by Sarah Dreher
"Sure." Fran crossed the room to an old wicker sofa covered with boxes and books and unidentifiable things. She gathered them in her arms and dropped them onto the window seat. "Sit down. Lie down. I'll be right back. Don't die on me.”
Shelby lowered herself to the sofa carefully and rested her head in her hands. Focus, she thought. Focus on staying as still as you can. She heard the medicine cabinet door slam, then water running in the sink. Then footsteps. Then Fran's voice.
"How many do you want?"
She glanced up and winced as the ceiling light pierced her eyes. "Three."
Fran handed them to her and gave her the water and turned off the light. She took the glass and put it on a low coffee table. "Come on, lie down."
"I'll be OK in a minute." Shelby waved her away.
"Don't argue with me," Fran said, pushing her gently down and tucking a pillow under her head. She lifted Shelby's legs onto the sofa and found a blanket and spread it over her.
"I'm sorry about this," Shelby said.
"Close your eyes. Go to sleep if you want. I have plenty of stuff to do in the bedroom. If I make too much noise, just throw the glass at me."
It was nearly dark outside when she woke. For a moment she was disoriented—windows were in the wrong places, the couch didn't feel right, the doorway opposite didn't lead to her kitchen but to a lighted bedroom. Then she remembered where she was, and why. She lay for a moment, free of pain, reluctant to move and set it off again. In the bedroom, Fran was walking softly and rustling papers and easing drawers open and shut.
Shelby twisted her head first to one side, then the other. The headache seemed to have let up, at least for now. But she didn't want to risk sitting up too fast. She closed her eyes, languishing in the darkness and warmth and the safety of hearing Fran moving quietly around. If she could only stay like this for few hours, a few days... But from the looks of the light outside the window, it must be close to seven. Time for Ray's call.
She opened her eyes and pushed herself up onto her elbows. So far, so good. Swinging her legs to the floor, she sat up. Nothing. OK, last big trial, standing.
It was all right.
She folded the blanket and took it to the bedroom.
Fran glanced up from a box of photographs and smiled. "Welcome back."
Shelby kneaded her face with one hand. "How long did I sleep?"
"About an hour. Feel better?"
"Much. Do you know what time it is?"
Fran glanced over to the clock on her bedside table. "Ten of seven."
“I'd better go."
"That was one murderous headache, wasn't it?"
Shelby tried to toss it off. "I guess."
"Do you have them often?"
"Fairly."
"It's none of my business," Fran said as she folded a sweater and carried it to her bureau, "but I think you should have it checked out."
“I'm going to."
Fran laughed. "You are not. I can tell by the way you said it. What about Ray? He's a doctor, what does he say?"
"I haven't told him."
Fran looked at her. "You know, you're very complicated. You'll confide in me, a near stranger, but the man you're thinking of marrying..."
"I never said I was a rational human being," Shelby said quickly. She put the blanket down on the bed. "Thanks for..."
"Don't thank me. We are just the two most helpful people in the world, aren't we?"
"Yeah." She started to leave and turned back. "Fran?"
"That's what they call me."
"Ray's calling at seven, but it shouldn't take long. After that, would you like to get something to eat?"
"I thought you'd never ask." She looked up from the photographs. "But I have to warn you, I'm in the mood for something terrible. Is there a White Castle in town?"
Shelby laughed. "I'm afraid not."
"Dairy Queen? Burger King? Hot Dog Prince?"
"Nope."
"Peasants."
"We do have a local version of a greasy spoon. Smoke-filled, plastic hanging plants, smells like cooking oil and fish, and the upholstery on the booths is cracked."
"Perfect." Fran said.
Chapter Five
Spring was taking its own good time about arriving. Mid-April, and only the crocuses and daffodils were in bloom. Tulip buds were barely visible, tight and closed in on themselves. The goldfinches were just starting to molt their winter grays. And the old maples in front of the house hadn't even begun to put out tiny mahogany blooms.
Last night hadn't gone too badly. They'd had a couple of martinis, dinner and wine, and then dancing. Ray had brought his car, and they drove to a private spot they'd found when they were first dating, where they could look toward Cambridge and watch the headlights of the cars on Memorial Drive reflected on the Charles River. They'd both been quiet and a little thoughtful, and Shelby had been nearly asleep, her head on Ray's shoulder, when he brought up the subject of their engagement.
She'd had a moment of panic then, but forced herself to settle down and listen to him. He apologized for pushing her, and for the tension that had sparked between them Saturday. They were both working hard, he said. He knew she was under a lot of pressure with the new job, and for him life in the emergency room was a never-ending string of horrors. "There'll be other times as crazy as this in our life," he said. "It's good to learn what they can do to us now, so we'll know how to deal with them in the future."
She should have felt relieved.
"What I'm thinking," he went on, "is there's no reason to rush into this marriage. In a year I'll be through my residency. Why make it harder on ourselves than we have to?"
She couldn't believe it. She'd expected him to insist on a wedding this year, and now he was suggesting they wait...
"You're absolutely right," she said.
Ray took her hand, kissed her fingertips. "What I would like us to do is announce our engagement this June, and aim for the wedding in a year." He leaned forward to look into her eyes. "How about it?"
"Announce it? I thought we'd just do it."
"I think we should have a party—a dinner, at least, maybe dancing afterward. At the country club."
A lot of things suddenly became clear. "I see Libby's fingerprints all over this," she said.
"We talked about it," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"I don't know, Ray. Can't this be something we do on our own?"
He put an arm around her and pulled her close against him. "Come on, babe. We'll have a whole marriage to do on our own. This wedding business, it's all for the mothers, anyway, you know that. Be a sport." He nuzzled her ear and rubbed his cheek against hers. His beard stubble chafed her skin. "When our daughter gets married, you can run the show and be as difficult and demanding as you want."
"I guess you're right," she said. At least it would buy her a year.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "OK. Let's do it."
He mashed his lips against hers, pinching the skin between her teeth and his. "babe," he said, "I think I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"Me, too," she said. "Luckiest woman."
And that was that. Sitting on the bus on her way back to Bass Falls, she felt the gentle vibration of the tires against the roadway, looked at her dim double reflection in the blackened window. The bus was like a bullet moving silently and steadily through night. This must be what it would be like to be an astronaut, orbiting the planet deep in space, this feeling of completeness, of quiet solitude, of being outside of time.
A year, she thought. A whole year.
* * *
"Honest to God," Connie said irritably as soon as Penny was out of earshot. "What is her major maladjustment?"
“Whose?" Shelby looked over the cards Penny had put down and counted spades. They could make the bid, but she had to be able to finesse the queen.
"Penny's. She just stares at you with those cow eyes."
Shelby hadn't noticed. She shrugged a
nd covered Lisa's four of diamonds with an eight from the board. Lisa must have a bunch of diamonds, or three at the least. She wasn't signaling high-low doubleton with a four. Singleton? Possible.
"Penny has a crush on you, Shelby," Lisa said.
"She's a grown woman," Connie said, and tossed down the diamond jack. "That is just so high school."
"You're imagining things," Shelby said to Lisa as she topped the jack with her queen. If Connie had the ace, she would have played it to ensure the trick. Lisa must have led away from it. She did that sometimes, breaking the rules, because it was unorthodox and occasionally fooled the competition. That meant she still had one or two diamonds. Two on the board. Shelby had three. And Connie would have two or three. Honest little devils. Shelby gathered up the trick. She'd better stay away from diamonds, at least until she had run the trump. She compared her hand and the dummy. Three spades out and jack-high on the board. Damn. If Connie didn't have the queen, they were down one.
Lisa shook her head animatedly. "It's not imagination. Look at how she follows you around. And she's always running errands for you. She didn't bring the rest of us anything from Boston."
"I asked her to look for that book." She could get to the board with a heart, but it was risky this early in the game.
"And I'll bet she went all over the city to find it," Connie put in.
Clubs. Penny had six to the ace/jack. Shelby had four to the king. She tossed the seven and prayed no one was void.
"Well, I think it's embarrassing," Connie said.
"I think it's cute," Lisa countered. "Second hand low.” She put down the five.
OK. If Lisa had played away from her queen, the jack would take the trick. If she hadn't, if Connie had it... She glanced over at Connie, whose face was completely without expression. Connie was famous for being the most poker-faced bridge player in the lunch bunch.
Something told her to go to the ace. She did. Connie scowled and slammed down the queen.
"God, Camden," Connie said. "You are dipped in it."
"In what?"
"Luck."
"It isn't luck," Shelby said to get her goat. "It's skill."
Penny was back by the time they'd finished the hand. "How'd we do, partner?" she asked as she slid into her seat.
"Made it. Doubled and redoubled."
Penny beamed. "I knew it."
"You wouldn't have," Connie reminded her, "if I didn't have that queen of clubs bare-arsed."
"But you did, didn't you?" Shelby said with a pleasant smile. She gathered up the used cards and passed them to Penny to shuffle and reached for the shuffled deck. "My deal. One more rubber?"
"Were you out with Ray last night?" Connie asked as she arranged her hand.
"Yes."
"I called a few times. There was a concert at the University I thought you might like to go to. You didn't answer."
"I'm sorry," Shelby said. "I'd have enjoyed that."
Connie laughed. "Not as much as seeing Dr. Ray, I'll bet. What did you do?"
"Dinner and dancing at the Copley. Then the bus trip back here. It was after two before I got to bed."
"Oh," said Lisa. "You lucky dog." She passed.
“Two no trump,” said Penny.
Connie scowled. "Three hearts."
Shelby passed.
Lisa passed.
Penny went to three no trump. They all passed. Connie led a high club. Shelby put down her pitiful hand with the obligatory, "Sorry, partner."
The look on Penny's face told her she only wished she'd taken a chance and forced them to slam.
"Did he ask you to marry him?" Connie asked.
"Sort of."
"Did you accept?"
“Yes."
Lisa shrieked, causing the few diners left in the room to look for the fire. "Well, when is it?"
"A year from June," Shelby said.
"Why so long?"
"We have a lot to do. If I know Libby, this is going to rival Elizabeth II's Coronation."
"It's going to be fabulous," Connie said, bouncing a little in her seat. "Presbyterian or Episcopal?"
"We haven't discussed it that far."
"I vote for Episcopal. Presbyterian churches are always drab and serviceable." Connie took a swallow of coffee. "There's something grand about Episcopal."
"I'll keep it in mind," Shelby said.
Penny was taking tricks at a steady pace.
"I can't believe you're really doing it, after all this time," Lisa said.
Shelby looked at her. "All this time? We've only been dating for two years."
"But doesn't it feel like forever?"
“Not really.” But it did, a little. Because they knew each other so well, because their togetherness had become so... well, predictable.
"Ray's just the greatest," Connie said.
"I guess he is." Actually, he was. Maybe not the greatest, though she hadn't met a man she liked any better. Ray was intelligent, and considerate, and would never treat her unkindly. He got along with her friends, charmed her mother, and could probably stand up to her father if he had to. He had no bad habits.
What are you talking about, she asked herself, a man or a dog?
"Of course," Connie said casually, "there are some people who won't be happy to see you married." She cast a quick and meaningful glance in Penny's direction.
Penny didn't notice.
"Who do you have in mind?" Shelby dared her with a deliberate challenging stare.
Connie smiled. "Just people."
Penny leaned back and tossed down her last card. "Baby slam."
"Very nice," Shelby said.
"It played itself."
"Yes," said Connie. She scooped up the cards. "Macaroni's deal."
Shelby couldn't take it any more. She got up. "I just remembered, I have stuff I have to get to Spurl before one-thirty."
"Stuff?" Lisa asked.
"Work."
"If someone said 'stuff' in a story," Lisa said good-naturedly, "you'd send it back."
"I'm being lazy. Don't quote me.”
"It was your idea to play another rubber," Connie reminded her.
"I forgot. OK? Forgot?" She turned away.
"Sheesh," she heard Connie say behind her. "Must be that time of month."
The more she thought about it, the more Connie's behavior irritated her. Connie had to create drama, to make mountains out of molehills, simply to spice up her life a little. She was forever looking under beds and into medicine cabinets to ferret out snippets of scandal.
A ferret was exactly what she reminded Shelby of sometimes. With her beady ferrety eyes and twitching ferrety nose and alert ferrety whiskers. Lurking in dark corners and slinking around in the places that were too small for anyone else to get into. Granted, she never gossiped outside of their circle, and her embellished stories could be entertaining. Sometimes it was even diverting to watch her hot on the trail of a rumor. But one of these days someone was going to be hurt, and Shelby was getting sick of it.
On her way back to the office, she stopped by the readers' room. Jean looked up. "How was bridge?"
"Bridge-like." She sat on the edge of Jean's desk. "Sometimes Connie makes me want to scream."
"What's she on about today?"
"Penny."
"And her famous crush on Shelby Camden?"
"Has she been talking around about that?"
"Endlessly. As if anyone gave a damn.”
"Penny's young, for God's sake," Shelby said. "And probably a little emotionally immature. And insecure. She's going to attach herself to anyone who can show her the ropes."
Jean nodded in agreement. "Plus she likes you. Does it bother you?"
"Of course not. What bothers me is Connie."
"I suspect she's just being Connie.”
"Maybe she should try being someone else once in a while. What's her problem, anyway?"
"Beats me." Jean shrugged. "She likes to pick. No nit is safe around her,"
"Y
eah," Shelby said.
"She can't help it, she's was born in the year of the Rat. You, on the other hand, are a Buffalo, assertive, forward-looking, and a natural leader."
Shelby laughed. "Another tidbit from your endless store of esoteric knowledge."
"My mind is like a garage, full of worthless junk that might come in handy some day."
"By the way," Shelby said, "Ray and I agreed to be engaged to be engaged last night."
"By the way?' This is a 'by the way' thing?"
Shelby felt herself redden. "I guess. I mean, we've been talking about it so long it's hardly news."
Jean eyed her suspiciously. "Still and all, one expects a certain level of enthusiasm, doesn't one?"
"You sound like Fran," Shelby said, and was surprised to notice that she took pleasure in saying her name.
"Fran?"
"Fran Jarvis. She moved in down the hall. In the empty apartment."
"What's she like?"
"Our age. Interesting, I think. I haven't gotten to know her yet, really."
"I'd like to meet her some time," Jean said. "Unless she turns out to be creepy."
"You will," Shelby said with a laugh. "Even if she turns out to be creepy, probably."
Jean leaned back and sipped green tea from a cardboard container. "When's the wedding?"
"A year from June. Connie thinks we should go Episcopal because the church is more ornate.”
Jean laughed. "Good old Connie. Her values are certainly in the right place."
"I'd like you to be a bridesmaid. Unless you turn out to be creepy."
"I'd be honored," Jean said. "Unless you turn out to have hideous taste in bridesmaids' dresses."
Suddenly the first spectacular hurdle loomed ahead of her. Maid of Honor. She was going to have to pick someone from the lunch bunch. Connie would expect to be the one, since Shelby'd known her the longest and they double-dated the most, and spent the most off-from-work time together, usually at Connie's instigation. If you asked her, Connie would assure you she was Shelby's "best friend." But right now she wanted Jean, who probably didn't expect to be asked. She wished she'd had a sister, or good friend or roommate in college to be the obvious choice, but her friends were scattered, and she hadn't been particularly clubby with her roommate, and the one friend she had really felt comfortable with had gone strange on her. There was Helen from graduate school, but they'd kind of drifted apart...
