A Charmed Place (31 page)

Norah folded her perfectly defined arms over one another on the table and leaned forward. "Don't misunderstand me," she added, flashing a good-humored grin. "
I'm incredibly impressed. Even
I
have never kept f
riends and family waiting while I
got it on with someone. My beeping the horn didn't slow him down at all?" She swirled the remains of her Scotch, a pensive look on her face. "I'm just so impressed," she repeated, downing the last of the drink.

Maddie took the paper umbrella out of Joan's pi
ñ
a colada and closed it, laying it neatly alongside Joan's napkin. "Do you think anyone else noticed?" she asked, memorizing the umbrella.

"Nah. You have to have done one to know one. Joan's not the type, and as for Claire—George isn't the type. Your secret is safe with me."

"Norah, I don't know what's happening to me," Maddie confessed. "I see him and
... I want him. I don't mean, just for sex. I want
him.
All day, all night
... I haven't felt like this since
Lowell
College
. No, that's not true; I've
never
felt like this before."

"You had a scare," Norah decided. "You lost him once. You don't want to do it again."

"But this is so crazy. Am I just another baby boomer reliving my youth? Is this all about nostalgia? Is it one last grab at wild romance before I turn once and for all into
... my mother?"

"Darling, bite your tongue."

"I'm so overwhelmed by him, Norah. I'm wondering how far I'll go for him." She stared
at an especially bright angel
fish in the nearby tank. "I'm beginning to think, pretty far."

"Family's not jumping on the Dan Hawke bandwagon, I take it?"

"Hardly," Maddie murmured. "They're trying to shoot out the tires."

She gave Norah a brief version of the beach episode—too brief for Norah—as well as of the blowup between her mother and her afterward.

"It's as if we're frozen in an earlier decade," Maddie summed up. "I was hoping that his celebrity status would help him with them. If anything, it's made it worse."

"Of course it has. Your people have no use for townies who make good. It gives the lie to all the myths they hold so dear about breeding and training."

"We're not talking horses, Norah, for pity's sake."

"Worse. We're talking Bostonians."

Even Maddie had to laugh. No single word described her mother better than that one. Proper, starchy, Puritanical, and exclusive came close—but "Bostonian" said it all.

"Joannie!" cried Norah in warning as their friend approached. "Drink up; your pi
ñ
a colada's melting."

Joan, dressed in too much pink, sat down and lifted her glass in a toast. "I've been thinking. I can't remember the last time I got ripped. Whaddya say?"

"I'll drink to that," said Norah, clinking her second Scotch against Joan's glass. "Maddie?"

Maddie hesitated only a very brief instant before touching her glass to theirs. "Count me in." It might be just what she needed after the roller coaster week she'd just had.

As it turned out, no one was much good at getting ripped. Pi
ñ
a coladas were too filling; chardonnay was too pleasant; and Scotch, while potent, had little effect on a woman known to possess a hollow leg. Still, everyone got a little buzz on, and everyone felt a little better for it. The food was to die for: flying fish pie and callaloo soup, chicken calypso and curried goat. Maddie personally toasted Norah's good judgment at least three times, and Joan decided to buy a house at once in the
Virgin Islands
.

When Maddie's cell phone rang in her purse, she almost didn't hear it; they were all laughing too hard at a fund-raising story that Norah was telling with her usual flair.

"Maddie? It's Claire," said her sister-in-law, automatically raising her voice to be heard at the other end. "It sounds like you're having a really good time; I'm sorry to bother you during dinner, but—"

"No, no, it's fine, Claire," said Maddie, trying to shush her friends. "Tracey wants special permission to do something, right? I knew she would."

"Well, sort of. Actually, Michael's here. He came down for the day and—well, can you talk to him for a moment?"

She was giving Maddie a chance to beg out of it, which Maddie appreciated. She said, "Thanks, Claire, but it's okay. Put him on."

Michael kept the smile plastered to his face as he accepted the phone from Claire. He'd had to do a backflip out of his rage when he found her at the cottage alone with Tracey, and he wasn't sure she'd bought his act.

She was watching him now, warily.

He stayed in the role of Mr. Congeniality as he said, "Maddie, hi. Listen, I had to drive down to an emergency in my condo this evening and I'll tell you, traffic was unbelievable. I dread going back, knowing that I'll have to do it all over again tomorrow to pick up Tracey for my weekend. Would you mind if I took her today? I know I'm springing this on you out of the blue
... if I'd had any brains I would've called before I left Boston, but who knew? The roads were actually better on the Fourth."

He could tell she didn't like it. She hesitated, and he took advantage of the pause to beat her black and blue with more congeniality. "The
Cape
's overdeveloped, and that's a fact. Of course, I should talk; I'm part of the problem—with my newly built condo—right? And by the way, your garden looks great. Tracey took me for a tour of it. You have a way with roses, Maddie, like nobody else."

"I don't know, Michael. What does Tracey say?"

"You know how she is—doesn't want anyone to go to any hassle over her."

"I'd really rather she didn't leave before I saw her. Things
got a little—I'd like to say goodbye to her, Michael."

Bitch.

"Oh. Well... then maybe we should just forget about it," he said, sounding cool. "I've already been hanging around for almost an hour and—"

"Michael, it'll take her another half hour to pack. You know that. I could almost be home by then."

"Actually, she's all packed. Her suitcase is in the hall."

"It is?"

The next pause was long, and, to Michael, eminently satisfying. He had her now.

Maddie said, "All right. But let me talk to her first."

"Sure," he said with a thumbs-up sign to Tracey. "Here she is."

He handed the phone to his daughter who had six words to say: yes, no, uh-huh, okay, and goodbye. She added a "Mom?" but by then Maddie had hung up. Good. No chance for either one to have second thoughts.

"
Well, kiddo? What do you say? Ready to hit the road?''

"I guess so," Tracey said uncertainly, looking around as if she were missing her car keys.

Michael could've done with a little more enthusiasm from her. But he reminded himself that it didn't matter. He knew that after three days of letting her run free with her
Boston
friends, and three nights of shows and concerts, Tracey would look back at her time in
Rosedale
the way she would a prison term at MCI.

Claire had her arm around Tracey as she walked them to the door. She said, "That's a big suitcase, honey. What on earth do you put in there?''

"Just... stuff. I never pack it very tight," she said, looking at Michael in a panic. She was a lousy liar. It pleased him, somehow; he didn't know why.

Claire hugged her and seemed to let go reluctantly.
 
"I might be gone back to
Newton
by the time you return," she told her niece. "But I'll be down for your birthday. Is there anything special you want this year?"

Tracey stood there in the twilight, unprepared for the question and unwilling to leave without answering it. She looked like a little girl again, a little girl of four, standing in line for Santa. It seemed like only yesterday. He had to look away.

In a voice so young that it caught at his heart, she said to her aunt, "Like, did you ever see those clogs with the stars around the front part of the sole? The heel is, like, wood? They're really cool. I saw them
in Macy's
."

Claire smiled and said, "Maybe a gift certificate from there, then. So you get the
exact
right size."

Michael lifted the two-ton suitcase and dropped it in the trunk of his car. "Let's go," he told his daughter. "And, Claire—"

"Yes?"

"Say hi to the gals for me," he said with a wink.

Bitch.

****

Maddie had left her banana flambé still flambéing, but she wasn't in time to see her daughter drive off for the weekend. All she found was Claire, sorting through a box of Edward Timmons's papers that she'd hauled upstairs from the basement.

Claire wasn't surprised to see Maddie so quickly, but she was su
rprised to see Maddie alone. "
What happened to Joan and Norah?"

"I told them to enjoy dessert and then take a cab," Maddie said, disappointed that she was too late. She slumped into one of the dini
ng room chairs. "
How did Tracey seem?''

"Still a little edgy, I think."

"And Michael?"

"You know him better than I do. How did he sound on the phone?"

Maddie shook her head. "He seemed okay. Too okay. At the fund-raiser I thought he was acting jealous of me and hostile to Dan. Could I have been that wrong?"

"Maybe he was just lining up with your mother and George."

"You mean, hostile to Dan but
not
jealous of me?" asked
Maddie, smiling wryly at Claire's diplomacy. "You could be right. Dan has me so puffed up about myself that I've begun to assume that men are lining up outside my door."

"You? Puffed up? Maddie, you're the most unassuming woman I know. You could do with a little more ego, in fact. Borrow some of Norah's. God knows, she has plenty to go around."

Maddie laughed, then pointed to her father's papers and said, "And who told you to go lifting heavy boxes, by the way? That wasn't very smart. You were supposed to wait for me."

She was dismayed when her sister-in-law agreed. Claire stood up rather slowly and rubbed her big belly. "I've felt a couple of
... twinges," she admitted. "I wonder if maybe I did overdo it."

Now Maddie was alarmed. "Claire, get up to bed and lie down this minute. My God. Should I call George?"

"Don't be silly. He's already wasted enough—no. He'll be here tomorrow afternoon. That's soon enough. If I don't feel quite up to speed, I can always go home then."

Nonetheless, she gave Maddie no argument about going to bed. They exchanged good nights and Maddie added the new worry to her basket of old ones. It didn't seem possible that a family could be in such disarray as theirs. Nothing seemed to be going right, and now this. Twinges. Pregnancies were filled with odd creaks and strange pangs, but
...

Maddie shook off her murky thoughts, afraid to have anything to do with them.

She'd had such hopes for this year's summer at
Rosedale
. The previous summer, coming hard on the heels of her father's death, had come and gone with all of them still in shock. Maddie and George had opened up
Rosedale
for the season, but no one had bothered to use it. This summer was going to be different. This summer Maddie had made sure that her condo was rented to another faculty member; that way, she'd have no choice but to tough it out at
Rosedale
. It had begun exactly according to plan.

And then came Dan.

And there went the family.

And the worst of it was, Maddie almost didn't care. As long as she had Tracey and she had Dan—they were the only ones, at bottom, she needed to survive and to be happy. She could never say so to anyone, of course. But in the deepest recesses of her heart, she knew that if God ever told her to pick two people for that desert island, they were the two she'd pick.

She gravitated to the phone and was dialing Dan's number when she heard a two-thunk knock at the kitchen door. She turned and there he was, her desert island wish come true, standing on the other side of the opened Dutch door. He was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt and looked fit enough and sexy enough to
alarm
the bejesus out of her mother still.

Maddie unhooked the screen door and Dan came in and pulled her toward him with a hard, silent kiss, then cocked his head, obviously listening. "It's quiet in the s
ho
e," he said, surprised. "How come?"

Maddie explained all the various comings and goings and added, "Joan and Norah should be back soon, although for all I know, they're square dancing in a Veterans' Hall somewhere."

"We can but hope," he said wryly.