by Joanne Pence
"That was rude of me, and I apologize. My phone calls can wait. It'll be fun to cook dinner together like we used to do. You're right that we deserve some time with each other, and we'll have plenty of time tomorrow to do what we've got to with the house."
Miriam nodded in agreement, a secret smile touching her lips.
o0o
Lee answered her phone as soon as she saw the caller ID. "Hey."
"Do you miss me?"
Lee smiled. She was in the family room, seated on her mother’s blue and red plaid sofa, an oval rag rug at her feet, and in front of her, a coffee table whose top was marked with gouges and stains she’d caused while growing up. In the background, an old favorite classical music station from Berkeley played on the radio. She had been flipping through a Family Circle magazine found on the end table, trying to relax enough to go upstairs to bed. Hearing her fiancé’s voice was jarring, as if her two carefully separate worlds had suddenly collided. "Bruce! It's two a.m. there. What are you doing still awake? Don't you have to go to work tomorrow?"
"Right now, I'm lying here in bed. Alone. How can I possibly sleep?"
She laughed the bright, musical way her voice coaches had taught, imagining him half-lying, half-sitting in his bed, leaning against the black lacquer headboard as he spoke to her. His chest would be bare, his gossamer-fine honey-blond hair only slightly mussed, perhaps drooping rakishly over his right eyebrow from a side part. Even after knowing him two years, she had yet to discover anything about Bruce Downing less than perfect.
"Lonely, are you?" Lee asked, making her voice low and sultry. "Why not open the front door to your condo? I'm sure there are several women camped in the hallway. They've probably been there from the moment I stepped on the plane to California." She was only half-joking.
He chuckled. "So how are you doing? You've been there a little over twenty-four hours. Bored yet?"
A beat passed before her answer. "It’s not bad."
"Now that you’ve spent a day with your aunt and seen the house again, go back to your old plan. Hire the help you need to empty it out and sell it, and come home."
"I’m sorry. Miriam is looking forward to us having this time together."
"Lee, you can’t let your aunt cause you to waste your vacation. You work too hard for that. Get the hell out of there as soon as possible. I’ll meet you somewhere. The Bahamas? A Greek island? Just name it."
She sighed. The thought of lounging on a beach, being waited on hand and foot, was tempting. "It’s not that easy, Bruce. As Miriam says, once the house is sold, our ties to Miwok are severed. She was born here, just like I was. Did I tell you?"
"How about London, then? Or Paris?"
"Being here a few days for old times’ sake isn’t so bad."
"Lee, you aren’t seriously feeling maudlin over some piece of real estate, are you? Good God, woman, you don't have a sentimental bone in your body and everybody knows it. You never gave a damn about that place when your mother was alive, and I for one don't believe you care about it now. Your aunt's doing a mind-fuck on you. Tell her to get lost and come home. I miss you. I need you here. And also, a week from Tuesday, Larry Baldwin's invited us to join him and his wife for dinner with the president of Atlas Insurance...."
As Bruce talked about insurance company politics, Lee stopped listening except to make properly appreciative murmurs now and then. Was she really being maudlin over Miwok? "Maudlin Over Miwok"--it sounded like a song. She mentally shrugged. Maybe Bruce was right and she should leave here as soon as possible.
She forced her concentration back to him and could all but see his self-satisfied smile as he spoke. Bruce spent a lot of time being self-satisfied, with good reason. At age thirty-four, a year her junior, he was third vice president of one of the world's largest insurance companies.
"Baldwin gave me the dinner invitation at about six-thirty tonight," he said. "I was still at the office--I suspected he'd be prowling around today--and he came and sat down. I think I've got him in my hip pocket, Lee. Right where I want him."
"Can he breathe?"
"You think I give a damn?"
"You're bad, Bruce."
"Real bad, and you love me for it! Like I do you. Well, time to say goodnight. Got to be up for Baldwin tomorrow. Try to get back soon, won't you, Lee? You’ll definitely be here for the dinner, right? I’m counting on you."
"That’s a week and a half away. Of course I’ll be there. Wild horses couldn’t keep me here that long."
Chapter 3
The next morning Miriam had her heart set on making a round of short visits to the homes of lady friends she hadn't seen in years. "Won't you come along, Lisa?" she had asked at breakfast--eggs and toast for Miriam, and a half-grapefruit for Lee. "Just like when you were a little girl?"
Lee shuddered at the thought. Luckily, she didn't have time. She planned to spend the morning interviewing realtors to market the house.
An hour later, though, she’d talked to five answering machines and one live real estate agent whose questions and comments were so off the wall, Lee hung up on him. She hoped that the realtors calling her back made more sense or the place would never get sold. Actually, blowing it up was high on her list of satisfying alternatives.
Since Miriam was still looking hurt by her refusal to the invitation, Lee agreed to join her. She would spend the afternoon sorting through her mother’s photographs, books, recordings and any other personal belongings that they might want to keep. Everything else was going to the Goodwill. Hopefully, she’d hear from those realtors by then.
As she drove Miriam to the familiar homes, she remembered how Mrs. Moore always gave her chocolates, that Mrs. Collins had two enormous, playful dogs, and Mrs. Truax made the best peach ice cream Lee had ever eaten--even to this day. The ladies hardly seemed to have aged at all. As they chatted about old times and even older friends, she remembered what it had been like as a child, warmly welcomed, sitting beside her aunt with goodies in front of her. Five years after Lee's father died, Miriam moved away and the visits stopped. Judith never visited anyone, and no one came to call.
Listening to the ladies’ belated condolences over her mother's death wasn’t as dreadful as Lee had feared. She had imagined they were shocked that there was no funeral. Judith had made arrangements in her will for cremation and Lee had honored it to the letter. She’d held a small memorial service in New York and had sent money for one to a church in Miwok. She hadn't known if anyone bothered to attend. When she learned that all three of Miriam’s friends went, as did a handful of others, she was shocked that it touched her. She didn't think anything concerning her mother could be touching.
As Miriam arranged to have longer get-togethers with everyone, Lee saw how happy her aunt was to be with her old friends again. Although Lee would fly out early Friday morning, there was no reason for Miriam not to stay a few extra days on her own. She certainly wouldn’t lack for company.
Once back home, Lee checked her mother’s answering machine. One realtor called back, but a return call only elicited a frustrating message that the agent was gone again. Lee hadn’t wanted to give out her personal cell phone number, and used the land line at the house.
Miriam was stretched out on a recliner in the family room with the television on. A show began with familiar words from the deep-toned announcer, "Like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our lives."
The words, the voice, reminded Lee of years ago when, as a child, if home from school due to illness or vacation, she would watch that soap with her mother. Judith would spend hours in front of the television. When Lee was very young, her mother stayed home, living off of young widow's benefits and insurance money after Jack’s death. After the money was all spent, when Lee was about twelve, Judith got a job in a dentist’s office. But she never lost her love of television. Lee often thought the sitcoms and dramas were more real to Judith than the life she led. They were certainly livelier.
Lee fought hard against those
memories and the bitterness that lurked just beneath the surface. She didn’t want to remember those days, didn’t want to remember her mother, and how she used to act back then when Lisa Marie was growing up...the days of her life. She excused herself and quickly left the room.
She wandered into the living room, a minefield of early American reproductions, from a green and yellow floral high-backed sofa, to frilly armchairs, and country-style wooden or porcelain knickknacks standing on tables or hanging from walls. Despite the number of do-dads, the room looked strangely empty. Then she realized that none of her mother's constant companions were here. None of the Premier, Variety, and Entertainment Weekly that cluttered the tabletops of her childhood. Or the filled ashtrays. Or the dirty glasses and empty bottles...
Judith had known Hollywood backwards and forwards. She never let Lee forget that she had planned to go to Hollywood to become an actress. It was only because of an auto accident--the one in which Lee’s father died--that she didn’t make it. The accident had killed her husband, shattered her right hip, and left her alone and limping and with chronic pain. Worst of all, it had shattered her dreams.
She tried to transfer those dreams to Lisa Marie, but little Lisa Marie just couldn't live up to expectations, no matter how hard she tried, and she'd once tried very, very hard.
Lee turned away, rubbing her forehead, forcing her thoughts back to her job, Bruce, anything but the past. Her stomach began to churn for no apparent reason and she went into the kitchen for a swallow of her ulcer medicine. No one knew about the ulcer, not even her fiancé, Bruce. She learned early on to never show a weakness, never show she wasn’t in absolute control. In her line of work, any flaw was an invitation to attack.
She didn't want Miriam to know about it simply because she didn't want Miriam to think that her perfect job and heaven-blessed love life were anything less than ideal. They were ideal, but that didn’t make them lacking in stress. She would have felt far less stress if she weren’t a perfectionist, but to be one was part of her nature. She prepared for interviews right up until airtime, and even when over, she would often fret that she hadn’t dug a little deeper, hadn’t been a little more insightful.
She folded her arms and paced, waiting for the medicine to work. As she thought of how much Miriam had enjoyed being with her old friends, she remembered that the best friend of her own childhood still lived in Miwok, and although they’d made occasional phone calls and sent yearly Christmas and birthday cards, they hadn’t sat and chatted together for many years.
She phoned Cheryl McConnell, now Stanton, and was told to get her butt right over there....
o0o
An hour later, Lee walked toward Cheryl Stanton's house. She’d been there once before, ten years earlier, during a horribly mistaken visit home, the last time she'd been to Miwok.
It was a middle-class home--two-stories with dormer windows on the top floor, and a jutting two-car attached garage. The front lawn was more beige than green, and both it and the driveway were edged by low-lying juniper. A basketball hoop hung over the garage door, three bicycles lay on their sides in the driveway, and two badminton rackets and a birdie cluttered the lawn. Parked at the curb was a shiny and aging Astrovan.
As she reached for the bell, the door opened.
"Lisa!" Cheryl rushed out of the house and threw her arms around her in a tight, smothering hug.
Lee's first reaction was to stiffen, but soon she hugged Cheryl back.
Lee studied the woman her friend had become. Thirty years ago Lisa Marie Reynolds and Cheryl Ann McConnell met on the first day of kindergarten. Cheryl had lived two blocks away, in a town in which little girls could go two blocks--even two miles--from home and not worry. They went from playing with Barbies to sharing secrets about first loves to learning how to dance. They wore each other's clothes and talked by the hour on the phone.
After high school, when Lee went to live with her aunt in San Diego, Cheryl stayed in Miwok and got married. Lee’s career took off, the years passed, and their friendship went on hold.
The photos Cheryl had sent over the years were of her children, not of her. She had always battled weight problems when they were in high school, and now was past the pleasantly plump stage. She wore navy blue slacks and a blue and red plaid, short-sleeved blouse. The tail of the blouse was worn over the slacks rather than tucked in. Red clip-on earrings were a give away that she’d dressed up a bit to see Lee. She’d said she was cleaning house when Lee phoned. No one wore earring to vacuum.
"It’s so good to see you, Cheryl. You look great." Lee smiled into her friend's eyes. Cheryl’s sun-tanned skin was smooth and wrinkle-free, her hair short, straight, and a deep rich brown. She appeared happy and at peace with herself.
"You, too," Cheryl said. "No, on second thought, you look even better. God, I can't believe you're here." Cheryl hooked Lee's arm and led her into the living room.
The sofa and loveseat were a matching blue floral print, with the centers of the seat cushions dark and shiny from use. There were three overstuffed chairs in the room. They matched nothing else, not even each other. A television set had the place of honor. The last time Lee was here, Cheryl had three small children and looked exhausted. The living room had been wall-to-wall toys, and a big playpen for the baby had stood in the center.
"It's hard to believe how long it's been."
"Me, too. Ten years, at least. You haven’t aged a day. And here I thought it was all TV make-up!" Frank brown eyes surveyed the dark green jersey dress with a matching jacket, gold jewelry, the immaculate hairdo and the classical face, flawless still. Lee remembered that when she last saw Cheryl, she wasn’t yet working in New York, hadn’t yet learned how to use the best made-up, or to select the tailored clothes, or to find the most suitable hair style that made her stand out from the pack. It was that visit to Miwok, in fact, that led to her decision to pursue her career. "Miwok is a bit off the beaten path."
"Tell me about it!" Cheryl frowned, hanging Lee’s jacket in the coat closet off the entry hall. "I need some coffee. Do you still drink it?"
Lee grinned. "Of course. More than ever."
Cheryl hurried into the kitchen. "Still use half-and-half?" she called.
"Black. Got to watch my weight."
"Your weight?" Cheryl came back with a tray, set a cup and saucer before them both, and filled the cups with coffee. "I’ve seen fatter straws. I’ll bet you have to run around in the shower just to get wet."
They both laughed uneasily, then looked at each other, letting the years melt away.
"At least the Christmas cards helped," Cheryl said.
"And that long talk on the phone after my mother died," Lee added.
Cheryl looked surprised.
"That’s right. I appreciated your call, Cheryl. It meant more to me than you’ll ever know." Lee took a sip of coffee. When Judith was suddenly gone, although condolences poured in from around the world, and Bruce had offered comfort, there was too much that he simply didn’t know and probably never would. But Miriam and Cheryl understood without her having to explain. There was value in that kind of friendship, in those kinds of ties.
"Well, shoot, girl," Cheryl said. "What are friends for?"
Lee’s eyes lifted to Cheryl’s and the openness she saw there made her unsure whether to laugh or cry. Instead of either, a small, hesitant smile spread over her face. Cheryl returned it, and both smiles broadened. Suddenly, their old affinity sprang up from some long buried past. She could almost believe they were Lisa and Cheryl again, best friends, sharing secrets and gossip and dreams. They weren't, of course, yet an odd imbalance, a juxtaposition of the past with the present, swirled about her.
Cheryl led Lee to the kitchen table, poured her a fresh cup of coffee and took a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting out of the refrigerator. Normally, Lee spurned cake of any sort, but after all the calories she’d ingested that morning with Miriam’s friends, taking a few more bites of pure sugar couldn’t hurt. She’d for
gotten how intimately connected food and friendship were in a small town like Miwok.
"So, tell me"--Cheryl cut a big piece of cake and put it on Lee’s plate--"how do you like being back? What was that old song about not staying down on the farm after they've seen Paree? This must seem even worse than a farm. Sometimes, girl, I can’t believe I’m still here myself!" She shot Lee a perceptive glance. They had once been as close as sisters, and each had shared the other’s dream. Cheryl was going to be a teacher, and Lisa was going to be a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist.
"Yesterday I drove around town. God, but it's grown!" Lee replied, skirting away from her feelings about Miwok. "This morning I went visiting with Miriam." Lee tasted the cake. It was delicious. Every little pound magnified mercilessly on TV, though. One more bite for the sake of politeness...
"I remember how well you always spoke of your aunt. I’m glad she’s here with you."
"It makes it easier, in one way. But if she weren’t here, I’d probably have the house cleared out already and be on my way back to New York."
"Maybe she just wants you to relax. How are you doing, Lisa? I mean, really doing? Are you happy?"
Lee was surprised at the question. It wasn't the sort of things people asked her. How could she not be happy? "I'm doing what I've always wanted. I have my job, New York, my career..."
"Are you still seeing that insurance fellow?" Cheryl asked. "Bruce is it?"
Lee nibbled at the frosting on her fork. "You remember! He's asked me to marry him."
"Lisa! How terrific!"
"We haven't set a date yet, what with my mother’s passing, and all."
"Sure. It’ll be soon, I guess," Cheryl said.
Lee paused and looked down at her plate. Somehow, half the slice was gone. Resolutely, she put the fork down. "I haven’t had time to think about arranging a wedding. It’s too much to handle right now."
Cheryl’s brows crossed. "Are you sure about him, Lisa?"
How many times had Cheryl said similar words to her in the past? Are you sure, Lisa? Lisa, though, was never sure of anything. She used to spent most of her time trying to do whatever Judith wanted, trying to avoid arguments, and fights, and tears at home. She would worry constantly about what she should or shouldn’t do, fretting over far too much for a young girl.
