always ignored me, and I've had about enough of it, I think."
She flung back the curtain, stage right, and marched down the auditorium steps. Her mother had taken off her coat, handing it to the coat-check girl and was arranging the feather in her fascinator. She did look lovely in a vintage traveling dress, but Carrie didn't really care. She'd had good reason not to want her mother there, and she intended to stand up for herself.
Her mother gave her a strained smile when she approached, turning to wave at friends around the room and barely acknowledging Carrie.
"Mother, we talked about this. I told you I didn't want you to come."
"My dear, there's absolutely no good reason for you to not want me to be here. These are my friends, too, after all," she said, smiling and waving although Carrie couldn't see anyone waving back.
"Hello, Grandmother," Bethany said as she came up behind Carrie, standing shoulder to shoulder.
Mrs. Westland took a quick glance at Bethany and waved her hand dismissively. "I asked you not to call me that, dear. Lovely to see you.” she said as she glanced about the room. She hadn't even looked at Bethany but for a second, and Carrie’s eyes met Bethany. She looked sad—and Carrie saw herself in her daughter.
Suddenly Carrie felt all the sadness of being treated exactly that way by her mother wash away. She realized that she wasn’t angry anymore—she just felt sorry for her. All the memories Carrie carried in her heart of time spent with Bethany were more important to her than anything. If her mother didn’t feel the same way—well, too bad for her. Carrie wouldn’t trade them for a million dollars.
“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with me being here.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “If I hadn’t shown up, it would have been noticeable. You understand—my reputation.”
Carrie felt a calm pass over her, and she nodded. “Enjoy the show,” she finally said, looping her arm through Bethany’s and turning back toward the stage.
“I’m so sorry she’s like that,” Bethany said as the climbed the steps of the stage.
“You know, I’ve decided I just don’t care anymore. If she doesn’t want to have a relationship with her daughter, that’s on her. I guess you can’t choose your mother.”
Bethany stopped Carrie after they’d slipped behind the curtains. “I know most people can�
�t, but I can. And I feel very lucky.”
Tears threatened to spill when Carrie drew Bethany in for a hug. "Thanks for having my back,” she whispered.
Bethany took a step back and smiled. “Everybody needs a wingman. I learned that from my mom.”
Carrie smiled and couldn't believe what she'd just heard. It was a little bittersweet—giving up on your own mom but becoming one all over again at the same time.
“You okay?” Jen asked when they entered the dressing room.
Carrie and Bethany shared a quick smile.
“Perfect,” Carrie said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Thirty-Five
They'd made all the final preparations when the only model who'd been missing confirmed that they wouldn't just be late—they couldn't come at all. They had four outfits just sitting there and there wasn't anybody in the show who was that size. The dresses were right between Bethany and Abby and Carrie and Jen. Nobody would be able to wear them.
All eyes turned to Mrs. Grover, who'd been helping backstage but had continued to insist she wouldn’t be in the show.
Mrs. Grover glanced at the clothes hanging up that had no one to wear them. "Oh no, I couldn't do it. Those are too racy for me."
"That's not even racy. That's practically what I wear every day," Mrs. Russo said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, Caroline, we need you. You're the only one that size."
Mrs. Grover fiddled with the top button of her cardigan and looked extremely uncomfortable. "Oh no, I don't think I could. It's fun to watch you all do it, but it's not for me."
Jen watched as Carrie grabbed Mrs. Grover's hand and pulled her out a side door, onto the deck overlooking the back bay.
"What's that about?" Faith asked as she adjusted the peplum on the suit she was wearing from the 1950s. She adjusted the hat with a feather in it and glanced in the mirror.
Mrs. Russo glanced at the door. "We need Mrs. Grover to model. Hopefully she's trying to talk her into it."
"Oh, I wish she would. It's so much fun to dress up like this," Faith said with one last tweak of her feather.
"You look like Lauren Bacall in North by Northwest," Jen said. "This really is fun."
"And you look like—"
"Don't say Audrey Hepburn," Jen said with a laugh as she tied Nana's Hermes scarf over her hair and pushed on the big dark sunglasses, finished off with some bright red lipstick.
"Exactly," Mrs. Russo said. "She really does."
They all turned when the door opened, and Carrie scooted Mrs. Grover back into the room. She nodded at the older woman, looping her arm through Mrs. Grover's.
"Okay. I'll do it."
Mrs. Russo clapped. "Okay, chop chop. We don't have much time, and you're going to have four changes of clothes. Come on. I'll help you." She grabbed Mrs. Grover’s hand and pulled her back to the dressing area. Mrs. Grover's eyes were full of panic as she turned back and looked at Carrie, who gave her two thumbs-up and a wink.
Jen laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach. "What did you say?"
"I told her that you only live once, and it's a lot more fun when you step out on the ledge."
"Hm. Guess she bought it."
"Had to think of something. It's good for her. She's really sweet. She just hasn't done much that's challenged her. It's never too late to start."
"Here, here," Faith said. "Don't I know it."
They all laughed, and the coordinator came through, shooing them all back and lining them up in order. They'd practiced the day before, and they all knew the route they were supposed to take between the big round tables, where they were supposed to turn, and where they were supposed to change into their next outfit.
Carrie was surprised that she was a little nervous, and Bethany caught her eye and smiled. Bethany and Abby were next to each other as they'd thought it would be fun to go from youngest to oldest.
Abby peeked out into the audience. "Oh no. My dad's out there standing in the back. He's probably going to take video. Sorry, guys."
Bethany shrugged her shoulders. "My dad isn't even in the country. It's nice—we can watch the video later at the barbecue."
"I guess so," Abby said, and they straightened their vintage skirts, ready for their performance.
Carrie thought it was sweet that Dirk was "that" kind of dad, and she wished that Bethany had one of those. But she didn't, and they were all doing the best they could.
The music started and the announcer began. Carrie turned to Mrs. Grover behind her. “Just follow behind me. And walk in the same places I walk.”
Carrie thought maybe they were all going to survive this. Mrs. Grover’s face was pale, but she nodded. She looked cute in black capris, a turquoise top and and black-and-white checkered hat.
Carrie did her best to show off the clothes, and when she got to the back of the room and turned around, Mrs. Grover was just beginning to walk through the room. She looked as if she was going to faint, and Carrie thought she might have to catch her. As they passed each other, she gave the woman the biggest smile she could muster. Mrs. Grover tried to smile back but it looked like more of a grimace.
On their fourth round, Carrie’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Mrs. Grover walked down the steps of the auditorium with an entirely different spring in her step. Her last outfit was gorgeous, and Carrie laughed out loud as Mrs. Grover spun several times, her hips in a brand new rhythm as she walked.
“You were great, Mrs. Grover,” Carrie told her, and when they entered the dressing room arm in arm, everybody clapped and whistled.
Mrs. Grover blushed a little bit but curtsied anyway.
“That was so fun,” Jen said. “It’ll be a hoot to watch the video back at the house.”
They went out into the audience and answered questions for a little bit, and cruised by the table where the vintage jewelry was displayed for the silent auction. “Wow, those are some pretty big numbers,” Dirk whispered to Carrie. “By the way, you looked great.”
It was Carrie’s turn to blush, and she was grateful that nobody saw her. Well, she thought nobody had seen her until she caught Jen’s eye, knowing what she was thinking.
"Come on, Caroline. Let's get out of these clothes. We need to go soon."
Mrs. Grover glanced in the mirror and smiled at her snazzy black satin cigarette pants, red sandals and black-and-red floral top from the 60s. She fingered the beads around her neck and turned to Mrs. Russo, her eyes shining.
"I think I'll just buy this outfit. And wear it to the celebration. What do you think?"
They all laughed, and Dirk was the first to say, "Great idea. You look fabulous," he said, and he winked at Carrie as he held out his arm for the older woman. She blushed as she took his arm, and the spring in her step was still there on her way to the restaurant where they would celebrate.
Thirty-Six
Carrie was up early the next day. She wasn't even sure if she'd actually slept. If she had, the anxiety of Rob picking up Bethany the next morning had made it fitful, at best.
She popped a coffee in the Keurig for herself and set up a cup with honey and lemon, just the way Bethany liked it for her tea. She wasn't sure when she'd get up—it was still a few hours before Rob would arrive—but Carrie couldn't help but hope it would be soon.
The month had flown by entirely too fast. They'd gone through so much together, learned so much—how could it be over? There was so much more to do. So many more Scrabble games to be played. So much TV to watch. So many tennis matches to win.
Her phone buzzed, the text ringtone startling her out of her worry.
* * *
You okay?
* * *
Leave it to Jen to worry about her. She hadn't had a chance to reply before another one popped up on her screen.
* * *
You doing all right? Thinking of you.
* * *
Faith had checked in, too, and Carrie wasn't surprised at that, either. Her heart swelled, knowing her friends were with her, at
least in spirit. Her phone buzzed again, and she shook her head.
* * *
I hope today is awesome for you. I'm pretty sure it will be.
* * *
As usual, Dirk was way more optimistic than she was. She couldn't imagine how it could turn out awesome with Bethany leaving. To her mind, it was going to be the worst day of her life.
She'd barely set her phone down when it dinged again.
* * *
Sending you lots of love, sweetheart. I hope you're doing all right.
* * *
She didn't even know Mrs. Grover knew how to text, and it hit her square in her heart. It was almost as if Mrs. Grover cared about her more than her own mother did. Well, not almost. She did.
A rustling sound came from upstairs, and Carrie's stomach lurched. She knew Bethany would be coming downstairs soon, and she quickly wiped away a tear. She slipped her phone into her pocket, wanting to keep all that love and good wishes close at hand.
Thump, thump, thump. Bethany's suitcases bounced on each stair as she came down, her hair still wet from her shower and her tennis rackets slung over her shoulder.
Carrie felt frozen in place, and it wasn't until Bethany smiled that she thought she could talk.
"Ready for tea?" she asked, turning away and swiping the back of her hand across her cheek.
"Yeah, thanks. Who said you couldn't even boil water? I take umbrage at that statement on your behalf."
Carrie let out a sigh and laughed, her shoulders relaxing. "The coffee maker does it, but thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Every woman needs a good wingman, right?" Bethany said as she set her suitcases and rackets by the front door.
Newport Beginnings Page 13
