Just to See You Smile (7 page)

Britte grasped her hand and squeezed it. “I will pray for you.”

Anne nodded.
Yes, please pray.

Britte clasped her hands atop her head as she stood on a braided rug in the center of what used to be her bedroom. Her mother had long ago removed the posters and painted white over the hideous royal blue Britte had favored as a faithful Viking. The furnishings, which she had furtively spray-painted gold one spring day when she was 12, had also been restored to their original white. Still, the room resonated with memories of a happy childhood.

Gina lounged on the white chenille bedspread, flipping through a bridal magazine. Winter sunlight streamed through windows behind her, glistening in her brown hair. Barb, Britte's mother, knelt on the rug, running a tape measure down her leg.

“Gina,” Britte said, “please tell me this dress has a turtleneck. You could have made ice cubes in the church this morning!”

Gina laughed. “Sorry. No turtleneck.”

Barb stood and dangled the tape measure around her neck. “You do have the longest legs, honey, just like your dad's.” She wrote numbers on a pad. “Take off that sweatshirt. I can't measure accurately around that thing.”

Britte complied. “Mom, since you're making the dress, you can
add
a turtleneck! Tell Gina I look absolutely pathetic in low cut, off-the-shoulder, fancy-schmantzy dresses.”

“You don't look pathetic in—”

“But I do! Pull out the old prom photos. Gina, you'll notice that my sister's prom photos are displayed in the
family room. Both of my brothers' prom photos are displayed. Mine are stuck somewhere in a drawer.”

Barb pulled the tape snug around Britte's waist. “Only because every time I hung them, you took them down.”

“I look like a giraffe.”

“How you do run on, child!”

“Just stating the facts. Gina, please, please! No skin showing! Else you'll have everyone gawking at a frozen giraffe instead of the beautiful bride.”

Gina rose from the bed and brought over the magazine. “Here. This is one of my choices.”

Velvety crimson red enveloped the model in a warmth that almost radiated off the glossy page. The dress had a scalloped neck that rose high in the center. From gathered shoulders, long sleeves were held in place with a row of tiny red pearlescent buttons.

“Gina, is this your first or last choice?”

“It's my favorite. Simple, no frills, no fancy-schmantzy.”

Britte closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

Gina laughed. “Oh, Britte, you know I'd rather be in a sweatshirt and jeans myself! This is as frilly as I can get.”

Barb, peering over her daughter's shoulder, sighed. “It's gorgeous, isn't it? And no skin showing!” She nudged Britte. “You'll look beautiful.”

Britte handed back the magazine. “Well, I know the seamstress can make that dress look at least as beautiful as it is in the picture.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Gina, when do we get to see yours? I cannot imagine choosing a wedding gown. Do they make wedding warm-up suits? Not that I have any reason whatsoever to be concerned about such things.”

Her mother tapped her shoulder. “Hold still.”

Gina sat again on the bed. “I found one in Rockville, but now Mother's back in Los Angeles and having second thoughts about my choice.”

Barb said, “Since she's in the business of women's apparel, I imagine she has quite a number of resources.”

“Way too many.” Gina grinned. “But she has her own dress to choose, and she can be as frilly as she wants on that one. She'll tire of trying to find a simple, uncreative one for me. Barb, who was it we wanted to ask Britte about?”

“Oh, Ethan Parkhurst. Brady wonders if you'd like to invite him to the wedding.”

“Sure.” The English teacher was often included in family gatherings. Brady sometimes lectured in his classes. “Is there space?”

Barb and Gina chuckled. Her mother said, “Between Brady and Cal, the list is growing. They seem to be getting into the spirit of a celebration. And how about your principal?”

“Mr. Kingsley? Why on earth—”

“Basketball and Bible study. Hold still.”

“Well, then, he's
Brady's
friend. He doesn't need to ask me.”

“All done.” She rolled up the tape measure. “Why don't you stay a bit and help address wedding invitations?”

Groaning, Britte pulled on her sweatshirt. “Oh, man! I thought I only had to do this dress stuff!”

Gina said, “You don't have to—”

“I'm just kidding. Sort of.” She really did have other things to do, other things she'd
like
to do.

“We can watch the game.”

Britte returned her smile. “Now that makes it more palatable.”

Her mother said, “You two are so much alike, it's funny. And your interests don't even resemble your mothers'.” She
joined Gina on the bed. “You know, I was always jealous of your mom in high school.”

“Really?”

“Mom, I didn't know that!”

Britte and Gina laughed at Barb's teen confessions. The afternoon was another good memory to store in the bedroom. Her mom's stories. Gina, her soon-to-be sister-in-law, participating like a family member. Herself, at the beginning of a winning season. And the feared dress, not too fancyschmantzy after all. The wedding—well, that felt uncomfortable. It was supposed to have been a small, close-knit affair. Ethan fit, but Mr. Kingsley? Next thing she knew, her brother would be inviting the General for Christmas dinner.

“Close one, Miss O.”

Britte looked up from her seat on the bottom row of the bleachers. Mr. Kingsley stood not far away, just inside the open gym doors. “You're telling me,” she said.

The game had ended some time ago. She had struggled through her postgame talk with the girls in the locker room... Accepted the undeserving kudos from parents with all the grace she could muster… Noted from a distance Brady's assessment, a subtle rocking motion of his hand rather than a thumbs-up…

“You kept the fans on the edge of their seats.”

“We should have beaten that team by more than one point. It shouldn't have been such an uphill battle.”

He shrugged.

She reached down and closed the notebook lying between her feet on the hardwood floor. “Something's not clicking yet.”

“Are you ready to go?”

She shoved the notebook into her soft black leather attaché bag and saw the film cassette in a side pocket. Cassie's dad taped the games for her. Eager to review the game, she would do that herself, probably yet tonight. Should they watch it together at practice tomorrow? Could the girls put a finger on the missing ingredient? Anne, uncharacteristically preoccupied, had offered no insight—

“Miss O?”

She looked up. “Excuse me?” His black down-filled jacket was unzipped, revealing a dark green V-neck sweater over a white shirt and red tie. Christmas season appropriate, yes, but school colors? Hardly.

“The custodian has gone home.”

“Already?”

“It's 10:45. If you're ready, I'll turn out the lights.”

“Ten—?” She glanced up at the clock. “Hmm. Imagine that. Amazing how time flies when you're having fun.” She began gathering the clipboards and scorebooks strewn about on the bleachers. “I can take care of the lights and make sure the doors are locked.”

“That's my responsibility.”

Well, it wasn't. All of the teachers were capable of turning off lights and locking doors.

“And you shouldn't leave alone this time of night.”

She zipped shut her bag, stood, and did a slow 360-degree turn. Where was her coat? “You must be confusing Valley Oaks with Chicago.”

“City is not the point. A gentleman never allows a lady to walk unescorted in a dubious situation, such as a dark, empty parking lot. Are you looking for this?”

She faced him. Her long wool coat was folded across his arm.

He lifted the coat and held it open for her.

“Chivalry is not yet dead, I see.”

A brief smile crossed his face. “It's not dead if you're willing to accept it.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” She walked over and accepted his help with putting on her coat. “Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome. I'll get the lights.”

While he doused the gym lights and closed up, she strolled across the dimly lit area referred to as the commons. It was the center of the school building, a large open area where tables were set up at lunch time. Like the hub of a square wheel, it had “spokes” of four hallways branching different directions. The gym bordered one side, the front doors and glassed-in office another. She reached the back doors leading to the staff parking lot and waited.

As she had concluded before, General Kingsley was an enigma. She wouldn't have imagined him possessing gentlemanly notions. But, now that she thought about it, those notions didn't require emotional commitment, only rote obedience to a set of rules. Either that, or he was just plain chauvinistic and disguising it with courtesy.

He strode toward her, zipping up his jacket.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said. “I lost track of time.”

“No problem. I was working.” He pushed open the door. “You first, if you don't find that too offensive.”

She sailed past him. “Not at all. I don't mind accepting your chauvinistic—I mean, chivalrous—overtures.”

He chuckled, his breath frosting the night air. “Now that was intentional. I can tell you're not quite sure which it is.”

“The jury is still out.”

“There you go, speaking your honest mind again.”

She smiled to herself as they walked across the small parking lot. “Where's your car?”

“I usually walk. My condo's only a few blocks beyond the football field.”

They reached her Jeep. “Do you want a lift?” She opened a back door and dropped her bag on the seat.

“No, thanks.”

“By the way, thank you for
not
offering a coaching opinion on tonight's game.”

“You didn't ask for one.”

“That doesn't stop most men.”

“Pity how rapidly chivalry is dying out. See you tomorrow, Miss O.” He walked away, toward the side street that paralleled the back field.

Britte couldn't resist. “It certainly is dying out,” she called. “You didn't open the car door for me!”

He looked back at her. “Thought I'd quit while I was ahead.”

She murmured, “Chicken,” and climbed into the car. While the engine warmed up, she shivered. At the least he could have offered to warm up the car while she waited inside. She laughed at the thought.

He was the first principal to walk her to the car. The first anybody to do so purposely like that. Her mother would adore him. Britte hadn't ever met anyone quite like him, stoic and effective and concerned about dark parking lots in Valley Oaks. And he didn't falsely flatter her about the game. Which made him…an honest gentleman or a chauvinistic boor?

A few moments later she drove alongside him and braked. He halted as she rolled down the passenger window. “Mr. Kingsley. I also appreciate you
not
saying, ‘Good job, Coach.'”

In the dim of a street light, she thought she saw him grinning. “Just trying to be honest. Following your example, Miss O.”

Alec sat alone in the family room, staring at the TV but not hearing the 11 o'clock news. He still wore dress slacks and a tie. After working late, he'd gone straight to the high school for the fund-raising taco supper followed by Drew's game. At home he had read the mail, written checks, and tried again to rework the budget. It wasn't happening.

Instead of going upstairs, he sat down in the family room, hoping to neutralize his mind with the news in order to be able to sleep. It wasn't happening.

The past two days, morale at work was at an all-time low. Unpopular decisions had been made by upper management. There was nothing to be done except hang in there, give his all as usual, and convince himself that it was okay not to receive an increase in pay. Believing that was not happening.

Anne walked in, sat on the couch, and snuggled against him. He muted the television and put his arm around her. “Hey, mister. How's it going?”

“She sweetly asked the head grouch.”

“I really want to know.”

“Don't you remember what curiosity did to the cat?”

“Alexander.” Anne didn't easily reach exasperation, but her tone suggested she was nearly there. “I keep thinking this despondency will pass.”

“That's a 50-cent word.”

Her sigh was audible. “What I meant was, this snarling attitude of yours is getting old.” She kissed his cheek. “You're not much fun these days.”

“The checkbook isn't either. The ends are not coming together. My car needs tires this month. The van needs some work. I really think we should buy that used car so Drew has his own wheels. It's getting too complicated sharing a car and getting him where he needs to be. He can take care of his own schedule and maybe help with the girls. We promised the kids the Grand Canyon tour next summer. That package deal costs less now than it will next year. I was planning on the promotion or at least the bonus to carry us through.”

“What you're saying is that you've already spent the money in your mind.”

“Not just. Here, take a look.” He reached for the printout he'd laid on the coffee table.

“You know I can never make heads or tails out of numbers.”

“I need you to understand this, Anne.” He heard the aggravation in his voice and eased off. “I'll explain it.” He showed her the figures: the increases in real estate taxes and insurance, the black-and-white of fixed expenses nearly equaling the income.

They discussed ways to cut back, but in the end she said, “Should I get a job?”

He took a deep breath. “I think it would make a difference.”

Her forehead was wrinkled. She wasn't convinced.

“We'll pray about it.” He nuzzled her hair. “It wouldn't have to be anything major. Maybe something temporary, just to get us over this hump.” He tried to encourage her with thoughts of change and adventure, of how shaking up the status quo could be a healthy, stretching experience.

“Kevin certainly shook up the status quo.”

Alec pulled her close. The issue of their friends' separation often hung between them like a fine mist, dampening their spirits. “That's different.”

She buried her head in his shoulder. “I miss sitting beside you at the games.”

“I miss you, too.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Alec, Kevin has a girlfriend.”

He sighed wearily. “I suspected as much. You don't just walk out on a good-looking, hardworking, fun-loving wife.”

“But if Val's so wonderful, why would he be attracted to someone else in the first place?”

“It happens. Some guys just want out of the day-to-day rat race. They think a different woman will save them from it.” He squeezed her. “You're stuck with me, though, sweetheart. I like everything about our life.”

“Except the checkbook.”

Anne sat on the edge of the chair, across a wide expanse of a desk. A middle-aged, blonde-streaked, short-haired, perky little woman named Jody sat across from her talking animatedly into the telephone.

Anne was in Rockville, at a temporary staffing office.

Alec had said some things that gave her second thoughts about that old stay-at-home commitment. Overtly, he hadn't pushed her to get a job, but the figures he showed her indicated that the family needed more from her than taking care of the house and volunteering right and left.

She glanced around the office. It was small but bright, full of cute knickknacks, photographs, and floral lithographs, as if this were the woman's home. Maybe it was.

Last night she and Alec had talked further. If she worked, he said, they could afford to buy her new, different clothes. It would be good for her to be out in the world, learn what was going on outside of Valley Oaks and the kids' version of reality. Alec's rambling touched a chord. Was something wrong with her wardrobe? Was her conversation too boring, centered as it so often was around their family?

Maybe it was the Val-Kevin issue that influenced her reaction. The fact that Kevin was seeing another woman— cheating on her most precious of friends—had put her on edge.

Before their talks, before her friends split, Anne had been comfortable with herself. Now she wondered if Alec still found her attractive. She didn't ask him, but the seeds of doubt had been planted.

“Anne.” Jody turned to her now. “Tell me about yourself. What's your experience?”

“I'm a mom.”

Jody smiled, encouraging. “And?”

“I don't type. I don't know computers. I coach basketball and work as a sales clerk at the Valley Oaks Pharmacy. I know the alphabet. I know how to clean, cook, drive, and condense five schedules into one.” She smiled back.

“And what did you do before you had children? Did you go to school?”

“I went to junior college for two years. Then I quit to get married and put my husband through grad school.”

“Doing?”

“I worked in an office, doing general clerk-related duties. Seventeen years ago. Computers weren't common.”

Jody laughed. “What did you study in school?”

Anne's mind's eye returned to memories long buried. “Art. I studied art.”

She was sure the woman had no order to place someone who, in another lifetime, interpreted the world with a paintbrush and oils.