A pause followed, during which Alice made her tea and hoped the meeting wouldn’t be full of awkward silences, and Mary Ann cooed to Lavinia.
“Go ahead,” Alice said, when she’d sat down with her mug. “Ask me what you want to ask me.”
Mary Ann set Lavinia down on the blanket. “What do you mean?”
“What’s making your forehead wrinkle up?”
Mary Ann tickled Lavinia’s foot. “Okay, I’ll ask. What about the baby’s father? And custody? How did he feel about you moving here with her?”
“What custody? Lavinia’s mine. The father doesn’t even know she exists.”
“Is that why you left England? So he wouldn’t find out?”
“There’s no intrigue. I wanted to raise her here, where I’m less alone, that’s all.”
Mary Ann got up, grabbed a dish of shortbreads and green grapes from the kitchen, and set it on the coffee table, which already held dessert plates, grape shears, and pretty patterned paper napkins. “And how are you coping with motherhood?”
“Not so well.” Shit. Alice’s voice had caught on her words. In keeping with her postpartum tendency to cry at the drop of nothing.
Mary Ann said, “It’ll be better when you’re working and not with her all day. I went back full-time five months after Josh was born, and it was such a relief to get away from that demanding little creature, I can’t tell you.”
Alice smiled. “I think that may be the most comforting thing anyone’s said to me about motherhood so far.”
“Are you being sarcastic? No, you’re not.” Mary Ann gently poked Lavinia’s belly. “Do you like to drive your mother crazy, Lavinia? Do you?”
Lavinia gurgled and kicked the air.
“When do babies become manageable, then?” Alice said. “At one? Two?”
“Try five or six. If I were you, I’d keep working until she’s at least in first grade. The ideal time to begin devoting yourself to her full-time is when she’s in school all day. Then you can become a tennis-playing, car-pooling housewife like me.”
“No tennis for me. And no income to live on if I don’t work.”
“Maybe you’ll find an income-earning husband here.”
“I doubt that, since I have no interest in romance. Or sex. I’m never having sex again.”
Mary Ann scoffed. “Famous last words.”
“I mean it. I’ve had sex once since Lavinia was born, and it was so awful, so painful, that I can’t bear the thought of repeating the experience.”
“What happened?”
“All was well until the moment of penetration. But the pain when the penis went in! The burning and chafing! My vaginal walls are seizing up as I speak at the very thought.”
“Oh, Alice,” Mary Ann said, and laughed as if she found Alice genuinely funny.
“Did the same thing happen to you?”
“No, not really. Bob didn’t want to have sex while I was nursing, and I breastfed each of the kids for several months, so that was that. Would you like some shortbread?”
“Yes, please. How is Bob?”
“He’s okay. He travels a lot on business. While I run this house.”
Alice tasted a biscuit. “This is lovely. You baked it yourself?”
“Yes, from my mom’s recipe. Is that what they say in England? Lovely?”
“Sorry. It’s delicious. How’s that?”
“Say lovely if you want to, I don’t care. And tell me if it brings back any memories.”
“Should it?”
“Think back,” Mary Ann said. “Our senior year of high school. You came over for dinner. We did the telepathy experiment and ate Stilton shortbread.”
“I remember the mind-reading, but I can’t say I recall the menu.”
“Try harder.”
Alice’s mind whipped through years of memorable moments: the day she’d uncovered the edge of a Roman-era mosaic floor in a farmer’s field in Normandy. Her first glimpse of the Parthenon. Dancing all night in a disco in Nice when she was twenty-four. The first article she’d published in an academic journal. And overshadowing all, Lavinia’s birth. “Sorry. I don’t remember.”
“Hold on a second.” Mary Ann shut her eyes and scrunched up her face into an expression that reminded Alice of pushing scenes in baby-birthing films she’d seen. She watched in some fascination and ate another piece of shortbread until Mary Ann opened her eyes and said, “So?”
“What?”
“I was trying to send you a thought-picture.”
“I didn’t get anything.”
Lavinia whimpered. Alice produced a pacifier from her pocket and stuck it in Lavinia’s mouth. “You didn’t really expect we could still communicate like that, did you? After all this time?”
Mary Ann’s tone was light. “Just thought I’d try.”
Lavinia spit out the pacifier and started on a moaning sort of cry. Alice picked her up, stood, rocked her. “About Lavinia, I was hoping you might be my guide on how to cope with babies.”
Mary Ann passed over some stapled pages that lay on the coffee table. “I thought you might want some tips, so I prepared a contact list for you. There’s info here on a baby gym class you could try, a mothers’ group that meets at the church, the name of a store that sells used baby stuff. We could go there together, if you like. And I’ve given you the phone number of my favourite teenage babysitter, a girl named Melina Pappas.”
Alice took the papers, looked at the first page. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”
Lavinia started to cry, full blast. “Oh, all right,” Alice said, “you can be fed.” She sat down in a wing chair, pulled up her T-shirt, adjusted her nursing bra, settled Lavinia on her breast. “There you go.” To Mary Ann, she said, “Breastfeeding is quite the physical rush, isn’t it? I wonder if heroin feels like this.”
“Heroin?”
“That feeling when she latches on, and the milk lets down — it’s so intense, there’s such a surge. She starts sucking, and I find myself sticking out my tongue, as if I’ve fallen into some sort of ecstatic trance. Like this.” She acted it out — tongue lolling, eyes shut, head thrown back, neck and breast exposed. Then raised her head and sat up. “Know what I mean?”
Mary Ann laughed another peal of delighted laughter. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said. Alice had been glad, too.
To Jake, Alice said, “So I live with my daughter in a duplex owned by Mary Ann MacAllister’s mother. I’m in the top apartment, Mary Ann’s mom is in the lower. Do you remember Mary Ann?”
“Yeah, sure. Blonde and into sports? Mike Reynolds’ girl. She still lives in Oakdale, too?”
“I know. Sometimes I feel like I suffer from a severe case of arrested development. All these years later and I’m still sneaking cigarettes and hanging out with Mary Ann.”
“What’s she up to now?”
Other than coordinating a dinner club to enable her extramarital affair? “She’s married with children, and she’s working for an IT guy who’s part of the Main Street development team.”
“Yeah, my parents mentioned that big changes are coming to Oakdale.”
“I’m consulting on the project, too.”
The waiter cleared their plates, Jake pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jacket and offered her one, they stepped outside to smoke on the sidewalk, and she told him a little about the station restoration, and the lost-and-found boxes.
“Before I opened them,” she said, “I had visions of lost love letters, or an engraved pocket watch. I had my heart set on a dog-eared book of poetry with key passages underlined in fountain-pen ink.”
“And there was nothing like that.”
“No. Only some umbrellas and hats, a set of rusty keys, and a pair of plastic sunglasses. No museum-quality finds.”
“And no romance.”
“Which was fine, because I don’t go for romance, in general. My idea of an exciting evening is to read in bed with my socks on. How about you? Get out much?” She ins
tantly regretted how defensive she’d sounded, but he didn’t seem put off.
He said, “I live a fairly simple life, too, when I’m home. I work, I work out, go to an occasional movie.” He exhaled a long plume of smoke. “And I smoke too much — my one vice. It’s totally fucked up my breath control. Though I think it may have improved my voice.”
“Your speaking voice?”
“My singing voice. I sing in a band. A would-be R&B band. Purely recreational. Once every couple of months we get a gig at a wedding or at a small-town bar.”
Alice stubbed out her cigarette, though it wasn’t half done. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to smoking in the daytime. I’m starting to feel woozy. And I seem to be hearing things.” She waved aside a veil of smoke. “Or did you just say that you sing?”
Kate called Hallie at her office. “I’ve invited myself to the second meeting of this Oakdale dinner club. Will I see you there?”
“No. Sam’s going this time. Once was enough for me.”
“What should I expect?”
“Housewives who’ve put too much time into their cooking. Someone’s retired mother. A tarty young receptionist. No one of interest.”
“You make it sound so appetizing.”
“You might keep an eye out for Drew Wacyk, though.”
“The computer guy?”
“Yeah. Make sure no one flirts with him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s mine.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s my boy toy, no one else’s.”
Kate swivelled her chair away from her desk. “My god, Hallie. You’re not actually —”
“It’s nothing. I had him over one Saturday to fine-tune our computers, one thing led to another, and now and then I use him as a pick-me-up. He worships me. And work’s been tense lately, my boss is a total prick. I need to be worshipped.”
“Just to be clear: you’re having sex with him?”
“Yes, Kate. It’s mostly oral sex, but yeah, we’ve fucked too.”
“I don’t know what to say to that. Except, really?”
“I didn’t ask you to approve. I asked you to protect my interests.”
“When do you see him? Where do you see him? No, on second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. What about Sam? Does he know?”
“Of course not. And don’t you tell him.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
Kate told Tom, though, in the car on the way out to Oakdale, and when she’d finished the story, she said, “I don’t know if I’m shocked by this news, or completely not shocked.”
“I’m more surprised at Drew than at Hallie,” Tom said. “If he wanted to have an affair with an older woman, why would he choose that ectomorph iceberg Hallie? Why not Mary Ann Gray?”
“What body type is she — hourglass?”
“She’s neither voluptuous nor starved, she’s in-between. And she’s far warmer in personality than Hallie.”
It took some effort, but Kate refrained from comment on the insufferable-sounding Mary Ann.
Tom said, “Is this serious? Do you think Sam and Hallie will divorce?”
Kate couldn’t help herself. “Forget about Hallie and Sam. Are you saying that if you were Drew, you’d sleep with this Mary Ann person?”
“The only person I want to sleep with is you.”
“Good answer.”
14
Alice was closest to the front door when the bell rang to announce Tom and Kate’s arrival, and Lisa was busy in the kitchen, demonstrating the hydraulic lift on the built-in spice racks in her new cabinets. So Alice was presented with two bottles of cava by Kate. “My contribution to the dinner,” Kate said. “I don’t cook.”
“Aren’t you thoughtful, they’re chilled. But you didn’t need to bring anything extra. Tom’s pie looks amazing.”
“It’s a torta rustica, not a pie, he’ll have you know. And something fizzy seemed appropriate to mark the occasion when I meet the pillars of Oakdale society.”
Shit. Had Kate caught on that one particular pillar had designs on Tom? Alice said, “You won’t find too many pillars here, just us regular folks.” What on earth was she saying? “Let’s open one of these bottles right away, shall we?”
Alice poured the wine into flutes Lisa retrieved from her new walnut-faced cabinets, left Tom in the kitchen to tend to his torta, walked Kate through the ground floor, and made introductions, ending with Sam. “I met Sam for the first time tonight,” she said, “but you know him already, don’t you?”
Kate kissed him hello and put her arm around him. “Sam! How are you? You look great. The kids are well? And your writing? What exquisite food did you bring?”
Alice moved off and left Kate acting all warm and sympathetic with Sam, as if someone had died. What was the story there? Was it possible that Kate knew Mary Ann had Sam in her sights, and Tom too?
It was possible, but not likely, Alice decided, that anyone might have figured out Mary Ann’s agenda. And at least Mary Ann had no major campaigns planned for either Sam or Tom that evening, so Kate’s suspicions shouldn’t be aroused. Mary Ann was occupied right now, in fact, having a tête-à-tête with Drew in the backyard. Drew had dressed up, was wearing a sweater with black jeans. The close-fitting knit suited his lean body and outlined his pecs, a feature Alice was sure Mary Ann would appreciate. Whereas what Alice would appreciate was another glass of wine.
In a corner of the great room, Danielle said to Sarah, “That businesswoman isn’t here tonight. Hallie.”
“She didn’t seem very happy last time,” Sarah said. “More of a dieter than an eater, I thought.”
“And I see a few new faces — some people must have brought their spouses.”
“Would you have liked to?”
“Not at all. I mean, this is my night out, away from my family.” And she refused to feel guilty for enjoying it.
“I agree,” Sarah said. “And I loved your stuffed endive.”
“Did you? Thank you. I had trouble deciding what to bring.”
“Have you decided what kind of cake I should bake for your family reunion?”
“I can’t take a cake from you.”
“What’ll it be? Banana? Carrot? One of each?”
Danielle assessed the degree of determination in Sarah’s eyes. “Is there any point in continuing to refuse you?”
“No. I’d just drive something out to your farm on party day, anyway.”
“In that case, I’ll accept your offer with thanks. Bake me whatever you feel like. I’ll send Benny to pick it up from you that morning, and I’ll wow his relatives with it. Though they don’t deserve to be wowed.”
“Done.”
When she found herself alone in Lisa’s garden with Drew, Mary Ann seized the opportunity to try flirting with him, but Drew did not respond to any of her wiles. So she was feeling a little discouraged when Phoebe pulled her aside after the hors d’oeuvres had been passed and said, “Have you identified anyone who could be Drew’s married girlfriend?”
“No, Phoebe.”
“He’s drinking a lot, and he looks depressed. You know why? Because he can’t openly declare his love.”
“Shush. Here comes Tom’s wife.”
“Hi, again,” Phoebe said to Kate. “Where’s Tom?”
“Having a tour of that enormous kitchen.”
“In that case, why don’t you give us the dirt on him? We’ve often speculated in the office about what living with Tom could be like. Haven’t we, Mary Ann?”
“Phoebe —”
“Does he read the dictionary every day? That’s my question.”
“Don’t mind her,” Mary Ann said to Kate. “She’s still young enough to have a naughty streak.”
Kate regarded Mary Ann. “And you’re not?”
“Me? God, no. The soul of propriety, that’s who I am. Tell her, Phoebe.”
“Mary Ann’s life is pretty boring,” Phoebe said.
&nb
sp; Kate said, “And here I thought non-stop hanky-panky went on in the suburbs.”
Mary Ann avoided Kate’s eye. “That’s pretty much a myth.”
“Drew’s life is probably the most exciting in the office,” Phoebe said.
Mary Ann said, “I don’t know where she gets these ideas.”
“Where is Drew?” Kate said. “I haven’t met him yet.”
“We’ll go find him.” Phoebe took Kate by the arm. “Do you know him well?” And behind Kate’s back, she mouthed to Mary Ann, “Maybe she’s the one.”
Mary Ann twitched at the touch of Tom’s hand on her elbow. “Where’s Phoebe taking Kate?” he said.
“Kate wanted to meet Drew. And Phoebe’s in a mood to stir up trouble. She’s seeking scandal.”
“Kate will like that. She’s of the opinion that Oakdale is rife with illicit activity. She posits infidelity everywhere.”
Mary Ann tried to think of a response that would make her sound cynical, amoral, and available, but her lack of a low-cut top and fuck-me heels limited her to a squeaky, “Infidelity? In Oakdale?”
“Kate plays at being suspicious, but in her heart, she knows I’m immune to the appeal of an affair. Even if a beautiful, charming woman were to express interest in me, or make advances that were genuinely enticing, I wouldn’t stray.”
Mary Ann stared at him a second, understood his message, admired the tactful way he’d communicated it, and fought to contain a look of consternation that would reveal she’d received it. “You’re just a classy but staid guy, I guess.”
“Staid, anyway. Now, would you excuse me a moment? I must go compliment Danielle on her delectable hors d’oeuvres.”
Alice was fielding questions from Sam about Alexander the Great’s campaigns in Asia — research for his novel, he said — when Drew walked by.
Sam interrupted himself. “Hey, Drew. Our computers are running so smoothly at home since you fixed them, we don’t get to see you anymore.”
Drew stopped and mumbled “yeah” in a manner that struck Alice as shifty.
The Oakdale Dinner Club Page 13
