The Touch of a Woman (7 page)

“The only thing your father dreads is being back in Modesto. It wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to stay right here in Scottsdale.”

Oliver and Susan Keene, now in their late seventies, had been married fifty-six years. It wasn’t what Ellis would call a love story for the ages, but they were undeniably companionable.

“What will he say when the thermometer hits one-fifteen?”

“I honestly don’t think he’d care. They have a clubhouse here with a pool, and I swear, he knows everybody in the place. He comes in practically every afternoon and tells me so-and-so is coming for dinner, or we’re going to their place. I have to drop whatever I’m doing and get ready.”

Though it sounded like a complaint, Ellis recognized the familiar dynamic. Her father was king of the castle—his plans, his preferences, his rules. In all her life, she couldn’t name a single time her mother had pushed back.

Her brother Stan, two years older, ruled his family the same way. While his wife Peggy acquiesced to his dictates, they’d struggled with their four children, all of whom resisted the rigid discipline. It was a constant source of friction in their home, one Ellis had worried would spill over with her own children.

She told herself often she was nothing like her mother, that she would have stood up to Bruce had he been too strict or selfish. As it was, he’d left the major child-rearing decisions to her.

“You should think about staying then, Mom. Or at least consider parking the RV and driving home in the car.”

“It’s up to your father…whatever he wants to do.”

It was silly to worry about her parents. Though her mom was quick to harp on her life, she didn’t want advice on how to make it better.

“I wish you could be here for Christmas. All the kids are coming to Sacramento. Bruno too. You remember him…Jeremy’s boyfriend.” She added that just to get under her mother’s skin. They’d never accepted the fact that their grandson was gay.

“Your father’s smoking a turkey. Did I tell you he bought a smoker?” She completely ignored the reference to Bruno, and launched into a detailed description of their latest cooking fad, followed by a rundown of their menu and the various neighbors who would be in attendance.

Ellis set her phone to its speaker function and listened politely, all the while touching up her nails with a fresh coat of polish. The monthly call gave her a chance to keep track of her parents’ well-being. Though her father repeated himself more often and her mom complained of arthritis, their health was generally good.

“That’s all I have on this end, Ellis. Tell everyone Merry Christmas from us, okay?”

She ended the call, noting as usual that her mother hadn’t asked how she was doing. Her parents had erected a wall between themselves and the shooting and its devastating aftermath. No regard for the suffering of their daughter and grandchildren, no concern for their financial struggles. As if it hadn’t happened at all.

Waving her hands to dry the polish, Ellis returned to the living room and peeked through the blinds. Summer’s car was in its space. She’d missed their workout, which was unusual for a weeknight. What else was there to do in Sacramento on a Monday evening?

Her interest in Summer had grown over the weekend as she considered whether or not to confide in her about what brought her to Sacramento. Sometimes she wished she could follow her parents’ cue—forget it all, pretend it never happened. In a way, that’s what she’d intended when she reverted to her maiden name. Gil had promised not to share her story with anyone at
Vista
, so there was no reason for her to bring it up.

Except the suffering continued, and would until every single party involved in the shooting agreed on a financial settlement. The insurance adjusters, the building management, the security company. The attorneys seemed hellbent on dragging out the process, whatever it took to justify their fee. All she really needed was enough to provide for her children—get Jonathan and Allison through college, and help Jeremy get his business off the ground. A nest egg would be nice. Until the lawsuit was settled, she faced nothing but grief and uncertainty.

Summer had known misery too, and surely had grieved her relationship with Rita. No matter how serious their problems, a person couldn’t spend that many years with someone and not feel a hole once she was gone.

It was interesting that her first new friend was a single lesbian. Besides Roxanne, her closest friends in the City had been women she met through school activities, particularly the mothers of her children’s friends. One had been a stay-at-home lesbian mom, a distinction that was easy to forget, since she was otherwise like all the other mothers.

On a whim, she scrolled through her contacts and hovered her thumb over Summer’s number. She had nothing pressing to say. The plate of cookies had been her invitation for friendship, something more than their casual interactions in the fitness center. Summer had responded that evening by talking in personal terms about her relationship with her ex. While Ellis hadn’t yet reciprocated that openness, she’d begun to feel that she could. But that was three days ago, and Summer had made no move to follow up.

“Hello! I was just thinking about you,” Summer said when she answered, her breath coming in short gasps.

“You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“I was doing sit-ups. I always feel guilty when I miss my workout. How are you doing? Did you have a good weekend?”

Ellis was glad to get such an enthusiastic response. “I dropped in on two of my kids. It’s amazing how excited they are to see you when you’re holding a plate of cookies.”

“Tell me about it. It was all Nate and Bree could talk about when their mom came to pick them up.” She went on to describe her weekend, which consisted of house cleaning, laundry and last-minute Christmas shopping for the office gift exchange.

“I got my Christmas shopping done before I left the City. But I had to pack everything in boxes labeled ‘lingerie’ so my kids wouldn’t open them when they helped me move. They must think I bought out Victoria’s Secret.”

They chatted for half an hour before Summer got around to the reason she’d missed her workout. “One of my friends has a bunch of people over for potluck every other Monday. After dinner we shoot pool, play cards…and sometimes the games can get kind of wild. That’s how I broke my toe—playing Twister with these crazy people.”

“Sounds like my family playing Spoons. You should come over sometime when they’re all here.”

“Careful what you ask for. I can dish it out too.”

Ellis let out her best evil laugh. “We aren’t scared of you.”

“In that case, I’m dragging you along next time I go to Courtney’s.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” It was one thing to have a lesbian as a friend, and quite another to immerse herself into a whole network. “Not so sure I’d fit in.”

“Hmm, you might be right. Someone as pretty as you would draw too much attention at a lesbian party.” Her compliment had come without a second’s hesitation.

“Aw, thank you.”

“Just telling it like it is. Do you like sushi? I know a great place we could go tomorrow after our workout. Cheap too.”

The quick transition to the subject of dinner meant Ellis didn’t have to take her compliment too seriously. “I’d love that.”

As she readied for bed, she considered Summer’s flattering remark. It was a sweet thing to say, and at the same time, lighthearted. She’d found it delightful. So different from her wolfish impression of Rex Brenneman as he’d examined her hand for a wedding ring.

The biggest difference though—Rex was serious. Summer wasn’t.

Nothing beat the turkey gumbo at Muntean’s on a rainy winter day. Wednesday’s special—tender white meat, okra and tomatoes, all cooked together in Cajun spices. Worth the walk, even in the rain.

Most days, Summer picked up lunch to go and ate in the break room but a prime table by the window made her rethink her habit. Gumbo was best when it was piping hot.

She was engrossed in a second-hand copy of
USA Today
when a familiar voice greeted her.

“Is it all right if I sit here?” Lunch tray already in hand, Rita waited for permission to pull out the other chair. Tall and big-boned, with ginger hair that tumbled about her shoulders, she was imposing as always. Today, an olive green pantsuit brought out the color of her eyes.

Rita worked in the auditor’s office on Capitol Mall, only six blocks from the Health and Human Services building. Muntean’s used to be one of their favorite meeting places, so it was only luck they hadn’t run into each other more often.

“Sure.” Summer didn’t feel trapped this time, not like when Rita had shown up at her apartment. One wrong word, one hint of agitation, and she could walk out.

“Love this rain, huh? Not that it’ll do much for the drought. Things going okay at work?”

“Work’s work.”

This was their usual verbal dance. Talk about the weather, work. Next would be friends, and finally, Rita would offer up her version of an apology for the last shitty thing she’d done.

“End of year’s a grind, isn’t it?” She grinned, showing off a double dimple that Summer had always adored. “I hung out with Queenie and Sam over the weekend. Did you catch the Niners game?”

“Nah, I braved the mall and got some Christmas shopping done.”

Three seconds…two seconds…

“I guess I ought to apologize for coming over to your apartment that night and getting your neighbors so upset.”

“You think?”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad. I couldn’t believe it when the cops showed up. That’s the problem with apartments. Everybody’s so close, they get in your business. That was flat out ridiculous. All I did was knock on your door.”

Summer tried her best not to take the bait, but she wasn’t going to let Rita get away with shifting the blame onto one of her neighbors. As evenly as she could manage, she replied, “That’s not the way I heard it, Rita. I know how you get when you’ve had too much to drink because I’ve heard it a million times. You yell, you curse. You call me names. People don’t like having to explain those words to their kids.”

Rita’s face reddened.

“And just so you know, ‘I guess I ought to apologize’ isn’t an apology. You need to do way better than that.”

“Would it do any good?”

“Some people say it makes them feel better.”

Rita dropped her sandwich on her plate and ran her hands through her hair, leaving behind a small piece of shredded lettuce Summer decided not to mention. “I know you’re pissed and I don’t blame you. It got away from me again. Some days I go home and have a drink—one gin and tonic or a glass of wine—and that’s it. It makes me feel like I’m in control again.”

“That’s your first mistake, Rita. The only thing you have control over is whether or not you drink that first one. After that, all bets are off.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I
do
have control. I haven’t had a drink since that night. I poured it all out the next day, I swear. And I’m not going to drink anymore.” She held up her hand as if taking an oath. “It was a close call. I would have been arrested if you and Queenie hadn’t taken me home.”

“Don’t think I didn’t consider it.” Her soup had gone cold, but she no longer had an appetite. Their conversations nearly always came to this. Rita would promise to quit, and then blame her eventual relapse on Summer for not coming back.

“I’m sorry, Summer. Very, very sorry. Give me a chance to prove that to you.”

“You don’t need to prove it to me. Prove it to yourself.” She shrugged into her raincoat. “It’s different this time. I know you don’t want to believe that, but I mean it. I’m not part of this equation anymore.”

“Please don’t go. Just talk to me.” Rita’s eyes were clouded with tears. Surprising since she wasn’t normally a crier. Could this time actually be different? “I feel like I’m finally on the right track. That was a wakeup call. Can you just be my friend? I’m not sure I can do this without you.”

It wasn’t quite the same as threatening to hurt herself—she’d done that before too—but it was every bit as emotionally manipulative. “You
can
do this, Rita. All you have to do is decide which person you want to be. The one in control of her behavior, or the one making a drunken spectacle of herself. You can’t go back and forth between those two people. It’s got to be one or the other.”

Rita nodded and wiped her nose with her napkin.

“I’m willing to bet you don’t like yourself very much right now. Nobody likes regretting things they’ve done. And nobody likes feeling scared about what could have happened. You should seriously consider talking to somebody…a substance abuse counselor. They know how to help you deal with this.”

“I don’t need that kind of help,” she said sharply, before looking around to see if anyone had heard. “All I’m saying is this would be a lot easier if I knew getting sober meant you’d at least consider taking me back.”

“No. I’m over you.” Summer rose and slung her purse over her shoulder. Leaning close so she could keep her voice low, she added the message Rita most needed to understand. “I have no intention of being your reward for doing something you have to do for yourself. That’s the bottom line here. The only guarantee you have for turning your life around is how
you’re
going to feel about it. Stop trying to make it sound like I have anything to do with it. Because I don’t.”

* * *

Ellis pinched a slice of California roll with her chopsticks and dipped it in soy sauce. Not the greatest sushi she’d ever had, but hard to beat at four dollars a roll. Summer knew the best neighborhood places to grab a cheap meal. Cheap also meant casual, so they’d come straight from their workout wearing exercise tights and sneakers. Tucked in a booth under the dim light of a Japanese lantern, they could have worn pajamas and no one would have known.

“I can’t believe Rita still thinks her guilt trip’s going to work on me. Like it’s my responsibility to keep her sober.” Summer took a bite of her Dynamite roll and chased it with a gulp of ice water.

“So just between us…is there any chance you’ll take her back if she cleans herself up?”