by Judith Keim
“How’s our little princess?” Regard boomed when she walked into the kitchen. There was little real warmth in his voice.
Beau grinned at her. “Dad and I are going to play golf tomorrow. You and Mom can go shopping or whatever y’all want. Buy as much as you want, as long as you spend their money, not ours.” He beamed at his parents as if he’d made a wonderful joke.
Tiffany’s heart sank. She hated it when he became their spoiled little boy. They’d been married less than a year, and what with his parents constantly barging in, Tiffany sometimes felt as if she and Beau hardly knew each other. Regard and Muffy had bought them the house as a wedding gift, but that didn’t mean his parents could drop in any frickin’ time they felt like it, did it? Tiffany clenched her fists, so frustrated she wanted to cry.
Muffy eyed her with disapproval. “Maybe we’ll go to a spa, get a nice massage. Our little princess looks like she could use it.”
Beau and his father gave Tiffany looks of satisfaction, but she’d heard the not-so-subtle criticism behind Muffy’s words. His parents hadn’t wanted Beau to marry her. But their darling son had convinced them and her that it would work out, that he had no intention of marrying anyone else. He’d said they were meant to be together.
At first, Tiffany had thought so too.
###
Shopping with Muffy, doing lunch together, Tiffany forced herself to be polite, but she wanted to let loose a rebel yell that would scare off Beau’s family. She and Beau had really needed some quality time together.
Getting ready for bed that night, Tiffany felt almost numb from hiding her frustration.
Beau frowned at her. “What’s the matter? You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Tiffany was about to spill her feelings and stopped. He didn’t get it. He never had.
She slipped on her pajamas, climbed into bed and lay down, careful to keep to her side of it. Beau slid over to her and gave her a hopeful look. Their sex life had always been good, and normally she might have responded. Not tonight, she thought, emotionally drained. Not once had he defended her against his mother’s subtle and not so subtle criticisms all day. And if she heard the words poor princess again, she’d scream.
Hugging her pillow, Tiffany lay awake. At first, she’d thought Beau’s parents were really nice and very sweet for wanting Beau to have the best of everything. Now, she knew his parents for the pseudo people they were—as cold as a winter storm on the Kansas prairie where she’d grown up.
Muffy thought Tiffany was after their family name, their money. Nothing could be further from the truth. She wanted Beau to be the young man she’d thought she knew, the handsome guy in a tee shirt and torn jeans who helped her ward off a creep at a concert where they’d first met. There’d been no indication then that he was anything other than a regular college student having fun. He’d even had to borrow money from her to get a beer after the show.
Unhappiness gripped Tiffany like an iron fist. She let out a sigh and rolled over. Maybe over time things will change, she thought, blinking away the threat of tears.
###
Tiffany awoke to lemony sunshine curving through the slats of their window blinds like a welcoming smile. She got up and walked over to the window. The sky was the bright deep shade of blue that promised good things. Putting aside past worries, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a cozy sweatshirt and went downstairs.
Beau and his mother sat in the kitchen. Muffy was dressed for church and by the resigned look on Beau’s face, he’d already received a lecture from her.
She shot Tiffany a look of disapproval. “You two better hurry up and get ready. We’re going to the ten o’clock service at the Methodist church.”
Beau shook his head. “But, Mom, I told you, we don’t go there anymore.”
Muffy’s nostrils flared. She shot an accusing glance at Tiffany and turned to Beau. “I raised you to be a God fearin’ man, Beauregard Wright the third. Now you and Tiffany go upstairs and get ready. You’ve got to make the right impression in this small town.”
Beau gave Tiffany a helpless look and got to his feet.
Tiffany followed him up the stairs, glad there wasn’t a gun in the house. She might’ve used it. She’d been raised a Catholic and was still trying to decide which church she wanted to attend, if any at all.
At church, Muffy and Regard headed directly to a front pew where they could be seen. The four of them settled on the pew’s green cushions and sat, tensely ignoring each other. Beau put an arm around Tiffany’s shoulder, as if they were as close as they’d once been. It felt good, though Tiffany wondered if this was for show, too.
It was quiet in the car on the way home from church. The minister’s sermon had been about truth. Sitting in the back seat of the Mercedes, Tiffany felt like a fraud. She carried Beau’s last name but she’d give it up in a minute, if she could.
After a light lunch, Regard announced it was time for them to leave. The tension in Tiffany’s shoulders eased. Seeing them off, Tiffany stood with Beau in the driveway and waved as their car disappeared down the street. She smiled and turned to Beau.
“Alone at last! I could hardly wait!”
Beau glowered at her. “Now don’t go starting in on that. With my lousy salary at the firm, we could never afford to go out to nice restaurants, play golf at the club and all that stuff. Stuff I’m used to.”
“But, Beau...” she began.
He turned away from her and headed into the house.
Tears misted Tiffany’s vision. Miserable, she went inside. The sound of a basketball game filled the downstairs. Beau had plopped down in front of the large-screen television they’d bought with the money from her last few pay checks. He never even looked up at her.
Sighing, Tiffany cleaned up the lunch dishes. Her thoughts wandered to her friends in the Fat Fridays group. Thinking of the way Sukie Skidmore’s face had lit up at the mention of her daughter and hearing how close they were, a thought came to her. Maybe Sukie was someone who would listen, really listen, to her. And then she’d know how to make things better.
Tiffany went upstairs to the master bedroom, where Beau couldn’t hear her, and picked up the phone. Her palms turned sweaty as she punched in the numbers on her cell and paced the thick green carpeting.
Sukie answered after two rings. “Hello?”
Too nervous to speak, Tiffany almost hung up.
“Hello?” Sukie said again.
Tiffany cleared her throat. “Hi, it’s me. Tiffany Wright.” Her dry tongue had trouble working. “I know we just met but I need to talk to you. Do you think...what I mean is...do you want to have lunch? Just the two of us?” Tiffany’s stomach scrunched as she waited for Sukie’s response.
“Tiffany? Lunch? How...how nice!” Sukie’s voice was full of surprise.
Tiffany pressed on. “Could we meet for lunch sometime this week?”
Sukie paused. “I don’t see why not.”
Tiffany let out the breath she’d been holding. “I really need to talk to someone like you about a private matter. I’m taking a personal day off from work on Wednesday. How about meeting me then? Could you?”
There was another scary moment of silence.
“That’ll be fine,” Sukie said smoothly. “Why don’t I pick you up at, say, eleven o’clock?”
Tiffany’s knees weakened with relief. She gave Sukie directions to her house and hung up. Maybe talking to someone like Sukie would help her straighten out her life. She hoped so. Without it, she didn’t know what she’d do.
CHAPTER FOUR
LYNN
Lynn Hodges unlocked the door to her small, top-floor apartment and walked inside, happy tomorrow was Saturday and she’d be able to sleep in. Glancing around, she sighed happily. She loved being in her own, safe place. She’d moved around a lot over the years, but thoughts of permanently settling down in Williston had begun to fill her mind. Until now, she hadn’t found a town good enough to think of staying put.
Willist
on was a small friendly town north of Atlanta, not so small you had to travel for miles and miles for your basic needs. She’d even allowed herself to make friends here, friends who had no idea what she was hiding.
Lynn tucked her purse in a kitchen cupboard, thinking of the ladies in the Fat Fridays group. They were real nice women who didn’t realize how much it meant to her that they’d welcomed her, a loner.
Her hand brushed the back of her favorite over-stuffed chair as she passed by. Walking through the home she’d made for herself, Lynn felt like a kid at Christmas. At that whimsical idea, she shook her head. Truth be told, that fat old man hadn’t shown up very often in her life. That’s just the way it’d always been for her.
She tiptoed over to the sliding glass door leading to the small balcony off the living room and drew the drapes as tight as she could. It would be dark soon and she didn’t like knowing anyone could look inside.
Kicking off her shoes, Lynn turned on the television and went into her bedroom to change clothes.
In her blue terrycloth robe, she prepared to settle down for a cozy evening in front of a movie. Something sweet. No murder mysteries for her. Sitting on the second-hand couch, glancing around the space that had become home to her, she could imagine living there for many years to come.
If, only.
CHAPTER FIVE
CAROL ANN
Carol Ann Mobley remained in her bedroom for as long as she could. Most people couldn’t wait for the weekends. She couldn’t wait for the work week to begin again. Striking a pose in front of the mirror over her dresser, Carol Ann spread her lips into a smile and arched her eyebrows to make her eyes look bigger, hoping to look...different.
Frustrated, she threw her hairbrush down on top of her dresser with a loud smack. No matter how much she tried to look like Tiffany Wright and some of the other hot girls at work, it didn’t happen. She couldn’t put herself together with their style. It wasn’t just the way she seemed so plain next to them, it was everything. They were so full of confidence, so sophisticated. She was still stuck at home, living with her parents, saving money for a place of her own. She hated her pitiful life.
Her parents were like stones around her neck, weighing her down with their constant fighting, their low lifestyle, their clinging to her. With her sister gone and married, Carol Ann was the one left at home to put up with it. She gritted her teeth. She wanted a lot more from life and she was going to get it. She just didn’t have a cotton pickin’ idea how.
Giving herself a last look in the mirror, Carol Ann practiced her Cameron Diaz smile.
“Carol Ann?”
Mama’s shrill voice, calling from the kitchen, shattered her dreams as sure as if her mother had thrown a rock at the glass in front of her.
“Git the paper ‘fore you do anythin’ else,” her mother said. “What time y’all be back from errands? Seein’ it’s Saturday, we’ll git our usual supper.”
Carol Ann clenched her jaw. Pizza. And every morning, without fail, she brought the paper inside for her parents. Just once, she wished Mama would let her do that without reminding her. At work, she handled some very important things for her boss. Why couldn’t her mother understand she could damn well remember to get the paper on her own? And couldn’t they, just once, have something other than crappy pizza on Saturdays?
“Carol Ann? You hear me?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Carol Ann thought she’d have a better life by now. Thank God for MacTel. She loved the women in the Fat Fridays group. Regardless of their age differences, they were friends, sweet as pie. They were the people who gave her hope that life could be different for her once she’d saved for the house on the other side of town she was determined to have.
“I’m waitin’ on ya, Carol Ann.”
She sighed and glanced around her bedroom, praying for that day. After her sister left home, Carol Ann had done her best to fix up the room that was now hers alone. She’d painted the walls a pale, pale pink and sent away for a country quilt and bed skirt at a price Mama never would have allowed her to buy. She was slowly paying off the loan on the bedroom suite she’d bought at a terrific sale. She’d also started a hope chest of sorts, filling it with household items on sale, praying for the day when she’d be gone, living on her own.
“Carol Ann? You payin’ attention?”
“Okay, Mama,” she answered, feeling about twelve years old. God! If she couldn’t somehow change her life, she’d die.
CHAPTER SIX
SUKIE
It was one of those gray Sunday mornings when Sukie wanted to snuggle inside a warm sweatshirt and stay in jeans and fuzzy slippers all day. Alone, and with no plans, that’s exactly what she intended to do.
She stepped over to the mirror above her bureau and gave her image an unflinching stare. Classic features coated with sadness—not too bad, considering the last several months. As usual, her stubborn hair sprang out in rebellious brown curls. She smoothed back the skin on her face. It had begun to show signs of giving in to gravity’s relentless tug. Still, people never guessed her age. Elizabeth told her that if she’d let herself go, dress a little younger, kick up her heels a bit, they’d think she was Elizabeth’s sister, not her mother. Funny, Sukie thought, it was always Ted who insisted she dress the part of conservative spouse to his bank presidency. What a crock!
The phone rang. Elizabeth. Sukie settled in an easy chair in her bedroom to talk to her daughter.
“I’ve signed up for the computer courses at the library,” Sukie announced. “So I’m thinking it’s time to spruce up my wardrobe.”
“Great! Go for it! And get some cool clothes. You’ve got a good figure, Mom. Better than you think.”
Sukie caught her lower lip with her teeth and nibbled nervously. No way could she deny her forty three years. Not when her ex-husband was living with someone barely older than her daughter.
“I mean it, Mom. Show off your figure. Have fun! And while you’re at it, put a little color in your hair. Highlights would look good on you. Who’s going to stop you?”
“Absolutely no one.” Sukie fought off the wave of depression that threatened to drown her good humor. Years of being part of a twosome were hard to ignore. She felt so adrift. There were still times she automatically set the table for two.
“Mom? I’m really proud of you. Those courses are bound to lead to something else.”
At Elizabeth’s encouraging words, Sukie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It seemed as if their roles had reversed and Elizabeth was now supporting her emotionally. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be an Admin, or whatever everyone called it, but she knew she had to protect herself. Ted’s promises were as empty as gaily wrapped birthday gifts with nothing but tissue inside.
“I’m so mad at Dad for putting you through all this,” said Elizabeth. “I won’t even take some of his calls. He’s being such a jerk!”
Sukie kept quiet. Her counselor had told her not to interfere with her children’s relationships with their father.
“You know that cute guy I told you about?” Elizabeth said, quickly switching topics. “He’s already got someone else. I found out after he put the squeeze on me. I was so bummed.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Were all men jerks?
They chatted about school, and Sukie gave Elizabeth the latest news on the baby front. Elizabeth was as excited as Sukie about Rob and Madeleine’s expected baby.
After Sukie hung up, she took a closer look at the items hanging in her closet. Safe. That’s what they were. Neutral colors, classic, almost rigid styles. Most of them were too big for her now. She pulled a navy dress out of the closet. Safe? Who was she kidding? It was just plain dowdy. Feeling as if she were discarding the past along with the clothes, she threw it down on the floor. A pile of other items soon joined it. Excitement coursed through Sukie.
She went to her desk to make a list of the new items she’d need. She’d choose basics and fill in with other things when she had t
he money. Wishing Elizabeth was there to help her, she tapped a pencil against her chin wondering where to begin.
After bagging her old clothes for charity, Sukie went down to the kitchen. Humming softly, she sorted through her ideas while she prepared a cup of hot, lemony tea.
Lowering herself onto a wooden kitchen chair, she gazed out the French doors at the wispy dark clouds racing across the gray sky. The last few days had been so interesting - meeting new friends and reaching out for new opportunities. Thinking of the women in the Fat Fridays group, she picked up her phone.
At Tiffany’s hello, Sukie smiled and explained what she had in mind.
“Really? You want me to help you with your new wardrobe?” Tiffany’s voice trilled with happiness. “Great! We’ll do lunch at the mall. I can’t wait!”
Touched by Tiffany’s eagerness to help, Sukie went back to work on her closet. With every grunt of disgust, the pile of clothes grew larger.
Looking at them tossed on the floor, Sukie did a silly little dance. It felt so good to feel so free.
###
Waiting for Tiffany to appear for their shopping trip, Sukie sat in her car and studied the large, brick-faced colonial house – a house any couple would be proud to own.
Tiffany bounded down the sidewalk. With her ponytailed hair, designer jeans and black high-heeled boots that matched her leather jacket, she looked like a teenager. A red Prada purse swung casually at her shoulder.
Sukie waved, and Tiffany opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat.
“I’m so glad...” they said together and burst out laughing.
Smiling at each other, they headed for the mall.
“Thanks for coming to lunch with me,” Tiffany said. “It’s no good talking to my mother and I have no one else.”
