Barefoot Girls - Kindle

by Unknown

  “Oh, hi Mr. Harris. What’s up?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, this is an uncomfortable situation to say the least. I hate to press you, I really do. It’s just the rent. You know that Ginny-“

  She cut him off, not wanting to hear about Ginny and what she wanted yet again. “I’ll get the rent. I can even pay interest if you want. My book is really doing well and I’m sure I’m going to get a big royalty check soon.” Or not. She knew she had to earn out her advance first. Or was it a big enough of a seller to earn out already? She tried to remember the contract she’d slid over the desk, handing it off to her agent, who was only a year older than she was. Why hadn’t she read it? When would she get paid? The excitement of getting published had made her reckless. She couldn’t lose her cottage. It was her pride and joy. Maybe the garden was neglected a bit now, the flowers left to wilt, the ground dry, but it was nothing she couldn’t fix.

  “Oh, wow! Congratulations, Hannah! You and Daniel must be excited. What a way to kick off your future together. He must be so proud of you. Oh, and your mother, too.”

  She thought of the framed cover and list that Daniel had given her, the tender care behind it. All of it, everything he had ever done for her was like that – thinking of her, wanting to make her happy. And she couldn’t even wear his ring. Her mother had been proud, too, before the horrible truth came out. Her throat was tight, so dry. She swallowed painfully. “I…yes, it’s good news,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  “But come on. You’re probably getting ready to move in with Daniel as we speak. That’s where you are right now, isn’t it? In New York? We’d be happy to waive any back-rent as a gift to you, a going away present as it were. Ginny’s dying to move in and you’ve pretty much flown the nest, so why don’t we help you? No rent, forget about it – use the money for your honeymoon, and I’ll be happy to lend a hand or hire a few to help you move. What do you say?”

  “Oh, no! I’m not moving in with Daniel. I mean, not yet. We will. But, uh…, I’m old fashioned. I don’t believe in living with someone until you’re married. And we haven’t even set the date yet.”

  Mr. Harris coughed a little and was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “Well, then. We’ll have to come up with another wedding present for you, I guess. The thing is, though, we need the rent. Two months overdue is quite a lot and we’re already into the third week of October, so we’re going to need November’s rent too, which would make it three months. We want to be helpful to you, but the lease, our agreement, has to be honored. We’ve only charged you half of what we could have gotten for that cottage. Oh, and you’ve earned it, fixed it up very nicely. We love what you’ve done. But still, you’ve got to honor our agreement. I hate to say this, but if I don’t have a check in hand by the end of this week for at least one month’s rent, we’re going to have to call it a day. You do understand, don’t you?”

  Hannah felt very cold and very still. She slowly lowered herself onto a chair beside the kitchen table, cradling her phone in both hands. She didn’t have it. She saw in her mind’s eye the last time she’d checked her checking account’s balance online and how ridiculously low it was. She’d let herself blow it off, hoping that somehow things would work out, certain the Harris’s would let her slide for a while. And they probably would have, if it wasn’t for Ginny and her sudden desire to live in the now-charming cottage on her parent’s property. If it was still the run-down decaying shack that Hannah had moved into, Ginny would have turned her nose up at it.

  “Couldn’t…, could you wait a little longer?”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah, but we have waited. We won’t go after you for the back-rent if it’s too hard for you to get. Hey, I remember having financial woes when I was your age. You’ll get things sorted out eventually, trust me. Ah, youth! How things always seemed so dire. So it sounds like I shouldn’t wait until the end of the week? Or are you going to get a check to us?”

  Her mind scrambled through her options, each as unlikely as the last. The only real choice would be to beg her stepfather to loan her the money, but she couldn’t, not right now with the way things were with her mother. “I don’t know, um, I’ll try. At least, wait. Okay? Just wait.”

  “Sure. And if you can’t, we understand. We will need you to vacate in that case, though.”

  “But, I, it’s a bad time, really. Can you wait another couple weeks?”

  “Hannah, we’ve been more than patient. And we truly understand, but I’m going to have to put my foot down. This weekend, all right?”

  “But I can’t get moved out this weekend!” She heard her voice rise and lowered it. “Sorry. I just, I don’t have anyone to help right now.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Mr. Harris said. “Tell you what. I’ll hire a few men and we’ll put your things upstairs in the barn. There’s plenty of room up there and you can come get them whenever you’re ready. No rush. How does that sound?”

  She sighed, her breath shuddering out. Did she have a choice? And he was being kind about it, wasn’t he? Why did she feel as if she was being robbed, and that she was supposed to smile and be grateful for it?

  “Thank you,” she managed and nodded a curt little nod. “But wait until the end of the week, please. I just need to check on a few things.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll wait for your call.”

  “Okay, talk to you then.”

  “Til then. Bye now.”

  She pressed the end button and sat at the kitchen table, still and staring, but not seeing. The tears that always seemed to be waiting to fill her eyes lately had finally receded and with the ebbing of that tide, her whole body felt dry and cool and empty, like an abandoned shell on a beach.

  Chapter 32

  As soon as Keeley hung up the phone she had regretted impetuously picking it up in the first place. Now, walking toward Cocotte Jolie for the luncheon Brooke had immediately suggested once she heard Keeley’s news, she felt actual dread. What had she done? It had simply been too perfect not to share, too exactly what Brooke wanted to hear not to pour it in Brooke’s ear and hear the happy sound of praise that would certainly ensue.

  Later the same day of the committee meeting with Brooke and Tatiana, somewhat tipsy from drinking two glasses of wine and feeling cozy after soaking in a hot bath and letting the bone-deep cold melt away, she had greeted Ben when he’d arrived home shortly after 7pm. She was in the kitchen getting a glass of water, still wearing her favorite fuzzy pink bathrobe and matching slippers with her long hair piled loosely on her head in a sloppy bun, when she heard him in the foyer and ran to see him.

  “Sweetheart! Oh, I’m so happy to see you. How was your day? Mwah!” she said and kissed him on the lips noisily.

  He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and then held her at arm’s length. “Look at you, what a sight for sore eyes you are. Ow, and they really are sore. They’re killing me from staring at those damn spreadsheets all day.”

  “Let me get you a drink. That’ll make you feel better.”

  He shook his head, his lips twisting down. “Ugh. I wish I could. But I’ve still got more to do.”

  “Oh! No!” She stuck her lower lip out, doing her best disappointed little-girl impression. Sometimes it worked.

  He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly before stepping back, hands still on her arms. “You are so cute when you make that face. But I’m sorry. I don’t have much of a choice tonight. I’ve got to have all of my ducks in a row for the Board tomorrow. But we’ll go out for dinner tomorrow night, wherever you want. And we’ll order a big bottle of champagne, too. How does that sound?”

  “Aw, I wish it was tomorrow night now. I can’t wait.” She couldn’t keep the whining sound out of her voice. She was disappointed. Her day had been hard, horrible really, and she’d been looking forward to cuddling up with her burly Jewish teddy bear. It was funny how he could be so tough in business, ruthless really, yet so tender with her.

  He smiled encouragingly a
t her. “Do you want me to order your favorite Chinese for you?”

  She bounced a little on her toes. “Yes, please! Oh, wait…no.” She slumped a little. She hated how much weight she’d gained and she had to start somewhere. General Tsao’s chicken, deep fried and swimming in that delicious sticky spicy sauce, wasn’t going to help. Oh, and those crispy spring rolls she loved. Her mouth watered. “No, I’m just going to have a salad tonight.”

  “A salad? That doesn’t sound like you. You’re my meat-and-potatoes girl,” he squinted at her as he leaned down to pick up the briefcase he’d abandoned to hug her.

  “Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I can barely fit into my clothes and I’m not buying a whole new wardrobe.”

  He made a tsking sound. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. You’re perfect.”

  She smiled and sighed happily. He really meant it; that was the thing. “Thank you, honey. You’re my sweetheart.”

  “I better get to work before the siren call of the bourbon gets me. I promise I’ll come to bed at a reasonable hour.”

  He kissed her again and just as he turned to go, she remembered. “Oh, honey? Before you disappear into that black hole that is your study, there’s just one thing.”

  He turned back to her. “Your wish is my command, fair lady.”

  “I don’t know, but, I was at that committee meeting today? And well, they were hoping for Susan, as you know.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. She’s a busy lady.”

  “Is there anyone else? Anyone? It’s just, they were really hoping.”

  He squinted and looked away, thinking. “Um….”

  “But it can’t be anything modern, like rap. They’re into classical stuff.”

  He looked up, brightening. “Now, that’s an idea.”

  “What?”

  “How does Mario Costa sound?”

  “That new hot tenor guy? Wow! They would go crazy for him!” She started bouncing again on her toes. It was going to happen, she could just feel it!

  “I’d have to ask him, but we have met, a few years ago. Before I met you. He wasn’t hot yet, then, but he was great, heard him sing at a little benefit in a church in Connecticut. We ended up talking at the cocktail party afterwards. He’d probably remember me. Or, maybe not. But, hey, it’s worth trying.”

  “Oh, goody! I can’t wait to tell them!” She felt bubbles of giddy joy whirl upward through her.

  “Now, wait,” he said, lowering his head and making a cutting side to side motion with his hand. “I haven’t even talked to him yet. Don’t say a word until I do. We probably shouldn’t have said anything about Susan either.”

  She fell back hard on her heels. “I didn’t! Brooke was the one who brought Susan up. Oh, and she called her ‘Susan’ all the time, like she knew her. That burned me up.”

  “Maybe Brooke does know her. She knows practically everyone else.”

  “She doesn’t know her. That was why she needed me, I mean, you, to get her to sing at the benefit. That’s why I’m on that committee.”

  He put his briefcase back down and walked over to her, taking her gently by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. “That’s not why. You wanna know why? She couldn’t resist you. No one can. And they’re lucky to have you.”

  She looked into his eyes. He really believed it. She wished she could. But she wouldn’t argue with him. “Okay, you’re right. And I’ll wait. Just please, please tell me when you know. Oh, and we need to fill at least four or five tables, too.”

  He let out a little puff of laughter. “Boy, they’re really cracking the whip, huh? Well, I’m sure we can shake down enough people to fill those tables between the two of us. Have you invited your friends?”

  She shook her head. He would never understand the Barefooters, never even called them that. They were just ‘friends’ to him. To her, they were family. And no, they would hate hate hate an uptight charity thing like this. A tacky redneck barbecue featuring a tractor pull? A wild half-nude pool party? A booze cruise and dancing to a live rock-and-roll band? Sign them up! But a stiff fake aristocratic-type crowd was exactly not their cup of tea.

  “Why not? They’d do it for you. They’d do anything for you.”

  “You’re right, and that’s ‘cause I’m reasonable when I ask them to do stuff. All right, I’ve kept you long enough. Run along now and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That leaves me a lot of leeway,” he said, grinning at their old joke. He backed up and picked up his briefcase again. “See you in bed. And you better be naked.”

  “Aren’t I always?” She smiled at him and watched him go, watching until the door of his study latched behind him.

  “Damn,” she muttered, approaching the restaurant on foot, arriving too early once again. She thought about passing it and walking a couple blocks up Fifth Avenue to Bergdorf’s and back to kill time, but the wind was cold in the shadows on this side of the street, although the day was bright and blue. She wanted to be inside, warm and comfortably sitting on one of the soft black leather chairs, a crisp linen napkin in her lap. For once, she wouldn’t have to suffer silently as she sat in that torture chair in Brooke’s library.

  She wished she could be truly at ease, that what she had to say was what they wanted to hear. If only she had heeded Ben’s words and not called Brooke to tell her! If only she’d been able to tamp down those bubbles of enthusiasm rising higher and higher and making her so excited she couldn’t control herself. She’d even told herself she should hang up while she was dialing Brooke’s number. And yet, she’d let the call go through. And, news imparted, Brooke’s excitement had been so satisfying, utterly deeply worth it in that moment.

  She knew now that she’d been seduced by the promise of Brooke’s friendship and the doors it had and would open. She’d fooled herself that, somehow, she’d changed. She was more sophisticated now. Ben’s world of money and influence would be hers as well. Even Pam’s, and then Zo’s and Amy’s, recent phone calls had gone unreturned. She would talk to the Barefooters later. They probably only wanted to nag her again to forgive Hannah, which she would do when she was good and ready. Right now she was busy becoming…what, she wasn’t sure. But it would be important. After all, she’d been invited to be on the committee of committees, handmaiden and right hand to the Queen herself. She flushed with embarrassment, just thinking about her delusions of grandeur and made a mental note to call the Barefooters back soon.

  Well, at least she’d had time to shop for an outfit that fit her. She couldn’t be seen again, only three days later, in those same fat-pants, and she had nothing else that fit now. The saleswoman at Saks had found the perfect choice – a charcoal gray wrap-dress that hid the extra pounds perfectly and was in a casual enough knit to be appropriate for lunch. Surveying her reflection in the gold-framed glass door of Cocotte Jolie as she approached the entrance, she was gratified to see that at least she looked good. She lifted her chin up a little. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing.

  It was when the host seated her at a table set for three that she realized that, of course, Tatiana had been invited too. Keeley had been prepared to see Brooke and be on the receiving end of her disappointment. She had not been prepared for two angry sets of eyes and two sharp tongues. Why she hadn’t considered it a possibility, she didn’t know. Of course they would be here together. It was the pair of them that ran everything, and everyone else was their minion.

  She slid into the chair the host pulled out for her, sliding a little too far on the leather seat and having to right herself quickly. She made herself sit up very straight. She would do this with poise. She would not lose her nerve. She would not grovel.

  “Good afternoon. May I get you something to drink?”

  She looked up at him, saw his eyes traveling away already. “No, water would be fine.”

  He bowed slightly. “As you wish.”

  A heavyset smilin
g redhead, whose apron barely tied around her round stomach, came to fill their glasses with ice water.

  “Thank you,” Keeley said, gratefully reaching for the just-filled glass, the ice making a merry tinkling sound as she raised it. Her mouth was a dusty desert.

  “You’re very welcome!” The redhead said, smiling even more widely at Keeley.

  Keeley suddenly wanted to talk to this woman, not the two that would be arriving in a five minutes. She wanted to slide out of this slippery chair and drag her out of this place to go find a dive bar somewhere with a jukebox, to drink shots together and talk openly. She was probably fun, this one, with her ready genuine dimpling smile and round generous stomach. Keeley could make jokes about these two uptight bitches and this redhead would probably throw her head back to laugh, knowing the type well. In fact, she probably had plenty of stories of her own about the entitled elite that perched on these chairs.

  Instead, the redhead retreated with her water pitcher and Keeley sat by herself trying to enjoy the comfort she thought she’d feel once she was seated in the restaurant, the sweeping second-hand on her Rolex moving too slowly. She looked back down at her watch. She probably shouldn’t have worn it. It was too glitzy with its diamond-encircled ebony face, nothing as simple and perfect as what the other two women would be wearing. She silently apologized to Ben for hiding his wonderful gift while she slipped the watch off and put it in her black Kelly handbag. As she straightened she saw Brooke and Tatiana at the host’s podium. They were laughing a little about something and continued chuckling as they were led to the table where Keeley was sitting. Keeley rose to greet them.

  “There you are! So good to see you!” Brooke called, putting one arm lightly around Keeley’s shoulders, barely touching her, and touched her cheek to Keeley’s. It was the most enthusiastic greeting she had ever given Keeley.