by Darien Gee
“I have long-term-care insurance,” Bettie reminds her. “And some money saved up.”
“Not enough,” Isabel says. “Remember? We went through all the numbers with an accountant. Depending on how your condition progresses, if you can stay with friends for the next five to ten years, then we can look into a facility.”
“The next five to ten years? How long you think I’m gonna last? I’m already seventy-seven, for goodness’ sake!” She turns to Ava. “I’m not scared of death. A lot of people are, but not me. I even have my plot picked out at the Avalon Cemetery. Number two-four-one, lot B, block eight. It’s right on a little knoll, has a view and everything.”
Isabel hates it when Bettie starts talking like this. “Can you at least stay with Abe and Imogene until we come up with some kind of plan? They went through so much trouble to make their place nice for you.”
“I know,” Bettie says. “And that’s what I hate about it. I don’t like to be indebted, Isabel. I appreciate everyone wanting to do something, but …” She sighs. “This is all too much fuss. I want things to be normal again.”
“By normal do you mean weird?” Ava asks, confused. “Since weird is the new normal?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Bettie says, perplexed now. “Do I want weird or normal?” She and Ava turn to Isabel, a questioning look on their faces.
Isabel takes a long sip of her coffee. “I think I’ll have some of those eggs now,” she says.
As Ava scoops some eggs onto a plate, Bettie temples her fingers. “You know, Isabel, I was thinking that if it’s all right with you, I’d like to host a scrapbooking crop here at the end of the year. That’s when we scrapbook all day. We’ll be using Madeline’s Tea Salon for meetings, but the crops usually run all day and I’d like the women to be able to spread out. Since we already know how to utilize your space …”
“Fine,” Isabel says. “Whatever. But the bedrooms are off-limits.” She looks at Ava. “Sorry, I forgot to ask you. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds like fun,” Ava says. “So we scrapbook all day?”
“All day and all night,” Bettie says.
There’s a rap on the back door and the women turn to see Abe standing awkwardly on the back porch. “Looks like your ride is here,” Isabel says. She leans in and whispers, “Be nice.”
Bettie sighs and pushes herself into a standing position. She smooths her hair and gives Isabel, Ava, and Max a dignified nod. “Well, I’ll be going. Thanks for breakfast.” She marches to the backdoor, unlocks it, and leaves with Abe, who gives a polite wave to everyone.
“Poor Bettie,” Ava murmurs as she clears the plates. “It must be hard to feel so displaced. What’s happening with her house?”
“She’s not going to rebuild,” Isabel says. “Her house was insured for the appraised value, not replacement value—it’s not enough to put the same size house on it. And it was probably more house than she needed anyway. She might sell the lot but for now, she doesn’t want to rush it.”
“I’m going to go to the library to work on my résumé today,” Ava says. “And then I’ll get it to Dr. Tindell right away.”
“Can Max stay here?” Isabel asks. “I mean, if he wants to? I have to do a little painting—I’m getting tired of the white walls.”
“Yes!” Max exclaims, pumping his little fist. His glasses slip off his nose and he pushes them back on. Ava laughs.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” she says. “I’ll actually be able to get more done.”
“Me too,” Isabel says. “I could use a helping hand. Finish your breakfast, Max, and then we’ll go get our paint brushes.”
Yvonne stands in the passenger terminal, rubbing the grooves of her car keys, the embossed silver name tag at the end of her keychain. It’s just past eleven and she’s standing by the window watching the small planes come and go, her heart clenching each time she sees a plane approach.
How is it that less than twenty-four hours ago, she had no idea where Sam was, and now she’s standing here about to see him face-to-face? That’s all it took. One day for your life to turn upside down, one day for it to right itself again. Ten years ago she woke up ready to slip into a wedding dress, to walk down the aisle. Less than twelve hours later, she was sitting in the passenger seat of Harold Stroup’s plumbing van, driving away from the only life she’d ever known.
Yvonne hadn’t been able to sleep last night, and she’s sure it shows. She tossed and turned, adrenaline coursing through her veins, her heart beating so hard she thought it might burst. Her body was clammy and damp, tears streamed down her face until her pillow was drenched. Every hurt, every heartache, found its place in Yvonne’s bed last night. It felt as if morning would never come.
This is why she never let herself think about Sam—it’s too hard on her mind, her heart, her body. It threatens to rip apart the fragile threads of her life, to mire her in the pain of the loss, to hold her back from moving on. The devastation of lost love—no one warns you about it because it’s impossible to describe. There’s nothing you can do about it, you either get through it or let it pull you into the black hole. An abyss.
Yvonne eventually got up, pulled back the curtains. She wrapped herself in a blanket and watched the sun rise. When the first pale ray of light began to warm the horizon, she gave herself permission to do something she hadn’t since that day.
She let herself hope.
There’s a bustle of people around her as a private charter is ushered toward the tarmac. Yvonne closes her eyes, touches the glass in front of her. Somewhere out there, Sam is flying toward her.
“Eleven-oh-six, that’s your boy,” a dispatcher tells her, pointing to the sky. Yvonne doesn’t see it at first, and then the Cessna comes into view. She watches it descend, sees a flash of him as the plane touches down, the same mussed russet-brown hair, the rugged outline of his face, a look of steady concentration. At that second he turns to look at her, the unmistakable recognition that was there the first day they met.
When the smile breaks across his face, Yvonne chokes a cry, her hand covering her mouth as the tears start. Then she’s moving, pushing open the door and hurrying toward the plane. A second later she’s running.
By the time she reaches him, the plane has slowed to a stop and eased into a tie-down. The door opens, and then he’s there. A second later, she’s in his arms.
“E,” he breathes, and he holds her, tight.
“Don’t let me go,” she whispers, her cheek pressed against the cool leather of his jacket. He smells exactly the same and she breathes him in. His arms tighten around her, his lips brushing the top of her head.
“I won’t. Ever.”
Ava drops a quarter into the machine, presses the START button. There’s a hum, a roll of light. A few seconds later, a copy of her résumé emerges from the copy machine. It’s followed by a copy of her cover letter, signed and ready to be dropped off at Dr. Tindell’s office.
Ava pulls the originals from the document feeder, folds them carefully, and then slides them into a matching envelope. This is it. Even though it’s Saturday she’ll drive by his office and slip it into the mail slot. Isabel told her that Dr. Tindell was expecting to hear from her, and even though Ava knows there’s no guarantee, she wants to be the first in line.
She looks around to see if she’s left anything behind when she hears someone call her name. She turns and sees Colin standing by the checkout desk, his arms full of books.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, surprised.
She holds up the envelope. “Résumé,” she says. “I’m hoping to get a job in town.”
“Here? In Avalon?”
Ava nods.
A grin breaks across his face as he puts down the stack of books. “That’s great. Good luck, Ava—they’d be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks.” She gives him a shy smile. “So what are you doing here?”
“Research.” He pats the stack of books. “I’ve been
working on a book. A novel. Turns out my main character is an astronomer but unfortunately I’m not. Hence the need to do a little research.”
“You’re writing a book?” Ava cocks her head to skim the titles. Great Astronomers. Practical Statistics for Astronomers. Astronomy Hacks: Tips and Tools for Observing the Night Sky. The Backyard Astronomer’s Guide. It goes on and on, and Ava is amazed. There’re at least twenty books in all.
“Well, I’m trying to. It started as a short story and kind of bloomed into this. I may be in over my head but I’m having fun.”
“I think it’s amazing that you’re an author,” Ava says, trying to think of the last book she had time to read. That’s one thing she’s missed since motherhood, but now, with their new living situation, she might even have time to pick up a book. Maybe she’ll browse the shelves and pick one up today. “You’re an author,” she says again.
Colin blushes, the first time Ava’s ever seen him self-conscious. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “I mean, I’m not published and I don’t have an agent or anything. I just like to write and when this idea for a story came in I couldn’t ignore it.” He looks at her in surprise. “I got it the day you came into the Avalon Grill.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He studies Ava for a moment. “I hope I don’t embarrass you by saying this, but I think you’re my muse.”
Ava laughs. “Your what?”
“No, seriously. My best writing days are always after I see you—I get inspired and end up writing stuff I like. Unlike the other twenty-nine days of the month.” He grins.
“Just so long as you remember me when you’re rich and famous,” Ava says. “And don’t forget to give me a signed copy of your book.” She’s joking, but suddenly she pictures him sitting at a table in a bookstore, a tall pile of books next to him as people stand in line, waiting to meet him. The scene is so real in her mind that she believes it’ll happen for him someday. It’s not so far-fetched at all.
“You’re on,” Colin says. “Though I have to finish the book first. And at the rate I’m going, that might be a while.” He frowns. “Unless …” A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Unless I get to see you more often. This would be for purely literary purposes, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” Ava says, and she’s smiling, she can’t help it. She likes the idea of seeing Colin more often. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you not finishing your novel. Your fans would never forgive me.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” Colin intones, a smile breaking across his face. “Wouldn’t that be great?” He looks wistful.
“I can see it, Colin,” she tells him. “All of it.”
He looks at her, surprised. “You can?”
She nods.
“You see, you are my muse. And the least this poor starving writer can do is offer his muse lunch.”
“I can pay for myself,” she says, even though she doesn’t have much money on her. She’ll order water or something light—she doesn’t care about the food. She simply wants to sit with him, hear him talk, laugh.
Colin shakes his head, adamant. “No way—it’s the least I can do, what with you being my own personal muse. Besides, I was only kidding about the poor part—tips were great this week. But I am definitely starving.”
“Give me a minute,” she says. “I need to check in with Max and Isabel.” It’s funny saying Isabel’s name, but Ava likes it, too, likes that it’s something that she can now say without repercussion or fear (though Isabel still scares her a little bit). “We just moved to Avalon,” she explains. “And we’re staying with …” Her voice trails off.
Okay, so she’s going to have to work on this one. She’s going to have to figure out what to tell people, explain her relationship with Isabel, how they know each other. Colin is waiting politely as Ava searches for the right word.
“We’re staying with family,” she finally says, and smiles.
Chapter Twenty-four
Halloween in Avalon. It’s dusk, the sky is filled with pinks and blues as the sun makes its way down the horizon. The younger children are out, bubbling with excitement as they walk with their parents door-to-door, arms outstretched as generous handfuls of candy are dropped into plastic pumpkins and cotton pillowcases.
Generous handfuls of candy, that is, except at the home of Isabel Kidd & Co.
Max and Bettie are stationed at the door, a bowl of candy between them. Max will go out later with Ava, but right now he wants to be there when the first trick-or-treaters arrive. He’s dressed as Batman while Bettie is dressed as … well, Isabel’s not too sure what Bettie is dressed as. Imogene had called to warn her that Bettie was heading out the door toward Isabel’s even though Imogene had planned a little Halloween party with some friends of theirs.
“No thank you,” Bettie had said when Isabel met her halfway down the block. “I have no intention of sitting around eating canapés with a bunch of grown women dressed like fools.” She marched on toward Isabel’s, wearing something that made her look like a cross between a fairy princess and school crossing guard. She managed to sneak Abe’s fire chief hat to boot. She saw Isabel taking in her costume with amusement and snapped, “Before you say anything, Isabel Kidd, I am the exception. I always am.”
Isabel couldn’t argue with that.
So Max and Bettie are on door duty while Isabel and Ava figure out dinner. Isabel knows they don’t both need to be in the kitchen at the same time, but it’s fun cooking with another person. As odd as it is, what started as a simple spaghetti dinner has turned into spaghetti alla chitarra, one of Bill’s favorite dishes. There’s dough and flour everywhere as Isabel tries to remember how to put the pasta maker together. Yvonne is going to join them, and has said she has big news. Isabel tried to press her for deals, but Yvonne wouldn’t say.
Max appears in the doorway, looking sad. “No one’s coming to the house anymore,” he tells them. His glasses shine beneath his mask.
“What? Why?” Isabel gives the pasta maker a crank and grins when it seems to work.
“The candy …” Max starts to say, when they all hear a screech from the front door.
“GIVE THAT BACK!”
Ava and Isabel wipe their hands on their aprons as they hurry to the door. Bettie is engaged in a tug-of-war over a plastic trick-or-treat bag with a boy dressed as Superman.
“What’s going on?” Ava asks, bewildered.
“She’s taking my candy!” the boy says, giving one final jerk as the bag breaks free from Bettie’s grasp. He stares at her. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?”
“It’s obvious,” Bettie sniffs. “But if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.” She’s about to reach for his bag again but he puts it behind his back, looking to Isabel for help.
Isabel turns to give him some candy when she sees their bowl is overflowing. In fact, there’s much more candy in there than Isabel had originally bought.
“Here you go,” Isabel says, scooping up a handful and dropping it into his bag. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” She ushers the boy out the door and closes it quickly. “Um, Bettie?”
Bettie puts her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Is everything all right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” There’s a knock on the door and Bettie’s face brightens. “Duty calls! Max, come on!”
Isabel and Ava watch as Bettie throws open the door. “Happy Halloween!” she sings.
Well, that’s not so bad. A little dramatic, maybe, but not anything that seems problematic. Isabel’s about to turn away when she hears Bettie add, “Now what do we have here? Ooh, Tootsie Rolls! My favorite!” Bettie reaches into the little girl’s pumpkin and comes up with a fistful of candy, which she promptly adds to the candy bowl before closing the front door. She turns to look at them. “This is one of my favorite holidays,” she tells them.
“You’re not doing it right,” Max says, taking the words right out
of Isabel’s mouth.
“He’s right,” Isabel says. Ava is giggling, no help at all. “You’re supposed to give the kids candy, not take it.”
Bettie looks at them blankly. “But it’s Halloween,” she says. “You always get candy on Halloween!”
“Only if you’re the trick-or-treater …” Isabel gives Ava a helpless look. “You want to try?”
“I can take them trick-or-treating,” Ava suggests. “If you want to man the door. They say exercise is good for dementia, and that way we can get candy, too. We can finish up the pasta when we get back.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m a child,” Bettie says, looking hurt for a moment. “I haven’t completely taken leave of my senses.” But she looks a little confused.
“I’m sorry,” Isabel says. “But Ava’s right—a walk is a good idea.”
“I’ll wash my hands and grab my jacket,” Ava says.
Bettie sniffs. “Well, hurry up then. The good stuff’s going to be gone if we don’t go soon.” She asks Max, “Do you want gum or chocolate? If you had to choose?”
“Gum,” Max says instantly.
“Good, because I want chocolate. We can trade later. Promise?”
Max nods solemnly.
Yvonne comes up the walk, a bottle of wine tucked under her arm. She looks more radiant than usual, and she’s beaming.
“Nice gutters,” she says with admiration. “So what do you have him working on now?”
“That’s enough from you,” Isabel says with a roll of her eyes, but then she grudgingly adds, “He’s going to ramp the steps leading into the house. And I have a few other projects …”
Yvonne grins as Ava, Max, and Bettie step out onto the porch. Ava has Max so bundled up that it’s hard to see what he is save the Batman mask and cape. Bettie is wearing one of Isabel’s white fleece jackets and has Abe’s fire chief hat on her head.
“We’re off,” Ava says. “Hi, Yvonne!”
“Hi, Ava. All settled in?” Yvonne smiles.
Ava nods. “It’s wonderful,” she begins, then glances surreptitiously at Isabel before quickly ushering Max and Bettie down the steps.
