There was a pause. Dory was too overcome to say anything.
“We miss you, Dory. All the girls said to give you their regards.”
“I miss you all too. Say hello for me. And, Katy, thanks for calling.”
“Any time. Thank you for helping me out. I was going crazy with all that stuff. You make it sound so simple. Sometimes I wish I were you.”
“No you don’t,” Dory said softly. “Don’t ever wish that. Be sure you say hello to everyone.”
“I wish you’d come in and do it yourself,” Katy grumbled as she hung up the phone.
Damn it, she did miss all of them. She really did. The brief workout on the phone was exactly what she needed. But was it what she wanted?
Dory lay back on the bed and let her mind go blank. Within seconds she was asleep.
Chapter Eight
Dory woke up an hour later feeling little better than when she had escaped into sleep. Her drowsiness gave way to self-pity when her eyes fell on the open suitcase at the foot of the bed. Groggily, she inched her way to the bottom of the bed and slammed the suitcase shut. The sound was almost terminal in the silent room. She fell back against the warm nest of the silken comforter, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. In some inexplicable way she was feeling threatened. Frightened. Afraid. And she realized that instead of trying to understand the reasons, she was trying to escape her roiling emotions. But if she couldn’t feel safe here, in her home and Griff’s, where would she be safe? If she couldn’t handle her own emotions, she couldn’t handle anything. So much for her brief high on Katy’s phone call.
Impatient with herself, Dory slid from the bed. Perhaps she should give more thought to marrying Griff. It wouldn’t be hard to manipulate him . . . What was she thinking of! Manipulate ! Certainly Griff still wanted to marry her; he had asked her to be his wife months ago—before coming to Washington. If anything, he wanted her to marry him more than ever! She was the one with the problem, the indecision! Had she actually thought of manipulating him into marriage? She was aghast. She needed to get her head together. Needed to talk to someone.
She could call Lily. Lily was safe. Safe in her role as mother and as wife. Lily knew exactly what she wanted. And, she had her own little built-in insurance policy—the baby. Lily was as safe as if she were wrapped in a silken cocoon. There were no pressures on Lily to succeed. Lily never had to worry about failing, Lily was safe and Dory could be safe too. If she married Griff, she wouldn’t be failing; she would just be quitting the game. There was no dishonor in that. Or was there? God, she just didn’t know anymore.
She lugged the Gucci suitcase back to the closet. Angrily, she kicked at the red and green strip on its side. If she took it to the flea market, she could sell it and get enough money to buy groceries or maybe even pay the electric bill. Would anyone at the flea market even know what a Gucci suitcase was? How pleased she’d been the day she had bought it, along with its matching weekend bag. She had wanted it, so she had bought it, using over two week’s salary to pay for it. She hadn’t even given the price a second thought. It was enough to know that she had earned the money and could spend it as she saw fit. There was nothing wrong with wanting things. Permission wasn’t required to buy it. God, how she hated the damn thing. On Saturday she would sell both the pieces. Lily would approve. Sylvia . . . Sylvia would sneer and ask her what she planned on packing her clothes in . . . a shopping bag? Sylvia had a complete set of Louis Vuitton.
November turned into a depressing month. All the glorious colors of autumn were long gone. The days turned cold and rain seemed to be a daily occurrence. Dory dreaded the coming of winter with the biting wind and icy sleet almost as much as she dreaded Griff’s end-of-the-month lectures on spending.
Thanksgiving passed as just another day except for dinner at Lily’s house. She had dutifully baked her pies and mashed the turnips as requested. She vowed to eat sparingly and then said the hell with it and ate as much as everyone else.
The digital scale in the mulberry bathroom said she was now eleven pounds over her normal weight. Just one pound over ten. Only three pounds over eight. Referred to in that manner, it didn’t seem so ominous.
And always, no matter what she did, no matter how she tried to avoid contact with the kitchen calendar, she found her eyes clicking off the red X’s. It was now dangerously close to the countdown when she would have to make the call to Lizzie.
Georgetown was a farce. She cut more classes than she attended. When she did do the reading, she couldn’t remember any of it afterward. Oh, she made a pretense of poring over books and compiling long lists of notes. More often than not they were household lists and grocery lists. Griff never seemed to notice. He tiptoed around the kitchen if he saw her bent over her books and notebooks.
For some reason, Dory felt betrayed. Or was she the betrayer?
December made its entrance with a heavy snowfall. The mounds of white stuff depressed Dory. It wasn’t till Lily called and suggested a trip to the evergreen farm to pick and chop their own Christmas trees that her spirits perked up. They bundled little Ricky into an apple-red snowsuit and started off. First, they stopped by Sylvia’s house to see if she wanted to accompany them.
“Darlings, no one in her right mind chops down Christmas trees. It’s . . . it’s decadent. Your feet will get wet in all that . . . that snow. You’ll catch cold and your hands will get chapped. Ridiculous! And, what about that child? What if he needs to nurse? I think you’re out of your mind, Lily. Call Sears and have them deliver an artificial tree. They even come trimmed.”
Lily grinned. “This is Ricky’s first Christmas and it would be sacrilegious to have a plastic tree. Do you want us to bring you back some evergreens for trimming?”
“And mess up the house? No, thank you!”
“I wonder how she’d notice a few pine needles.” Lily continued to giggle.
Dory sat contentedly watching the baby in his carseat. He was cute even if he slobbered all over everything, even if his shrill sounds made Dory wince. Motherhood. They did require a lot of work. Everyone wasn’t cut out for parenting. Lily was the perfect mother who should have a houseful of kids to run after. Bottles and diapers and laundry. Babysitters and mashed food. She hated the idea. Still . . . maybe she could learn to adjust. Having one’s own baby would certainly be different from watching someone else’s. Your own flesh and blood. Griff’s blood and her flesh. Her labor, her agony. Her sweat. Her stitches. Long and careful thought would be required before she made a decision.
Lily had borrowed the clinic van so she and Dory could bring back their Christmas trees. Now, fingers frozen and toes just beginning to warm from the van’s heater, they were on their way home. Two trees and bundles of green boughs filled the van with fresh natural scent. Little Ricky sat placidly in his car seat, drooling onto the front of his Winnie-the-Pooh snowsuit. His sweet, warm head lolled as he nodded off to sleep.
“Lily, little Ricky is falling asleep and I know it’s not his nap time. The cold air must have knocked him out. Do you want me to keep him awake so he’ll sleep when you get him home?” After numerous days spent with Lily and her baby Dory was becoming quite familiar with their schedules and the way Lily liked to do things.
“Let him sleep if he wants.” Lily concentrated on the road. “It really doesn’t make much difference. Rick won’t be coming home till late.”
Dory raised her brows, looking at Lily quizzically. What had happened since they left the evergreen farm? Why did Lily seem so despondent? Or was it her own brand of anger? “I suppose you’re dissatisfied when Rick needs to stay late at the clinic.”
“That’s a funny word, Dory. Dissatisfied? Don’t you mean disappointed?”
Dory wasn’t used to having Lily bring her up short. “Yes . . . yes, I suppose I do. Disappointed, then?”
Lily bit her lip, her pink, wind-stung cheeks making her chestnut hair seem more vivid. “I am disappointed in a lot of things.” This she said quietly, almost solemnly,
and Dory wondered if there was trouble in Lily’s paradise. But Lily didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and Dory was glad. She didn’t want to hear that Lily wasn’t safe. Out of the blue, Lily asked a question.
“Have you met the new receptionist-secretary at the clinic yet? I’ve been meaning to bring in one of my coffee cakes and get down there to decorate for Christmas. You know, just to bring the holiday spirit into the outer office. Little Rick’s pediatrician has these cute little felt angels hanging around the waiting room. I don’t know who made them, probably his wife.”
Dory was having difficulty following Lily’s train of thought. Did she want to talk about Ginny, the new receptionist, or did she want to talk about decorating the office? The latter seemed safer. “If you want we could buy some of those Hallmark paper decorations, and I’ll go down there with you to put them up. We could go when surgery is scheduled so the waiting room will be empty.”
Lily nodded, concentrating on the road. “Well, have you? Have you met this girl they’ve hired?”
“No, but I’ve spoken to her on the phone. She seems very nice . . . I guess,” she added when she saw Lily’s features stiffen.
“When the baby was born Rick promised he wouldn’t work past office hours,” Lily complained. “I even heard him tell Griff and John myself. This will be the second night this week he’s staying late.”
“Do you want me to say something to Griff? Perhaps he and John don’t understand how important your evenings are.”
“No, Dory, don’t say anything. I . . . I wouldn’t want Rick to know I’m being such a baby just because he had to work late a few nights.” Her mouth was drawn into a thin line as though she were biting back what she really wanted to talk about. “Hey!” She tried for forced brightness. “There’s the stand where they sell the best apple cider outside of New York State! You remember, Dory, I served it for Thanksgiving and everyone loved it. Let’s stop.”
“Sure. I love cider. I’ll stay here with the baby.”
Something was wrong with Lily. She was trying too hard. There were times, like right now, when Lily seemed almost frantic and just a shade too enthusiastic about her recipes and her decorating, not to mention her “happy, happy” home life. She seemed to be working overtime to convince herself that everything was wonderful. Or was she trying to convince Dory? Poor Lily, she was so vulnerable. How, Dory wondered, was it so possible for a woman to become so locked into family and home? She supposed she could question Lily, but Lily would say only what she wanted Dory to know, no more and no less. She would wear a stricken look and tears would come to her eyes. No, it was better not to ask questions of Lily. If Lily had a problem she would have to be the one to bring it up.
“Well what’s it going to be, are we going to get the decorations for the office or not?” Dory asked as she sipped her apple cider.
It wasn’t Dory’s imagination. Lily’s eyes took on a frightened look as she contemplated her answer. “No, I don’t think so. When I mentioned it to Rick he didn’t seem too interested. He said Ginny would do the decorating.”
“But I thought you said . . .” Dory clamped her mouth shut at Lily’s stricken face.
“I know what I said. The truth is, I wanted an excuse to go to the office to take a look at Ginny. Sylvia said she’s stunning. If Sylvia says she’s stunning that means she looks like Gisele Bündchen.”
“Sylvia exaggerates a great deal. So what if she does look like a model? What does that have to do with you?” Dory asked softly.
Lily turned to face Dory. “It has a great deal to do with me. It happened once before. I told you Rick was going to be late; this is the second time this week. That’s the way it started the last time. Beautiful receptionist, handsome young doctor. Sylvia took it on herself to tell me about it. She also took it upon herself to have John fire the girl. Her name was Maxine. I never told Rick I knew. He was different for a while but he straightened out. That’s why I decided to have the baby. I was so sure it would bring us closer together. I was so sure if I had a baby things would go back to the way they were before. I keep a spotless house, I cook wonderful meals. Little Rick is a delight to both Rick and me. I do everything a good wife is supposed to do. I think I’m reasonably good in bed. Rick certainly never complained. Everyone who comes to the house compliments Rick on what a wonderful wife and mother I am.” Tears filled Lily’s eyes as she stared at Dory. “If I’m such a wonderful wife and mother why does Rick have to look somewhere else? And he’s looking. It’s the same old pattern.”
Dory stared at her friend, aware of the contented baby in his car seat. My God, Lily had actually had a baby to try and solve her problems. How awful for Lily. Playing Mother Earth wasn’t her answer. Poor Lily. Men were such bastards. How could Rick do this to her? “Lily, I don’t know. I just don’t know. I assumed that everything was all right between you and Rick. You aren’t sure of anything. You think he’s doing something, but you aren’t sure. Why don’t you talk to him, get it out in the open? Tell him you know about the first time. It may not be true this time. Give him a chance.”
Lily was appalled at the suggestion. “I could never do that!”
“Why not? Once the air is cleared you can go on from there. I know you love Rick deeply. Make a fresh start.”
“I can’t do it. I simply can’t do it.”
“What are you going to do, have another baby to make it come right for you? Are you going to depend on Sylvia to find out about this one so she can tell John to fire Ginny? You can’t rely on babies to solve your problems. You have to work them out yourself, and silent suffering isn’t the answer.”
“Maybe not, but that’s the way it has to be for now,” Lily said in a cheerful voice. “I’m so glad we stopped for the cider. Rick likes to drink it in front of the fireplace before we go to bed. He’ll be so pleased that I got it.”
Dory had to physically shake her head to clear it. How could Lily turn on and off like that? From long practice she answered herself: Safe, secure Lily was frightened. Safe, secure Lily who thought she had Rick to support her and love her and give meaning to her life. If Lily could be insecure, where did that leave Dory?
When Dory arrived home from the evergreen farm she found a note from Griff on the kitchen table telling her he wouldn’t be home that night and not to expect him until late the following evening. Something about a horse and a colt that was refusing to nurse. Dory hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath till a long sigh escaped her with a loud swoosh. She would certainly have more than enough time to decorate the house with boughs of greenery. She was removing her boots when the phone rang. Kicking off one stout rubber boot, she hopped to the phone and caught it on the second ring. She fully expected to hear Sylvia’s voice demanding to know if she was sneezing yet or had a fever. The breathless, squeaky voice left no doubt who was on the other end of the phone. It was Aunt Pixie. Pixie never believed in the social amenities. She got right to the point.
“I’m at the damn airport. Will you kindly tell me how in the living hell I get to the boonies where you live?”
“You’re early, aren’t you?”
“Only by two weeks. Will it be a problem? If it is, you’re stuck with me regardless. Just give me directions. The cab driver hasn’t been born yet that I’d trust.”
Dory issued brief, concise instructions that she knew Pixie would never remember, “I’ll have a hot toddy waiting. Shouldn’t take you more than twenty minutes. You’ll beat traffic by at least an hour.”
“Never mind the toddy. I don’t want any garbage clouding up my drink. You just get the bottle out and make sure you have a long-stemmed glass.”
Dory laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit. I’m dying to see you. Hurry and hang up and get here so we can talk.”
Forty-five minutes later a whirlwind with six suitcases and a trunk sailed through Dory’s kitchen. “I take it you’re staying awhile,” Dory grinned.
“Three days. I’m on my way to Hong Kong,” Pixie
said as she uncapped the squat bottle of Scotch. She poured the amber liquid into the long-stemmed glass and drank it neat. “What do you say we get sloshed?” she said, tilting the bottle a second time.
“Sounds good to me,” Dory agreed, getting out a glass for herself. Pixie tossed her sable coat over the kitchen chair and Dory hugged her enthusiastically. “Watch the wig, watch the wig!” Pixie squeaked as she tried to adjust the precarious pile of red-gold curls.
“Oh, God, Pix, I forgot. Sorry. You look . . . great.”
“I know, I know. A real pity you and I are the only ones who think so. People actually turn around and stare at me and it’s not always with admiration.” She sipped her Scotch approvingly. “Now that I’ve taken the edge off a little we can do some serious drinking. All they served on that miserable flight was Diet Pepsi. Diet Pepsi. I told that stewardess what I thought of that, let me tell you. All that saccharin. My God! A body isn’t safe anywhere anymore. By the way, you look like something the cat dragged in, took a second look and then dragged back out. What’d you do, sneak back in when he wasn’t looking?”
“Thanks,” Dory said dryly. She sipped at her drink.
Pixie fumbled in her handbag and eventually found a pair of granny glasses. She propped them on the end of her nose and stared at Dory. Her mouth dropped open as she regarded her favorite niece. Her only niece. “Pudgy. God, I envy women who have the guts to be pudgy. I have to work at staying this thin,” she said proudly as she stuck out a long, skinny leg clad in a white leather boot. Dory wouldn’t have been surprised to see a pom-pom attached to the top.
Balancing Act Page 27
