One More Time (34 page)

“I feel a sudden need for a very very red lipstick.”

“You don’t wear red lipstick.”

“Then maybe it’s time I did. You can help me pick one out.”

“You’ll need something to wear with it.”

“Yes, that’s right. Something very very red.”

“And a vibrator for me,” Annette reminded her, still skeptical that her mother would buy her such a thing.

Her mother looked similarly surprised, then she passed a hand over her brow. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, because it sounds more like something your Aunt Maralys would say—”

That was interesting.

“—but knowing how to satisfy yourself might keep you from making mistakes over men.” Her mom smiled. “Scott Sexton, for example, might not be as great of a guy as you think he is. I’m already inclined to think less of him for not having noticed what a terrific girl you are.”

Annette shared a smile with her newly-cool mother, then sobered. “But how am I going to figure it out? I can’t ask anyone at school.”

Her mother sighed. “Did you look through all of my drawers?”

“No. Just the top one.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t check the bottom one. Left side at the back. There used to be a book there called
The Joy of Sex
.” Her mom frowned and looked at the ceiling. “You know, it’s been so long since I’ve glanced at it that I’ve almost forgotten about it.” Then she looked at Annette and winked. “Maybe it’s not even there anymore.”

“Maybe not.” Or maybe it wouldn’t be there soon. Annette found herself smiling. The alien robot mother replacement wasn’t all bad. She thought about the bra, knew it was a lure, but reached for a cereal bowl anyway. “Did you ever make a mistake about a guy, Mom?”

Her mom smiled back at her. “Not once.”

“Not even if Dad’s not coming back?”

“Not even.” Her mom didn’t even flinch, though Annette’s stomach felt like it dropped to her toes. “The thing is, Annette, that I don’t know what your father is going to do. And you know, it’s not really up to me. So, I’ve decided to try to not worry about it too much. You can’t make people happy, though we often try. People need to make themselves happy, so I’m going to focus on getting myself happy.”

“What? So, you don’t care about him?”

Her mom exhaled and looked away, and when she looked at Annette again, her eyes were glistening with tears. “I care a lot, maybe too much. I said I was going to try, but it’s not a given that I’ll succeed.”

“So, sometimes acting like an adult bites.”

Her mom shook her head at that. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

They eyed each other, almost smiling, almost crying, and Annette suspected they were going to end up having a hug. That was too much. It was, in fact, getting altogether too cozy in the kitchen.

There was a sound upstairs and Annette suddenly saw the upside of the witch finding her eating a healthy breakfast.

She picked up the box of cereal and checked the fine print on the side. “So, what is Riboflavin anyway?”

* * *

Leslie’s buoyant mood survived the shopping expedition, which was a first. She and Annette got along reasonably well on their adventure, though Annette had insisted that magenta was a better color for Leslie than vivid red. She was the proud owner of a fuchsia lipstick, as well as a matching twin set.

The color made her look younger. She’d be Marion the Librarian with attitude when she wore it, a prospect that made her smile.

Annette headed upstairs to study, the girls fast on her heels, and Leslie went to the kitchen. The first thing she saw was the package of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. Her initial reaction was to want one, but then she wondered what it would solve. All the chocolate in the world wouldn’t bring Matt back, and gorging on fattening foods wouldn’t solve anything.

It sure wouldn’t make her happy.

And what if her bras stopped fitting? Her heart nearly stopped at the prospect.

Leslie dropped the package of cookies into the trash just as the front door opened. “Hello?” Beverly called. “Anyone home?” The girls barked and came galloping down the stairs. Leslie glanced down the hall to find her mother in law being greeted with enthusiasm.

And laughing.

“Well, what a welcome! I don’t know that anyone ever cared this much about me coming home before.” Beverly patted Champagne and Caviar barked for a bit of attention, too. “Go on, into the kitchen, and I’ll show you what I’ve bought.”

The girls trotted down the hall, apparently having understood, and Beverly followed. “What a fuss,” she said, though she was clearly enjoying it.

“It looks like they missed you,” Leslie said.

“It’s a nice idea, whether it’s true or not.” Beverly put down her acquisitions and the girls immediately nosed into the plastic bags, sniffing the contents. “Out of the way, you curious creatures,” Beverly chided, and the pair sat back. Their ears were still perked up and they continued to watch Beverly with avid interest.

“Did you buy pork chops or steaks?” Leslie teased.

“Neither. Although I can’t believe that I did buy these.” Beverly pulled out a pair of stuffed squeaky toys made of brightly colored fake fur. Champagne barked while Beverly cut off the tags, then Caviar nudged the other impatiently with her nose. “There you go.” The two dogs pranced off with their prizes, then flopped on the carpet by the duct—which they seemed to have appropriated as their own space—and investigated the toys.

“What are they?”

“I think one is supposed to be a drill and the other a power saw.”

Leslie gave Beverly a skeptical look. “Made of fake fur?”

“Yes.” Beverly laughed then shook a finger. “Don’t forget the squeaker inside.”

Champagne found the squeaker in that moment and bounced to her feet at the noise the toy made. She excitedly pushed the toy with her nose until it squeaked again, then barked and pounced on the toy with both feet.

It clearly needed to be taught a lesson, because she settled in to chew on it. Caviar meanwhile was nudging her toy with greater insistence, seeking its squeaker.

“Well, you’ve made somebody happy today,” Leslie said with a smile. She opened the cupboards and found the box of sugar-coated cereal as well as two bags of potato chips, adding them to her accumulation of junk food trash.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of pacifiers.”

Beverly blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All the substitutes for emotional satisfaction. They’re all going away. They’re all unwelcome here. We’re going to be stable and strong and go after what we want without any high calorie crutches.”

“Is this for you or for Annette?”

“It’s for all of us.” Leslie snapped her fingers, remembering the new carton of triple chocolate fudge swirl ice cream. She pulled it from the freezer and dumped it into the trash bag.

“I don’t eat any of that stuff, so don’t imagine you’re doing it for me.” Beverly developed a sudden interest in gathering the bags of her purchases. “I’ll just take all of this upstairs.”

Leslie stepped into her path, having a very good idea what was in one of those bags. “What did you buy today? Besides dog toys?”

Beverly bristled. “Oh, just a few odds and ends.”

“That looks like a bottle.”

“Shampoo,” Beverly said quickly.

“We have lots of shampoo upstairs, which you’re welcome to use.”

“Oh no, this is for color-treated hair.” Beverly rummaged in the bag, produced the bottle of shampoo, then shoved it back into the bag. She wasn’t so quick, though, that Leslie didn’t see the other bottle in the bag.

“What’s this, then? Conditioner?” Leslie reached into the bag quickly and snagged the bottle of sherry before Beverly could step away.

At Leslie’s enquiring glance, Beverly exhaled. “Anyone would acknowledge that I’ve had a difficult week.”

“True. But they’d probably also tell you that it’s a good test of your determination.”

Beverly sighed. “That’s exactly what they did say.”

“You know and I know that this isn’t going to solve anything, not anymore than eating that carton of ice cream will fix my marriage.”

“And besides you’ll tell James on me.”

“No. No, I won’t.” Leslie leaned against the counter. “But I’m trying to go with some new house rules and everyone needs to play along if this is going to work.”

Beverly gave her a steely look. “It will not be my fault if Annette doesn’t lose weight.”

Leslie shrugged and glanced to the bottle.

Beverly grit her teeth and took the bottle. To Leslie’s surprise, her mother-in-law marched to the sink, opened the bottle and poured its contents down the drain. She cast one accusing glance over her shoulder as the bottle emptied. “This is reputed to be a very good straw sherry.”

Leslie shrugged. “The chocolate chip cookies were the best of the best. They still wouldn’t have fixed anything.”

Beverly watched the gold liquid go down the drain and when she finally spoke, her tone was pensive. “I hope that you’re not making a similar mistake to the one that I made.”

“What would that be?”

“I think that sometimes we women get a bit mixed up as to the role of the men in our lives. I think sometimes that we think of our husbands as the powerful ones in our marriage, almost as if we’ve married our own fathers. I think sometimes that we transfer our feelings and expectations regarding our fathers to our husbands, and I know that is neither fair nor expected.”

Leslie sat down heavily on a stool. Was she expecting Matt to make the same demands for her own success as her father did? Had she hidden her doubts and weakness from him for the same reason that she had hidden so much from her father: because she didn’t want to disappoint him?

It sure seemed like it.

Beverly meanwhile was putting the top back on the empty sherry bottle and setting it aside. “You see, my own father had been raised in affluence. He wasn’t the one who had made the family fortune: he’d just had the good luck to be born into it. I don’t know that he ever worked a day in his life. He was charming and carefree and had the most exquisite manners. He could dance all night and make anyone laugh, but he wasn’t a very practical man. If he had ever managed to spend all of that money – and believe me, he tried – he would have been in a predicament. He had no discipline, no drive, no desire to accomplish anything. He liked to have fun and that was the purpose of his life.”

Beverly pulled out another stool and sat sown beside Leslie. “My mother and he were two of a kind. They were more like kids than we were, and any discipline in our household came from our governess. That woman found herself outnumbered and outranked so many times that I think she eventually became overwhelmed with it all. I was allowed to do almost anything I wanted.” Beverly looked up. “Except, of course, I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant before I got married.”

“You didn’t.” Leslie made a token protest, but she knew that Beverly had been pregnant before her marriage to Robert. She knew that James, Matt’s elder brother, hadn’t been Robert’s son because that was why Robert had cast James out of the partnership and insisted upon taking Matt into the firm instead. She’d never heard the details though.

“I did,” Beverly said. “Imagine, if you will, that a child has been completely indulged and allowed to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, except one thing, one thing that isn’t even named.”

“That’s what she’s going to try to do.”

“Absolutely. I didn’t plan it deliberately, but it must have been somewhere in the back of my mind. I was young and I was in love – or so I thought – and I believed that anything could be forgiven. I really believed that there wasn’t much I could do wrong that would have lasting consequences. So I did what I wanted, and when he wanted to do that, I was game to try.”

Beverly met Leslie’s gaze and smiled, her eyes filled with wisdom and humor. “I didn’t get pregnant the first time which didn’t teach me anything. I had no appreciation of how lucky I had been.”

“You just thought it was something else you could get away with.”

“Exactly! It took me about six moths to get pregnant, which is pretty amazing given that I was young and healthy and so was he. But then it happened and I didn’t know what to do.”

“What about your boyfriend?”

“Oh, he left at the first sign of trouble.” Beverly shook her head. “He had a great deal in common with my father. We had a lot of fun together, but he has probably never yet had a job of any kind.”

“I thought you loved him.”

“So did I, until I realized I’d have to pursue him and live in much less luxurious circumstances. The governess explained it all to me to very stern terms. Maybe she was making up for all those years in which no one listened to her: I had no choice but to listen and heed her advice and she knew it.”

“What about your mother?”

“She fainted every time I tried to talk to her about it. I don’t think that one of her daughters being pregnant out of wedlock was fun, so she refused to have anything to do with it.”

Leslie eased her stool closer. “It must have bee very frightening for you.”

“Well, it could have been worse than it was. You see, there was an ambitious young man who had started to call on me. I hadn’t thought that he was very amusing, because he was serious and so driven, but in this crisis, he began to be more appealing to me. He was solid and reliable. He was stern and disciplined. He wasn’t much fun, but it seemed to me then that maybe we had had too much fun growing up and weren’t very aware of our responsibilities as a result. He was very aware of his responsibilities.”

“Robert Coxwell.”

“The very same. But here was my mistake: I didn’t want to tell him the truth, in case he took it badly or held it against me. He struck me as the kind of person who would have firm ideas of what a woman should be like and what she should do, and although I admired that, I didn’t want to fall short of the measure. So, I never told him and we were married quickly – impulsively, he thought, but I wanted to get down the aisle before I started to show – and we had one of the largest premature babies ever born in Massachusetts.”

Leslie laughed. “You had to subtract a couple of months from your pregnancy to make it sound legitimate.”