A Farewell to Yarns (6 page)

“Well, I'd never told a soul about having a baby. Not even Chet. It was the only secret I had from him, and it always bothered me. Then, about a year ago, Chet was out on the ocean in his boat, and there was a terrible storm. While I was waiting for word, I realized that if Chet died, I'd have that secret on my conscience forever. So when he got back safe and sound, I told him about having Bobby. I mean, about the baby, I didn't know his name was Bobby."

“How'd Chet take it?"

“Oh, Jane, I was so afraid he'd be disgusted with me, but he was wonderful. He knew how sorry I was that we'd never had children. He said that he had his sons and I should at least get to know mine. He got some person who worked for him to find Bobby—”

Some person who worked for him,
Jane reflected. That's how the rich did things. Wonderful, thoughtful Chet buying Phyllis yet another new stuffed toy. Only this one could bite and make messes in their lives.

“Bobby's adoptive mother had died, and his father remarried someone who just couldn't get along with poor Bobby, so they were happy to let him come visit us on the island. And we all got along so well that he stayed with me.”

I'll bet he did,
Jane thought. Having driven some poor stepmother crazy, he was suddenly thrown into incredible wealth and a brand new mother who worshiped him. What young man wouldn't have stayed? Bobby might be pond scum, but even scum knew when it was onto a good thing.

“Jane, I can't tell you what a comfort it's been to have Bobby these last few months. Without him to lean on, I'd have probably just gone to pieces. You see, Chet has been acting very strange. It isn't anything Bobby says or does, exactly, that's so comforting. It's just knowing I have him. Somebody who is my own. Chet's boys are very nice, but they were half grown before I got to know them, and they're so—so businesslike. Not like Bobby at all.”

Oh, Bobby's businesslike enough,
Jane thought bitterly. He's gotten into a lovely investment, and he knows it. Too bad he doesn't know enough to treat it with the respect it deserves. "What does Chet think of Bobby?" she asked.

“He loves him!" Phyllis said with almost shrill confidence. "He doesn't really understand him, but he loves him."

“Doesn't understand him how?" Jane felt she shouldn't be picking at this, but she wanted some confirmation that Chet wasn't as foolish as Phyllis.

“Oh, just little things. Chet's a very affectionate, very open person, and he's just a little disappointed that Bobby's so—so reserved.”

Disappointed that Bobby's a sullen jerk who treats you like shit,
Jane thought. Well, good for old Chet. "What about Chet's sons? What do they think of Bobby?"

“Everett lives in London and handles all the European part of the business. He's never met Bobby, but John—Oh, Jane, you must know John and Joannie, don't you?"

“I don't think so, but Shelley does."

“That's good. I mentioned you to John, and he said he knew you. Something about a ball game. Basketball? Volleyball?"

“Oh,
that
John Wagner!" Jane suddenly remembered him. Boy, did she ever remember him! She and Steve had belonged to a neighborhood volleyball team for a mercifully short time the autumn before Steve died. John Wagner, the captain of the team, was a good-looking, athletic man in his mid-forties who played volleyball as if the future of the human race depended on the outcome of each game. He was a Type-A personality run amok. People had told her he was quite nice if one didn't presume to engage him in competition of any sort, but she'd never believed it.

Jane had looked forward to the first game, buying a cute, sporty outfit and new sneakers. Her game plan had been to stand around looking smashing while other people yelled cheerful things like, "Heads up," and "I've got it." But John Wagner had disabused her of this concept within the first five minutes. His remarks to her had included, "If I'd known you couldn't hit an elephant in a closet, I'd have gotten that ball," and "You've never heard of spiking, then?" and "If you'd quit carrying on like that it would stop hurting.”

She never went back, and Steve lasted only three more weeks before coming home in a rage, muttering about neighborhood bullies.

John Wagner and Bobby Bryant trussed up together by family ties was impossible to imagine. "Yes, it was volleyball," she said to Phyllis and, refraining from rubbing her hands together in glee, asked, "How does John like Bobby?”

Phyllis looked troubled. "It's odd, Jane. They don't get along at all. John was quite rude to Bobby both times they met. I suppose it's jealousy. All men are just grown-ups boys, aren't they?"

“Jealousy? Of what?"

“Chet's affection, of course.”

Or Chet's money,
Jane thought. As Phyllis's son, Bobby might have a financial claim on her and, therefore, on Chet. John Wagner wasn't a model person, but it wasn't unreasonable that he might fear and dislike Bobby even more than most people would.

Aside from Phyllis, did the boy have a friend in the world?

Sooner or later, she was going to have to hear about Phyllis's marital problems, so she decided to get it over with. Jane asked, "Why didn't Chet come with you to Chicago?”

Phyllis paused a long time before she an swered. "I—I really don't know. I thought it would be wonderful to have a good old-fashioned Christmas here—a nice dinner with John and Joannie and all Bobby's adopted family. But Chet never liked the idea. I kept bringing it up, and I guess it irritated him, because he finally said—”

She stopped, as if choking on the next words.

With a sort of funny hiccup, she suddenly got up and ran to the guest bathroom. Before Jane could figure out what to do, Phyllis came back, dabbing at her eyes with a folded piece of toilet paper. "I'm so sorry to act silly, Jane. I want to tell you the truth and get it over with, but it's so hard for me to say. You see, Chet finally said I should just take Bobby and go to Chicago—

forever, if I wanted.”

She started sniffling into the toilet paper. "I didn't want that. Not in a million years, but he kept insisting, and then one day I had a terrible headache—not that that's a good reason—and I snapped back and said I'd be glad to go away from him. I didn't mean it, Jane. You know I didn't mean it. But the next morning, Chet was gone. He'd flown off on a business trip without even letting me say I was sorry. On the bedside table were two one-way plane tickets and a checkbook. Jane, I should have just torn them up, but I got mad instead. And after that —I don't know. It just got worse. Bobby even tried to find Chet to talk to him and explain that we didn't want to leave—"

“I'll bet he did," Jane said, thinking what a shock it must have been for greedy Bobby to find he was about to be out of a life he'd just discovered suited him so well. "I mean—”

But Phyllis had accepted the remark at face value and plowed on, still sniffling. "I've seen things on television about men having middle -age problems. Male menopause, I think they call it, although I think that's a peculiar term. Still, I think that's what Chet must be going through. I know he didn't really want me to leave, but I did go so that he'd have the time and freedom to rethink our marriage. He's just being irratio nal. I'm praying he'll come to his senses. We've had the most perfect marriage in the world, and nothing's changed, but Chet has turned into a different person for no reason."

“Phyllis, there
has
been a change. Bobby."

“But that's a change for the good!" Phyllis insisted. "Chet is crazy about Bobby. He offered to send him to college or on a nice long trip to Switzerland for the skiing—”

—Anything to get him out of his hair,
Jane thought. Surely even Phyllis couldn't fail to see the truth in this. And yet, it was amazing what people could fail to see if they put their minds in it, she realized with a sick feeling. She herself had managed to be completely blind to her own husband having an affair right under her nose. When Steve had announced that he was leaving her, it had been a hideous shock. She'd never suspected, and even if someone had tried to tip her off in advance, she probably would have refused to believe it. Just like Phyllis was working so hard at not understanding the trouble.

Should she try to make Phyllis see? There were so few really good marriages in the world, and it was a terrible pity to see one sacrificed on an altar as unworthy as Bobby Bryant.

“Phyllis, let me ask you something—what if you had to choose between Bobby and Chet?"

“Jane! What a terrible thing to think of. Why would I have to choose?"

“I don't know, but suppose you did."

“Why, I'd stay with Bobby, of course. As much as I love Chet, Bobby needs me more. Aman can have many wives, but a boy only has one mother. You know that. You wouldn't abandon your children for anybody."

“But my children are young. Bobby 's an adult, and he's managed without you all these years," Jane said, knowing she might as well try to reason with a geranium.

“He's still my baby. My only baby—" Phyllis said, making another dash for the bathroom.

I can't do her any good,
Jane thought with a sense of sadness so profound it brought tears to her eyes.

Seven

The phone rang, cutting the conversation '. short. Jane picked it up with relief. Even somebody trying to sell her bronzed baby shoes would be a welcome break. But it wasn't a salesman, it was Fiona Howard.

“Jane, I hate to disturb you, but I have a bit of a problem. I didn't realize that Albert had scheduled the exterminators to come this afternoon, and I'm worried about any food that might be in some of these bazaar boxes. I know about the gingerbread men and the hard candies, but several people have dropped things off since you were by here this morning, and some of the cartons appear to have different things in them. I'm afraid there could be something in the bottom of one that we might be poisoning. I know Shelley isn't available to help, but I want to have all the food items safely out of the house before they start spraying—"

“I'll run over and see if I can figure out what's what," Jane offered. Phyllis had come out of the bathroom again and seemed to have a grip on herself. She was puttering around, cleaning off the kitchen table.

“I hate asking you when you have company," Fiona was saying. "I tried to ring Shelley first, just in case she'd changed her plans, but there's no answer at her house. Do bring your friend along, and I'll make us a lovely tea. No, I guess I can't even do
that
with the bug people here."

“We'd love to come, tea or not. We could all go out for Cokes at McDonald's.”

She hung up and told Phyllis. "I've got to run over to a neighbor's house to take care of a crisis with the church craft bazaar. You don't need to come along if you'd rather rest, but I'd be glad to have you. We can talk more about this later," she added, knowing there was little else she could say.

“Jane, we don't need to talk about me anymore. I just felt I owed it to you to explain. You have problems enough, I'm sure, without mine. I'd love to help if I can," she said. The way her face lit up, it was obvious that she was sincere. As she mopped her eyes a final time, she said,

"Chet's so sweet and generous, and I don't ever mean to sound ungrateful, but if there's anything I've missed all these years, it's that sort of thing—church bazaars, other women who like crafts and things. Of course, a lot of real artists used to come to the island, but they weren't interested in things like Christmas ornaments and knitting and Easter egg decorations.”

Jane had sudden vision of Phyllis fluttering around a modern-day Picasso, trying to interest him in styrofoam wreaths.

“I read about this wonderful thing you do with Easter eggs that makes them look batiked. I'm dying to try it," Phyllis went on.

“I tnink Fiona does that. You can ask her about it."

“This Fiona isn't Fiona Howard, is she?”

“Why, yes. Do you know her?"

“No, but we know some people who know her, and they mentioned once that she lived in the same suburb as you do. You can't have many neighbors named Fiona. Such a pretty name."

“Then you must know who she is—"

“Richie Divine's widow. Yes. That was so terrible the way the newspapers and magazines were so mean to her when she got married again. I'd like to meet her, and I really want to help with your bazaar." As she spoke, she was putting the leftover food in the refrigerator.

Jane suddenly felt a great wave of guilt for not liking her better. Silly as Phyllis might be, she was also very sweet and down-to-earth. There was something innately good about a woman who probably hadn't so much as lifted a dirty dish in fifteen years, but who pitched right in, clearing the table without a second's he s i t a t i o n. T he r e we r e go o d r e a s o ns C he t Wagner had stuck with her for so long. If only Phyllis could see the one excellent reason he got fed up.

Jane was quiet all the way to Fiona's house, mentally chastising herself. Wasn't part of the reason she got irritated with Phyllis a matter of simple jealousy? She'd mentally accused John Wagner of being jealous over money, but maybe she was, too. After all, Phyllis was an extraordinarily wealthy woman. Jane, who wasn't exactly poor, still had to carefully monitor every penny.

Steve's life insurance and his share of the family-owned drugstores had left her with enough money to comfortably afford the necessities and a precious few of the less expensive luxuries. But while Phyllis was ordering up a Jag for Bobby to drive around without even needing to ask what it cost, Jane was driving a four-year-old station wagon and would ha ve to drive it to death—either its or hers.

Was it Phyllis's money that was getting under Jane's skin? Jane thought not. Lots of people had more money than Jane did. Almost everyone she knew, in fact, either had more or lived as though they did. And she'd never been particularly aware of resentment before. Fiona Howard, for instance, was certainly in a financial class with Phyllis. She must have been her husband's heir, and Richie Divine records were still played on the radio all the time. Just last summer Jane had bought a tape of his old stuff. They hadn't had children, so all the royalties must be going to Fiona. And yet, Jane had never felt jealous of Fiona, only mildly curious about how she lived. For that matter, the Nowacks were absolutely loaded, but she never felt jealous of Shelley. Shelley's husband had started and owned a nationwide Greek fast -food franchise that was nearly as common nationally as any of the hamburger or pizza places. But Shelley still bought her sneakers at K Mart and saved grocery store coupons and was always complaining about telephone bills. Of course, if Shelley had been renting a car, as Phyllis did a short time ago, Shelley would have found out the price of everything on the lot and would have demanded a discount if the tires had more than a thousand miles on them.