The Future She Left Behind

by Marin Thomas

  Shirley’s mouth puckered and Katelyn swallowed a laugh. Her mother-in-law had high standards when it came to food.

  She turned off Delmar Boulevard onto Westminster and a block later pulled into the driveway of their 1907 Classic Revival–style home. The four-thousand-square-foot house included a finished basement, four bedrooms and three and a half baths—plenty large enough for five people to wander around without bumping into one another. Not. The idiot who’d renovated the place had added a guest suite on the main floor near the kitchen, making it convenient for Shirley to overhear conversations and phone calls. Katelyn parked the car in the circular drive.

  “Why aren’t you pulling into the garage? You don’t have any appointments for the rest of the day.” Amazing how Shirley forgot where she set her purse, yet she memorized Katelyn’s personal calendar every morning on her way to the coffeepot.

  “I might decide to go out later.” Katelyn collected the drugstore bag and her tote, then got out of the car and waited for Shirley. “Be careful on the wet steps.” She followed behind. “Pam’s banishing you from the salon until November.”

  “Why?”

  Katelyn twisted the knife a little deeper. “Pam said your hair’s starting to thin at the crown.” If she didn’t get in a few jabs once in a while, she’d explode and say something she couldn’t take back.

  They entered the house and Shirley removed the rain cap, then dropped it on the chair next to the door. “You should change your hairstyle to something more age appropriate.”

  Oh, this was rich. The Betty White look-alike telling Katelyn she needed a makeover.

  “You’re too old to wear your hair halfway down your back.”

  “Since when is forty old?” Katelyn hung their jackets in the hall closet.

  “The brown color looks nice on you, but the longer length draws attention to your . . .” Shirley’s gaze dropped. “Your hips aren’t your best feature.”

  Katelyn ignored the criticism, because she derived immense pleasure from knowing that Shirley was powerless to force her to change her hair. Every year she considered trying a new style, then nixed the idea, reluctant to give up the one thing that drove her mother-in-law nuts.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Katelyn breathed a sigh of relief when Shirley retreated to her bedroom. She’d enjoy the peace and quiet while she made the frosting for the birthday cake. The recipe came from her grandmother’s cookbook, which Birdie had given to Katelyn on her wedding day. Speaking of mothers . . . She peeked at the calendar on the kitchen desk. Birdie turned sixty on June twenty-first—two weeks from today.

  It had been more than three years since Katelyn had flown home to Little Springs, Texas. After Shirley had moved in and turned their lives—mostly Katelyn’s life—upside down, it had been all she could do to get through each week, let alone plan the next one. With the kids gone for most of the summer, she intended to ask Don if he’d schedule a week’s vacation and entertain Shirley while she visited Birdie.

  After collecting all the ingredients, Katelyn combined melted chocolate squares, butter, vanilla flavoring, sour cream, water and powdered sugar into a bowl, then flipped on the mixer. The sound of the beaters brought back memories of her mother baking a cake every Sunday morning and then letting it cool on the counter while they attended church.

  Katelyn had grown up a latchkey kid, and because both her parents had worked, she’d spent much of her childhood alone, playing with Mack, the stray Rottweiler that had wandered into the yard one afternoon and had never left. Mack hadn’t been allowed inside, but her father had built a house for him to use during the winter. In the summer Mack slept beneath the front porch to escape the heat.

  By the time Katelyn had entered junior high, Mack’s muzzle had turned white. Her father had predicted the dog wouldn’t survive another winter. Mack must have known, too, because he’d died the day before Halloween that year. They’d buried him in the backyard near Birdie’s yellow lantana plants. Katelyn’s cell phone rang, interrupting the poignant memory, and she shut off the mixer.

  Melissa. “Hi, honey. Everything okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. You worry too much.”

  Busted. Katelyn admitted she was a helicopter parent and proud of it. After the twins had been born, she’d made a vow to stay involved in their lives and become their champion—unlike her own mother, who’d been too tired from her job to keep track of Katelyn’s hobbies. And when Birdie wasn’t cashiering at the Buy & Bag grocery store, she could be found working in her garden, not attending her daughter’s extracurricular activities. Katelyn might have gone overboard making sure her kids had everything they needed to succeed. Don’s job as the executive vice president of logistic operations for NicorTrune—a company that produced chemicals, fibers and plastics used by other manufacturers—required him to spend several weeks a month overseas, and she’d felt compelled to double down on her efforts to make up for his absence.

  “I wanted to wish Grandma an early happy birthday, because I can’t call tomorrow.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’re touring Pompeii and I’ll be gone the whole day.”

  “Grandma’s napping, but I’ll tell her you wished her a happy birthday. How are you doing? Are you getting along with the other girls? What are you eating?”

  Melissa laughed. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

  “I don’t care. Just keep talking. It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “I’m having a great time and so far the weather’s been decent.”

  It didn’t sound as if Melissa missed home at all. As soon as the thought entered Katelyn’s mind, she chastised herself. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d been as eager as her daughter to venture out into the world.

  “OMG, Mom, the guys over here are hot.”

  “No hot guys for you, young lady.”

  “Has Jared called?” Jared and Melissa had dated their senior year but decided on an amicable breakup when Melissa left for Italy. Katelyn understood only too well the difficulties of letting go of a first love.

  “Jared hasn’t phoned. Is he supposed to call?”

  “I thought . . . Never mind. If he stops by, tell him I’m having a great time abroad.”

  “Do you want me to tell him the boys over there are hot, too?”

  Melissa groaned. “How’s Michael?”

  “Fine, I guess. He hasn’t called home yet for money.”

  “Is Dad around?”

  “He returns from Japan on Friday.”

  “Tell him I said hi.”

  “I will. How are you doing with your money? Do you need more?”

  “I have plenty. Mom?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t say no right away.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Sara Kerns invited me to stay with her after we return to the States in July.”

  Melissa had met Sara during the orientation meeting for the trip and the two had become fast friends. “Doesn’t Sara live in Georgia?”

  “Near Savannah.”

  “Is Jared the reason you don’t want to hang around St. Louis the rest of the summer?”

  “Maybe. It’ll be so awkward, Mom.”

  Katelyn understood. When she’d broken up with her high school boyfriend, Jackson, during her first semester of college, she’d avoided going home, wanting to spare them both the awkwardness of running into each other.

  “Sara’s family owns a horse farm and you know I’ve always wanted to learn to ride.”

  “I offered to set you up with lessons when you were ten, but you changed your mind.” Katelyn had taken Melissa to a horse stable on the outskirts of St. Louis, but the huge animals had scared her and she’d asked to take dance lessons instead.

  “Sara said they have a really old mare that I can learn to ride on.”

  Katelyn
hated not seeing Melissa until school began in late August, but she didn’t want to stand in the way of her daughter chasing her dreams. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home?”

  “Positive. And Dad won’t care, because he’s gone all the time. Please, Mom.”

  “As long as it’s okay with Sara’s parents, you can stay with them.”

  Melissa squealed. “It’s going to be the best summer ever.”

  “I’ll change your plane ticket when—”

  “I can do it.”

  Katelyn bit back a sigh. She’d been looking forward to taking her daughter shopping for school clothes and spoiling her with a girls’ day at the spa before she left for college. Melissa had begun getting her hair highlighted in ninth grade and mani-pedis had become a monthly habit. Michael always had the newest video-game system and cool athletic shoes. Katelyn had wanted only to give her children what she’d never had. The twins knew they were spoiled, but so were their friends at school. Fortunately, they’d never abused their parents’ generosity or seriously rebelled.

  “I gotta go. Tell Grandma I miss her.”

  “Stay safe.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, honey.” As soon as Katelyn set the phone on the counter, she received a text message from Michael.

  I’ll wish Grandma a happy birthday tomorrow.

  Katelyn wasn’t letting her son off the hook that easy. What are you up to? she texted back.

  5’11”

  Very funny

  On my way to the gym. Gotta go.

  Call this weekend. Your dad will be home.

  K

  Love you XXOO

  Me 2

  In a good mood after both kids had checked in, Katelyn took extra care frosting the two-layer cake before covering it with plastic wrap and returning it to the fridge. After she cleaned up the mess, she decided to throw a load of laundry into the washing machine, but the sound of the doorbell interrupted her.

  A pair of blue eyes rimmed with pale blond lashes stared back at her through the peephole. The man wore a dark suit, and behind him a nondescript green sedan sat in the driveway next to the Mercedes. She opened the door. “May I help you?”

  “Are you Katelyn Chandler-Pratt?”

  “I am.”

  He handed her a manila envelope. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Papers.” He backed up.

  “What kind of papers?”

  “Legal papers.”

  “I don’t understand. Are we being sued?”

  “Only you, ma’am. Your husband wants a divorce.”

  • • •

  Katelyn stood in the kitchen, shoveling chocolate cake into her mouth, her gaze fixated on the table where the manila envelope rested. She swallowed a gulp of milk and washed down the frosting that stuck to the sides of her throat.

  The kitchen lights flipped on and Shirley gaped at her from the doorway. “Is that my birthday cake you’re eating?”

  “Yes.” Was this her second or third piece?

  “It’s almost six o’clock.” Shirley glanced at the stove. “Did you have dinner already?”

  “This is dinner.” She finished the last bite, then sucked the frosting off the end of the fork. Ignoring her mother-in-law’s openmouthed stare, she helped herself to another slice, albeit smaller.

  “Aren’t you going to save some of that for tomorrow?”

  Katelyn’s gaze shifted to the table—her brain barely registering the chocolate melting on her tongue.

  “Is this what’s got you eating like an ogre?” Shirley snatched the envelope and waved it in the air.

  Katelyn shoveled another bite into her mouth. She’d stop gorging herself as soon as she felt sick. Right now she was numb from the shoulders down and in serious danger of devouring the entire cake.

  “What is this?” Shirley moved closer, invading Katelyn’s space.

  “A legal document.” After the messenger had driven off, Katelyn had stood in the entryway, waiting for him to return, certain once he reached the corner, he would realize he’d delivered the envelope to the wrong address. When the doorbell never rang, she’d done what any reasonable woman in her situation would do—she’d eaten chocolate.

  “Steven Long . . .” Shirley tapped a fingernail against the return address. “The name sounds familiar.”

  “Don’s lawyer.”

  “Don isn’t thinking of taking early retirement, is he? The kids need to graduate college first.” A pencil-thin eyebrow arched. “Aren’t you going to open it?” Shirley tapped the envelope against Katelyn’s leg. “Before your pants become too tight.”

  Katelyn shook her head, too dazed to feel the insult.

  “I’ll open it.” Shirley slid her nail beneath the flap and tore the seal.

  The coldness that had filled Katelyn the past few hours was beginning to ebb and her stomach ached. “Don’s not retiring.”

  Her mother-in-law unfolded the pair of reading glasses hanging from a fake pearl chain around her neck and put them on. “‘Regarding the marriage of Donald Pratt, petitioner, and Katelyn Pratt, respondent . . .’” Shirley sucked in a noisy breath and looked at Katelyn. “This is a dissolution-of-marriage notification.”

  Katelyn pulled out a chair at the table and sank onto the seat.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Shirley didn’t understand? Shoot, Katelyn had been blindsided. Her mother-in-law left the room and returned a minute later with her cell phone. “This must be a mistake.”

  Shirley’s reaction surprised Katelyn. Years ago she’d been less than enthusiastic upon hearing the news that her son would be marrying a lower-class girl from Texas.

  “Donald, this is your mother. Call me as soon as you get this message.”

  Katelyn wanted to laugh but feared a sob would escape if she opened her mouth. Shirley riffled through the legal papers, then set a smaller envelope with Katelyn’s name scrawled across the front in Don’s handwriting onto the table.

  “Open it,” Shirley said.

  “Later.” After she finished processing the news that her husband was tossing her aside.

  Shirley helped herself to a piece of birthday cake, then sat across from Katelyn.

  “While you were napping, Melissa called to wish you an early happy birthday.”

  “Some birthday this is turning out to be.”

  “I’m sorry my getting dumped has ruined your celebration.”

  “The reason Don wants a divorce doesn’t matter.” Shirley pointed her dessert fork at Katelyn. “You can fix this.”

  How could she fix anything, if she didn’t know what was broken?

  “I told you to cut your hair years ago.”

  “A man doesn’t divorce his wife over a hairstyle.” But in the back of Katelyn’s mind she worried that Shirley was right—not about the long hair, but about Katelyn’s appearance. Maybe her husband wasn’t attracted to her anymore.

  She thought back to the last time Don had been home. Every night he’d retreated to his office, claiming he had work to catch up on, and she’d gone to bed alone. In the morning he’d already been dressed and downstairs eating breakfast by the time she’d woken up.

  “I’m sure this is nothing more than a midlife crisis.” Shirley’s smile wobbled. “The cake is very good, by the way.”

  Katelyn felt it coming . . . the slow clenching of her stomach muscles, her mouth watering and her eyes stinging. She bolted from the kitchen and stumbled into the half bath outside Don’s office, then dropped to her knees and shared Shirley’s birthday cake with the porcelain god.

  Chocolate cake would never taste the same after today.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was past midnight.

  Shirley had holed up in her room hours ago with a s
econd helping of cake. Katelyn preferred to drown her sorrows in a hundred-dollar bottle of Nosotros.

  Now that she was up to her eyeballs in courage, she set her empty wineglass on the bedroom dresser and picked up the white envelope with her name on it. Almost two decades of marriage had warranted only a single sheet of notepaper—typed, not handwritten.

  Katelyn, I’m unhappy.

  Why hadn’t Don said something to her before now?

  Our marriage hasn’t been good for a long while and since the kids are moving on with their lives, I want to move on, too.

  Snapshots of their life together flashed through Katelyn’s mind as she searched for a moment, a conversation or a look, that had hinted at her husband’s unhappiness. His phone call the previous week had been like all the others. . . . How’s Mother? The kids? You? Work is busy. Gotta go.

  She couldn’t remember if either one of them had said “I love you” at the end of the conversation. And when was the last time they’d made love? A month ago? Two?

  Maybe their marriage wasn’t as warm and fuzzy as other couples’, but what did they have to be unhappy about? Don made more money in a year than they could spend. They had two great kids. And they had their health.

  I’ve listed the house with a real estate agent. The For Sale sign goes up tomorrow.

  He wasn’t wasting any time.

  Take whatever furniture you want, but leave me a few pictures of the kids. Steven will arrange to put what’s left into storage. I paid off the Santa Fe. It’s yours now.

  She picked up the wineglass—a gift Don had purchased for her in Belgium a year ago—and hurled it at the fireplace. The glass shattered against the white marble, the shards raining down on the carpet.

  I’ll cover the cost of the divorce and the kids’ college tuition. I think you’ll find the settlement more than fair.

  What was almost nineteen years of marriage worth?

  I leased an apartment for my mother at the Garden Oaks Retirement Estates off of Delmar Blvd. The rent is paid through the end of the year. I’ve arranged for a caretaker to chauffeur her on errands and to doctors’ appointments. This is the best I can do for her until I figure out my living arrangements.