“Thanks, Grace.” I leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “You’ve been a tremendous help.”
Her eyes were starting to drift closed, so I tucked the sheet up around her and stood up. “I’ll do the dishes and then lock up when I leave.”
“Thank you, Ellie. You’re a good girl.”
“Good night, Grace.” Down the short hallway to the kitchen from her bedroom, I fought back tears. Grace’s words about being a good girl echoed in my head. It was exactly what my mother used to say, and to tell the truth, I hadn’t always believed it. Now, though, after half a century, I had finally figured out one thing.
Being good and being perfect were mutually exclusive. And since I’d never be the latter, I could only be the former. In the end, being good was good enough. It would have to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Drawing a New Line
Jim didn’t come back to my house that evening, so I assumed he’d had to go back into surgery. I was grateful for the reprieve, because I had a lot of thinking to do. His blithe assumption that now that we’d reconciled in the bedroom I’d move right back into the rest of the house still bothered me.
I slept like a log and woke the next morning to find my refrigerator was as empty as my stomach. There was nothing for it but to throw on some clothes and make a quick run to Harris-Teeter. Of course, since I looked less than my best, I ran into lots of people I knew. One person stopped me in the bread aisle to rave about the carriage rides. Another expressed similar praise in front of the Saran Wrap and Ziploc bags. The one that really got to me, though, was when I ran into Cissy Crawford, a fixture in Nashville society, in front of the potato chips.
“I’m so glad Roz thought of the horse and carriage idea. Brilliant. Simply brilliant. I wish I’d done it when I was the chair.”
My face froze, and I couldn’t do anything but smile and nod. I was too stunned to set Cissy straight. At least, I was too stunned until I started pushing my cart forward again and looked up to see my nemesis heading straight toward me, her own cart piled high.
“Ellie.” She greeted me with a curt nod. “You look terrible. Are you ill?”
After our last confrontation in this grocery store, I’d been ready to let bygones be bygones, live and let live, etc. Clearly Roz’s antipathy for me had very little to do with reality and a lot more to do with her crazy mother. But her taking credit for my Cannon Ball success was too much.
“Roz.” I returned her chilly nod. “I understand you’re due some congratulations.”
Her eyes narrowed, suddenly wary. “Am I?”
“I understand you had the brilliant idea to hire the carriages instead of using shuttle buses for the ball.”
She blushed underneath her layers of LaPrairie makeup. “I’m sure I never—”
“I’m pretty sure you ‘never,’ too.”
I was ready to blast her, to pin her to the wall with the force of my righteous indignation. After the last two months, I felt powerful enough to do it. A heady sense of command rose up in me. Finally, after all these years, I could take my enemy out at the knees, leaving her decimated and crippled right here in front of the Pringles.
And then I looked at Roz again. Really looked at her. I saw underneath the layers of expensive makeup, beyond the plastic surgery, deep into her normally brown eyes that were concealed behind blue contact lenses. At that moment, the need for revenge drained away. What good would it do? What point would it prove?
Instead, I said, “I’m going to send you something in the mail.”
She blinked twice, confused. “What?”
“I’m going to send you something in the mail. My birth certificate.”
She pursed her lips. “What would I do with your birth certificate?”
I smiled. Not in a Cruella De Vil kind of way. Just in a normal way. A relieved way. The old Ellie way.
“You can use it to put your fears to rest. We’re not sisters. Your dad had nothing to do with me.”
I knew better than to expect any kind of gratitude or similarly human response. Instead, I reached out, took a bag of pretzels from the shelf on my right, and tossed them into my cart.
She collected herself, and her spine went ramrod straight. “You can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“You can’t just say something like that and assume that it’s over.”
I could see in her eyes that the loss of our rivalry scared her. I had some sympathy for that. She’d been a part of how I defined myself for so long that it was like pulling up an anchor or letting go of a lifeline. And yet, how could either of us ever move forward if we didn’t let go?
“Have a good day, Roz.”
I grabbed my cart by the handle, and with my head held high, I pushed it past her, leaving her behind me, right where she belonged.
My trip to Harris-Teeter took longer than I had expected. Before I could get out of the store, I’d had to stop to hear three more rave reviews for the transportation at the Cannon Ball, talked to two women (divorcées, like myself) who had heard about Your Better Half and wanted to know if I was hiring, and been given the eye (and some free peaches) by the produce manager. All in all, not bad for a trip to the grocery store.
When I pulled into my driveway, though, another surprise lay in wait. Jim’s sleek little car was there.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered as I grabbed the grocery bags from the back seat and made my way up the walk. He wasn’t on the porch, though, as I’d expected. I turned the key and went in the house, but he wasn’t there, either. Curious. And then I heard the strange sounds coming from the backyard. I walked to the kitchen, plopped the bags on the counter, and looked out the window.
With Grace’s help, the view from my kitchen window had undergone a transformation. And while I hadn’t yet achieved the lushness of her English garden backyard, I was doing pretty well. The best-looking thing between me and the fence, however, happened to be Jim, shirtless and sweating, as he dug up the flower bed at the rear of the yard.
Irritation flashed through me at first as I watched his well-muscled arms thrust the shovel into the ground, and then his spine curve and flex as he used one foot to push it into the ground. I even admired his backside, one of his best features, actually, as he bent to lift the dirt from the hole and then sent it flying off to the growing mound on his right. How unfair that a fifty-year-old man could look so good when I’d looked so awful after doing the same thing.
Quickly I put away the groceries that needed to be refrigerated, and then I was vain enough to make a quick stop in front of the bathroom mirror to fluff my hair and apply some lipstick. Not more than three minutes later, though, I was letting myself out the back door and crossing the yard.
“What are you doing?” I kept my voice carefully neutral.
Jim cast a quick look at me over his shoulder before thrusting the shovel into the ground yet again. He had to be getting pretty deep by this time.
“I’m digging.”
“Yes. I can see that.”
Okay, I’ll admit a little thrill shot through me. He was very determined, very matter-of-fact, and the hair at the nape of his neck clung in sweaty little clumps that looked really manly.
I stopped when I was a few feet away from him. “Why are you digging up my impatiens?”
He threw a last shovelful of dirt onto the pile, struck the shovel into the ground, and leaned on the handle. “I’m retrieving something.”
Another thrill followed the last one up my spine. “Buried treasure?” This time, I could keep my tone neutral but I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from turning upward.
“Yep.” He pulled a bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his forehead. I had to admit, the man still had a great pair of pecs. Cracking open people’s chests was pretty physical work when you got right down to it.
“You gonna be long?”
He smiled, and I guess since things come in threes, the final shiver went up my sp
ine. “Not too long.”
And then, suddenly, I didn’t want to dance around the subject anymore. “You don’t have to do this.”
His face grew sober as well. “Yes, I do.”
“It’s just a box.”
“No, it’s not.”
“If I want it back, I’ll dig it up “
For the first time, he looked away. “Maybe I don’t want to wait that long.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I can’t just come back home like nothing happened, Jim.”
I expected him to get a little angry and defensive, and I could tell from the way he took a deep breath and then slowly blew it out that those emotions were the first to surface. But whereas the Jim of old would have stomped off and found solace in his work or playing with one of his expensive toys or even turning to Tiffany, the man in front of me at that moment reacted quite differently than I expected.
“I don’t know if I can make it right.” He said the words to my shoes.
“What do you mean?”
He looked up then, and I could see the vulnerability in his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d let me see that.
“I did a lot of stupid things, Ellie. I don’t know if I can ever make them up to you.”
“So that’s why you’re digging up the box?” I’d thought it was to pressure me into coming back home, to lure me there with reminders of how safe and insulated my life had once been. Only as I’d learned, I’d never been truly safe at all.
He heaved a sigh. “Seemed like a good place to start.”
Well, maybe he was right. But I still wasn’t sure.
“We can’t go back.”
“No.” He shook his head in agreement. “We can’t.”
“But maybe there’s another option.”
He went really still. “Another option?”
I smiled. My new smile. A real one that had found its own home on my face. “As I said before, you could ask me out. You were a pretty fun date the other night.”
His smile was a bit wolfish. “Glad to be of service.”
I went scarlet. Because my ex-husband was flirting with me. Who would have ever thought it?
Jim turned back to the hole with his shovel and pulled out another scoop of dirt. With the next stab, though, I heard a dull thud instead of the crisp slicing of metal through dirt. Jim dropped to his knees and began digging with his hands. A few moments later, he pulled the memory box from its grave.
He laid it on the ground and brushed the dirt away from its top. The calligraphy lettering was smudged, but it was still there.
Jim & Ellie.
He stood up with the box and held it out to me like an offering. “Here you go.”
I couldn’t take it, though. Not yet.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you hold onto it for me.”
Jim frowned. “I don’t want to play games, Ellie.”
I almost bristled, but as I’d recently learned at Harris-Teeter, sometimes you had to let go of the past if you wanted to have empty hands to receive whatever the future might bring.
“I’m not playing games.”
He looked confused for a moment, and then a small flame of hope flickered in his eyes. “Hold onto it, huh?”
“Yes. I might want it back someday, though, so take good care of it.”
“Okay.” There was a world of emotions in that single word. Acceptance. Frustration. Regret. And, I believed, love. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
By this time, the early summer sun was getting pretty strong, and my own forehead was starting to bead with sweat. “Would you like to come in and take a shower? I can fix us some lunch.”
“What about the hole?”
I looked over at the poor, beleaguered section of my flower bed. “It can wait.” I said with a smile. “Some things may be fleeting,” my smile dimmed a little bit at these words, “but some things are here to stay.”
“Which are we?” Jim asked tensely.
My smile returned. “I think I know,” I said. “But I also plan to have a little fun finding out if I’m right.”
I turned to lead him back to my house, but he caught me by the arm. “Ellie.” His voice was deep and serious. “Don’t get my hopes up just to pay me back.”
I looked up into the eyes of the man I’d loved for more than half my life. Suddenly, my throat was tight and I didn’t feel so powerful anymore. “I want to forgive you,” I whispered. “But it may take me some time to figure out how. I’ve got to draw a new line.”
He dropped his hold on my arm, and the tears I saw in his eyes were almost my undoing. The old Ellie would have taken him in her arms to comfort and reassure him. The new Ellie, though, was a bit wiser. After all, she had to be—now that she was the Queen of Hearts.
“What are you talking about?”
“In bridge, when someone makes game, you draw a line under the score and start over.”
Jim smiled and shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to understand.”
I returned his smile. “That’s okay. You don’t need to understand it. Not as long as I finally do.” I reached down and took his hand in mine. “Come on. I’ll make you an omelet.”
And so I held onto Jim’s hand, he held onto the memory box, and we went into the house to have lunch, framed by my heart-shaped dining room arch.
EPILOGUE
A Fabulous Fursome
Atoast,” Jane said, lifting her champagne flute and smiling, “to Ellie’s first anniversary.”
“Here, here,” Linda and Grace echoed. AH four of us clinked our glasses, and I took a sip of the ice cold champagne. It fizzed its way happily down my throat.
Had it really been a year since I’d moved into the house on Woodlawn Avenue? I beamed at the other three women as we guzzled our champagne.
“Don’t let me forget,” Jane said, setting her flute down on the table. “I’ve got a couple more business cards to pass on to you. Both of them sounded really interested in Your Better Half.”
“Thanks. But if you keep sending me clients at this pace, I’m going to have to hire more people.” I was learning every day how enjoyable—and how difficult—it was to run your own business. Besides myself, I now had three other divorced women on the payroll, all of whom I’d met through Red Hat functions. Most months it was nip and tuck, but Jane had assured me it would take a good five years to get myself firmly established. In the meantime, I was working very, very hard and loving every exhausting minute.
“I have good news, too,” Linda said. “Well, not good news, exactly, but a good opportunity.”
“For me?”
Linda nodded. “Adele Greenway’s husband just got transferred to Raleigh.”
My breath caught in my throat. Adele was Linda’s co-chair for the Cannon Ball and heir apparent to chair the following year.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I am, too,” Linda said. “Adele’s great. So I’ll need someone just as wonderful to fill her shoes.” She paused. “What do you think, Ellie? Would you be willing to do it?”
Linda’s offer was every social aspiration I’d ever dreamed of, wrapped up in ribbon and handed to me on a platter. But one thing I’d learned in the last year was that it was okay to say no.
“Would it be all right if I gave it some thought?” I didn’t want to offend my friend, but I knew since she was truly my friend, she’d understand.
“Okay. But only a few days. If you don’t think you can do it, I need to find someone else.”
I leaned over to give her a hug. “Thank you, Linda. You know that just being asked means the world to me.”
She returned my hug and then we both sat back with a laugh. “Champagne makes me maudlin,” she said, wiping back a few stray tears.
Grace tapped her spoon against her water glass. “I have an announcement to make, too.”
My breath caught in my throat. Grace’s lawyer had been meeting with the DA off and on for several months, trying to convince the powers
-that-be not to press charges.
“As of today, I’m a free woman,” Grace said. “The District Attorney has decided to be merciful.”
Relief flooded through me, and I leaned the other way, this time to hug Grace. “I’m so glad.” I suddenly felt lighter than air.
“It was never your fault, Ellie.” She patted my back reassuringly. “Oops.”
The brims of our hats had bumped against one another. I reached up to straighten the enormous conflagration of ribbon and feathers on my head. I now had enough hats of my own to make a claim at being a true Red Hatter. Not as many as the others, of course, but given time, I’d give them a run for their money.
“Okay, ladies,” Linda said. “Enough of the mushy-gushy stuff. Let’s play cards.”
“Now, Ellie,” Grace said, leaning toward me. “Tonight, we’re going to teach you how to respond to a takeout double if your opponent passes.”
I laughed. “Wait a minute, Grace. I have something to say, too.”
The other three leaned toward me in eager anticipation. “You’re getting remarried?” Grace asked with excitement
“No, no. Jim and I are doing fine, but we’re not that far along yet.” I smiled, though, thinking of the weekend before when Connor and Courtney had both been home from college. Connor had stayed with Jim at the house in Belle Meade, and Courtney had bunked with me on Woodlawn Avenue. The kids’ happiness at seeing Jim and I together once again, even if we hadn’t made any commitments for the future, had been an extra blessing.
“Then what is it?” Jane asked.
“Look, I don’t want to seem ungrateful.” I stopped, took a deep breath for courage, and then continued. “But I think it’s time for the lessons to stop. I think it’s time for me to take responsibility for my own hand.”
The other three exchanged looks, and for a moment I was concerned. Then they all three burst into laughter.
Linda began to deal the cards. “Of course, Ellie. All you had to do was ask.”
And it was true. Since the day Jane had arrived on my doorstep with that heavenly pound cake, these three women had responded to my every request. And that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
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