Back to Life (12 page)

“Mrs. Evans, thank you so much! It was wonderful to see you. I
wish you all the best!” I turn toward Fitting Room A when I hear Mrs. Evans’s voice again after me.

“Incidentally, I didn’t marry Ron only for money. I married him for acceptance!” I grin as wide as I can as I see Haley and the girls in the fitting room.

“Lindsay, you’re here!” Haley says as I enter the doorway. “What was that?”

“I didn’t marry Ron for money. My whole life has been this puzzle, and I feel like I put it together. Ron thought the best of me.”

“I think the best of you, but all right.” Haley kisses my cheek. “Now get your dress on.”

“Oh, Haley! You make Heidi Klum look positively plain in that gown!”

“Do you like the dresses?” Haley asks, pointing to where mine hangs on a rack.

“I do! I think they’re beautiful. You did a fine job all by yourself, Haley.”

“Does this mean the mourning is over?” she looks me straight in the eye. “Is my best friend back? I know that Ron would be happy to hear it, if so.”

“I am back!”

“Good, then I can start whining. I still feel completely stupid having a white wedding again. Oh, and if you’re not bringing anyone to the wedding, Hamilton has someone you might like to meet.”

“Hamilton! Haley, no offense, but no one wants to be set up by a lawyer who writes up prenups all day, all right? It’s not exactly romantic.”

“Hey! Hamilton is very romantic. I wish you’d spend more time with us. I used to spend time with you and Ron all the time.”

“You lived in my condo. It’s not like we could avoid you.”

“Not every landlord is so hands-on, if you know what I mean.”

“Not every tenant cooks like you. Ron got the best of all worlds—I helped organize the accounting business and you took care of cooking. We were like his very own young, gorgeous, blond harem. Now you’re ready for me to transfer my affections to Hamilton, is that what you’re saying?”

She grins. “No, but I feel like I never see you. For the last two weeks, you’ve been like a ghost.”

“I’ve just been busy with Jane at the house. Would you stop worrying about me? You’re a blushing bride. Where’s your mother?”

“I sent her to the florist. She was driving me crazy.” Haley looks at her bridesmaids, each of them donning their gowns. They’re all the same color (fuchsia) but designed differently. One can’t really put an older Bette in the same dress as the yoga-bodied Penny.

“I hope everyone is okay with this,” she whispers. “My mother has been telling everyone to lose a little weight. I thought Bette might clock her before I sent her to the florist.”

“Haley, it’s all right to enjoy this. In fact, you
should
be enjoying this, for Hamilton’s sake. Otherwise, you’re just back in guilt mode, and you might as well still be with Jay.”

It’s so easy for me to dole out advice. Me, who has been living alone for a year and doesn’t have anything to show for the time.

Haley sits with her tiara-capped veil on her head, moving it with her fingertips. “I was born to be a princess.”

“You were born to be a Fabergé egg. Sparkly, gem-encrusted, and invaluable.”

We laugh when a seamstress reminiscent of the Cold War comes in and barks orders. “Bride, stand over there! Bridemaids, in order of appearance, over here!” I scamper to get my dress on and back into place before I get sent to the rock quarry for punishment.

Haley salutes and stands on her pedestal, and she speaks directly to me. “If it’s all right for me, then it’s all right for you to go on living. Ron wouldn’t have wanted this for you. Live your life, Lindsay. What do you want to do with it? Bette mentioned that you were thinking of a women’s ministry. Go home and make a list to get it started. Do something! It’s my turn to live vicariously through you. I’ll be the boring housewife.” She giggles.

“As if that were possible—for you to be boring. There are too many rhinestones in the world for that to happen.” I look around the room and all of the Trophy Wives are nodding. It seems there comes a day when friends run out of grief for you and mine was about up. It is time. I’m ready.

The room suddenly gets quiet, and for the Trophy Wives, that’s an amazing feat. I turn around and see Jake’s bride has entered the room. Slowly, I walk across the room, and soon the chatter starts up behind me.

“I wanted to thank you,” she says.

“Me?” I turn around to explain her presence, but the women have all given me the luxury of a little privacy. The young bride and I walk into the hallway, away from listening ears. Even if they’re talking, I know them well enough to know they can do two things at once if the conversation interests them.

“Yes, you, Lindsay. I feel as though I know you. Mrs. Evans is always going on about how surprised she was when you up and married another man. Forgive me for being forward, but we’re both practical girls, Lindsay. If you hadn’t broken Jake’s heart all those years ago, I might never have met the man of my dreams. So I wanted to thank you. I happen to believe everything happens for a reason.”

“You’re welcome.” It’s such a warm moment that I don’t confess what I really want to tell her—Jake’s mother scares the daylights
out of me, and I have been thanking my lucky stars since being reminded of her oh-so-charming personality that I did not marry into that family and repeat my childhood of constant critique. But my mother, and life in L.A., taught me manners and not to speak such thoughts aloud.

“It’s all right,” she says, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I know you married for money. I understand completely. It was a practical choice, and I for one, commend you for it.”

“Actually, I think my reasons ran slightly deeper than that. As I was watching Jake’s mother, I realized—”

“So, do you have any tips for me?”

“Pardon?” I feel a pit at the bottom of my stomach as the motive of her conversation comes to light. Is she telling me she’s marrying Jake for his money?

“Tips?” I ask her.

“You know, so that the younger version of me doesn’t come along and snatch him from my arms. How did you keep your husband’s interest?”

She is the most elegant, young woman with a perfectly regal profile and the same, captivating eyes that Jake himself possesses. She means no harm. I can tell her words run no deeper than their surface meaning, but I can only pray she learns the errors of her ways as I learned mine.

“Love him well, despite the money. The love of money is the root of all evil,” I tell her. “In the end, it’s not worth a plugged nickel.”

She laughs. “How could I help but do anything else but love him? I am so glad I got to meet you. Jake’s just ready to have kids now and look how old you are! That would have never worked. You see how things are?”

I force a smile. “I do. Good luck to you.”

“You too! You’re not too old to remarry, you know. Good for
you.” She trounces off to her dressing room, and I roll my eyes.

“You only think you know your destiny,” I say under my breath to her back. “Then reality bites you in the—”

“Lindsay!”

Gazing at Haley, I watch her try on a giant rhinestone necklace. As if she reads my mind, she looks back toward me, and I shake my head.

“Killjoy!”

If I died tomorrow, maybe I’d be sorry I didn’t wear more sequins. Who knows? If I controlled less, I wonder if I wouldn’t have enjoyed more. I can’t help but envy the Future Mrs. Jake. Innocence protects one from harsh realities for a long, long time. I’ll bet she had a nice mother who filled her with wonderful Cinderella dreams. Too bad Mrs. Evans comes in the deal. And too bad, the future Mrs. Jake will eventually have to learn the truth.

Lindsay

G
reat, I’ll see you then.” I hang up the phone and look to Jane, who is absorbed in her current painting, which is nearly done and turning out beautifully. “Guess who that was?” I ask her.

“Nordstrom’s. They’re offering you a job. You’re going to be measuring people’s feet again soon.”

“I sold suits,” I tell her with a laugh. “And they’re not interested in me. I’m too tall. I make the men feel short.”

She doesn’t look away from her painting. “You really need to find a new excuse, like the fact that you haven’t worked for ten years. No one buys the tall thing.”

“Is it my delivery?” I ask.

“It’s the message.” She faces me. “No one is going to feel sorry for a six-foot blonde who weighs less than the average Labrador. It’s not in the cards for you to win sympathy, I’m afraid.”

“It was your son on the phone.”

She drops her paintbrush and faces me. “Ronnie?”

“Do you have more than him? And is he inheriting a house, too?”

“Very funny. What did he want?”

“You’re not going to yell at me for talking to him?”

“Not yet. Did you call your mother yet?”

“Did you tell Ronnie his history yet?”

“Touché. What did my son want?”

“He’s going to allow me to have Haley’s shower at the Pacific Palisades house before it goes on the market. Thank you for asking him.”
Though, if you let me speak to him, I could have asked for myself
. “But in return, I’m going to help him stage it for sale, so he’ll get the most for it. I’d like to sell it furnished and so would he. What’s he going to do with all that? He plans to donate the proceeds to the school he works with in Mexico during the summers. He’s like the male Mother Teresa, I must say. We’re a beautiful team, don’t you think?” I see her flinch at the word team, but to her credit, she says nothing.

“You’ve got quite a commodities exchange going on between the two of you. When did all this come about?” She tries to keep the pinched tone from being noticeable, but I know full well what she thinks about me talking to Ronnie, and honestly, I wish I could tell her that Ronnie is too practical of a boy to be tempted by the likes of me.

“It was his idea. So I’m innocent. He just called here and asked if I’d help with the sale. He says he knows Hamilton will do it, but he doesn’t trust him to get the right amount for it, hence the staging. I’ve got a great realtor too, so he’ll be in great hands. He’s hoping to build a brand new school with the money.”

“My son is planning to give away this money? All of it?”

“Am I not speaking out loud? When he called, I thought he was looking for you, but he said no, he was calling me.”

“Really. And you said yes, you’d help him with the sale?”

“You’re welcome to chaperone me if you don’t trust us together. Naturally, I said sure, I’d help him, but then I thought about all the women Haley wants to invite, and I thought he could help me as well. A restaurant is so formal and the clubhouse condo, with all the neighbors who scare Haley, not to mention the cats…” I look down at Kuku. “No offense. I thought we could throw one last party at the Pacific Palisades house. I brought up the idea to Ronnie and he agreed we could help each other.”

“What does Ronnie’s girlfriend think about this arrangement?”

“I would think she’d want him to get the most for his house. If they get married, it will give them a nice start in life.”

Jane lifts her eyebrows. “Not if he’s planning to give it all away. Are you kidding me?” She shakes her head. “For your sake, Lindsay, I hope you never have to taste reality.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. Quit checking my words. You’re an artist; you’re not supposed to be so literal. He’s on his way over here after work, and we’re going to do a walk-through together. Feel free to join us if you worry I might pounce.”

“A walk-through of what?” She sounds testy.

“Of what furniture he should keep for the showing and what he might want to add.”

“You’re going to help him? You, who designed this mermaid house?”

“Is something the matter, Jane? I thought you liked my place.”

“Nothing’s the matter.” She slams her paint box shut and wipes her hands on her apron. “Yes, something’s the matter. You told me you’d stay away from Ronnie.”

“And you told me that you were going to tell him the truth. I haven’t told him anything about Ron, and he’s asked, so I think you can trust me.”

She picks up her paintbrush.

“Would it be so terrible if Ronnie did see me in a romantic light?” I mean, I couldn’t care less about Ronnie, but must she keep bringing up how thoroughly unworthy I am for her precious son? I’m letting her stay in my place, and she’s just rude!

“So you are planning something! You can’t help but use those supermodel looks, can you? It’s what you fall back on!”

“You know, I’m getting tired of all the quips about my looks. I’m thirty-five, Jane! And even you have to notice that I’m not a twenty-year-old bimbo any longer—not that I was a bimbo, mind you. But I’m getting tired of you talking down to me as though my blond hair gives you the right to disrespect me. I thought you were a feminist. And why change from day to day? Two weeks ago, you were supporting me in front of my Bible study. But wherever Ronnie’s involved, you’re like a pit bull. I never know when you’ll turn on me. It’s your own guilt, you know. Tell him the truth!”

“I’m not turning on you!” she shouts before she’s had any time at all to figure out if she’s turning on me or not. The ground seems unstable when Jane is near me, and I find myself questioning my own thoughts and deeds. “But I’ve worked hard to protect Ronnie from the truth, and I won’t have you blabbing it now. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

“Blabbing? Why would I want to hurt your son? Did you notice how you managed to bring this back around to you again? I’m helping Ronnie, and it’s about you. Give the man some thought, will you? Why would you be upset that I’m helping him? Don’t you want him to get the most for the house?”

She shakes her head. “I know you are not that naïve. Ronnie’s going to own everything Ron left him—everything that doesn’t belong to you, that is. That’s going to make him quite the catch, isn’t it?”

“Jane, you can’t think—” But looking into her eyes, I see she does,
indeed, believe it, and our friendship has been nothing more than a farce built on the shaky ground of mistrust.

“It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

I am stunned silent. I thought she trusted me. I thought she wanted me to go home and make it up to my mother, to see if reconciliation was possible. Now I see it was all a ruse to simply keep me away from her precious son.

“You’re a blond bombshell, who claims she can’t get a job because she’s too tall, she’s not skilled enough, she’s planning to help homeless women, blah, blah, blah. You haven’t lifted a finger to find some sort of path for your future, and now, you’ve conveniently planned to meet up with the new owner of Ron’s mansion. If Ron fell for you, Ron Jr. should be like taking candy from a baby.”

I feel as though I’ve been punched in the stomach. “It’s
my
mansion, too, Jane. Don’t you think if I’d wanted it, it would have been left to me?”

“You’re saying it was
your
choice that Ron left that house to Ron Jr.? That’s convenient. I suppose that will be one of the first things you tell him.”

“Well, of course not. I didn’t know there was a Ron Jr., until two months ago! But go ahead, and look up the deed of trust. It was in both our names at one time. We had an agreement.”

“If that were true, Hamilton couldn’t sell this house without your approval, and I went through all the paperwork. That house was clearly in Ron’s will to give as he pleased.”

“All my rights for the house were transferred back during our last separation. Look it up. Better yet, ask Hamilton.” I slam my hand on the counter. “Forget it, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m done trying to prove myself to your level of perfection. If you think
so ill of me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my house and take that furry mongrel with you!”

“Is this part of your plan? To get me out of here so you can see Ronnie alone?”

“You are paranoid! You think I’m a money-grubber, so keep your son away from me. You did a good enough job keeping him away from Ron. I’ll get a hotel conference room for the shower, because I’m glad to be done with the both of you. I was only being polite for Ron’s sake, anyhow.” I clench my teeth and hear the grinding sound in my head. It shouldn’t matter what Jane thinks of me. She’s entitled to her opinion, after all. But I hardly see how she pictures herself much differently than me. She didn’t stay married to Ron. At least I stuck by my promise. Say what you will about me, I was loyal to the man. And this is how he repays me. By bringing his ex-wife back to town so she can accuse me of every atrocity in the book.

“I don’t care what you do anymore, Jane. But I don’t want your precious son. A nasty mother-in-law is one reason I didn’t want Jake, either! And I
loved
him!”

I clamber up the stairs, slam my bedroom door and then breathe deeply. Guilt exudes from every pore in my being. “I tried, Lord!” But I know I failed. Even if I’d wanted to stand up for myself, I didn’t have to be so hateful.

The phone rings, and though it’s probably for Jane, I answer it anyway. As I imagined, Jane picks up the phone before me and says hello, and a man’s voice greets her. “Jane—”

“Davis! How did you get this number?”

“Ron gave it to me. The gallery is low on art. I’ve brought in a few of your favorite locals for display, but at some point, I’d like to know if you’re returning. I miss you.”

“Ronnie gave you this number?” she asks, by way of an accusation, and I realize this is none of my business. I put the phone toward the cradle when Davis responds, and my curiosity wins.

“I would have gone with you,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to go?”

“I didn’t know how long I would be gone.”

“Jane, this is getting ridiculous. I have put up with this crap for ten years. One day you’re here. One day you’re not.”

“So leave. No one’s holding a gun to your head.”

“Then, you could claim I left, just like you knew I would.”

“Spare me the dramatics, Davis. If you want to leave, leave. If you want to stay, stay. Our relationship is based on trust.”

“In that I can trust you to run when the going gets difficult, you mean? You never answered my question. I see you left the ring here. Is that my answer?”

“I told you a piece of paper means nothing.”

“It means something to me. It means something to Ronnie. Why don’t you ask your son about it? Not that you seem to give him a choice in anything.”

She slams the phone down on him, and I rub my ear, where my drum just received significant damage. “I know!” I say to the ceiling, “I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping!”

I drop to my bed and hear a pronounced meow. I pick Kuku up and place him on the floor gently and collapse back onto the mattress. The more I know about Jane, the less I understand. She has littered portions of herself here and there, and tiny clues unfold about different aspects of her life, but naturally I wonder if there’s anyone on earth—including her—who sees the full picture. This man, Davis, sounded heartbroken, and she met his long-lost voice only with brisk curtness. He gave her a ring! And she abandoned it, along with him.

She hurts.
It’s the only fact I truly know about her. Now my guilt mounts higher than ever. I march downstairs with resolve, to put my humanity aside and try to avoid the thought that she thinks I’m a complete manipulator. She’s avoided answering some tough questions.

She’s packing up her art equipment when I get downstairs.

“A man asked you to marry him, and you didn’t have the decency to answer him before coming to the States?”

“You’re wrong that you don’t fit in here at this complex, Lindsay. You seem to do quite well minding other people’s business.”

“He loves you. That’s obvious.”

She rolls her eyes. “You sure have a lot of time to get into my business. Why aren’t you interested in any of the other women in your life? That Helena has a lot to fix, if you’re into fixing people, and Haley certainly needs help planning the wedding of the century.”

“I don’t want to do any of those things.”

She sighs in exasperation. “You never want to do anything to change your life!”

“And you never want to do anything to keep things in yours! I can’t believe you’ve had a man in your life for ten years, and you never thought to mention it. Was that him who called from the California Department of Corrections? Is he a guard?”

“What? No, he’s in Mexico. Listen, Davis and I, we have an arrangement. I don’t have a man in my life!” she claims.

“So you haven’t had him in your life for ten years? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Did you listen to the entire conversation? What is wrong with you?”

“It’s my phone, and I’m worried about you. You’re like ET living here, getting whiter and paler! Go back to Mexico if you need to. For crying out loud, Jane.”

The doorbell rings and as I open the door, Cherry is standing there on my porch holding Jake by the ear. “Cherry, what on earth?”

“He was going to leave again! I caught him! I’m faster than I look, ain’t I, boy?”

“Cherry, let him go.” I pull him into the house protectively.

Cherry slaps her hands together as though her mission has been accomplished. “Don’t forget what I told you, either, Miss Lindsay. Your husband’s been dead a long time now. Your religion ain’t doing you much good, is it?” She points her crooked finger at me, wagging it a few times before she turns and, with her lurching walk, heads back toward her door.

Jake shuts the door behind him. “Nice. Friend of yours?”

“I like her. I may
be
her one day.”

He looks to Jane and nods. “You don’t believe this for a second, do you?”

“She’s nosey enough to be one of them. Don’t underestimate her. I’m going to pack.” Jane picks up Kuku and heads to her room, slamming the door.