Vintage

by Susan Gloss

  The audience laughed with some hesitation.

  The program that followed was a testament to things that Betsy loved and the lives she’d touched. A jazz trio performed a medley of swing tunes that got everyone, including Betsy, tapping their feet. A young man and woman performed a modern dance routine with gravity-defying lifts and leaps. Several people took to the microphone to share stories, literary excerpts, or songs.

  And then it was Violet’s turn. Violet didn’t usually think of herself as ordinary. She prided herself on being a little bit different, in her clothing and tastes and mannerisms. But amidst this crowd of performers and artists, she felt self-conscious and bland. The outfit she’d chosen the night before, a 1940s short-sleeved suit with a nipped waist and shiny brass buttons, had seemed perfect when she put it on—a nod to Betsy’s younger days. Now it seemed boring, conservative even.

  Violet stepped up to the podium, where she had a view of all the guests gathered. She spotted April in the back row and met her gaze for a moment, then looked down at the piece of paper in her hands. Violet had spent hours writing the reflection she was about to read, and now she worried that it would sound pedestrian. There was nothing she could do about it now, though, so she cleared her throat and began to read.

  “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever.’ The poet John Keats wrote that, and Betsy Barrett, more than anyone else I know, understands it. Betsy loves beauty, and has an eye for it. She displays it in her home and channels it in the way she dresses, but most importantly, she fosters beauty in the world around her.” Violet looked up and caught Betsy smiling, her eyes wet and shining. This gave Violet the confidence to stray a bit from her script. “You’ve seen dancers, singers, and musicians tonight. All of them are here because of Betsy’s unfaltering support of the arts and local businesses. My vintage shop would not exist without her help. Fortunately, her legacy will live on with the many garments that came from her closet. Each one has a story from Betsy’s incredible life to go with it. The white wool coat? She told me she wore it when she met Jackie Kennedy at the White House—a kindred spirit and fellow patron of the arts. The silver evening dress? She’d bought it in Paris in the 1950s, when she finally convinced her husband to take her to Europe, where he’d been stationed during World War II. When I asked Betsy why she was getting rid of these beautiful items, she said, ‘I’ve had my time with them. It’s someone else’s turn to enjoy them.’ Betsy doesn’t keep beautiful things to herself. I’ve learned from her that a pretty thing isn’t worth much if you can’t share it with anyone. It’s just a thing. Only when you let others enjoy it, too, does it become truly beautiful.”

  Violet swallowed the swelling in her throat and stepped down from the podium. Only when she was back at her seat did she allow herself to shed a few quiet tears. She looked over at Betsy, who nodded at her and mouthed “thank you.”

  After the ceremony, everyone seemed to want to have a few minutes with Betsy. Violet hovered near the edge of the room, waiting, and April joined her.

  “That was beautiful,” April said.

  “Thanks,” Violet said. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “Of course. Betsy has done so much for me. I didn’t even know she was sick, though, did you?”

  “No. Well, sort of. It’s complicated.”

  Betsy waved at them and motioned for them to come over.

  “You go,” April said. “I’ll talk to her in a little bit. You should have her to yourself for a few minutes. You’ve known her longer.”

  “Okay.” Violet managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

  Violet hugged Betsy, being careful not to disrupt the IV needles. Her friend’s body felt just as frail and angular as it looked. Violet settled into the seat next to the wheelchair.

  “Thank you for coming,” Betsy said. “I know it must have been a surprise.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know you were sick again?” Violet asked.

  “It happened quickly. By the time I realized it wasn’t just a virus, but that the cancer was back, I was laid up with pneumonia with nurses around me day and night. I knew you had a lot going on at the store. I didn’t want to worry you if it didn’t end up being serious.”

  “But it was serious. And now I feel terrible that I didn’t know what was going on. How long has the cancer been back?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. When you came to my house that day, I told you the truth. I really was in remission. Everything was going fine for a while there. And I’m grateful for it.” Betsy coughed—a labored, wheezing sound that made Violet shudder.

  “Is there anything I can do for you to make things more comfortable here?” Violet asked.

  “Oh, the staff’s been great. And I’ll let you in on a little hospice secret.” She leaned forward and put her blue-veined hand on Violet’s arm. “They give really good drugs here.”

  Violet laughed. “There are probably easier ways to get drugs, Betsy.”

  “Sure, you tell me that now. It’s a relief, though. I’m not in any pain.”

  Violet stopped smiling and said in a serious voice, “If there’s anything you need, just let me know. If you want anything from your house, or are craving a certain kind of food, I’d be happy to pick it up for you.”

  “The food I crave these days is whatever will stay down.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry,” Betsy said. “There’s nothing worse than having a bunch of people feel sorry for you, and really, there’s no reason to pity me. I’ve been luckier than most people in life. And just look around this room—all these people are friends, not family. Some people probably think it’s sad that I don’t have any children, or any family left. But what they don’t realize is that family has to come to something like this. Friends don’t. They choose to come. So I’m lucky in that way. These people want to be here.”

  “Well, we wish we were here for another reason.”

  “Oh, pooh. I’ll take whatever reason I can get. Promise me that when you leave here you won’t feel sorry for me.”

  “I promise. You are many things, Betsy, but someone to pity is not one of them.”

  “Will you promise me something else, too?”

  Violet nodded.

  “Don’t make the same mistake I did and wait for the perfect time to do the things you want to do in life. For so long, I sat on my hands because I was afraid of what people would think of me—my husband, his colleagues, our friends. I was afraid to put my heart into the things I really cared about because I didn’t want to be controversial, or for people to disagree with me. Don’t do that.”

  The line of people waiting to talk to Betsy had doubled in size since Violet had been chatting with her, and April was up next.

  “Okay.” Violet stood up. “I better let some of the other guests say hi. You’re quite popular.” She bent down and kissed Betsy’s cheek. “Can I come visit you?”

  Betsy nodded. “My schedule’s pretty full for the next few days, but next week would be good.”

  Violet had visited very few people in hospital settings—her grandmother just before she died, lying on the propped-up pillows in her silk kimono; Karen after her labor with Edith, clutching the wrinkled little baby to her breast; and Jed when he had alcohol poisoning, his face pink and bloated. In none of those instances did she have to compete with other visitors for time slots.

  As the crowd began to thin out, Violet walked to her car, feeling like she should be mournful. But then she remembered what Betsy had said about not feeling sorry for her and tried her best to honor her promise. She thought, too, about Betsy’s other advice—about not waiting to go after what her heart desired.

  She drove to Sam’s house.

  He answered the door wearing plaid pajama pants and a worn gray T-shirt.

  “Hi,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “Good to see you. Come on in. Can I get you something? A beer? A cup of tea?”

  Violet stepped inside. “A beer so
unds great, thanks. I just came from Betsy’s memorial service.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sam enveloped her in a tight hug, and she breathed him in. He smelled like he’d just showered, and his hair was still damp.

  Violet pulled away. “No, it was good, actually. And it got me thinking.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Here, let me get you that beer and we can sit outside. Have you seen the moon out there? It’s a beautiful night.”

  Sam went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of some sort of microbrew.

  They settled onto the steps of his wide front porch, lit by paper lanterns under the August moon, and Violet told him that she wanted a baby.

  “I realize it might sound kind of ridiculous,” she said. “To end a perfectly good—no, better than good—relationship because I want to have a child in my life someday. I mean, I’m almost forty. There’s not a lot of time left for ‘someday.’ And it’s not as if there’s anyone else out there I want to have a family with. But I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not ready to close that door. There are other options, even if the traditional family scenario doesn’t work out for me. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not considering them.”

  The sound of crickets filled the silence that followed. There was just enough moonlight for Violet to see the look of disappointment on Sam’s face.

  “It’s not ridiculous,” he said. “You should get what you want out of life. I would never ask you to give up something you want.”

  “And I can’t ask you to change your mind, either,” said Violet, hoping he’d tell her she was wrong. “Are you surprised at my decision?”

  “No,” Sam said. “I could have predicted it on our first date, from the way your face lit up when you held Karen’s baby.”

  Violet took a sip of the beer he’d given her—it was rich and tasted a little bit like chocolate. Unlike Jed, who consumed whatever was on sale by the caseload, Sam stuck to small-batch bottles from local breweries and sometimes even home brews from his buddies. Violet liked that Sam would rather have a little bit of something exceptional than a lot of something mediocre. She told him so.

  “You’re exceptional,” he said, brushing a stray black curl away from Violet’s face. “But I don’t want to have to settle for just a little bit of you.” He dropped his hand to his lap. “Unfortunately, it’s usually a deal breaker, the kids thing.”

  Violet wondered how many women Sam had had this same conversation with. She hated having to end things with him when, other than the kids issue, everything had been going so well. What Violet was doing went against Sam’s entire philosophy of living in the moment. She wasn’t living in the moment. She was sacrificing happiness in the moment for the hope of a different kind of happiness in the future.

  “I wish I could give you a different answer.” Violet reached for Sam’s hand and held it in both of hers.

  “Me too,” he said. His voice carried no trace of sarcasm, just sadness. Violet could tell he meant it.

  She knew it was childish, but she felt hurt that she wasn’t able to change his mind, that she didn’t have some special quality that the other women hadn’t possessed. Thinking she could change people, though, had always been a problem for Violet. And it was time to stop making the same mistakes.

  Chapter 25

  INVENTORY ITEM: pants

  APPROXIMATE DATE: early 1990s

  CONDITION: good

  ITEM DESCRIPTION: Capri pants by Brooks Brothers. Pink cotton with green embroidered turtle design.

  SOURCE: Dig & Save thrift outlet

  April

  APRIL HEAVED HERSELF TO a seated position in bed and tried to remember what day it was. At this late stage in her pregnancy, she was ticking off the days until her due date. The days seemed to stretch on forever because she could barely sleep at night. No matter what way she turned, there was some lumpy piece of her body or the baby’s body in the way. And the kid wouldn’t stop moving. This morning, she had a consistent ache low in her stomach.

  She remembered it was August thirty-first—six days from Labor Day, her aptly named due date.

  “You sure seem excited to get a start on things,” April said, putting her hands on her belly. “I have to warn you, though, kid, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a crazy world out here sometimes.”

  Charlie rolled over and rubbed April’s thigh. “What time is it?”

  “Six.”

  “Go back to bed.”

  “Can’t. I hardly slept. I’ve been lying here for an hour already waiting for it to get light outside so I could get up and feel somewhat normal about it.”

  “Oh, I can make you feel much, much better than normal,” Charlie said with a delicious grin. He reached for her.

  She squirmed. “No, I feel disgusting.”

  “I don’t think you look disgusting. I think you look beautiful.”

  After so many months of being alone during her pregnancy, she reveled in the soft luxury of the compliment, as if she were lying wrapped in a fur blanket. This time, when Charlie reached for her, she didn’t squirm away.

  Later that morning, when April came in to work at the shop, she paused inside the front door to admire what Violet had done with her mom’s place since the closing. She’d painted the walls her signature blue, except for a bright orange accent wall behind the register. Violet had also organized the shop into sections, with clothing in the main room up front, dishes and housewares in the formal dining room, and linens tucked on shelves in the open closets. It was like walking into someone’s beautiful home, where everything was for sale. Gladys the Goose stood on a pedestal table in the foyer, casting a friendly glow upon anyone who walked through the door. Most impressive of all, though, at least by April’s standards, was the fact that Violet had set up a shiny new computer at the register counter and, with April’s help, was now implementing a bar code system to keep track of all her merchandise.

  Violet sat on the white shag rug in the dining room, pulling glassware out of boxes and dusting each champagne flute and dessert bowl before sticking a coded price tag on it and placing it on a shelf.

  Violet looked up when April came in. “Good morning.”

  “Still unpacking, I see,” April said.

  “Yep. I can’t believe how much stuff I have.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Sure,” Violet said. “I could use a hand switching out the summer stock. The students have already started to come back from break, and they’re looking for fall clothes.”

  “Sounds good,” April said. “I still can’t lift anything heavy, though.”

  “That won’t be a problem. I can take care of bringing out the boxes of inventory from where I stuck them in the basement. I’ll just have you arrange the clothes on hangers and on the racks. Actually, why don’t you start by taking down some of the summer items? If you put them in boxes, I’ll carry them downstairs when you’re done.”

  April removed gauzy sundresses, cotton Bermuda shorts, and strappy tank tops from hangers. She couldn’t believe how quickly the summer had passed. This year, even more than in other years, she felt a sense of loss as the days shortened. Not only was she leaving the summer behind, but soon she’d be leaving behind her life as she knew it. April felt like her childhood had ended, for the most part, when her mom died. Now that she was just days from her due date, she felt like she was being catapulted into yet another level of the adult world. The fact that she had Charlie to help her made the concept only slightly less scary.

  After she’d cleared an entire rack of summer clothing, April sat cross-legged on the floor, folding the items into boxes. She felt a wet sensation in the seat of her pants. Her pulse quickened. Was her water breaking? She shifted to look at the floor. When she saw nothing, she got up. She felt a trickle down the inside of her legs and hurried to the bathroom in the back hall, covering her rear end with her hands. Once she’d shut the door, she inspected her pants and underwear, which were soaked with cl
ear fluid. She stuffed a wad of paper towels into her underwear. She needed to call her doctor. But first she needed to change her pants, and she didn’t have an extra pair.

  April darted out of the lavatory and dug through one of the boxes she’d just packed until she found a pair of pants large enough to fit her—a pair of plus-sized pink capris embroidered with dozens of little green turtles. They would have to do. She grabbed a long scarf from one of the racks to use as a belt and went back into the bathroom to change out of her wet clothing.

  When she returned to the dining room wearing the pink pants, Violet gave her a curious look.

  “I think my water broke,” April said. “I hope it’s okay that I put these on.”

  Violet’s eyes grew wide. “Sure, whatever you need. Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve gotta call my doctor.” April grabbed her cell phone from her purse and dialed Dr. Hong’s office. One of her nurses answered the phone and, upon hearing that April’s water had probably broken, instructed her to go to the hospital right away.

  “I’ve gotta go,” April said after she’d hung up. She looked around at the boxes strewn everywhere. “I’m sorry to leave you with all this chaos.”

  “Oh, you’re not leaving me,” Violet said. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “I can call Charlie.”

  “No way. Tell him to meet us there.”

  Violet pulled the Jeep out of the garage and helped April get into the passenger seat. They took the fastest way to the hospital, following John Nolen Drive along the shore of Lake Monona. April watched the bikers and Rollerbladers cruising along the lakefront path, astonished that today was just an ordinary day for them.

  “Are you doing okay?” Violet asked, glancing over at April. “Should we be, like, timing your contractions or something?”

  April shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m not really feeling anything, though, so I don’t know what we would time.”

  “Are you nervous?” Violet asked. “Excited?”