Seasons of Her Life

by Fern Michaels

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It took seven long years of working fourteen to sixteen hours a day before Mrs. Sugar’s Cookies were sold on virtually every college campus in the United States. The cookie lady, as Mrs. Sugar was called, became a household word by the middle of the sixth year, and franchises were offered to the public at half a million dollars each.

  On a bleak, snow-filled day two weeks before Christmas, in their seventh year of business, Ruby opened her front door to greet Marty Friedman, Alan Kaufman, and her investment banker, Silas Ridgely.

  “Oh, uh, come in. Gee, it’s snowing . . . ah, whatever it is you’ve come for will have to wait till Dixie gets here. Sit down ... no, not here, I hate living rooms, in the kitchen. I’ll make coffee. There are some cookies on the counter . . . I have to get dressed . . . it’s Andrew, isn’t it? No, don’t tell me ... someone got sick from the cookies and is suing me. I’ll be right back. The ... ah, the coffee is over there in the can. Six scoops, seven cups of water . . . I’ll be right down,” she said, racing up the steps.

  Damn that Andrew, he must want more. Wasn’t he satisfied, living in her condo in Hawaii, having her pay his bills, driving a Mercedes-Benz she was paying for, and accepting his damn two and a half percent? She’d even paid for his outrageous trips to Europe and for the bimbo he was squiring around—although she hadn’t known that until after the fact. I’ll kill you, Andrew, really kill you if you think you’re getting one more penny out of me. I mean, that damn Marine pension of yours, you aren’t sharing that with me, are you? Damn right you’re not. “Oh, shit!” She dithered.

  She wasn’t going down those steps until Dixie arrived. God, maybe it wasn’t Andrew at all but Hugo. Hugo would . . . Hugo would. Oh, shit!

  She could hear voices now. God, she hadn’t washed her face yet. “Who cares?” she muttered. She slapped a wet washcloth against her face and dried it. She looked at herself in the mirror. She’d grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands on. A Rutgers sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve and her well-worn jeans. One foot was covered in a green sock, one in yellow. “Oh, shit,” she yelped again as she looked for the mate for either pair. She ended up settling for a pair of plain white socks with a hole in the heel.

  Dixie’s eyes were the first to meet hers in the kitchen. They held fear. Obviously, she’d been thinking along the same lines Ruby had. She inched her way over to the counter and stood next to her partner. In a raspy voice she demanded, “Which one is it, Hugo or Andrew?”

  The men laughed. And laughed. No one said anything.

  “It can’t be the kids, they’re too decent,” Dixie said in a twin of Ruby’s voice.

  The men laughed and laughed.

  “Ladies, all the franchises have been sold. As you know, we still have a waiting list. The last of the money arrived yesterday, according to Silas. We’ve come to offer our congratulations. You are now among the Fortune 500.” Marty beamed.

  “I closed the last deal personally.” Alan grinned. “Well done, ladies!”

  Not to be outdone, the austere banker, Silas Ridgely, smirked happily. “Investing your profits at twenty percent interest these past few years helped to boost you over the top. I would like to offer my congratulations, too. As Alan said, ‘Well done, ladies! ’”

  In a daze, Ruby clutched Dixie’s arm for support. She licked her dry lips. “My . . . my husband stood right here in this kitchen, looked me square in the eye, and said, ‘You have . . . you have two chances of pulling this off ... slim and none.’ ”

  Silas Ridgely’s back straightened. He said prissily, “I’d live with that if I were you, and advise against sending him a quarterly financial report.” The attorneys concurred.

  Ruby risked a glance at Dixie, who was clutching her arm so tightly, Ruby knew she would have black-and-blue marks.

  “More coffee, gentlemen?” Ruby squeaked.

  “Thanks, no, Ruby, we have to drive back to the city. We wanted to deliver this news in person. We’re going to leave you ladies now since we know you must have a lot to discuss. What can we say but congratulations?”

  “That’s good enough,” Ruby said, her head bobbing like a puppet. Dixie still looked like she was carved from stone. She hadn’t moved at all.

  The round of handshakes was firm and hearty.

  Back in the kitchen, after seeing her guests out, Ruby snapped her fingers under Dixie’s nose. “Hey, lady, wake up. I hope you took all that in, because I can’t remember half of what they said. What’s the matter with you?” she demanded uneasily.

  “I have to tell Hugo now. It’s still a mystery to me how we’ve managed to keep my real name out of it for so long. Do you realize he still thinks I’m your bookkeeper? He’s been content with my one-hundred-ten-dollar check every Friday. How will I explain that I locked in certificates of deposit at”—her eyes glazed over—“and didn’t share it with him.”

  “Dixie, you knew this was going to happen someday. You said, you told me more than once, that the minute you were solvent you were leaving your marriage. You had your chance to do that, and for whatever reason, you didn’t take it. We could have gone round and round over this, but I didn’t want to stick my nose in and prod you. Now you have to tell him. There’s no way we can keep you out of it any longer. The media loves stuff like this. Two housewives . . . I don’t have to tell you the rest.” All the joy was gone from her eyes.

  “I’m going to go home now, Ruby. I need to be by myself for a while so I can think. I spoiled it, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Ruby. This ... I still can’t comprehend . . . don’t worry about me, you bask in our success, okay? Will you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. We’re partners, friends forever. You said that, remember? If I can help . . . do you want me with you when you tell him? Can you handle it, Dixie?”

  “I hope so,” Dixie said, struggling to her feet. “Give me some time. There’s nothing really pressing at the office, is there? If I take off a day or so ...” She let the rest of what she was about to say hang in the still air of the kitchen.

  “Take as much time as you need. We own this company. We can take off whenever we want. But don’t let any moss grow under your feet. We have to start giving some thought to going worldwide, the way Marty suggested. That means a lot of travel. Imagine, Mrs. Sugar in, say, Greece, England, Paris. Lord!”

  “All that money,” Dixie said listlessly. Ruby’s eyes clouded over as she held Dixie’s coat for her.

  “Call me, okay?”

  Dixie nodded.

  Dixie was right, it hadn’t been easy keeping her part of the business from Hugo, but like Dixie said, all he was interested in was her check on Friday night. In the early days, when she had been working virtually around the clock, Dixie told him she was getting double time. As the business smoothed out and knowledgeable people were hired, both women were usually able to leave at six o’clock, though Dixie often worked at home at night when Hugo was asleep.

  Amended tax returns hid her income. There was a way around everything, Ruby thought. It wasn’t her fault that Hugo Sinclaire was a stupid, greedy monster of a man. She hadn’t twisted Dixie’s arm to deceive her husband. You aided and abetted her to insure your own success, a worrisome voice whispered. Her own success, too, Ruby argued. But now what?

  “Now,” Ruby said, “Dixie stands up to her husband and whatever happens happens.”

  Suddenly she felt guilty. Her desire to run after Dixie was so strong, she dug her heels into the rug by the kitchen sink. The hell with it. Dixie would have to deal with it. She could stand up for herself.

  I should be doing something, Ruby thought. Calling the kids, Grace and Paul, her sisters . . . maybe even her parents. Calvin. Andrew. Yes, Andrew.

  Ruby reached for the phone. Andrew’s voice sounded alert even though it was the middle of the night in Hawaii. Ruby thought of warm, fragrant breezes wafting through the penthouse apartment. And she could never think about Hawaii without also thinking about St. Andrew’
s.

  “Are you on the balcony, Andrew, staring out at the ocean?” she asked quietly.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Why are you calling in the middle of the night?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Because I want half of your military pension,” Ruby snapped irritably. She heard her husband’s squawk of outrage. Ruby ignored him. “Actually, Andrew, I called to ask you something. Do you remember the day you stood in the kitchen and told me I had two chances of making Mrs. Sugar’s Cookies work? Do you remember that, Andrew?” She heard another squawk and ignored it, too. “You said my two chances were slim and none. Slim and none. I want . . . I’m calling you to ... to thank you. Every time I was down, every time something went wrong, every time I thought I wasn’t going to make it, I thought about those two words.” Her voice turned reminiscent. “Remember the time we made fifteen thousand cookies, had them ready for delivery to Rutgers and Princeton, and found out the schools were on spring break? You told me if I was dumb enough to screw up like that and not check my dates, then I deserved to go in the hole. You also told me to stand on the street corner and give them away. I did that, Andrew, and you know what? To this day, Rutgers, Princeton and the towns themselves remain our biggest customers. I want to thank you for that, too.”

  “I don’t get it,” Andrew barked. “Are you going through the change of life or something? What’s with all this ... this thank-you stuff?”

  “This stuff, Andrew, is what kept me from buckling under, from quitting. Today, Mrs. Sugar made the Fortune 500.” The complete silence on the other end of the line brought the first smile of the day to Ruby’s lips. She was still smiling when she hung up the phone. “I really meant it, Andrew,” she murmured, “thank you.”

  Ruby’s next call was to Opal, who picked up on the first ring. She sounded sleepy. It was almost noon. “Hi, Opal, how’s it going?”

  “Ruby? Lord, why are you calling so early? Is anything wrong? I’m not real up this morning. I have a hangover. Mac and I partied all night.”

  “No. I just thought I’d call and share some good news. At least it’s good for me and Dixie. We made the Fortune 500 today.” Hangover. Partied all night.

  Ruby could hear Opal yawn. “That’s great, Ruby. What does it mean?” She yawned again. “I see your cookies all over the place. I bought some one day. They taste just like Bubba’s cookies. Mac said they were too sweet, but he ate them. Hey, Ruby, I’ve been meaning to write you and tell you I met that guy you used to be so hung up on, what’s his name . . . the one that’s related to Nangi. Mac and I were at the Officers’ Club one night, and he was there. He’s a general now. I was a little tipsy, so when we were introduced, I didn’t place him. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized who he was. He kept looking at me that night and saying I reminded him of someone. You, probably. Anything else, Ruby? Hate to cut you short, but I have to shake it. Write me. I love getting letters, and you’re the only one who ever writes.”

  “Okay,” Ruby whispered. Her knuckles were as white as the sheet on her bed. Don’t think about what she just said, Ruby. Block it out. You’re real good at that. Break the connection and make your next call.

  Nangi’s voice sounded far away, as though he were talking from inside a drum. He was shouting. She shouted back her news.

  “Ruby, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! I would not be averse to selling your cookies in Saipan. The children love them. I bought some when I was in San Francisco last year. If you ever decide to open an Asian division, count me in.”

  “Are you serious, Nangi?” Ruby shouted.

  “Absolutely. I’m not getting any younger, and it would be nice to work for myself for a change. I think Amber would be receptive to the idea.”

  “Then it’s yours. Just today my attorneys suggested we go worldwide. They mentioned England and France. Asia now . . . Tell you what, let me check out a few things, and I’ll make a trip over there. It’ll be nice to see you again.”

  “Ruby, I can’t come up with franchise money,” Nangi shouted.

  “You don’t have to. I’ll give you a share of the profits and you can run the operation, if we can get it going. I’ll call you back later in the week. How’s Amber?”

  “She’s fine, but she isn’t here right now. She’ll be sorry she missed your call. I know she’s going to be delighted when I tell her your good news.”

  It was time to say good-bye. She had to ask. She wanted to ask.

  “Have you heard from Calvin?” she blurted out.

  “He’s up for his second star, but he said he doesn’t think he’ll make it. He says he’s the Air Force’s token minority general. He was here about six months ago. Didn’t Amber write you?”

  “No!”

  “As always, he asked about you. I made sure I told him about your thriving business. He couldn’t believe it. He said . . . his wife buys your cookies all the time. He’s still at the Pentagon. I took him aside and told him you and Andrew were legally separated, and I suggested that he write to you. He feels . . . he failed you. Actually, the word he used was betrayed. If you ever want to see Calvin, Ruby, you will have to make the first overture. I don’t think I’m out of line by saying he spoke of getting a divorce. I’m going on too long here. You’re going to have an enormous phone bill, Ruby.”

  “Give my love to Amber. Thank you, Nangi, thank you very much. I’ll be in touch.

  “Don’t think about that, either,” she cautioned herself as she dialed Grace Zachary’s number at the store. Their conversation was long, wonderful, and uplifting. Ruby felt happy when she hung up the phone.

  The next call was to Martha, who was at work. Ruby waited while she was paged. Her daughter’s voice crackled over the wire. “Is anything wrong, Mom?” Martha asked anxiously. “Dad’s okay, isn’t he?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Martha. Your dad is fine, I spoke to him half an hour ago.”

  “You called him in the middle of the night? Mom, how could you do that? Just because you’re estranged doesn’t . . . was he mad?”

  “Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was sitting on the balcony. I had the impression he had company. We had a very nice conversation. I told him the same thing I’m calling to tell you. Today, Mrs. Sugar made the Fortune 500. What do you think of your mother now?”

  Martha’s voice sounded flat when she replied, “I think it’s great, Mom. How did Dad take it?”

  Ruby’s shoulders slumped. They shot upward almost immediately. “Very well. We had a civil conversation.” She bit down on her tongue. There was so much she wanted to say to Martha concerning her father. Martha was still seeking Andrew’s love and approval. Ruby hoped someday he would give his daughter what she needed.

  “Dad invited me to Hawaii for Easter. Andy, too. He said he would send the tickets. I’m really looking forward to it,” Martha said with a lilt in her voice. “Andy isn’t sure yet. I think he thinks you might be upset. He also said that if he went, he’d buy his own ticket.” Martha’s voice turned flat again. “Andy said the money for the ticket came from you. Indirectly, of course. Andy is so ... protective of you, Mom. I keep telling him you have to be a barracuda to survive in the business world and you’ve survived very well.”

  “Is that how you think of me, Martha, as a barracuda?” Ruby whispered.

  “Sort of. But, Mom, that’s a compliment. Do you like shark better?”

  “No,” Ruby said curtly.

  “You aced out Dad real neat. You got rid of him, paid him off, and now you’re on easy street. I think that falls into the fast lane of traffic. Hey, Mom, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with what you’ve done. This is a man’s world, especially for design engineers, as I find out each day I come to work. You gotta do what you gotta do to survive and make it. You made it and I’m proud of you.”

  “I better let you go, Martha. I don’t want to get you in trouble. We’ll talk next week, okay?”

  “Bye, Mom.”

  Stung to the quick, Ruby bit down on her low
er lip till she tasted her own blood. A barracuda. She hated the word. Don’t think about this phone call, either. Get on with it, Ruby. Two down and one to go.

  Andy’s voice roared through the phone. “Yo, Ma, what’s up? You call during the day only when something good is happening. How’ya doing?”

  Ruby’s spirits lifted the way they always did when she was talking to her son. Nothing ever got Andy down. “I’ve got news for you that will lift you right out of your shoes,” she said. “Sit down!”

  “I’m sitting, Ma! Come on, come on.”

  “Mrs. Sugar made the Fortune 500!”

  Andy’s whoop of pleasure forced Ruby to rear back and hold the phone away from her ear. “Hey, everybody,” she heard her son yell, “my mother and her friend made the Fortune 500! Ma, that’s right up there with General Motors! Jeez. I’m taking you out tonight. Get all gussied up. The best restaurant in town. Hey, I’ll even shave, and if you don’t mind sharing me, I’d like to bring Nancy.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. You know I adore her.”

  “Okay,” Andy boomed. “We’re on. She can quit work early and be here by seven. Then we’ll come and pick you up.”

  Andy always came through, she thought as she said good-bye and hung up. If it weren’t for Andrew and Andy, she wouldn’t be sitting where she was. She must never lose sight of that. Never.

  One last call. How sad she felt that she had to look up her parents’ phone number in her address book. Ruby sucked in her breath as the phone started to ring. Her father answered on the fourth ring. “Pop, it’s Ruby. I’d like to talk to Mom.”

  “She’s weeding the garden. What do you want, girl?”

  Ruby’s back stiffened. “I want to talk to Mom. I want to talk to her now. Please call her.”

  “Call back later, after she’s done.”

  Ruby planted her feet firmly on the kitchen floor. “No, I want to talk to her now. Fetch her. Please.”