Sex and the Widow Miles (The Women of Willow Bay)

by Reinhardt, Nan

  “Thanks.” Sarah dropped her box on the floor and hung the garment bag next to mine. “It’s been a long haul and funding’s always an issue, which is why we appreciate Carrie’s hard work so much.” She glanced around. “Holly?”

  The young woman popped her head up from where she’d been kneeling by the shoe wall. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Finding some shoes for Jeanie.” Holly stood up with a couple of pairs of black shoes in her hands. “She’s trying on an outfit for her interview tomorrow.” She motioned toward the dressing area.

  A young woman pulled aside the curtain in the first cubicle and stepped out onto the carpet in bare feet. She was dressed in a gray skirt and jacket with a pink blouse that tied at the neck in a bow. The skirt was mid-calf length and the boxy jacket had shoulder pads. The total effect was as if her grandmother had dressed her sometime in the eighties. She seemed right on the edge of bursting into tears.

  “Looks real good.” Sarah walked toward the woman, who was pretty in a low-key kind of way as she turned slowly in front a three-way mirror. Sarah went up behind her and pulled her long chestnut hair off her shoulders and held it back. “You need to tidy this hair, some, Jeanie.” She scraped the hair into a loose, low ponytail and secured it with a hair band that she had around her wrist. “There… very professional.”

  Jeanie reminded me of a cornered rabbit. Her gray eyes were huge and she stood, shoulders hunched and uncomfortable, in front of the mirror.

  Sarah glanced back at me. “What do you think?” She took a pair of low black pumps from Holly and tossed them down in front of Jeanie. “Here, darlin’, slip into these.”

  I walked slowly back to the rear of the shop as Sarah turned Jeanie around to face me. “Good, huh?” She quirked a brow.

  “If she’s applying for a job at a convent.” I immediately regretted the comment. Sarah was trying to help this poor terrified creature and sure didn’t need any kibitzing from me. I opened my mouth to apologize as Sarah grimaced and Jeanie turned away, clearly chagrined. She stared at the mirror again, tears shimmering in her eyes.

  I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head. “Sorry, Sarah. I don’t mean she doesn’t look fine… but—” I felt incredibly foolish. “Sorry, it’s not my business.” I finished with a lame shrug.

  “So, what do you suggest?” Sarah gave me a cool stare as she crossed her arms and tilted her head.

  I shrugged again.

  Sarah nodded. “No, seriously. Tell us what’s wrong. You’re the big fashion model.”

  Jeanie turned around. “You’re a fashion model?”

  “I was once… not anymore.” I wanted to bolt. Carrie must have filled Sarah in more than she’d let on earlier. “I’m going to let you get back to work.” I backed away, bumping into a rack of blouses. “S—sorry… Nice to meet you… “

  “No.” Sarah caught my arm and gave me a lopsided grin. “I get bristly. It’s not you. We really could use some advice. Frankly, I don’t have an ounce of fashion sense. One of the few things old dickhead never could beat into me.” She winked as Jeanie and Holly both snickered. “Help us out, okay?”

  I released a hesitant breath, my hands curling into fists at my side, and tried to decide how honest I could be. Sarah asked for advice, but was it fair for me to take the poor kid apart? However, I knew exactly what would work for her and probably give her the confidence she needed. I glanced at the three of them clearly waiting for whatever gems of fashion wisdom I would impart and decided to go for broke. “Um… okay. First of all, never, ever that shade of pale pink unless you’re younger than twelve or older than seventy.”

  “Really?” Sarah’s brows rose.

  I gazed thoughtfully at Jeanie, standing there in front of the three-way, lost in that boxy jacket. Holly lurked around the edges as though she anticipated trouble, but Sarah gave me an expectant smile.

  “Hang on.” I trotted up to the front of the shop to my bags and boxes and rummaged through a couple.

  Jeanie appeared to be about a size six, although she wasn’t quite as tall as me. I tugged open a carton and sorted through it until I found a simple white silk blouse. Then I unzipped a garment bag and pulled out jackets and skirts and dresses. Ah ha! The brown tweed suit was the next-to-last item I pulled out—a simple brown and golden tweed jacket with a matching slim pencil skirt. The color would bring out the gold highlights in Jeanie’s hair and the jacket was short and fitted—perfect for her slim figure. The skirt might be a little long, but we could hem it in no time.

  I marched the clothes back to her. “Here, try this and tuck in the blouse.”

  Jeanie peered apprehensively at Sarah, seeking permission.

  Sarah nodded brusquely. “Get in there and put it on, girl.”

  I hurried over to the shoe wall with Holly close on my heels. “What size?”

  “Six and a half.” Holly pointed to the appropriate section of the shoe display and I scanned the rows of pumps, flats, and kitten heels. I pulled a pair of brown suede pumps from the rack and held them up.

  “What do you think, Sarah?”

  She nodded approval.

  I peeked inside. Tory Burch—nice shoes. I passed them to Holly. “Accessories? Like scarves?”

  Holly led the way to the front of the store where scarves were attractively displayed from loops on a rack. I sorted through them, finally selecting a long, wide scarf in a deep gold, rust, and brown pattern. Rubbing the fabric between my fingers, I grinned at Sarah. “This is silk. And gorgeous. See how rich these colors are.” I shook it out and saw the square capital letters along one side. “Fendi! Sarah, you really do run a designer shop.”

  “Names don’t mean much to me, but yeah, we get a lot of expensive stuff in here. Most of our donations come from women with bucks, thanks to your friend Carrie’s influence.”

  I scurried back to the rear of the store as Jeanie was coming out of the dressing room. Stopping her, I lifted my arms, preparing to loop the silk piece around her neck a couple of times. With a screech and a sharp intake of breath, she threw her hands up and backed away. I glanced over my shoulder at Sarah, who hustled up next to the girl.

  “Jeanie, she’s not going to hurt you. It’s an accessory… a pretty extra for the outfit.” Sarah put her hand out and I laid the silk material in her palm. She held it out to Jeanie, who was practically cowering near the dressing cubicle. “See? Why don’t you put it on and Julie can tell you how to fix it, okay?”

  Trembling, Jeanie reached for the scarf and hung it over her neck before straightening her shoulders and moving to the three-way mirror.

  What in God’s holy name had happened to this poor creature?

  I stood a yard or so behind her in the mirror and gave her instructions on how to loop the scarf. At last, she stood reflected three times in the mirror and each one was elegant, poised, and lovely. She turned this way and that until a small smile broke through the sad facade.

  “You’re perfect!” Holly clapped her hands while Sarah nodded, her eyes shining approval.

  “Do you think it’s okay?” Jeanie’s voice was as soft as I’d expected it to be, and my heart ached at the tremulous smile she gave me.

  “You look like a million bucks, honey.” My fingers itched to do something else with her hair.

  “What about her hair?” Sarah must have been reading my mind.

  “It’s gorgeous. So thick and shiny. I’d say, let’s take the curling iron to it and let it tumble over her shoulders loose and natural.” I approached Jeanie with caution, locking eyes with her in the mirror. “May I?”

  She nodded, but I could see a hint of uncertainty in her expression. Very gingerly, I unwound the band and fluffed her hair out over her shoulders. “We could maybe use a barrette or something and secure one side. Or better, let’s tuck it behind your ears, like this.” I demonstrated. Her hair was heavy. It felt like spun silk in my fingers, and as I combed through it I could feel her shoulders relaxing.
“You’re lovely, Jeanie, very professional,” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.

  “Holly, why don’t you and Jeanie go up front and find a pair of earrings—something small and gold would be right, don’t you think, Julie?” Sarah’s eyes sent a subtle signal, so I nodded and turned Jeanie away from the mirror with a quick shoulder squeeze. She followed Holly to the jewelry counter.

  “What happened to her?” I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to know.

  “Her husband used to tie her to the bedposts with scarves or neckties and rape her, then beat the crap out of her when he was done.” Sarah’s voice held no emotion whatsoever, but her sad eyes said it all. “She came into the shelter so battered and bruised, you couldn’t even see the true color of her eyes.”

  “Oh, God.” I glanced over my shoulder at the two of them giggling over a tray of earrings. “How do you survive something like that?” I kept my voice quiet.

  “You do it because you know you have no other choice,” she answered softly. “And one day, you know you can’t survive another moment in hell, so you find the strength to leave.”

  The power in her voice touched something deep inside me and suddenly I struggled with a sick feeling of guilt. How insane, how selfish I’d been for almost a year, weeping and feeling sorry for myself when women like Jeanie and Holly and Sarah had suffered so much more pain than I’d ever known in my life.

  I touched Sarah’s shoulder. “I want to help. Tell me how I can help.”

  SIX

  I was fairly bubbling with enthusiasm as I set plates on the counter for Will and me in Carrie and Liam’s kitchen. The change in me was so dramatic I almost had to keep checking the mirror to see if it was really me. Working at the shelter had brought new purpose to my life and I hopped out of bed each morning ready to go. What a difference from when I’d arrived over a month ago.

  Will sat on a barstool, watching me bustle around the kitchen, tossing a salad, cleaning asparagus, and checking the chicken baking in the oven. I was talking a mile a minute, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply sat, wearing an enigmatic smile. I imagine he couldn’t believe I was the same sad quiet Julie who’d arrived several weeks earlier.

  We’d gotten past that awkward night when we kissed, mostly because Will insisted on it. If I’d had my way after that humiliation, we’d only have nodded to one another as we passed in the elevator or at the mailboxes. But he kept inserting himself into my life at every opportunity, and tonight, I was glad for his company. However I was still determined to keep things between us strictly casual.

  I knew it irritated him that I never missed a chance to treat him like one of my sons, even to the point of offering him cookies and milk one night when he showed up at my apartment with Tracy and Hepburn, The Definitive Collection on DVD. Hell, I even tried to sew a button on for him when a shirt had come back from the cleaners missing one, and he’d dropped by to borrow a needle and thread. It was a defense mechanism, and the fact that I felt compelled to use it worried me some. Did that mean I was more drawn to him than I was willing to admit?

  The man was incredibly attractive— intelligent, easy to talk to, warm, and funny. He could charm the socks right off any woman he wanted, so why had he chosen to spend time with me? I’d made it very clear that I couldn’t get involved with him, but he seemed content with simply hanging out as buddies. We watched movies, met for coffee in the mornings, and ordered in take-out a few nights. He even joined me in the pool in the mornings, swimming laps with a long, loose-limbed stroke.

  But sometimes I caught him gazing at me, and the look in his eyes was way more than friendly. I’d opened up a can of worms that night with that kiss, and I wasn’t at all sure how to close it. The difference in our ages wasn’t truly my biggest issue; it was just a convenient excuse. No, my problem was Charlie. Even though he’d been gone over a year, I was still good and married. Menopausal horniness aside, no other man—not even one as kind and interesting as Will Brody—would ever have my heart.

  Charlie was with me. I felt him near all the time. I knew he approved of my moving to Chicago for the winter, and I sensed his support of my volunteering at the shelter. It would be exactly the kind of thing he would do. Charlie was a philanthropist—he’d donated time to the free clinic in Traverse City, and he was one of the few cardiac surgeons who operated on uninsured patients for free, which always had him in hot water with the other docs in his practice.

  Some nights, I talked to him, telling him about my day at the shelter or my visit to the new therapist or even that I’d found a new restaurant or an interesting shop. I could pretend he was just a few steps away in the bathroom or changing in the closet. When I was alone, I drew comfort from my memories and the sense that he’d always be near me. The therapist said it was perfectly normal to think, Oh, I’ll have to tell Charlie about this, or, Wouldn’t Charlie think this was hilarious? After being with someone for over thirty years, wanting to share your life with them was natural. But Dr. Jardin also encouraged me to find new friends, so that’s exactly what I was doing with Sarah Everett, the other volunteers at the shelter, and of course, Will Brody.

  I poured Riesling into wine glasses and set one in front of him. “Found this at the wine shop over by the law school. I hope it’s decent. Rieslings can sometimes be too sweet.” We both sipped and I nodded approval. “Not too bad, huh? I tried to find Tuckaway. It was Charlie’s favorite and really yummy.”

  “Tuckaway?” He took another sip of the wine and cocked his head. “Are you talking about the winery in the Sierra foothills in California?”

  “Mm hm, the town is called Angels Camp. I only remember that because I loved the name. I’ve never been to the winery, but he went whenever he had conferences in San Francisco. He always had it shipped since we couldn’t get it in Michigan. I’m guessing you can’t get it here, either.” I took another drink before adding the asparagus to the simmering water. “I should check their website.”

  “You should. I’ve actually been there. Liam and I used to go wine tasting when we were in California. Tuckaway is a great winery.”

  “Charlie loved their Riesling and their petit Syrah.” I bent over to open the oven door to check the chicken and set the loaf of bread on the rack next to it while I was down there. When I shut the oven door, I shook my hair back off my flushed face. “Almost. Just about five more minutes and everything will be ready.” I sat down next to him, one fuzzy slipper hanging precariously off my toe.

  “So things are working for you at the shop?” His voice was a little strained, and he was focusing intently on my face—a trick I’d seen too many men use when what they really wanted was to stare at my breasts.

  Maybe this blue, wide-necked sweater was a mistake tonight, but it was one of my favorites and I’d gained back enough weight that it had finally stopped sagging on me. I ignored his expression and went for the question. “I love it. Sarah and the girls are so sweet and dedicated and I can see why. I haven’t heard everyone’s story yet, but the ones I have heard are horrific. The men they were involved with were pure evil.”

  “Really?” At last I had his attention. “Like how?”

  “Well, every one of them was physically abusive in some wretched way, but also emotionally and mentally. They tore these poor women down to the point that most of them truly hate themselves. There’s a group therapy session at the shelter and even some of the women who no longer stay there come back for it.” I rose again to check on the asparagus. “And these are intelligent, educated women from good backgrounds—one of them is a nurse and one’s an attorney, whose husband was a judge. He used to make her lick his shoes.”

  “Jesus!” Will’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” When I nodded, my hair brushed my neck and bare shoulders. “And that’s not the worst thing I’ve heard. God bless them all, their stories are nightmares. I don’t know how they did it… or why.”

  “I’ve never gotten that, either. Why do women stay in circ
umstances like that anyway? Why don’t they just leave?”

  “Sarah told me these situations take years to build up. That the men work hard to gain the women’s trust and love, and then tear them down bit by bit. They convince them they’re worthless and not worthy of anyone’s love. These guys are real nutjobs, but they’re also often quite charismatic. And it doesn’t matter how much education you have, when you’ve had your mind messed with at the level these guys do it, your self-confidence and ability to discern reality go in the toilet.”

  “God, that’s frightening.”

  “Isn’t it? Sarah comes from a very prominent family in Georgia. Her ex is some big real estate mogul down there, but he treated her like a dog and I’m not being metaphorical. He used to put a leash on her when they were in bed.” I shut my eyes at the memory of Sarah’s story, which I’d heard one night after we’d closed the shelter and opened the bottle of tequila Sarah kept in her desk drawer.

  “That sounds really grim, Julie.”

  “It’s not.” I shook my head. “I mean… the stories are grim, but the women are so amazing. They come in completely defeated, and by the time they leave, they’re ready to face the world on their own. It’s inspiring.”

  “What does the therapist say about you being there so much?” Will reached for the bottle of wine and refilled both our glasses.

  “She’s all for it.” I got the chicken and bread out of the oven, wrapped the bread in a towel and covered the chicken breasts with a piece of foil to let them rest for a few minutes. “I think she wants me to see that even though I’ve had tragedy in my life, other people have too. It’s not only making me doubly grateful for what a wonderful husband Charlie was, but I’m pretty much over feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You do seem happier.” Will’s grin warmed me right down to my toes. His eyes narrowed as a flush warmed my cheeks. I knew he could see the dangerous effect he was having, and I wished I was better at hiding my reactions. Instead, I stepped back.