“I thought I could get past it,” her mother said. Renee closed her eyes and thought about her mother’s face, how her skin had grown papery over the last decade, and her blue eyes had faded, as if she was being slowly erased. “But I can’t. I just can’t believe he did that.”
“Mom . . .” Renee’s voice trailed off as she realized she didn’t know what to say. She felt dizzy—she’d been feeling dizzy a lot lately, but this was much worse. “I thought . . . you just seemed to be handling it so well.”
“I can barely look at him. I couldn’t stand to be near him another moment.”
“But he loves you so much,” Renee said. Sharp tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. “You know he does.”
“Becca came over this morning to drop off the hand weights she got me,” her mother continued, as if she hadn’t even heard Renee. “And she was wearing these pearl earrings. Just simple pearls, but very classic. I complimented her on them, and she told me they’d been her mother’s. Then I looked at your father, and I saw his face turn gray. I thought he was having a heart attack. But it wasn’t that at all. I knew something was up, and I kept asking him, and he finally told me. He gave them to her, Renee. He gave another woman earrings. He slept with her and he made a daughter with her and he gave her pearl earrings.”
“Oh, Mom,” Renee whispered.
“I was bringing a plate of bagels to the table to have with our coffee. And when I realized it, I threw them on the floor.”
Renee could see the plain white china her parents had used for years shattering against the kitchen tiles, the blueberry bagels—her father’s favorite—crumbling under her mother’s feet. The sudden transformation of the cluttered, cozy kitchen, where her parents split cans of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. It was as if the house where Renee had grown up had suddenly been thrown off-center by the force of an earthquake.
“Your father tried to calm me down. Becca, too. But I started packing. She didn’t want me to drive, so she took me to a hotel and got me settled.”
Her mother must have taken the same old blue Samsonite suitcase she’d used for years and years out of the closet and upended drawers as she tossed in her clothes. It was all wrong; her father’s matching suitcase was still in the closet.
“Why did he have to give that woman a gift?” her mother said softly. “The thought of them sleeping together . . . Well, I can barely stand it. But him shopping for her? Him buying another woman jewelry?”
Hearing her mother cry was one of the worst things Renee had ever endured. “Mom,” she said, her voice pleading. “Remember when I didn’t get asked to the homecoming dance during my senior year and all my friends were going? Dad didn’t ever talk to me about it. But he bought me a gift certificate to Macy’s. A hundred dollars. It was one of the most expensive things he ever gave me.”
Her mother didn’t say anything, but her sobs softened.
“He wanted to make the problem go away, Mom. He didn’t want me to think about the fact that I wasn’t invited to the dance, so he tried to buy the problem away. Maybe that’s what he was doing.”
“It wasn’t because he cared about her?” She could hear in her mother’s voice that she wanted to believe it.
“Mom, he loves you. He made an awful mistake. The earrings could have been an apology, or his way of closing the door when she wanted more. Maybe he doesn’t even know why. But you’re the woman he has adored for thirty years. You’re the one he chose.”
Her mother blew her nose. “I think I need to lie down and rest a little bit,” she finally said. “Could you call me back later?”
Just then the apartment door opened and Cate stepped inside in her running clothes, the earbuds of her iPod dangling around her neck and her arms full of groceries.
“Of course. Mom, don’t have anything else to drink, okay? Just try to sleep a little bit.”
Cate looked at Renee, a question in her eyes.
“Do you know what it is, dear?” her mother said, her voice as faint as a whisper. “If he had told me when it first happened, we could have worked it out. His hiding it was the worst part. That’s the biggest betrayal—that he started our relationship this way. How do you recover from something like that?”
“I don’t know,” Renee said. “But, Mom, it’s going to be okay. Dad loves you so much.”
She hung up a moment later.
“What happened?” Cate asked.
“She left my dad,” Renee said. “She just . . . left.”
“You look so pale,” Cate said. She reached for a glass and filled it with water from the Brita. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Renee took a swallow, realizing her tongue felt as dry as a sheet of sandpaper. “I thought everything was fine between them. But it just hit her, that my dad started their relationship with a lie. I don’t know if she’ll be able to forgive him for that.”
She didn’t notice that Cate, who was walking over to sit beside her, suddenly flinched.
Twenty-four
CATE LOOKED DOWN AT the pages of Sam’s article as she weighed them in her hand. She’d finally made a decision: She was cutting his story from her first issue. She needed to take a stand and set the tone for their relationship before things got any worse. She wouldn’t kill the piece completely, but she’d delay it for a month or two. She’d already sorted through the evergreen files and found an article that wasn’t half bad. It was a profile of a young, up-and-coming director who had candidly talked about being addicted to drugs as a teenager, before having a mystical experience on an Outward Bound trip. The director was eloquent and passionate, and his films had garnered respect in the indie community. It had been written just a few months ago and was already fact-checked. All it needed was a phone call or two for updates and they could slide it into the magazine.
Cate took her hand off her computer’s mouse and stood up. She walked down the corridor toward Nigel’s office and rapped her knuckles on the open door. “Got a second?” she asked.
He glanced up at her over his reading glasses and slid the draft magazine pages he was holding onto his desk. “Come in,” he said.
Cate plunged in. “The polygamy story. I’m going to hold it another month. Sam came in way past deadline, and I’d like to take a little more time with the piece.”
Nigel took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I thought you said the story was coming along.”
“It is,” Cate said. “But the issue is that I gave Sam a deadline and he didn’t make it. Several times, in fact.”
“What do you plan to replace it with?” Nigel asked.
“We’ve got a nice evergreen on an indie film director—” Cate began.
“The guy who climbed a mountain and felt like God pushed him to the top?” Nigel interrupted. “Let me see the polygamy piece.”
“It’s not that it’s not good,” Cate said carefully. “But Sam made things difficult. His writing is fine, but he ignored the deadlines I gave him and came up with silly excuses.”
“You think we’ve never had a writer miss a deadline before? Hell, I’d be more surprised if they all made it in on time. I’ve never met a more neurotic group.”
Something made Cate hold back from explaining that this was a power struggle between Sam and her. Nigel had already treated her like a kid at the staff meeting when she and Sam argued about the story.
Or maybe something else was going on, another complication she hadn’t anticipated. Nigel had been chilly to her after she left the bar with Trey the night of the National Magazine Awards. They’d sat on the train together coming back, but he’d read the paper and responded to e-mails the entire time, barely acknowledging her. At the time she’d been relieved. Now she wondered if she’d overreacted. He was a flirt, but he tried to blur the lines with a lot of women. Cate had been so careful to set boundaries that maybe she’d overdone it—maybe she’d been the one who’d acted all wrong. Her own insecurities could actually be sabotaging her care
er.
“Send me the piece,” he instructed.
“Of course,” Cate said. Her stomach muscles clenched, but she forced her face to remain impassive. “We can talk about it when you’re done reading it.”
She walked slowly back to her desk, unable, for one of the few times in her life, to focus on work. She needed to talk to someone. She veered past Renee’s cubicle and was thankful to see her there, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear while she typed rapidly.
One minute, Renee mouthed as she glanced up and saw Cate. She quickly wrapped up the call and smiled.
“Are you up for coffee?” Cate asked.
“I’d love it,” Renee said.
“Okay if we go to Starbucks instead of the cafeteria?” Cate didn’t want to run into anyone they knew. Especially not Sam—or Trey. This morning she’d received an e-mail from Trey, just a single line: Have you talked to her yet?
She’d written Not yet and deleted the message. But she needed to do it soon. Trey was wrapping up his article, and Cate had unveiled a few of his quotes as a preview at the latest editorial meeting. People were salivating at the promise of the piece. She’d have to talk to him about the story—probably multiple times. She couldn’t put off the conversation with Renee much longer, because her relationship with Trey only promised to intensify. It was bad enough that she’d let things between them get to this point.
“Let me just hit Save and . . . Okay, let’s go.” Renee grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. As she stood up, Cate did a double take. Renee’s hips had noticeably shrunk, and her collarbone was pronounced. She’d never say it to Renee, but Cate thought she’d looked better before—voluptuous and vibrant. Now her face seemed too hollow, and dark shadows underlined her eyes.
Renee took a step and stumbled slightly, then grabbed the edge of her desk for balance. “Darn heels,” she said. “You’d think by now I’d be used to walking on the balls of my feet.”
They walked to the corner Starbucks and found it nearly empty between the morning and lunchtime rushes. Renee made a beeline for two oversize chairs by a window while Cate stood in line to get their drinks—a latte loaded with a shot of vanilla for her, and plain coffee with a dash of skim milk for Renee.
“How’s your mom doing?” Cate asked as she settled into the seat opposite Renee’s and handed her the coffee, waving away her offer of money.
Renee took a careful sip and set down her drink. “A little better. I talked to her three times yesterday. She’s still at the hotel, but I think she might go home soon. I guess it was a delayed reaction. To tell you the truth, I was surprised by how well she was handling everything. I know I would’ve been furious in her shoes.”
“Has she spoken to your father?”
Renee shook her head. “Not yet. She said he’s been calling, but she keeps hanging up. But she asked me if I thought she should talk to him next time. I feel like I should go home, but . . . she said not to. She wants a little time alone.”
Renee rubbed her temples, as if trying to massage away a headache. “I just can’t imagine them without each other.”
“It doesn’t sound like that’s going to happen,” Cate said. “Maybe your mom only needs a little time?”
“I hope so,” Renee said. “There’s something else, though.” She took another sip of coffee. “I got an e-mail from Becca last night. I’d sort of forgotten about her with . . . well, with everything going on.”
“What did she say?”
“That she’s sorry. She feels like she pushed too quickly to have a relationship with all of us. She said she canceled her plane reservation to come here.”
“Oh, Renee,” Cate said, more in surprise than anything else, because she could see sadness in her roommate’s eyes.
“I keep thinking about what I said to her when she called,” Renee said. “I asked her, ‘What did you do?’ Like she was to blame for everything. She said it was her fault, but it wasn’t. I think I just felt suspicious of her, and maybe threatened by her. And now I can’t stop thinking about how all she wanted was to get to know us.”
“Do you want to call her?” Cate asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to,” Renee said. “And I thought I’d ask if we can get together when I go home for the holidays.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She looked so tired, Cate thought. Her skin was chalky, and even her lips looked dry.
“I don’t know, maybe I should just get on a plane today and go see my parents. Screw the beauty editor job. Diane’s probably going to get it anyway. God, it’s all such a mess. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” Cate said. She couldn’t bring up Trey, not now. Instead, she found herself saying, “Can I get you some water?”
“No, I’m good.”
“How about a mini-cupcake? They’ve got really good carrot cake ones.”
“Nah,” Renee said, rubbing her temples again.
“Oh, come on.” Cate forced a laugh. “If I buy it for you the calories won’t count.”
Renee suddenly sat up straight. “I don’t want it, okay?” she snapped. “It isn’t that easy for me, Cate. The calories actually do count. I can’t just drink the vanilla lattes you bring me and eat cupcakes and fit into a size four.”
Cate felt color flood her cheeks. “I never meant—”
“I’m sorry,” Renee said. She exhaled slowly. “I’m just stressed.”
“Don’t give it another thought,” Cate said, even though her feelings were hurt. She’d brought Renee that latte after the awful blog comments as a gesture to show she cared. She’d never imagined it would somehow offend her roommate.
“I should get back to work,” Renee said. “Although I feel sort of ridiculous referring to tweeting as work.” As she stood up, Cate noticed again how thin she’d become, and she thought back to the slip of paper on Renee’s desk, tallying her calories for the day.
“Renee? I really am sorry. What I said was thoughtless.”
“Oh, I’m just being premenstrual. Ignore me,” Renee said. She gave Cate a quick hug. “Come on, let’s go.”
As she and Renee walked back to the office, Cate couldn’t help hearing the echo of what Renee had said: My dad started their relationship with a lie. I don’t know if she’ll be able to forgive him for that.
Now Cate was doing the exact same thing to Renee. Underneath their friendship, like a simmering fault line, lay a lie.
Abby put down her pen and slowly folded her latest letter before tucking it into an envelope. She’d been writing to Annabelle every few days, recalling little moments they’d shared together. Once, Abby had driven Annabelle to Candy Cane City Park so the little girl could see the horses at the nearby stable. It had been a golden morning, and the smell of fresh-cut grass had filled the air. Abby had held Annabelle up to a wooden fence and watched the little girl’s face light up as horses trotted past. One had stopped near them, probably hoping for an apple, and suddenly let out a loud, wet snort. Annabelle had frozen, then burst into laughter. For the rest of the day, Abby had imitated the noise just to hear Bella’s surprisingly deep, funny laugh again.
She missed Bob, but she ached for Annabelle.
“Up for some lunch?” Trey was standing in the doorway to her room, holding a brown paper bag.
Abby caught the smell of something delicious, and her mouth watered. She was suddenly ravenous, for the first time in recent memory.
“You pick,” Trey said. “Turkey with avocado, or a Reuben.”
“I think my appetite is coming back,” she said, climbing off the bed and reaching for the bag. She followed him into the kitchen, and they sat on adjoining stools, munching in silence for a few minutes. She ate half the turkey sandwich with a few chips, and drank most of a bottle of lemonade, then felt full. She silently pushed the rest of her meal to Trey, just as she’d done hundreds of times when they were kids, and he finished it quickly.
“I’m glad you ate something,” he said. “You’re looking better, Abby.
”
“I’m feeling better,” she said. Then she sighed. “I just . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life now.”
Trey glanced at her but didn’t say anything. She’d forgotten how he did that—and how it always made her open up.
“I already told you I fell in love with the father at my job,” she said. “His name is Bob.”
She saw the look in her brother’s eyes.
“Trey, it wasn’t like that,” she said. “I pursued him just as much. More.”
“Okay,” he said.
“I messed everything up,” Abby said. She rubbed her eyes and kept her hands there for a long moment. “It never would have worked out between us. Bob isn’t going to leave his wife. If he’d wanted to, he could have come after me. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to find me. He knows you’re my brother. He could have called you to see where I was.”
“He hasn’t tried to reach you?” Trey asked.
“He just left a couple of short messages on my cell phone, saying he missed me.” She’d deleted them all after listening, then turned her phone off again.
“His loss,” Trey said. “I mean it, Abby.”
“Thanks.” When she spoke again, her question surprised even Abby.
“Is there something going on between you and Renee?”
Trey blinked. “Why do you ask?”
Abby shrugged. “I picked something up the last time we were at the apartment. I thought maybe that was why you wanted me to stay there when you were out of town.”
“We went out a few times,” Trey said. “It didn’t go anywhere, though.”
“She’s been so nice to me,” Abby said slowly. “Cate, too, but Renee’s the one I feel really close to. When you were away at the magazine awards, she asked me what my favorite food was, like she was just making conversation, and I told her chocolate chip cookies. The next morning I heard her leave the apartment really early. When she came back she was holding a bag of groceries. She’d gone out to buy stuff so we could make cookies together.”
“She did that?” Trey’s voice sounded funny—tight.
These Girls Page 25
