A Time to Mend (11 page)
She said, “It reminded me of when we first dated. I knew you could whup my dad with one hand tied behind your back.”
The corners of his mouth slid a millimeter upward. “I didn’t meet your family until after we eloped.”
“But they still scared me long-distance. You made all the difference, almost the instant we met in the college library. My knight in shining armor. I remember the first time we spent the night together. I didn’t miss my stuffed lion after that.”
She wondered when she had begun to miss the lion again. She wondered if Max wondered.
He smiled. “Our first night together, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
“It’s a good memory, then?”
He laughed.
She dug in her handbag for a tissue.
The pilot interrupted, coming back to tell them something, and the moment passed. Afterward, Max excused himself and returned to his laptop. She blew her nose and eventually napped.
One-sided as it was, the conversation with Max had felt good and right. Traces of security lingered even as they landed in San Diego. In the limousine she scooted next to him until their shoulders touched. Quiet was okay, as long as he was close by. Maybe they could go home and begin figuring out what had happened last week. Maybe her mother-in-law’s reconciliation prayers were being answered.
He took her hand. “Claire, I have to stop at the office. My car’s in the lot. I told the driver to take you on home. I should be there in, uh, an hour.” He squeezed her hand and let it go.
She stiffened. His ballpark guesses on time never hit the mark, and he knew that. And he knew that she knew.
“Two hours, tops. You can get settled in. We can order pizza. Or I’ll swing by Mille Fleurs, bring home something nice. I’ll call you before I leave. We can decide then.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’ll be fine, hon. I won’t be long. I know how hard this trip was on you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Ten silent minutes later, he kissed her on the cheek and got out at the office, attaché and overnight bag in hand.
Two minutes after that, alone in the back of the limo speeding toward home, Claire began to shiver. Fears swooped upon her, typical aftershocks from a visit to her hometown. She felt an overwhelm-ing sense of insecurity and ugliness. She usually managed to swat such thoughts away by reminding herself she was an intelligent, grown woman with a family who loved her and important community work to do.
But her defenses were down tonight, lowered because Max had comforted her. He had made her feel safe and secure. He had shown up at the funeral home, her knight.
Now he was gone.
Pfft
. Like the wind.
She should have told him she needed him to stay with her. One or two or whatever hours from then would be too late.
But hadn’t she already told him? Hadn’t she already revealed her heart to him in such an obvious way that even he could catch on? Hadn’t she given him all the credit for her feelings of safety and security? Last night she had begged him not to leave her. Why wouldn’t he care enough to skip the office for one evening?
Because his heart remained impenetrable. He couldn’t feel a thing. He thought all was fine again now that she’d cried on his shoulder. He figured they’d carry on, slide back into the status quo.
Shortly before the exit to her house, she gave the driver Tandy’s address. He had to backtrack, get off the freeway and back on, take another one that cut inland, meet heavy side-road traffic. She figured the extra cost was less than her funeral costs, which she surely would incur if she drove herself.
The man carried her luggage and all those heavy boxes of her mother’s into Tandy’s condo, stacking them neatly along the entry wall. Her friend didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Claire reached Max on his cell at the office. “I’m at Tandy’s.”
“Oh, honey.”
She closed her eyes. His term of endearment didn’t touch the sore part inside of her. “Thank you for being at the funeral and after. It—it just isn’t enough.”
“I don’t know how else to do it.”
“And I don’t know how else to say I can’t keep it up.”
“Keep what up? Our life? Blast it, Claire! I don’t get it! Weren’t we just fine on the plane?”
“We were fine on the plane, and then
you went back to work
. You left me, Max! You leave me every single time work takes precedence over us.”
“That’s quite a stretch, Claire. Another low blow. Worse than the stale commercial remark.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Guess that’s why you’ve moved out.”
“I’m sorry.” She pressed a fist to her stomach. “I don’t think I have a choice. For now.”
“For now. Well, do me a small favor and call when ‘now’ is over.” Deep anger and hurt came through his tone.
Her stomach ached. “I’m sorry. I—I’ll call.” She didn’t know how to end the conversation.
Max did. He hung up.
C
laire really didn’t know why she was there.
Fingers gripped around the steering wheel, she gazed across the big parking lot. She had parked several rows away, out of sight of any casual observer, but the angle gave her a clear view of the Beaumont Staffing storefront.
Was she going inside or not?
It was a busy place, centered in the strip mall between a gift shop and a travel agency.
If she went inside, she would have to smile at the front desk women and ask if Max was available, and could they please page him if he wasn’t in his office.
It galled her, how she had to ask permission to see her own hus-band. Millions of dollars in sales had made him inaccessible.
Someone emerged now from the building. A young woman. Attractive, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She grinned and glanced over her shoulder.
Max was on her heels.
They stood together on the sidewalk, conversing, laughing. Max touched her forearm.
Tandy said somebody was going to sue him someday. Claire doubted it. He was too endearing. Women loved him.
Max gave the stranger a quick, one-armed hug, and then he went back inside as she walked away.
The whole thing lasted only three minutes, but waves of fear and anger gushed through Claire.
No way was she going inside.
Unable to either get out of the car or drive away, Claire just sat and waited for the pain to subside. She hadn’t always despised the business. Beaumont Staffing truly was a dream come true. Max’s dream, first of all, but he welcomed her to join him in it.
Thirty-three years ago next month, she and Max had found the office space. Back then it had been small and unassuming. But it had grown up along with the palm trees around the lot. The entrance doors were now double ones and led into an expanded version of the original area. Plate-glass windows revealed a busy lobby. A large sign sat atop the walkway overhang.
Beaumont Staffing—The Door to Your Future.
Royal blue lettering and silver designs. Overall the effect was warm and welcoming.
Had they been crazy or what? They’d planned to save the world one person at a time by finding them employment. Caution never entered their minds. With wild abandonment, they signed a year’s lease on this very office. She remembered the owner’s bewilderment, how he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he had agreed to such generous terms.
It was all Max, of course. She knew firsthand the force of his personality. It was infectious. She hadn’t been able to get enough of him. Eight months after the lunacy of love at first sight, she eloped with him, eager to be his wife and his business partner, forever and ever.
Tears burned, and she pressed her lips together to keep from cry-ing. What had happened to them?
“Claire?”
Startled at the voice calling out her name, Claire turned toward the window and saw Neva, longtime employee at Beaumont Staffing. The woman moved in her direction, skirting several parked vehicles.
Claire’s muscles tensed. Her tears vanished, and she arranged her expression into something more neutral: not quite friendly, not quite cold.
Steeling herself like that was an old, habitual response to Neva. There were obvious reasons for it. Neva was everything Claire was not: petite and cute and bilingual with an intriguing accent. And Max’s business partner.
Neva reached the empty slot next to Claire’s car and removed her sunglasses. “Hi. How are you?”
“Okay.” Her smiled faltered. “You know.”
“Yeah.”
“How are you?”
“Concerned for you and Max.” Neva’s eyes glistened.
That was the other thing about Neva that bugged Claire. She could be so kind. It made it difficult to unabashedly dislike her.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Are you coming inside?”
“I . . . Max and I . . .” She shrugged. Ten days had passed since they’d last talked. There were household details needing attention, new roles to be determined, boundaries to explore. No wonder she’d been sitting in the hot car for half an hour. She’d forgotten how to throw caution to the wind and embrace the unknown.
“Yeah,” Neva said again, as if she totally understood Claire’s di-lemma. “Do you have time for coffee?” She nodded toward a Starbucks at one end of the mall.
Claire’s muscles relaxed a little. She didn’t mind delaying her en-counter with Max, even if it meant hanging out with Neva. “Sure.”
T
hey sat at a corner table and sipped iced Americanos.
Claire asked, “Does Max still avoid this place?”
“You mean like the plague?” Neva chuckled. “No. He either had to give up espresso or his one-man boycott against the entire chain.”
Claire’s stomach tightened again. It was news to her. Max, the eternal supporter of “the little guy,” such as he himself once was, refused to patronize the coffee chain store when she was with him.
Neva said, “You know how we’d send the newest staff person to get him coffee at that independent café down the road?”
She nodded.
“About eight months ago we hired Sarah. Have you met her?”
Claire hadn’t, but she took a wild guess. “Long blonde hair?”
“Yeah. She’s different.” Neva’s eyebrows rose. “Kind of flaky but endearing. Save the whales and all that. She reminds me of Lexi. Any-way, Sarah refused to waste gas driving when she could simply walk a few steps to the evil chain store. So she bought coffee here and put it in a thermos mug. Then she’d wait to give it to him, pretending it took her longer than it actually did. One day she forgot to wait long enough, and he caught on. He just laughed and quit the boycott that very day.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did he quit?”
Neva’s smile faded. “He realized how silly he was being, I suppose.”
“And he realized that because this Sarah called him on it.”
“Well, we all supported her.”
“Whatever.” Claire heard the envy in her tone, but she wasn’t about to pull back now. She was always playing second fiddle to the likes of Sarah and Neva. “You know what, Neva? I feel left out of Max’s life. The office is his home; the staff is his family. It’s always been that way.”
“We’re not. Not really.”
“Give me a break. I mean, does this not register with you? A stranger named Sarah can call him on something and he flip-flops long-held, die-hard convictions. I finally call him on his marital priorities, but he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even consider changing one thing about his lifestyle.”
“I don’t know how you waited so long.”
Claire blinked, taken aback.
“Really. My ex-husband couldn’t even handle it for five years before he moved out.” Abruptly, she lifted her coffee and directed all her attention to taking a drink.
Another wave of ambivalence rolled through Claire, a churning mix of fondness, respect, envy, and anger. The anger part rose to the top.
“Is there more to that analogy?” She snapped her words. “Like maybe the agency is your first priority too? That there was no rea-son for you to leave it in order to save your marriage?”
Neva looked up. “Claire, I didn’t mean it that way. I was over thirty before I married. I should have known better. He didn’t under-stand my lifestyle from the get-go or why I wasn’t interested in having children. He didn’t understand my passion for working with people. You and Max have a long history together.”
“A long history of me playing second fiddle.”
“It could look like that. If you think of Max as playing first fiddle, though, it explains why Beaumont Staffing is so great. You two work as a team. You’ve always given him the freedom to succeed.”
“Right. That was my role—to let him go succeed outside the family. But while he was off being free and happy, our marriage got lost along the way.”
Neva nodded. “It seems inevitable in this culture, doesn’t it? Oh, Claire. You’ll work it out. You and Max are special.”
In the warmth of Neva’s concern, Claire’s anger melted. “You don’t think I’m being unreasonable, then?”
“Let’s just say I’m a woman who can empathize. I’m also his coworker.” She winced. “And the consummate fence-sitter. It’s the best way to urge clients and temps to get along.”
Claire studied Neva’s unlined face, its delicate features. In it she saw a femininity and an independent streak—qualities she herself did not possess.
“Neva, you probably wouldn’t put up with a man who gave 99 percent of his attention to another woman.”
“Max doesn’t—”
“Yes, he does! The staff is made up mostly of women. Women who adore him because he’s charming and attentive.”
“Okay, okay. He is those things, but it’s not like he’s there because we’re mostly women.”
“The thing is, though, you are in his day-to-day life, and I’m not. Sarah can change his mind, but I can’t. That just doesn’t seem right somehow, does it?”
Neva opened her mouth to speak. Claire didn’t give her the chance. “It’s not about Max playing first fiddle! It’s about you and his entire staff playing first fiddle instead of me. And now I’d better leave.” She stood. “Before I make a complete fool of myself.”
As if she hadn’t already.
She hurried back out into the bright sunshine and the safe con-fines of her car, where no one could witness her meltdown.
