“No problem. Think of me as the newlywed halfway house.” I shut the door and held out a hand for her coat. “Did Renée start with the peanuts again?”
“I didn’t have time to find out.” Erin’s hands shook a bit as she shucked off her parka. “She’s moving in.”
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “I thought you said David—”
“He talked to her. I talked to her. Everyone talked to her, but there’s no stopping the mother-in-law from hell. Our guest room is filled with her luggage right now. And once she’s in…” Erin shuddered. “We’ll never get her out.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. She wins.” Erin’s eyes were bleak. “I lose. She’s got my husband, my house, my Thanksgiving dinner…it’s all over.”
“You’re in shock.” I walked her over to the sofa and made her sit. “But it’s not over between you and David. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Erin shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. Once Renée’s in the house with us…I’d heard all those clichés about you don’t just marry the man, you marry his whole family, but…” She slumped back into the cushions. “The power. The evil. My God, I had no idea.”
There was only one appropriate response to this. “I’ll make coffee.” While the Colombian roast brewed, I arranged some of my homemade Christmas cookies on a hand-painted seasonal plate and brought them out to Erin.
“You need to eat,” I said firmly.
“I can’t.”
“You have to.” I thrust the plate toward her. “Come on now—have a gingerbread man. One hundred percent peanut-free. You need your strength to plan your counterattack.”
While Erin nibbled the arms off a gingerbread man, I sat down on the ottoman next to her. “I’m glad you came over. Thanksgiving just isn’t the same unless I get to play hostess.”
She stopped nibbling and looked around. “Hey. Where’s Nick?”
I folded my hands primly in my lap. “Detroit.”
She waited for me to elaborate, and when I didn’t, she ventured, “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No.” I laughed bitterly. “I have the perfect husband, haven’t you heard? I landed the catch to end all catches. He just happens to prefer spending Thanksgiving in Michigan to spending it with his wife.”
“But I thought you two were going over to his parents’ house?”
“We were. But then his friends called up yesterday morning and said they had extra tickets for the Lions game in Michigan today and anyone who wanted to see ‘football history in the making’ should pile in for the road trip.”
Erin whistled. “Oh boy.”
I smiled pleasantly. “‘Oh boy’ is right.”
She handed the cookie platter back to me. “I think you need these more than I do.”
“He hasn’t even called to check in since he left. It’s a ten-hour drive, and I know he brought his cell phone.”
“Well…” She took another bite of gingerbread to stall. “You know how guys are. Maybe he just forgot?”
I snorted. “Has David ever forgotten to call you on a major holiday?”
Erin shrugged. “It’s never been an issue. Ever since we moved in together, we’ve spent the holidays together. Us and Renée.”
“At least he doesn’t leave you to explain to his family why he couldn’t be bothered to show up for your first married Thanksgiving. His mom and dad are livid that he took off; I tried to smooth things over, but they just went off on this rant about how he hasn’t been the same since he quit law school.”
“They sound lovely.”
“No, they are, actually, but Nick was supposed to get his JD and take over his dad’s firm and marry Julia, his girlfriend from law school, and instead, well, he quit after his second year and married me. It’s a little embarrassing for them.”
Erin cocked her head. “Why on earth would they be embarrassed?”
“Because I’m, you know.”
“What?” she prompted.
“You know.” I lowered my voice. “White trash.”
“Casey, don’t be ridiculous!”
“Says the woman with the Harvard MD. It’s easy for you to laugh, sure, but I grew up in a trailer park with my mom, her assorted live-in boyfriends, no dad, clothes from Goodwill, and a sister who slept with literally every single member of the football team. The Nestor girls are legendary in this town, and not in a good way.”
Erin shook her head. “But you’re not your mom or your sister. Just because they made mistakes—”
“Let me ask you something. You’re a fancy Ivy Leaguer like Nick’s parents; is my family the kind of family you’d want your child marrying into?”
She couldn’t maintain eye contact. “Your family doesn’t make you who you are.”
“But they’re part of the package. You said it yourself—you don’t just marry a person, you marry their whole family.”
“I can see how it would be hard to grow up in a small town like this with a family like that, but don’t you think you’re being a little too sensitive? I mean, look at you now! You’re a pillar of the community! You went to college, you own your own business, you do volunteer work for the local animal-rescue groups—”
“I married a nice boy from a nice family,” I finished for her. “Only problem is, he’s too good for me and everyone knows it. Including him.”
“Is that what you really think?” Erin asked incredulously. “Nick Keating is too good for you?”
“Let’s look at the facts: I initiated moving in together. I’m the one who kept bringing up marriage. I had to…” I wanted to confess that I’d sort of had to propose to him, but that sounded too pathetic, so I said, “I had to buy my own engagement ring.”
She helped herself to a chocolate macaroon and jabbed it toward the tiny diamond sparkling on my left hand. “You paid for that?”
“Pretty much.” I gnawed the inside of my cheek. “He was paying off a lot of debt at the time, and—”
“And he’s too good for you?” Erin spewed a few cookie crumbs in her vehemence. “Do you hear yourself?”
I started to shake this off, saying, “You don’t know the whole story,” but she was having none of it.
“Casey, I don’t care how hunky he was in high school. That was twelve years ago. He should be down on his knees kissing your feet!”
“We balance each other out,” I insisted. “I’m controlling and judgmental. He’s a free spirit. I’m incredibly hard to live with—”
“And he’s not?”
I thought about the pipe wrench on the rim of the tub.
“I guess,” I said grudgingly. “I just always wanted him so much. He didn’t even look at me when we were teenagers; I was twenty-seven when he finally asked me out—”
“When he finally smartened up, you mean.” Erin snorted.
“He had just moved home after he left law school and happened to be driving by when my truck got a flat out by Waronoke Pond. He stopped to help me change the tire, and he looked at me and I looked at him…it was straight out of a movie, I tell you.” The memory still made me smile. “I knew exactly who he was, of course, but he didn’t remember me. He didn’t realize we’d gone to school together until I told him, on our third date. I was so thrilled to finally be with him—”
“Okay, you need to stop with the hero worship. If you aren’t an equal partner in the relationship, you’re screwed. Reality check: he’s just a guy. A cute guy, I’ll give you that, but a guy. With plenty of faults and questionable commitment to his marriage.”
“Not true.” I shook my head. “Nick would never cheat on me. I worry about a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.”
“He doesn’t have to cheat to check out of the relationship,” she pointed out. “He’s in Detroit. What did he say when he found out you guys weren’t legally married?”
I leapt to my feet. “Coffee’s ready! Would you like cream and sugar?”
“Don’t insult me with t
hese transparent diversionary tactics. What did he say?”
“Not much, actually.”
Erin furrowed her brow. “Did you guys already make it official at the courthouse? Jeez, you’re so efficient.”
“No, we haven’t made it to the courthouse yet.” I retreated to the kitchen.
“Wait!” She jumped up and followed me. “What is going on with you?”
I turned my back on her and stared into the cupboard at the orderly rows of matching blue mugs. “Here’s the thing. I haven’t exactly told him yet.”
I heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t be all—” I imitated her scandalized gasp. “It was hard enough getting him down that aisle the first time. And now whenever we have a fight, whenever we have to scramble to pay the rent and the heating bill and the lease on the store, he breaks out the same old line: ‘You’re the one who had to get married.’”
She made a face. “And why do you want to be legally bound to this guy, again?”
“Because I love him!” I exploded. “And he loves me. In our own twisted way, we make each other happy.”
Erin looked like she was struggling to hold her tongue.
“And don’t give me that look,” I added. “Because yes, we are happy. Or we were, anyway. Before the wedding.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” I poured piping hot coffee into the mugs, spilling a bit with uncharacteristic clumsiness. “I can handle my own husband. Besides. Don’t you have your own faux marriage to save?”
Erin wrapped both hands around her coffee mug as if trying to absorb the warmth through the ceramic. “Don’t remind me. Listen, have you eaten yet?”
“Nope. I made a pumpkin pie for Nick’s parents, but his mom was going to cook most of the meal.”
“I’m starving,” she declared. “Absolutely famished.”
Suddenly, I was starving, too. “I have a homemade lasagna in the freezer,” I volunteered.
“Sounds delicious.”
While we were waiting for our makeshift Thanksgiving dinner to defrost in the oven, we flipped on the TV and watched the tail end of Miracle on 34th Street.
“Just think,” Erin said, tucking her stocking feet up under her on the couch. “All over America, normal, happy families are watching this and getting along and eating turkey and stuffing.”
“No, they’re not,” I replied. “They’re all bickering and criticizing each other and sneaking secret gulps of booze in the garage. There’s no such thing as a normal family.”
As soon as Erin heard the words “bickering and criticizing,” she sat bolt upright. “Oh, crap, that reminds me—I have to call my parents.” I excused myself to the bedroom to give her some privacy while she dialed her cell.
I collapsed into the smushy down comforter on the bed and mulled over what Erin had said. Maybe she had a point. What was more important: marriage or football?
The frustration that had festered inside me all day surged into fury. Who did he think he was, anyway?
I grabbed the cordless phone lying on the nightstand and punched in Nick’s cell phone number. He didn’t bother to pick up, but that was fine: I could say my piece to his voice mail.
“Hi, honey, how’s your trip?” My tone stayed relentlessly upbeat. “I’m calling to give you some news: remember how you didn’t want to get married? Well, surprise, you’re not! Legal glitch, blah, blah, blah, long story short, we’re still technically single! And you get to stay that way, you lucky boy! You always manage to get your way, don’t you? I’ll have your things packed and waiting on the porch when you come home.”
Then I hung up, wrenched off my diamond engagement ring and gold wedding band, and slammed them into the nightstand drawer.
“Casey?” Erin called from the front room. “You okay in there?”
“I’m fantabulous,” I announced, storming down the hall to show off my newly naked left hand. “I just broke a few of the chains that bind me.”
“Viva la revolution.” She raised her fist in solidarity. “Now let’s eat. Is the lasagna ready yet?”
We both jumped when we heard the knock at the door.
“Who’s that?” Erin whispered.
“I have no idea,” I whispered back. “But it better not be Nick.”
“Well, it really better not be David. Or, oh my God, what if it’s Renée?”
“Casey?” wailed a thin little voice on the other side of the door. “Are you home? Please be home, oh please, please, please.”
And then we heard a deep, resounding woof.
“Stella?” When I yanked open the door, Cash raced in, nearly knocking me over.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Stella trudged in behind the dog. Her face was smudged with flour and she smelled of charred meat.
“What happened?” Erin asked, staring at the pair of suitcases resting on the stoop.
“Marriage happened,” Stella snapped. “Wedded bliss. Happily ever after. What a crock.”
“You left Mark?”
“Hey, something smells good. Are you making pizza?”
Erin and I exchanged a look. “Lasagna,” I said. “And if you need a place to stay, you’re more than welcome to hole up here for a few days.”
“Thank you.” She heaved a mighty sigh. “I’ll start looking for an apartment tomorrow morning, but I don’t know how many building managers will be working the weekend after Thanksgiving.”
“An apartment?” Erin repeated. “It’s that bad?”
Stella swallowed hard and nodded. “I can’t stay with him. And I can’t go back to New York—everyone will smirk and say they told me so.”
“Who would say that?” I asked.
“Everyone would say that. Everyone’s been dying to say it ever since Mark and I announced our engagement. And I can’t afford rent in Manhattan; I’d have to live with my mother in Westchester County, and even if I could stand living with my mother and listening to her lecture me about the sanctity of marriage every single day, she has to sell the house anyway to pay my father’s legal team—”
“Whoa, okay, slow down. You can stay here as long as you need to,” I assured her. “There’s only one problem—I’m not allowed to have dogs in the apartment. I can sneak one in for a few hours every now and then, but the landlord will freak if he finds out Cash is staying here long-term.”
“I can take him,” Erin blurted out.
Stella narrowed her eyes. “But you said your mother-in-law had allergies.”
Erin’s grin was diabolical. “Oh well.”
Stella blinked. “I see I’m not the only one who had a horrible Thanksgiving.”
I stepped out to the porch to drag the suitcases in. “Make yourself comfortable. You want coffee? Cookies? Lasagna?”
“Lots of everything, please.” She rubbed her temples. “And do you have any wine?”
“We definitely need wine,” Erin agreed.
“One bottle of wine, coming right up.”
“Perfect.” Stella sighed. “We’ll drink a toast to the end of my marriage.”
15
ERIN
It’s on, Renée, I thought as Casey waved, then pulled her truck away from the curb in front of my house. You want my husband? You want my guest room? You’ll have to fight me for it.
“Let’s go,” I whispered to the hulking black dog beside me. Cash and I crunched through the thin layer of black ice that coated the flagstone path leading up to the front door. Renée’s Cadillac was still monopolizing the driveway, but the house windows were dark—David and Mommy Dearest must have given up on me and gone to bed. “You got my back?”
Cash snuffled loudly in response, which sent me into paroxysms of giggles. After polishing off two bottles—maybe three; I’d lost track—of wine, along with most of the lasagna and an entire pumpkin pie, Casey, Stella and I had regained a sense of humor about our Thanksgivings. We’d spent the evening parked in front of the TV, flipping between schmaltzy, soft-lit holiday specials and E
SPN, where we had watched the recap of the Detroit Lions football game while Casey yelled obscenities until the neighbors downstairs started jabbing the ceiling with a broom handle. We had all turned off our cell phones, the better to elude the men who had somehow duped us into believing they were marriage material. Despite the inauspicious start to the day, I’d ended up having a marvelous time. So marvelous that Casey had to drive me home.
While I dredged the bottom of my purse for my house keys, I fantasized about my next husband. He would be tall and good looking, of course; smart as a whip with a compassionate spirit and a beguiling European accent. His name would be…Hugh, perhaps, and his parents would live overseas. Hugh would whisk me away to a penthouse overlooking a grassy park with cavernous walk-in closets and separate, his-and-her bathrooms. We would never stoop to petty quarrels over who mixed in the recyclables with the trash or how, despite repeated reminders, someone could forget to rinse his beard trimmings out of the sink every single morning.
Yes, life with Hugh would be grand. But before I could track him down and start my new life, I owed it to myself to make a last stand for my marriage. If I left David, it would be on my terms, not Renée’s.
The dog whined and pressed his nose into the crack between the door and the jamb as I tried unsuccessfully to connect the key with the lock.
“Shhh,” I admonished, swaying on my feet. “I’m going as fast as I can.”
Finally, I managed to jam the key into the dead bolt, but before I could twist it, the door burst open.
“Erin?” David’s silhouette was barely visible through the dark shadows in the entryway. “Where have you been?”
Before I could answer, the dog muscled his way in and streaked down the hall.
“Cash!” I cried, as David flattened himself against the wall.
“What the hell was that?” David sounded panicked. “Did you find an animal out there?”
“Oh, relax, it’s just a dog.” I couldn’t keep the note of disgust out of my voice. Hugh would never freak out about a harmless domestic canine.
Nearlyweds Page 9
