Return to Appleton

by Sylvia Bambola

  Cutter brushed past her and began pacing the room, his eyes scanning the corners, beneath the bed, around the sides of the furniture, under the curtain. He could almost hear the minutes ticking away. Her stuff had to be somewhere. He opened his dresser drawers, rummaged through them, even tossed some of his clothes on the bed in frustration and haste. “Where are those blasted things? Come on, Sadie, help me out here.”

  “Help you out? Is that all you think about? Yourself? What about me? What about helping me out? What about trying to help me understand what happened between us?”

  Cutter was getting more frantic by the minute. He could see that Sadie wasn’t interested in a quick exit. He had to get her out of here. He ran his fingers through the thick curls of his hair. He was beginning to believe there was no nightgown or compact—that Sadie had just made the story up as a pathetic excuse to come over.

  “Are you going to answer me? Are you going to say anything?” Sadie had followed him to his dresser and stood there, wiping her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands.

  He turned and glared at her. He had no time for this. Couldn’t she get it through her head that it was over? And why the big fuss, anyway? Their relationship had never been much. He had never made any promises, never made any declarations of love. But this wasn’t the time to remind her of those facts, not with the second hand of his Seiko pulsing in overdrive. If Gloria showed up now, it would really clinch the whole mess. She’d never believe Sadie had come uninvited, not since the whole town knew why Sadie had quit Medical Data.

  “Can’t you at least answer?” Sadie’s voice had risen several octaves, and there was an angry edge to it.

  Cutter knew the signs and groaned inwardly. Sadie had a spiteful side when aroused, and she was working herself up for an explosion. That’s all he needed. All-out verbal warfare. Think, Press, think. If he didn’t get her out of the house in the next few minutes, their voices were going to disturb the peace of the neighborhood. He caught sight of his wallet lying on the dresser and quickly picked it up. Without a word, he opened it and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, then handed it to Sadie. “I don’t think your stuff is here. But if I find it, I’ll get it to you. In the meantime, buy yourself a new compact and nightgown.”

  He’d never forget the look on Sadie’s face—a cross between pain and utter contempt. She glanced at the bill in Cutter’s hand, then, without taking it, turned and walked out. He heard the tap tap tap of her slingbacks all the way to the front door, then the sound of the door opening, followed by a loud bang as it closed.

  Gloria had stopped briefly at her apartment to pick up the flyer and change into casual clothes, then got two ham sandwiches from Sam Hidel’s—one for her and one for Cutter. It was the least she could do after inviting herself. She didn’t feel like staying home. That whole thing with Tracy had gotten her down. And J.P. hadn’t exactly been a ray of sunshine with his “wrong lane” remark.

  But it was the look in J.P.’s eyes that really got her. She had seen it before—when J.P. had stood up in church and asked for prayer for Willis Hargrove after Willis’s last arrest. Everyone knew why Willis had been arrested. It was common knowledge that he beat his wife. But when J.P. stood in front of the congregation that Sunday, it was as though he had known—after Trudy Hargrove dropped the charges like she always did and J.P. was forced to let Willis go home—that this time would be the end of the Hargroves. Less than twenty-four hours later, Willis had shot and killed his wife and three children, then himself.

  People in town said J.P. always knew when a person was ready to cross the “Maginot Line”—J.P.’s name for the invisible line that, once crossed, would ruin a life. Had he seen this in Tracy? Were her toes brushing the threshold of disaster? If so, how could Gloria stop her? The Medical Data job had to be the key. Maybe she could talk Cutter into urging Tracy to return to her old job. If he spoke to Tracy, that could make the difference. Somehow, she and Cutter had to keep Tracy from going to Vegas.

  Funny how Gloria had thought of Cutter. How she wanted to see him and talk to him about Tracy. It was odd, but she felt a friendship for him she had never felt before. Their lives held so many common threads. Virginia and her mother, grade school, high school, Medical Data. She supposed it was only natural that they had finally become friends. Though she laughed at the word “natural.” When she thought about it, there wasn’t anything natural about it at all. Only Jesus could manage something like this.

  So … here she was on the way to Cutter’s, uninvited. That word stuck in her craw. Mostly because her mother’s admonition kept whirling around in her head: “No one likes uninvited guests, Gloria.” Well, maybe that was true most of the time, but Cutter had seemed all right about it when she’d called. Besides, he never even bothered calling before he came to see her, not that that gave her the right to violate proper etiquette. She laughed at herself for worrying. In some ways she was more like her mother than she cared to admit. Get over it, Gloria. Just get over it.

  The blue Escort flew over the familiar roadway, whizzing past Spoon Lake Road, heading north. At any rate, the flyer would please Cutter. She’d show him that first. Then she’d tell him about Tracy and enlist his aid.

  The Tudor, set back on a brick driveway nearly twenty feet, had grounds that were well lit, so it wasn’t difficult for Gloria to spot Cutter in the doorway before she pulled up. He had mentioned he was going jogging. He must have just gotten home, so the timing was perfect.

  She parked, gathered the sandwiches and flyer, then got out. Her sneakers made no sound as she walked up the drive, then up the paved sidewalk. She slowed when she got near enough to see Cutter’s face. He wasn’t a happy camper. His eyes were slits, and his lips were pinched together like two dried apricots. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe her mother knew what she was talking about after all. And so did Emily Post. Self-invitations were not the fun, spontaneous thing they were cracked up to be.

  Let that be a lesson, Gloria.

  Still, Cutter could have been more honest and told her it wasn’t a good time. She slipped one of the sandwiches into her coat pocket. “Did you have a nice jog?” she said, coming up to the door. The light by the entrance erased any doubt that Cutter was agitated.

  “Didn’t have time for one.”

  There was no mistaking the icy tone of his voice. He opened the door wider, as if gesturing for Gloria to come in, but she shook her head. Instead, she stood her ground and just handed him the sandwich and flyer. “I really don’t have time for a visit,” she said. “But I thought you’d like a bite to eat while you read the flyer. Maybe you can call me later and tell me what you think.” She backed away, gave a silly little wave, and sprinted to the car. No one likes uninvited guests, Gloria. The next minute, Gloria and Bluebird were whizzing over the red brick driveway in a hasty departure.

  Cutter held the sandwich and flyer in his hand as he watched Gloria pull away, then cursed under his breath. So she did see Sadie’s car leaving the house. He had been afraid of that. And just as he’d feared, she had misunderstood. What must she think? What could she think? If Sadie had just ruined his chances with Gloria, he’d—

  He went back into the house, slamming the door behind him and feeling frantic. What could he tell her? Would she believe anything he said? Calm down, Press. Just use your head for once. This was not the time to show weakness. Women loved lap-dogs, but not men who acted like one. Besides, there was a slight possibility that Gloria hadn’t passed Sadie’s car. They could have missed each other by seconds. Or maybe she’d seen the car and didn’t know it was Sadie’s. He thumped around the apartment, wandering aimlessly from room to room. Get real, Press. Everyone in town knew Sadie drove a red Camry. She was notorious for speeding. More than one shop owner had reported her. And J.P. had already pulled her over three times—given her two warnings and one ticket. Gloria had to know. Why else would she have acted like that? Like she couldn’t get away fast enough? Okay, so Gloria knew Sadie was here. So what? E
veryone knew he and Sadie were … Yes, everyone knew.

  He’d have to straighten this out. He couldn’t let it go the way it was. He found himself standing in front of his dresser running a comb through his hair. Don’t you have any pride? You’re sprucing up to go to a woman’s house and grovel, and she doesn’t even care. He tossed the comb onto the bamboo tray that cradled a host of other personal items. When he did, he caught sight of the small gold-plated cuff links. He stood there a moment, staring at them. Sure, he and Gloria were better friends now than before—but that wasn’t saying much since they were never friends before—and it didn’t mean she cared about him—not the way he cared about her. What’s more, she’d probably never feel that way about him. Face it, Press—you’re banging your head against a brick wall. What’s more, you’re acting like Sadie Bellows.

  Slowly, he reached over and picked up the cuff links, jiggled them in his hand a minute, then shoved them into the pocket of his sweats.

  Even before Cutter came to the door, Gloria knew he was there because she had seen the lights of his Saab as he pulled onto the gravel drive. She stood by the open door of her apartment as he walked up the stoop. By the porch light, she saw that beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and that his hands were jammed into his pockets like they used to be when a teacher marched him to the principal’s office. Something was wrong. She immediately thought of Virginia.

  “Everything okay?” She moved so he could pass and go into the apartment first. When he didn’t answer, she closed the door behind her. He looked strange. His face was all pulled into a knot. What could be so important that he’d come to her house only minutes after she’d left his?

  Cutter sat on the couch without being invited. Something was wrong, but since he seemed reluctant to say what it was, maybe she’d fill him in on Tracy. She didn’t know what else to talk about, how else to satiate the empty silence. Maybe by the time she finished, he’d tell her what was on his mind. Gloria sat down beside him and quickly ran though Tracy’s DWI incident and her plans to go to Vegas.

  “So what I’m hoping you’ll do is call Tracy, talk to her. Ask her to come back to Medical Data. Urge her to come back.”

  “It’s not going to make any difference, Gloria. Nothing I say to Tracy will make any difference. But if it’s that important to you, okay, I’ll talk to her.”

  “It is that important.” He really was kind. “I’m worried about her.” Now, if he’d only tell her why he was so troubled. Maybe she could repay his kindness by helping him. Perspiration mustached Cutter’s lip. Perhaps he was just hot in his sweats—though that was hard to imagine, since the temperature had dipped into the low fifties. Maybe he needed something cold to drink. “How about a soda?” She was already on her feet and heading for the kitchen. She filled two glasses with ice, then poured Coke from a plastic bottle. The foam was still fizzing when she carried them to the living room. She handed one to Cutter and watched him gulp it down, then place the empty glass on the coffee table.

  “When you came … when you stopped by with the flyer, did you know that Sadie had just left?”

  “No.” It was true. Gloria had been in a kind of fog, reviewing what she was going to tell Cutter about Tracy.

  “You didn’t pass her car on the way?”

  Gloria shook her head, wondering what in the world Sadie had to do with anything.

  “You sure? I mean, you do know her car, right?”

  Gloria laughed. “Everyone knows Sadie’s red Camry. Now, what’s this all about?”

  “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong impression, that’s all. I just wanted to set the record straight.” Cutter face was twisted.

  Gloria folded her hands on her lap. “For heaven’s sake, Cutter, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Sadie and me. It’s over. That’s why she quit Medical Data. She just came to pick up some of her things.”

  Everyone around town already knew why Sadie quit. Cutter wasn’t telling Gloria anything new. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said, confused by this rehashing of old news and feeling irritation rub like sandpaper. What kind of things could Sadie have left at Cutter’s? She suddenly felt uncomfortable as her imagination sketched a steamy picture of tossed undergarments and negligees. And she felt resentful too, though she couldn’t imagine why. Well … what difference did it make? So what if Sadie was there? Who cared what things she had left behind? “No explanation necessary,” she repeated, though part of her suddenly wanted an explanation, actually wanted one very much.

  “That’s what I told myself on the way here—no need to explain to Gloria. I actually turned around by Hoolahan’s and headed home. Got as far as Tad’s, then turned around again.” He shoved his hand into his left pants pocket and pulled out something that jingled in his palm. He held it in a clenched fist, and even when he rested that hand on his lap, his fingers remained coiled. “I can’t change what I was. And sometimes I don’t even know who I am or what I’m going to be. But I do know this, Gloria. I love you. And I know something else too. This is going to be the last time I tell you, at least until …” He opened his hand, exposing a pair of cheap gold-plated cuff links. Then, carefully, as though they were priceless heirlooms, he placed them in her hand. “You gave these to me for Christmas when you were thirteen.”

  Gloria crinkled her forehead. “My mother forced me to.”

  “I know. But all these years, I’ve sort of pretended you gave them to me because you wanted to, because they were a gift of the heart.” There was something sad in Cutter’s face as he placed his empty hand back on his lap. “Tonight, when Sadie came over, I was frantic because I was afraid you’d come and see her and misunderstand. Then it finally hit me, really hit me that you probably didn’t even care. That it made no difference what woman I had there.” Cutter picked up his glass. The soda was finished, but some of the ice had melted, and about an inch of liquid filled the bottom. He drained it. “Do you realize that all these years I’ve never stopped wearing my high school ring? I suppose you’ve never even wondered why. It’s kinda silly, actually—I’ve worn it because I still believed I’d give it to you one day.” Cutter put his empty glass on the table and rose to his feet. “But it’s time to grow up. No more pretending.” He pointed to the cuff links in Gloria’s hand. “These don’t have any meaning.”

  Gloria stared at the small ovals, feeling hurt and insulted by his rudeness. Maybe her gift didn’t mean anything, but why bring it here? Why not just toss the cuff links, quietly, in the garbage pail at his house? “What … do you want me to do with them?”

  “Put them away somewhere, and give them back to me when they mean something to you.”

  “Cutter … I can’t promise that will ever happen.”

  “I know.” Cutter walked to the door. “And I can’t promise I’ll still be around if it does.”

  For a full hour after Cutter left, Gloria sat clutching the cuff links, trying to stop the anger from stomping around her insides like a bull. The longer she sat, the angrier she became. He still had more gall than anyone she knew. Why should she care what woman was in his house? It was of no importance. Did he think that giving her these cuff links would change that? Was he trying to manipulate her again?

  No. He had seemed sincere enough. But his nerve galled her. And for some reason, so did his honesty. “I can’t promise I’ll still be around …” Did anyone ask him to be? Who did he think he was, anyway? God’s gift? Finally, in disgust she tossed the cuff links onto the coffee table.

  Her father had been a womanizer too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  GLORIA TRIED TO CONCENTRATE on designing Charlie Axlerod’s new business card—he had several for the several hats he wore around town. This one advertised Charles P. Axlerod, Attorney at Law.

  But Wanda was making it difficult. She hovered by Gloria’s desk like a condor. “Poor Agnes Keller. She’s still shook up about yesterday. As if her nerves aren’t already shot. I mean, wo
rking for Virginia Press can’t be easy. And now that Virginia’s on a rampage, well, I tell you, it must be all Agnes can do to keep her sanity.”

  Gloria swiveled her chair to face Wanda. “Virginia’s hardly on a rampage. The woman’s sick.”

  “C’mon, Gloria. There’s not a person in town that’s not wise to Virginia’s tricks. But no matter how long she stays in bed, she’ll never get Cutter to move back home.”

  At the mention of Cutter’s name, Gloria cleared her throat.

  “No. Cutter’s left for good. And there’s nothing Virginia can do about it.”

  Gloria frowned and returned to her keyboard. Secrets tended to be a burden. Especially this one. She wondered how Wanda and the rest of Appleton would feel after Virginia was gone.

  “Cutter’s out from under Virginia’s thumb now, and he’s gonna stay out. Been carousing a lot, I hear. Especially with Sadie Bellows. Seems like an on-again, off-again kind of romance. Someone saw her car in Cutter’s driveway last night. Guess they’re back together. Guess her quitting Medical Data made Cutter take notice.”

  Gloria misspelled Axlerod, deleted it, then misspelled it again.

  “Can’t say I like his taste in women, but who am I? Wouldn’t it just frost Virginia if Cutter ended up with Sadie? Sadie’s shrewd. Been around the block a few times. Knows how to handle a man. Sadie Bellows and Cutter Press. Now wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

  Gloria struck the keyboard so hard she broke a nail.

  “Of course, there was that rumor about you and Cutter too. Never took it seriously, though. But some did. I told Pearl Owens you weren’t Cutter’s type. That he’d never be interested in a quiet, well-mannered girl like you. Cutter’s always had his wild side. I remember a time when Paul and I thought Cutter and Tracy—now, there’s a wild child—anyway, I … we thought the two of them might get together. Gloria? Where … are you going?”