Saturday they toured the town’s historic sites and a winery, closing the afternoon by having massages. That evening they drove to the next town to an elegant restaurant overlooking the Mississippi River. They had a choice table right by the window and could see barges and riverboats floating past. The waiter informed them that a DJ spun discs in the bar downstairs, and they went down and did a little dancing before returning to the cottage for another romantic evening of rose petals, chocolate, wine, and bubbles. This time they went straight to bed, not using the tub until the next morning. They got so involved in each other that instead of going to the main house for breakfast they went back to bed.
Once home, Pat let out a dreamy sigh as she recalled the weekend full of happy memories. After leaning against the closed door for several minutes, lost in pleasant memories, Pat began the chore of unpacking. She still didn’t know what would happen with her and Andy, but she was certainly enjoying it. He was her kind of man: not only did he know how to treat a woman, but he had the means to do it right.
Her thoughts automatically went to Grace and Eric. Grace had turned fifty yesterday. She’d called her friend from Galena and wished her a happy birthday, careful not to be too enthusiastic about the romantic setting Andy had brought her to. Pat knew it had been an expensive weekend. But Andy, who, as she’d initially thought, held a partnership in his law firm, could easily afford it. Eric Wade couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair for her to rub salt into Grace’s wounds . . . even if her intuition told her that if the situation was reversed Grace might not be so considerate.
Part of her could understand Grace’s feelings about Glenn Arterbridge. The judge, while an undeniable catch, did lack sex appeal. Pat considered the irony. Two months ago she would have loved to go out with him, even with his unappealing physique. She’d actually felt disappointed when he’d showed interest in Grace. But then along came Andy, wonderful, sexy Andy, and she now couldn’t care less about the judge. She’d been willing to settle. Just like Grace had settled for Eric. They weren’t so different after all.
Still, if Grace wasn’t so hung up on dating only black men, she’d probably go out more often, and to the types of places she could afford to go on her own. Most desirable, successful black men in their age group had been snatched up by forward-thinking, sometimes even predatory females while still in college. If they got divorced, they usually had the second wife already picked out. The same situations applied to many of their white counterparts as well, but with less frequency. Plus, there were more of them to go around.
She and Grace sought the same thing. Maybe they would never find it, but at least she was getting more out of her efforts.
After Pat finished unpacking, she put a load of laundry in the washer and was about to dial her parents when her phone began to ring. She wasn’t surprised to hear her mother’s voice on the other end of the line.
“You’re back, I see.”
“Hi, Mom! I just got in a few minutes ago. I was about to call you.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Oh, it was wonderful!”
“Where did you go again?”
Pat smiled. Her mother had never been good at remembering names. “Galena. It’s west of here, near the borders of Wisconsin and Iowa, on the Mississippi River.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. I wish you’d told us sooner that you were going. We were looking forward to seeing you this weekend.”
“Like I said, Mom, it came up at the last minute.” She’d given her parents a quick call once she and Andy had arrived at the inn. It wouldn’t have been practical to tell them on Thursday, or even Friday morning, that she was going away for the weekend. They would want to know where, and she could hardly tell them she had no idea where she was going. They never would have understood the fun in not knowing one’s destination. All they would have seen was that their only surviving child was going off for parts unknown with a man they’d never met. They would have worried themselves sick that she would never be seen or heard from again.
In a way she couldn’t blame them, not after what had already happened to their family. Clarence’s demise after years of heroin addiction really didn’t come as a surprise, but Melvin’s shooting had been the biggest shock of their lives. They frequently reminded her to be careful at work, “around all that criminal element,” because she was the only one they had left.
Sometimes it amazed her to think that after she was gone, it would mark the end of this branch of the Maxwell family. None of her father’s sister’s children were named Maxwell. Her father’s older brother had fathered two girls, and their children were not Maxwells, either. As for his younger brother, Jacob, his lynching occurred before he’d fathered any children. So although most branches of the family tree would thrive, none of the subsequent generations would carry the Maxwell name.
“I’m glad you had a nice time,” her mother said. “Daddy and I didn’t even know you were seeing someone. Have you known him long?”
“For nearly thirty years, although I haven’t seen him since we graduated from law school. He’s been out in California. The law firm he’s a partner in is opening an office here in Chicago, and he decided to come home and head it up.”
“Oh, a partner. That’s impressive. Now, Pat, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I hope you aren’t moving things along too fast. You know, a man won’t—”
No. She’s not going to quote that old line about the cow and the milk.
“. . . buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.”
“Mama, that’s silly. I’m almost fifty years old. Any milk I put out will probably be a little sour.” She giggled.
“You can still get married, Pat. I know it’s too late for children . . .”
It wouldn’t have been if you and Daddy hadn’t raised such a stink about Ricky. The bitter thought formed before she could stop it, although she knew her resentment wasn’t toward her parents but toward herself for being so weak. Her spinelessness had changed the course of her life. Even this new, thriving relationship with Andy Keindl didn’t detract from her decades-old resentment, in spite of her strong bond with her parents.
“. . . but I’m still hoping you’ll meet a nice man to spend your twilight years with,” her mother continued. “You know, your daddy and I never had much, but we always took comfort in having each other.”
“That’s sweet, Mama.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with a man with a few dollars. I gather you stayed at a nice hotel?”
“Mama, it was fantastic. We stayed at a bed-and-breakfast, and we had our own private cottage on the grounds. An—my friend spared no expense,” she said proudly. “We went dancing, we took a buggy ride through town, we went bike riding. We even had side-by-side massages.”
“Well, he sounds like a wonderful man.” By her mother’s interested tone Pat could tell she was impressed.
“I hope Daddy and I will get to meet him one day.”
Pat’s smile faded like ink on an old receipt. What was she thinking? Painting such an intriguing picture of a generous, successful man for whom money was no object—of course her parents would want to meet him! They imagined he and everyone else she went out with was black. But if they saw Andy they would probably faint dead away.
“We never get to meet any of the men you date,” her mother gently chided.
“That’s because I usually don’t date them long, Mama, no other reason.”
“How long did you say you’ve been seeing this fellow?”
I didn’t. Aloud she said, “Since the reunion. So it really hasn’t been long.”
“Long enough for you to go away with him.” A pause, followed by a sigh. “But I’m not going to nag you about introducing Daddy and me.”
“Thanks,” Pat said with a grin.
After she hung up she decided to call Grace and see how her birthday went. The staccato dial tone told her someone had left a message for her. She dialed her own home number, then entered he
r password.
Hearing Elyse identify herself brought a smile to her lips—maybe her friend really meant it when she said she would keep in better touch—but her expression changed to one of concern, then of distress, as she heard the halting uncertainty in her friend’s tone and then the full message. Her mouth dropped open in shock and dismay. Franklin Reavis had cancer? How awful!
She listened to the message again, this time paying attention to the time stamp announcement at the beginning. My God. Elyse had called Thursday? Yes, now she remembered. After dinner she’d gone shopping at Carson’s for new lingerie. When she got home she started packing for the weekend. She never did check her messages. What must Elyse think, leaving such a serious message and not getting a response? Her voice sounded so small on the message, like that of a little girl:
Franklin’s just been diagnosed with cancer. He doesn’t want anyone to know yet, not even the kids, but I really feel like I need someone to talk to. I’m not sure how to handle this. Please call me.
Pat flipped the receiver and checked the caller ID. When she saw the name “Franklin Reavis” and a Lake County telephone number she hit the REDIAL button.
Andy called at 8:00. “I just wanted to see what you were doing. Thinking of me, I hope.”
She managed a wan smile. “This weekend was just wonderful, Andy, but actually, my thoughts are with some friends of mine.” She told him about her conversation with Elyse.
“That’s a tough break,” he said. “But they can do a lot with cancer treatments these days. It doesn’t have to be a death sentence.”
“I don’t know. Elyse said it’s in his pancreas, and that there’s a possibility that it might have spread already.”
“Oh. Yeah, I’ve heard that particular origin is difficult to diagnose.” He paused. “Is there anything I can do, Pat?”
“No, but I appreciate your asking. I was about to call a mutual friend of ours and tell her. Our friend’s husband is scheduled for surgery on Thursday. He’ll be in the hospital for about a week. Maybe we can get together with her sometime next weekend, even if it’s just for a little while, like between visits to his bedside.”
“I’ll let you go so you can make your call. Call me if I can help with anything.”
“I will.”
Pat held down the receiver for a few seconds, then released it and dialed Grace’s home number.
Chapter 24
Grace hung up the phone, stunned. Elyse’s husband was scheduled to have a cancerous tumor removed from his pancreas on Thursday? What a shock. Elyse must really be a wreck, not just because of the news itself but possibly not knowing how to handle it. The girl had practically led a charmed life, at least up till now. Grace knew such things were rare, if they existed at all, but she couldn’t recall a single bad thing ever happening to Elyse. Her family had been the first one to move out of Dreiser, even if it was just to a duplex around the corner. She’d managed to get in to study physical therapy at a time when it was already difficult to get accepted. She’d had a beautiful wedding, and she’d married a successful man who loved her and who gave her a nice life.
No, that wasn’t right. Elyse wasn’t a housewife, totally dependent on her husband for life’s comforts. That description was more fitting of Susan. No doubt Elyse’s physical therapist earnings contributed significantly to that comfy suburban existence the Reavises enjoyed. Grace had been to their house once, when she and Pat drove up to see Susan’s new baby girl and stopped to pick up Elyse on the way. The two-story Colonial house was rather ordinary-looking by Lake Forest standards—there were homes up there the size of small hospitals, like the one the president of Grace’s company lived in—but it nonetheless had plenty of room, four large bedrooms plus a full finished basement, and it was comfortably and tastefully furnished. She couldn’t believe it when Elyse said it was thirty-five years old. It looked brand new. Elyse explained that she and Franklin had just put new siding on it and had updated the kitchen.
Over the course of their marriage—hard to believe, but Pat said it was going on twenty-six years—they’d raised two children, a boy and a girl—in that order, naturally—participated actively in the lives of Franklin’s children from his first marriage, and still appeared happy. Pat said that Elyse had told her how guilty she felt for not believing there was anything wrong with Franklin. Instead, she believed he was feigning illness to keep from going anywhere with her.
So what if Franklin had slowed down a little? Hell, the man was past sixty, even before his diagnosis. Naturally, he wouldn’t feel like going out all the time. Elyse should have considered that he’d be ready to slow down before she would because he was so much older. Maybe instead of sulking and hanging out at Junior’s Bar the night of the reunion, she should have brought her husband to the doctor. Everybody knew that the earlier the diagnosis, the longer one’s chances of long-term survival.
Grace thought it odd that both Elyse and Susan had been so anxious to go to the party at Junior’s the night of the Dreiser reunion. Now she knew Elyse came out of frustration with Franklin’s lethargy. Susan’s motives had become clearer when Grace saw her talking and dancing with Charles Valentine. Was it just curiosity to see him again after all those years, or something more?
If Grace had been impressed by Elyse’s home that day seven years ago, she’d been blown away by Susan’s. A gorgeous minimansion of tan stucco and stone, with windows and skylights everywhere, it had floor-to-ceiling fireplaces, a wraparound deck, and even its own private beach. Lake Michigan never looked so pretty, even if the water was choppy as hell and never really heated up, even in July. Of course, Susan’s husband was a millionaire. Elyse and Franklin were just upper-middle class.
Grace felt a little cheated. She probably wouldn’t have been interested in someone as old as Franklin, but Susan’s husband had been a real catch. Sexy, good-looking, and young, and right there in Kenosha, Wisconsin, of all places; or, as it was jokingly referred to, “Ke-Nowhere.” Why did Susan have all the luck? Why couldn’t she have met him first, damn it?
Bemoaning Susan’s good fortune was a moot point, and Grace knew it. When Susan announced her engagement to Bruce Dillahunt—yes, that was his name, Bruce—Grace was still married to her second husband, Danny Knight; and at the time she’d felt pretty damn lucky herself. An executive at a leading accounting firm, he’d been the man she’d always dreamed of. Together they lived a glamorous lifestyle, with a high-rise condo on Lake Shore Drive, maid service twice a week, and a boat. It started to fall apart when Danny was approached about heading up the company’s office in San Juan. He expected her to give up her job, just like that. It wasn’t fair. He knew she’d been trying to get the director position in public relations. It still angered her that he thought so little of her career aspirations. She wasn’t some lowly department store clerk selling girdles, always ready to pack up on a week’s notice to follow her husband all around the world.
Her mother, still alive at the time, urged her to go for the sake of her marriage. Helen Corrigan reminded her daughter that she and Grace’s father had chosen Puerto Rico for their only vacation, and that he had remarked that those Puerto Ricans had to be crazy to leave that island and its beautiful climate to go settle in the northern U.S. states. Grace reminded her mother that the island might technically be part of the United States, but that most of the people there spoke Spanish, a language that she, unlike Danny, who was fluent, barely remembered from her classes back in high school.
In the end he accepted the job, and they tried a commuter marriage. It didn’t work.
She shrugged. Their marriage wasn’t the first to collapse under the weight of the two parties’ ambitions, and she doubted it would be the last. He still kept in touch with Shavonne, the stepdaughter he’d always adored, and the last Grace heard he was still down there with his second wife, her children from her first marriage, and the one they had had together.
Yeah, Susan and Elyse didn’t know how good they had it, or, in Elyse’s
case, how good she used to have it, for life as she knew it was about to change drastically with Franklin’s illness. Grace’s father had died of prostate cancer around the time she and Jimmy were divorcing, and she still remembered pitching in with her siblings to help out and give her mother a break while she cared for him, which had been exhausting for her.
But neither Susan nor Elyse had to spend a Saturday night at the movies with a man who hadn’t even offered her so much as a bowl of chili afterward. On the night of Grace’s first date with Eric, she’d had to come right out and say she was hungry before he suggested they go to Panera Bread. Did he really think that she would fill up on that popcorn they’d shared at the movie? She’d already made up her mind to give him some—she was too horny and he looked too good—and she could tell he fully expected to get it, but that didn’t mean she would be a dirt-cheap date.
Nor did Elyse have to spend the special occasion of her fiftieth birthday like she had last night. Nearly an hour waiting for a table, and then everything at accelerated speed. Everything—from the waiter’s continually stopping by to see if they were ready to order, to the rather rushed singing of her birthday greeting—gave her the prickly feeling that they were supposed to hurry through their meal so they could vacate and the waiter could seat new customers at the table. It was all about the profits. Feed ’em, get their money, clean off the table the moment they leave, and bring in the next party before the seats cool off.
The evening was capped with a wild session in bed—she definitely proved to him that her being fifty hardly meant she was washed-up—and her waking up to the sound of his snoring. He did surprise her by taking her to breakfast as a continued birthday celebration. She liked spontaneous actions in her men. It gave her hope that Eric had potential. Of course, her flat refusal to make him breakfast the morning after their first date might have had something to do with his decision.
Once Upon a Project Page 14
