Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (35 page)

Popsy nodded, but her lips were set in a thin line of disapproval. Then she went back out. This annoyed Sandra. She’d apologized. What more did the woman need? Sandra followed her.

“Hey, you can’t still be annoyed with me, can you? I mean, over tea last night you gave me a tough time. I apologized then and now again this morning. What more can I do?”

Popsy looked at her. “We only had three days. Three. I’m not saying don’t go out to party, but did you have to write off one third of our vacation because you had to go at it so hard?”

“Popsy, I didn’t realize it would go on so late, but I have to say in the calm light of day, it was amazing. It was great to let my hair down, and Simon was just the guy to do it with because I was perfectly safe with him. I don’t mean to take away from what you’ve been through, but have you forgotten that I’ve lost my husband, too? Okay, he might not have passed, but at the risk of sounding unsympathetic, that might have been easier?”

Popsy gave her a dirty look. “You think that? Seriously?”

Sandra knew she’d gone too far and that Popsy’s pain was still intense. “Oh God, Popsy, I’m sorry. Nothing can be as hard as losing your husband.” She rushed to hug her, but Popsy backed away and flopped onto one of the sofas. Sandra sat on the edge of the other. “That was so cruel of me. I know you’re going through hell, adjusting to life without Peter. I’m so sorry.”

Popsy raised her hands. “No, Sandra, you’re right. I am being selfish. Your life has been appalling, too, and you were brave to say it. I haven’t been any support to you, and I just let you take care of me. That’s wrong, and I’m sorry,” she said and came over to Sandra. Now it was her turn to cry.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your last day in Ireland. I would never have done that on purpose. But that night just reminded me that I was still alive. Oh, Popsy, life is such a mess. Look at the two of us. Just a few months ago, we were at the top of the pack—Wellesley Wives. Everybody wanted us at their parties and charity events. Now, what will we do?”

Popsy hugged her. “We have each other, and you know the darkest hour is just before dawn. We’ll be fine.” Sandra didn’t reply, but she was calmer now. Popsy pulled back and smiled. “I have an idea. Why don’t we try to get a job?”

“I assume you’re talking about when we get back home—like you don’t want to do this today or anything.” Sandra laughed.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought it through that much. I’m not sure we could work here without a visa, so I guess we would have to do it at home, but it could be fun. Or . . . we could work here illegally.”

“What? Are we outlaws now? What did you have in mind?”

Popsy sat back. “I have no idea, but you know I love flowers, so I was thinking I could open a little flower shop,” she said and smiled.

“And I still have my real estate license. I was just thinking about it recently. I know real estate is in the toilet right now, but I think I could take a refresher exam and renew it if it’s outdated. But you do know the fastest way to get rich?”

“Marry money,” they both said.

Their spat was over.

Sandra hugged Popsy. “We’re too close to let anything come between us.”

“I agree,” Popsy said. “But you have to get going on your packing. I’ll head down to reception to check out.”

“You can’t do that. This was my treat, so I need to sign off.”

Popsy’s voice was soft when she said, “Sandra, you’ve been so kind. You flew me over and paid for the hotel, but you have limited funds, and you know I want to give you some of Peter’s life insurance money. “

“We can argue about that when we get back to Boston,” Sandra said. She hadn’t yet agreed to accept the amazing gift.

“We have to support each other financially and emotionally from now on,” Popsy said. “We’re like the
Golden Girls
, only much younger.”

Sandra laughed. “You’re a tonic, Popsy, and you’re right. We’ll muddle through.”

“Muddle? I don’t think so. We’ll sail on through—like swans—graceful on top and paddling like hell underneath,” she said, then headed out.

Sandra didn’t move. She was too comfortable, sitting on the big, white sofa. It was impossible to stay depressed with Popsy around. That was the magical component of their relationship. It always seemed that when one was down, the other rallied. For the last few months, Popsy had been in a bad place and Sandra was there for her. But as soon as Sandra showed any sign of weakness, Popsy rose to the challenge and became the support. As she stood and headed to her room, she realized it was better than a marriage.

If Jack came home in a bad mood, she would never pander to him but would be cool and aloof. Likewise, if he saw she was sad or tearful, he would look to heaven, make some derogatory comment about women, and go off to his study. Perhaps her marriage had been on the road to ruin even without Lily Power. Still, it would have been better if Jack had had the decency to break up with her before he found her replacement. Even nicer if he found a replacement outside their social circle and within their generation. She was still too angry to think about it.

What a relief to hear that Popsy had money, though. Sandra had been worrying how long she would last on her $100,000. Sure, it was a lot of money but not when you were looking at the rest of your life. Naturally, she would fight Jack for more, but if he didn’t have it, what could she do? She’d already returned all her jewelry to her personal jeweler in Wellesley. They’d been friends for over a decade. He was very discreet and a terrific salesman. She left her pieces with him and he said he would sell them on her behalf through the shop, piece by precious piece. He’d told her if she was in a desperate rush, he could sell them fast at the diamond exchange, but she would get a lot less. Worse yet, if it was what he called a “fire sale,” he could buy them from her at a quarter of what they were insured for. Sandra told him she could wait and get the best price. There had to be around $400,000 worth of jewelry in her collection. She’d been thinking she could use that money to buy a small house, but now Popsy was talking about them sharing a place. It was a nice idea.

Popsy was being very generous with the insurance money, but Sandra had been careful not to accept just yet. There was so much to consider. Yes, Popsy was her best friend, and they were just about as close as two straight women could be, closer than sisters even, but there was the whole Lily/Jack thing to think about, too.

If Sandra stayed, she would have to see Jack regularly, and she didn’t know if she was that strong. What if Lily got pregnant? It wasn’t unthinkable. Everybody knew that Jack was finished with having babies, but if Lily just had a little “accident,” what then?

Sandra knew she shouldn’t dwell on things like that. It really had nothing to do with her. The reality was she should try to put as much distance as possible between herself and Jack, now that it looked like their break was permanent.

Being in Ireland had given her more objectivity. It was good to get away because she could step back and look at her life from a more candid perspective. Meeting Simon had been terrific. The fact that he was gay was an added bonus. Had he been straight, Sandra was pretty sure she would have tried to seduce him. She already had a creeping suspicion that she might have tried to “convert” him at one point that night.

Before he left, they’d swapped contact details and swore to stay in touch. He’d been very strong on the moving-up-and-on advice and even told her to leave Wellesley. He thought she should move to New York, to LA, or even Miami to have some fun and find a new love. That was easy for him to say. He was just getting settled into a new relationship in the party capital of Europe. Who did she know in any of those other cities? Still, it was something she should at least consider. Staying in Wellesley would not be easy. Not if Jack and Lily were going to live in the same town.

She was pretty sure Jack was living with Lily in her Boston apartment, but it was only a matter of time before Popsy forgave Lily. What then? She would start visiting Popsy, and wouldn’t she occasionally bring Jack? That would become the norm and where would that leave Sandra? Hiding out in a bedroom, avoiding the man who’d dumped her for a younger model? Olga had moved with her girls. That was the smart thing to do.

Sandra pulled out her suitcase but then spotted her cooling coffee and the perfect Four Seasons scone. The packing could wait another few minutes. Savoring what might be her last scone in Ireland, she toyed with the idea of staying there. Was it really so crazy? Boston was three thousand miles from Dublin and the same distance from California. She’d always assumed that Ireland was farther away, but it was only a five-hour flight—a mere hop and a skip. She sure liked the way they partied, and she loved the food. The climate didn’t seem too bad. It was cold, but not as harsh as the Boston winters.

Popsy had said something about visas. Maybe she wouldn’t be allowed to stay. She would need to investigate that. It could be tricky. Then she thought of Sven. He managed to live here even though he was German. It really was a shame they hadn’t met. He was so cute. But what did it matter? She was going home to her old, crappy life in a few hours. That was the horrible reality.

Popsy came tearing into her room just as Sandra was finishing her scone.

“Sandra, you won’t believe what they told me downstairs! Dublin airport is closed. There’s some big volcanic eruption in Iceland and no planes can fly over it. All of Scandinavia is closed down, and there’s no air travel at all between North America and Europe.” Her eyes were huge with panic and disbelief.

“What about our flight?” Sandra asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We can’t get home.”

“Because of the smoke?”

“It’s not just smoke. It’s clouds of ash and that means tiny particles of stone. They would jam up a plane engine. It’s very dangerous, in fact.”

“No smoke without fire.”

“What does that mean?”

For a moment Sandra was quiet and then smiled broadly. “I’ll tell you what it means. We’re stranded. We can’t get home, and that means we’re still on vacation.”

“No, Sandra, this isn’t good. I was supposed to be home to take over for Matilda today. She’s terrific, but she can’t drive. She can’t fill the house with food. I need to get back.”

“Popsy, sit down and stop panicking. Have you re-booked this suite for another few days?”

“Oh, I never thought of that. I was focusing on getting home. Could we catch a boat, do you think?”

“That would take weeks. Switch on the television and find out what you can about the volcano, and I’ll book us in for another few nights. Don’t worry, Popsy. Things will be back to normal soon enough. We’ll call Matilda and everything is going to be fine, you’ll see,” she said before leaving the room.

As she walked through the lobby, she bumped into Gerald, their driver. She’d really liked him.

“How are my favorite American ladies?” he asked.

“We’re great, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to catch our flight today. The airports are closed.”

“Well, if that doesn’t beat Banagher,” he said, using his favorite expression again. “I was to drive a couple of guests to the airport earlier this morning and they’re cancelled, just the same. It’s causing pandemonium.”

Sandra loved his musical voice. The five syllables of pan-de-mon-i-um sounded like a children’s nursery rhyme, but what he said was worrying. “What do you mean?

“Well, the hotel is full. It’s always full, and now the clients that were due to check out have nowhere to stay. Hotels are filling up by the minute. Better get yourself sorted quick, love.”

This hadn’t occurred to her. She said good-bye to Gerald and headed for the already-crowded reception desk.

“You were right,” she said to Popsy a little sheepishly half an hour later. Popsy was still glued to the flatscreen in her bedroom. Even in a crisis, Sandra marveled over how immaculate the room was. Popsy’s case was packed and zipped up, sitting by the door and ready for departure.

Sandra’s room, on the other hand, looked like a bomb had hit it. Clothes and shoes covered the floor, and handbags, scarves and an alarming amount of bras were scattered all over, all creating a general flea market feel. Her suitcase lay open and empty on top of her rumpled bed. Yet, somehow, the chaos worked for her.

“What’s wrong?” Popsy asked.

“Well, it’s the biggest eruption ever recorded from this volcano. It’s belting out like a billion tons of ash per second or something like that. They’re pretty stressed out downstairs. They say they’re fully booked tonight, so we can’t keep the room, but there are a lot of their new arrivals that were due to fly in today who won’t make it, so there’s a good chance that by mid-afternoon they’ll have quite a few cancellations. If we hang around, we should get a room, but we do have to get out now. What a drag.”

“But, what about Natasha?”

“We’ll get home in a day or two. Matilda can manage that long. Didn’t you say Lily offered to help? I don’t think they’re going to starve. And anyway, doesn’t Roche Brothers deliver to you every week?”

Popsy looked back at the television. “They’re saying the airports could be closed for up to a week. We could be stuck here for much longer. Nobody knows.”

“Wow.” Sandra sat down next to Popsy at the foot of the bed. “Well, I guess we could take a boat to the UK, then a train down to Europe, and catch a plane over to South America. Then we could fly up to Boston that way.”

Popsy looked at her with a shocked expression. “That sounds a little excessive.”

“Well, you’re the one freaking out about Natasha. She’s fine, Popsy. Phone Lily and tell her to get over there, and I’ll finish packing.”

“Finish? You haven’t even started yet. I saw the state of your room.”

It looked like she was beginning to accept that there was absolutely nothing she could do about the situation. Good, Sandra thought.

She took a shower and threw her jeans on along with the sweater she’d brought for her day at Trinity College and thought about suggesting that Popsy take her to
The Book of Kells
now that they had more time. But she wasn’t really that enthusiastic about it. She squeezed everything into her suitcase and sat on top of it to get it closed.