by Jill G. Hall
From her knickknack shelf she selected ceramic objects that would stand out from the turquoise: a duck, a pair of lips on a white game tile, and an old-fashioned couple two inches tall—the feathered hat on the woman’s head was a study in lovely pastels.
After the box dried, she manipulated the pieces, deciding which squares each piece fit best into. Anne’s chest tingled as the assemblage began to take shape. The duck fit perfectly in the top square, the couple in the middle, and the lips on the bottom. She glued them all down. She rummaged through the old jewelry container and found a white heart with metallic lacy edges, silver hugs and kisses, and a teeny arrow.
She adhered the lacy heart above the couple, and the OXO and arrow in the lip section. The whole thing needed something else. She rifled through the charms again, knowing she’d find the perfect thing. Aha! There it was, the cupid charm. She tied clear fishing wire through the hole and used a thumbtack to secure the other end of it to the inside top of the square, as if cupid’s arrow had shot the man in his back.
Anne stepped back to examine it, grabbed her journal, and brainstormed possible titles:
Shot with a Beau
Cupid’s Arrow
Duck! Cupid’s Shot His Bow
With a smile she circled the last one. She ruffled through her lace and ribbon basket, picked out some cobalt-blue lace, and used matte medium to adhere it to the outside rim of the box.
Spontaneously, she took a photo of it and sent it to Sergio. She carried the box to her feng shui relationship corner, putting it on the window ledge next to the soap and shampoo. If this didn’t make him talk to her, she didn’t know what would.
33
After she sent Sergio the photo of the cupid art piece, all he wrote back was cute. She hadn’t replied. That had been a week ago.
She’d decided to lay low for a while and give him the space he’d requested. She’d barely left the apartment, had turned down coffee with Fay, didn’t feel like thrifting or even getting fresh air on the roof.
But last night Fay had sent a text: I have a surprise. Come over tomorrow at 7 p.m. I won’t take no for an answer.
Anne forced herself to get dressed, wearing a white shift to lighten her mood. Instead she felt as if she wore a black shroud over her entire body and on her head rested a round black hat, the opposite of a halo. The dark circles under her eyes and weight loss might scare her friends, so she applied makeup and practiced smiling in the mirror. It seemed like a long time since she’d smiled. She hoped they wouldn’t notice anything was wrong. Lyft car requested, she made her way down to the street.
As Fay opened Bay Breeze’s front door, Lucky tried to scoot out, but Anne grabbed him up in her arms. “You snickerdoodle, you.”
Fay, in a chartreuse sheath with dangly peacock-feather earrings, closed the door behind them. As Anne stepped into the foyer, the gardenia scent hit her as usual and she inhaled the calming aroma.
She put the wiggly Lucky down and took out a bacon treat for him. “Sit.” He sat. “Good boy!” Anne handed him the treat, and he gobbled it right up.
Fay laughed and hugged her. “That little Houdini dug a hole under the fence last night, and we couldn’t find him anywhere. Finally, a neighbor two blocks away called. Lucky had shown up in his yard. We should have known—he’s the guy that gives giant cookies to Lucky when we walk by his house. Hey, have you lost some weight?”
“Maybe a little. What’s the surprise?”
“Hold on to your knickers.” Fay led the way into the library. Candles were lit, and a centerpiece of rosemary branches and pine cones ran down the sideboard. Champagne glasses gleamed in the light. Beside them, a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilled in an ice bucket.
“You told me we were having a spot of tea.”
Paul hobbled in with his cane, singing, “There she is, Miss America!”
Anne gave him a hug and sang back to him, “With those cataracts, you can’t see me anyway. How are you?”
“Fair to middling.” He eased himself into his chair, and Anne sat close by.
Lucky jumped in her lap and oinked toward her coat pocket, looking for more treats. She handed him one with a laugh. “You sound like a pig.”
George came in, nodding hello to Anne, then set down a tray on the sideboard filled with appetizers: escargot, spring rolls, asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. Sergio would have approved of this spread.
“Honeykins, please open the bottle?” Fay asked.
George popped the cork. It flew across the room and bounced off a window. Lucky jumped up and started barking. George poured the drinks and handed them out.
Fay beamed at him with a nod.
He raised his glass and said, “Please join me for a toast to the incredible Fay.”
Everyone lifted a glass.
“She has agreed to be my bride.”
Anne felt as if she’d been sucker punched. “Blimey!”
“What?” Fay asked as she clinked her glass with Anne and took a sip.
“Congratulations!” Anne managed a smile.
“We’ll marry next month at the courthouse and have a reception at Bay Breeze afterward.”
Paul’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t you want to have the ceremony here, too?”
“No, thanks.” Fay smiled at him.
Paul looked at Anne. “Sylvia was so lovely coming down the staircase at our own wedding. She’d said she hoped you would do that someday, too.”
“And when will that be?” Fay teased.
“Not sure.” Anne smiled and held back tears. No one seemed to notice.
Fay sipped her champagne. “I want you to be maiden of honor.”
Anne felt as if she might throw up. “That’s nice.”
“Nice? Bloody nice? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Anne couldn’t spoil the moment by confessing that Sergio had broken up with her. “I’m just not feeling well. I’m sorry. I need to go home.” Anne took out her phone and started to call for a Lyft.
“I’m sorry. Can we get you something?” Fay asked.
“Would you rather lie down here for a while?” Paul frowned.
Anne put her hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. “No, thanks.”
“I’ll drive you.” George offered.
“That’s sweet of you, but I’d rather go on my own.” She didn’t want him to see her cry. And that’s what she did all the way home.
34
A week to the day after her visit to Bay Breeze, she started to send Sergio a text, but he beat her to it. I’ve got news.
Her heart galloped, but trying not to seem too eager, she set her timer for five minutes. After it dinged, she called him. “What’s your news?”
“I went by the shop today. The closed sign was still up, but I peeked through the crack and the lights were on. I knocked, but no one answered.”
“That’s hopeful.”
“I’ll keep checking. How are you?”
“Okay,” she lied. “How are you?”
“Great.”
“Listen, Sergio. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll move to New York even without a commitment.”
Sergio paused. “Let’s switch to FaceTime. We should see each other for this.”
“No, my hair’s a mess.” She didn’t want him to see she’d been crying.
“Come on. I’ve seen it messy before. So is mine.”
She wrapped a scrunchie around her hair, relented with a sigh, and switched on FaceTime. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He looked as if he hadn’t slept in ages. Dark circles rimmed his sad eyes, and he’d skipped his morning shave.
She ached to touch his face. She loved him even more than the last time she’d seen him. “As I said, I take it all back. I’ll move there without an engagement.”
“It won’t work. I’d know what you really want is to get married. That cloud would be hanging over my head and keep me from feeling at ease in my own home.”
“I release you from even
thinking about it.”
“It’s not that simple. I’d still know that’s what you want. I do miss you, though.” He kissed his fingers and touched the screen.
She reached out and placed her hand on her screen also. “Miss you, too.”
He nodded, and his sparkling brown eyes filled with tears.
“Your big 4-0 is next week. How are you celebrating?” Trying to be cheery, she forced a smile.
“Not sure yet.”
She swallowed. “Want some company?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
“Do you want me to come, or don’t you?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“You not trying to seduce me.”
She laughed. “I can’t promise you that.”
“Then don’t come.”
She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. “Okay. I won’t then.” She shouldn’t have replied so swiftly. Confused and on the verge of tears, she said, “Bye.” She wanted to say I love you, but somehow it didn’t feel quite right. She hung up and turned off the phone.
That afternoon, Anne’s door buzzer rang. She got out of bed and answered it. “Hello.”
“It’s me, Fay.”
Anne wasn’t up to seeing her. “I’m kind of busy right now.”
“I have a check for you. I’ll just come up for a minute.”
Anne was relieved; she really needed to pay some bills. She buzzed Fay up.
At the door, Fay handed her a mocha and a paper bag. Her eyes scanned the messy room. “Are you okay? You haven’t answered any of my texts.”
Anne cleared a space at the kitchen table, and they sat down. “I’ve been working.” She opened the bag and put the blueberry scone on top of it. “Thanks for the drink and the scone. Want a spot of tea?”
“No, I had some on the way over.” Fay ran her hand through spiky hair streaked with turquoise highlights. “You rushed out so fast the other night we didn’t have a chance to talk about the wedding.”
“Right. Okay.” Anne tried to drum up enthusiasm.
“You could wear your green dress, or I’ll buy you a new one if you wish.”
“It’s your wedding, whatever you decide. If you want me to wear a new dress, I’ll pay for it myself. What else do you need me to do?”
Anne hoped she wouldn’t have to throw one of those god-awful bachelorette parties. “Should I give you a shower or bachelorette party or something?”
Fay guffawed. “Are you daft? Of course not!”
Anne picked up her cup and set it back down.
Fay eyed Anne and looked around the room again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“You know how I get when I’m on a roll, I don’t take time to straighten up the apartment or shower.” Anne hoped she didn’t stink.
Fay nodded slowly but didn’t look convinced. “What have you got for the gallery?”
On the kitchen counter, Anne displayed Waiting for a Ring, Finding Her Way, and Duck! Cupid’s Shot His Bow. “This last one isn’t for sale yet.”
“These are fabulous!” Fay said. “Very romantic, and a different direction for you.”
“And here’s one I’m doing with the picture.” Anne brought out the photo and the unfinished flapper collage and set them on the table.
“Interesting. Have some mocha, you haven’t even tasted it.”
Anne took a tiny sip and pointed to the easel with the shoe painting. “Here’s one I’m stuck on. Can’t get the rhinestones to appear shiny.”
“Keep working. If you use your instincts, I know you’ll figure it out.”
“You’re so good at reminding me.” Anne smiled. “Heart, not mind.”
Fay took a bite of scone and pushed it toward Anne. “It’s delicious, try some.”
Anne compelled herself to pick up a piece and chew on it.
“How’re you holding up financially?”
“Pretty good.”
Fay took an envelope out of her bag and handed it to Anne. “Here’s your check. The buyers of your Political Diva Series were thrilled.”
“I’m glad you were able to keep those three pieces together.” The pieces included assemblages of Eva Peron, Imelda Marcos, and Madame Mao. All of these ambitious, self-absorbed women had helped catapult their husbands’ careers to the top of the political heap.
Anne set the envelope on the table. “This will really help.”
“Shall I put a word in for you at the museum?”
“I doubt I’d be any good at teaching.”
“You’d be aces. They might be looking for someone who is adventurous in their own work. I’ll check in with them.”
Teaching wouldn’t be the answer to those empty days on Anne’s calendar. Maybe she shouldn’t have quit valeting after all. She had to sign that new lease soon and would need to increase her income.
“Paul has finally agreed to have his cataracts removed.”
Anne nodded. “I’m glad. When’s the appointment?”
“In a fortnight.”
“Need any help?”
“We’ve got it covered. How’re things with Sergio?”
“It’s over.”
“Over!” Fay sat up straight. “I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”
“I realized it might be foolish of me to move to New York without a commitment, like you’d said. I thought he was going to propose, but instead he broke up with me.”
“I’m so sorry.” Fay pouted her red lips. “Are you speaking?”
“A little, but it’s painful. His big 4-0 is coming up next week, and I’m thinking of visiting him.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“I’m not sure. I miss him so much, but being with him might make me too sad.”
“Is it worth the hurt?”
Anne shrugged and held back tears. “Being without him makes me sad, too.”
“I suppose the Italy trip is off. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”
“Of course it’s off.”
“Go alone.”
“Yeah, because that wouldn’t be horrible, visiting one of the most romantic places in the world by myself. Not to mention it costing too much.” Anne looked down and started to cry.
“Do you think maybe you should go talk to someone?”
Anne raised her eyes. “You mean like a shrink?”
“They’re called therapists. They can be very helpful.”
“How do you know?”
“From experience. When I moved here, I was going through a bad breakup and needed some help. She was wonderful. I could refer you.”
Astonishing. Fay always seemed so strong and together. “I’ll let you know.”
“So, are you going to visit him?”
Anne shook her head. “I haven’t decided yet.”
35
Miraculously, her father had found a dressmaker who could create a wedding gown on short notice. From the limousine’s back seat, Clair examined the rain dripping down the window. Her fingers played Chopin’s “Funeral March” over ivory lace; satin pooled at her feet.
Clair would prefer to be a spinster than marry Farley. No matter how much she pleaded with her father, he told her that if she didn’t go through with it, he’d set up a guard at their suite door forever.
She gave her father an evil eye as he drew the tulle veil over her head and arranged it around her shoulders. Even as she stood there in the gown, she wondered for the thousandth time how she could escape.
Despite everything, her father appeared handsome in his tuxedo, his hair slicked back and gleaming. She speculated how Farley would look in his tux—the expensive one he’d insisted on buying for today, even though he already had perfectly good ones.
She closed her eyes and imagined marrying Mr. X instead. In her daydream, his pressed tuxedo accentuated the length of his tall, firm body, and his smile was a magnet, pulling her down the aisle to him. He held out his left hand to her, without a ring on
it. His eyes were welcoming and warm, due to the passions she knew he held for her. She wondered if the feelings she had for him would diminish over time—maybe even snap, break, and let go, like her string of pearls.
The chauffeur glided the limousine up in front of the church. Soot covered the towering Gothic building as if foreboding her future life. Her father opened the door, holding an umbrella for her. Shaking her head, she stayed put until her father lost his temper. “Come on!” he said gruffly.
She stepped out, draping the gown’s long skirt over her arm to keep it out of mud-filled puddles. At least she didn’t have one of those god-awful trains. There was nothing she could do about her peau de soie shoes.
Her body heavy as lead, she trudged to her fate. She only wanted the day to be over—and especially the night. Imagining what it might be like with Farley made her queasy. She knew she had to submit to him, her husband. Maybe tonight he’d glut himself and nod off as soon as they got to their room, leaving only a gooey stain of his greasy hair oil on the pillowcase next to hers.
She’d considered asking Aunt June for some guidance, but since she’d never been married, she probably wouldn’t be able to help. Mrs. Schmidt, her next-door neighbor and chaperone, continued to be bedridden with one malady after another, her bronchitis having developed into pneumonia. Besides, Clair would have been too embarrassed to ask.
In the church foyer, someone handed her a lily of the valley, stephanotis, and gardenia bouquet, and Clair held on tight. The pipe organ began to play Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” and she sang along in her head the dreaded “Here Comes the Bride.” Suddenly it hit her that she couldn’t go through with it. She turned to hurry back out the door, but her father forcefully grabbed her arm. “It’s for your own good,” he said, blinking wet eyes at her.
She submitted to his firm grasp, step touching along beside him into and down the aisle. Lo and behold, who did she see turning toward her at the back of the congregation but Winnie and Rudy! Clair smiled at them. Their names hadn’t been on the guest list.
Winnie wore a conspicuously large hat three times as big as her head, filled with lace, feathers, and silk flowers. Rudy winked at her as she passed, sporting a gray pinstriped suit with his trademark white carnation decorating the lapel.
