“Tilly, you know I won’t be able to use this car,” she said, though every word was agony. “Who knows if I’ll ever be able to just drive down the street like a normal person?”
Tilly tilted her head. “Yesterday you drove Jo-nell to her interview just fine.”
“That was different. This morning, when I tried to walk into a store, I couldn’t do it. I absolutely froze on the sidewalk, like a statue.”
Her cheeks felt hot with the memory, though the brisk breeze out here was probably only about forty degrees. “A car would be wasted on me.”
Tilly seemed to be considering that. She narrowed her eyes and gazed at Beth for a long minute.
“I hear how frightened you are,” she said finally. “But I also know how hard you are on yourself. So you failed today. So what? Tomorrow, you’ll try again. And the next day. And the next, until one day you’ll walk right through that door and buy everything in the place.”
She sounded so sure. In spite of herself, Beth felt hope rising from the ashes. “Tilly…”
The older woman smiled, well aware that she’d won the argument. Nothing new there. Tilly always won. “What?”
Beth squeezed her hand around the keys, her fingertips tingling against the metallic ridges.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just…thank you. Thank you for having more faith in me than I have in myself.”
“A temporary condition,” Tilly said. “One day you’re going to wake up and realize what a strong woman you are, Beth. And when you do, I want you to jump in that car and come tell me all about it.”
CHAPTER
FIVE
Three days later, just two days before the party, Beth pressed the last carousel animal, a large silver-and-purple swan with a garland of pink roses around its neck, onto the last empty spot on the wall.
And voilà! The tower room was transformed. It was like standing in the center of a magical merry-go-round. As a special, secret surprise for Scott, Beth had ordered a CD of calliope music online, and even sprung for overnight shipping.
She put it on now, in the CD player on the window seat. Daniel laughed and wriggled in his carrier, holding out his hands, asking to be picked up.
“It’s awesome, isn’t it, duckie?” She scooped him up and held him against her chest, planting a kiss on his hair.
She began to sway to the calliope music, with him in her arms. He giggled, then dropped his head against her breast and babbled something that sounded a little like singing.
She danced in a slow circle, taking in the whimsical animals Scott had created. He’d drawn them carefully, one-handed, on the newsprint while Beth helped hold the paper steady.
Her part had been more mundane. She did the cutting out and much of the painting, while Scott supervised, choosing each color, adding a star or a rainbow here, a rose or a bird or a butterfly there, until each animal sprang to life, as if from a children’s gorgeous fantasy book.
They had a dragon, a rabbit, an elephant. Two ponies, a flying pig, a swan, a squirrel, a peacock and a dolphin. All placed on paper “poles” painted in multicolored stripes, one up, one down, as if the carousel had been caught mid-motion. All strung together by garlands of pink roses.
It was messy work. She was splotched all over with silver-and-purple paint, and her blue jeans looked like a Jackson Pollock painting, but she couldn’t remember ever having so much fun.
Suddenly the front doorbell rang.
She wondered if Scott had forgotten his key. Or, since he was due home in less than an hour, maybe he’d sent ahead for pizza. He seemed to enjoy any home-cooked dinners she brought over, but the meal that went straight to his heart would always be a pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza.
But the pizza guy knew to go to the kitchen door. Oh, well. Only one way to find out.
Beth switched off the music and hurried to the foyer. She took a swipe at smoothing her hair, but she knew it was hopeless and didn’t much care. Scott’s friends and coworkers were as informal and friendly as he was, and they all knew about Operation SuperDad.
She opened the door with a smile, but it faded from her face instantly. She didn’t know the incredibly beautiful woman standing there, but she’d seen her picture. This was Angela Mulvaney.
The picture hadn’t done Angela justice. It was one Scott had taken, about three years ago, just before they finally split up. They’d been out sailing. Scott loved boats, loved the water, but apparently Angela didn’t. In the picture, the woman had her arms around little Jeannie, who was probably only about three.
Angela looked miserable, as if she was afraid they were seconds away from drowning.
At first, Beth wondered why Scott kept this picture, but when she studied it she understood. Though Angela looked uncomfortable, little Jeannie was glowing. The wind carried her wispy brown hair out behind her like spun sugar, and her face was full of sweet, energetic life.
“Hi,” Beth said finally. The woman on the doorstep looked even more shocked than she was, and someone had to say something.
“Hello.” Angela’s voice was cordial but held an undercurrent of frost, like one of the last nice fall days before winter. Her disapproval wasn’t quite visible, not quite a threat. It was more like an unseen power. Waiting its turn, but inevitable. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“I’m Beth Dunnett.”
Beth shifted Daniel higher on her shoulder. He was trying to twist around and get a better look at the other woman, who wore a very enticing, sparkly diamond pendant around her neck.
For once, Beth wished her son would not fall in love with every new person he met. Angela wouldn’t want baby hands, sticky with applesauce, groping her diamonds. She wouldn’t appreciate baby slobber on that handsome, smartly tailored suit.
Announcing her name didn’t seem to be enough, so Beth cleared her throat and continued. “This is my son, Daniel. We’re renting the garage apartment. I also…I also help Mr. Mulvaney a little around the house.”
There. That should satisfy the other woman. People like Angela Mulvaney knew all about maids. She could go home feeling comfortably superior, thinking how typical it was of her foolish ex-husband to hire a maid with messy hair, unkempt clothes and a dirty baby who would obviously make sure she never got any work done.
Angela looked over Beth’s shoulder, toward the shadowy foyer. “Is Mr. Mulvaney at home?”
The woman sounded a little unsteady here, as if she didn’t feel quite comfortable barging in without permission. Beth knew Scott didn’t want her to see the party preparations before everything was ready.
“No, I’m sorry. He had a meeting with a client. I’m sure you could get him on his cell phone.”
Score again. Clearly Angela had already tried that. Beth knew, from seeing it happen firsthand, that Scott usually pushed the “ignore” button when Angela’s number appeared on his caller ID.
“Well, I’d like to leave a message for him,” Angela said. “If that’s possible.”
“I’ll be glad to give him any message,” Beth said, though she knew Angela had meant she’d like to come inside and write one out herself. As guardian of the party secrets, Beth did not intend to move an inch from this doorway.
Clearly Angela didn’t like that. She licked her full, glossy-pink lips and adjusted the strap of her six-hundred-dollar purse over her shoulder, the way a knight might adjust his baldric before riding to battle.
The effect was intimidating. Beth had never felt so inadequate. Angela was an amazingly beautiful woman. Physical perfection, from her bright blue eyes to her gym-toned calves and elegant, perfectly chosen business heels.
But she was more than beautiful. She was smart. And she sized the situation up quickly. She clearly saw that it would demean her to try to wrestle or bully her way into the home of a man she supposedly no longer cared about. She saw that her only power lay in a dignified retreat.
“Thank you,” she said. “Would you tell him to send invitations to Marlena Simmons and Ally Ross? A note apologizing for the oversig
ht would be a nice touch. They were left off the original list.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll tell him,” Beth said.
At that moment, Daniel took a diving leap, trying to grab Angela’s diamond pendant. He loved shiny things. Beth caught him at the last minute, but she nearly tripped over the doorsill in the process. It wasn’t her most graceful moment.
To her credit, Angela put out her hand to help without any obvious distaste. She caught Beth’s elbow and held it until her balance was restored.
“That’s a tricky threshold,” Angela said. “I’ve asked Scott to fix it, but…”
Beth heard the disapproval in the other woman’s voice. This was one of those implied criticisms Scott had mentioned. Subtle. You’d really have to listen to hear the annoyance beneath the well-bred concern for Beth’s safety. But when you did hear it, you heard the poison.
Beth fought to keep her face impassive. If she defended Scott too hotly, it would just make Angela suspicious. And Scott didn’t need that kind of trouble.
“Does he always come with you when you’re working?”
“Yes.” Beth refused to elaborate, though her instinct was to explain that Daniel was no trouble, he really did help, how he was such a good baby.
But she had no reason to feel defensive. She wasn’t really the hired help. Even if she were, she had more right to be here than Angela did. Beth had at least been invited.
With a cool nonchalance, Angela leaned in slightly. “We’ve been out of town, so I haven’t had a chance to check. Has he begun to set things up for the party?”
Her diamond swung against her breastbone, catching the sunlight. Never one to miss a chance, Daniel reached out and got the pendant in his fist, and brought it toward his mouth.
“No, no, honey,” Beth murmured, tugging it free. “That’s not good for babies. It would taste nasty.”
Angela’s face was rigid, and two deep furrows had suddenly appeared alongside the corners of her mouth. She plucked the chain between two fingers and held it away from her dress.
“Oh, dear. Applesauce does have an odor, doesn’t it?” She gave Beth a tense smile. “I wouldn’t mind, ordinarily. But I have a meeting in half an hour.”
Beth nodded. She knew what Angela was trying to say. If she were just a little housescrub, a nobody like Beth, getting stained would be no big deal. But a professional woman like Angela…
Here was the judgmental ice queen Scott had described. Beth had thought she was ready for the put-down. She’d faced snobs before. Unwed mothers who spent three months on the street developed a shell that protected them against such people.
But against all reason, Angela’s contempt hurt.
Standing next to this cool perfection, looking into those dismissive eyes, Beth felt her courage hissing away like steam from a broken pipe.
And for the first time in months she felt like the person her father had always said she was.
A loser.
THAT NIGHT, SHE SLIPPED the baby monitor in her pocket once again. She pulled thick socks over her feet, then stuffed them into her big fluffy bedroom slippers. Finally she wrapped her wool coat—the Benson family—around her flannel pajamas and went down to look at her new car.
The garage was very dark, with only the indirect illumination from the landscaping spotlights to brighten the gloom. It was cold. Within seconds, her fingers began to tingle. She wished she’d brought gloves, too.
Carefully, she made her way around Scott’s black car.
In the second slot, over by the built-in workbench and cabinetry, was her own little Chevy, looking more gray than blue in the dim light.
She opened the door quietly and slid into the driver’s seat. She’d brought the keys with her, though she had no intention of going anywhere right now. She just wanted to see how it felt to sit here, and insert the key into the ignition.
It felt good. She put her hands on the steering wheel, which was as cold as ice. She let her fingers fit themselves into the grooved plastic, and then twisted the wheel a little, from left to right, imagining herself maneuvering the car on the road.
She used to love to drive. Sometimes, when Tony let her use their car, she would take the longest possible route to her destination—the doctor, usually, or the grocery store—and then the longest route back. She’d wind around other neighborhoods, watching people water their lawns or teach their kids how to ride two-wheelers.
She would wonder…were they happy? Was happiness possible, or did everyone pretend, the way she did? Did that man, kissing his wife goodbye, sometimes slap her around at night? Did that woman, kneeling to pull a weed out of her garden, sometimes cry herself to sleep?
There was no way to find out, of course. Even if she’d stopped the car, walked right over to them and asked, they would have said yes, of course we’re happy, what could you possibly mean? She might glimpse the truth, a shadowy specter behind their eyes. But she’d never really know if it was her own ghosts she saw or theirs.
The shelter hadn’t answered the question, either, of course. Everyone under that roof had been chased there by ghosts.
Even Tilly. As a young woman, Tilly had been abandoned, with two children and no money. She’d found sanctuary at the Mother/ Child shelter run by Sally Hanna-Schaefer, and when she got on her feet she was determined to open a shelter of her own. With Sally’s training, she’d been able to do it.
Suddenly the side door of the garage opened, letting in a long parallelogram of light. Into the space stepped a man’s shadow.
Funny, she thought. She knew Scott Mulvaney so well already. She could even recognize him by his shadow.
Of course, it helped that his shadow came equipped with a crutch and an oddly shaped, cast-covered leg.
She turned the key to activate the electric windows and brought the passenger window glass down.
“Hey,” she called softly. “Over here.”
He turned his head toward her voice. “Beth? What are you doing in the garage? It’s freezing.”
“Just sitting. What are you doing here so late?”
He moved to the car and ducked his head to get a better look at her. “There’s an alarm on the garage door. When I saw the light blinking, I thought it might be you.” He glanced into the empty car seat. “Where’s Daniel?”
“Sleeping.” She pointed to the monitor, which she’d propped on the dashboard. “If you listen closely, you can hear him snoring.”
Scott smiled. “I take it you’re just going for an imaginary spin.”
“Yeah.” She twisted the wheel again and let her bedroom slipper touch the gas pedal. “I love to go on make-believe trips. It’s the real thing that gives me trouble.”
He dropped his fingers to the door handle. “Feel like picking up a hitchhiker?”
She was embarrassed to realize that she’d actually flipped the locks. As if anyone was going to accost her here, in Scott Mulvaney’s garage. She clicked the button to the open position.
“Sure. A poor wounded guy like you? Come on in.”
Scott opened the door, and carefully arranged himself in the passenger seat. It was a tight fit. He had to slide the seat all the way back just to make room for the bulky cast on his foot.
He was really too big for a car this size. He dominated it, blocking the light from his window. Immediately, the air in the car was warmer, and she caught a faint whiff of his lemony aftershave.
He turned his face toward her. In the half light she could just make out the sparkle in his eyes and the white gleam of his smile.
“Thanks, lady. Where are we headed? Niagara Falls? Sunset Strip? The Grand Canyon, maybe?”
She squeezed the steering wheel, wishing she had been thinking of such exotic destinations. Even in her dreams, her most daring adventures consisted of actually walking through the glass doors of the party store in downtown Middlefield.
“Sure,” she said, trying to enter into the fantasy. “Niagara sounds like fun. But we’ll have to be back by morning. I’
ve got a baby who’ll want a bottle.”
“And a party to put on,” he added with a smile. “Otto and I attached the streamers to the ceiling tonight. He did the ladder climbing, but I played foreman and bossed him around. He was a good sport about it.”
Beth had met Otto Baum, one of Scott’s friends and a VP at Mulvaney Construction. He was a middle-aged father of four who seemed like a great guy.
“Are his kids invited?”
“Sure. Jeannie loves them. She loves everyone, really. She’s a born extrovert. I think we’ve got about fifty kids showing up, at last count. Including the newest two, Marlena and Ally.”
“Oh, good. You found my message.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He leaned back. “I miss Jeannie like crazy, but in a way I’m glad she doesn’t come back until right before the party. I’d have a heck of a time keeping her out. Every time we talk, she asks about how it’s coming.”
Beth knew that was true. She’d overheard some of those phone conversations when she was at the house. Scott missed Jeannie so much it hurt to see it.
“And thanks for making sure Angela didn’t get an advance peek at the decorations. I’m sure she’s not expecting much, given my past performances and my current physical condition, so I’m really hoping it’ll knock her socks off.”
“Daniel and I make a pretty good guard-dog team,” Beth said, trying for a light tone. “I don’t think Angela dared come close enough for him to touch her with his fingers. We overdid it a bit with the applesauce, I’m afraid.”
He chuckled. “I hope he smeared his hand right across her hair. At least I think that’s still hair under all the spray and mousse and gel and crap.”
Beth didn’t answer right away. He might talk disdainfully about the perfect Angela, but she knew that impressing his ex-wife was just as important to Scott as impressing his daughter.
“Angela is beautiful,” she said. “Amazingly beautiful.”
He shrugged. “Yep. She requires perfection of herself, which I guess is her business, but she requires it of everyone else, too. Which isn’t.”
“It wasn’t an easy marriage, was it?”
More Than Words Volume 4 Page 35
