Day by Day (16 page)

Barbara smiled. “I’d like to think so.”

Judy got to her feet. “Me, too, which is cause for celebrating, which means it’s time for the refreshments that I saved for after our meeting tonight.” She took a plate from the refrigerator and set it on the table. While her friends studied the plate filled with slices of tart green apples and several varieties of sweeter red apples with the skin still attached, she tapped the start button on the microwave, set out napkins and a small bowl of crushed nuts.

After she retrieved a bowl of fresh whipped cream from the refrigerator and put that on the table, she only had to wait half a minute before the microwave buzzed. She used a pair of pot holders to carry the bowl of bubbling caramel sauce to the table and grinned. “Help yourselves, ladies. There are a few rules, though. No plates. No bowls. No utensils. We dip, we eat and hopefully we’ll all have a good giggle or two before you have to leave.”

True to tradition, the women were quickly gabbing and eating and dripping caramel sauce and whipped cream on the table as well as themselves. To a casual observer, the three of them were acting like schoolgirls, complete with silly comments and more than a few giggles apiece. Judy knew, however, as she glanced around the table, that the silliness and the giggles would not last. They were mature women who were all struggling with crushing new responsibilities, frightening mood swings, or personal tragedies as best they could.

Unfortunately, Judy also suspected that the days and weeks ahead would bring new challenges to each of them. She had no idea what the challenges would be or for whom or that one would arrive so soon.

T
he elementary schools in Welleswood had many traditions for marking Thanksgiving as a national holiday. The annual “First Thanksgiving” feast prepared by PTA volunteers for the children to share the day before the holiday was much more of a favorite than the history lessons filled with Pilgrims and Native American Indians. In addition, the school had half days that shortened week so teachers could hold individual parent conferences and distribute reports cards for the first time that year.

Ginger left her appointment with Vincent’s teacher, Mr. Norcross, just before four o’clock with a bounce to her step and a smile on her face that deepened the moment she stepped outside and spied Barbara and Judy chatting together on the sidewalk in front of the school. “Are you two coming or going?” she asked as she approached them.

“I’m leaving. Barbara just got here. I guess I don’t have
to ask how Vincent’s doing. You’re beaming,” Judy noted with a bit of envy in her voice.

“He’s doing great. He got an
S
for
satisfactory
in all areas, except one. Art.”

“Art?” came the chorus of disbelief.

Ginger shrugged. “I don’t understand it, either. He loves to draw and he’s about ready for a new sketch pad, although he hasn’t been ready to share his drawings with us yet.” She wrinkled her nose. “Apparently, he doesn’t like drawing whatever Mr. Norcross tells the class to draw. But if that’s Vincent’s only way of rebelling, I’m not going to complain. How’s Brian doing?”

Judy let out a sigh. “Okay, I guess. I feel like I’ve stepped back in time. Honestly, I’m convinced at this point that there must be a gene for spelling. Candy couldn’t spell for beans and neither can Brian, apparently. We’re going to try making flash cards. For math, too. But his behavior is great, so I’m going to take that as a positive sign.”

Barbara checked her watch. “Oops! I’m late, and I’ve got a double appointment for the twins. I’ll catch up with you two another time,” she promised and hurried into the school.

Ginger nodded toward the avenue. “Tyler came home early to watch Vincent. It’s such a beautiful Indian summer day, I walked up to the school. Have you got time for a cup of coffee at The Diner?”

“I wish I did. I have to get to the bank to talk to one of the loan officers, George Winston, about getting that home equity loan, but I’ll walk with you.”

They fell in step and started toward the avenue, passing younger mothers on their way to Park Elementary. In the
distance, the elevated train that bisected the community carried passengers back and forth from deep in South Jersey to Philadelphia. “Everything seems to be coming together for you,” Ginger said. “How soon will it be before you know if you can actually buy Pretty Ladies?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve still got a long way to go. Some days I’m so excited I can’t stand still. The prospect of owning my own business is such an unbelievable dream, I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and find out that’s all it is—a dream.” She shivered. “Today, I’m just really, really nervous. Putting my house on the line and risking the only thing of value I own…Whoa! That’s got me petrified. I just hope I can keep my head and answer all Mr. Winston’s questions today so the bank will agree to give me the home equity loan.”

Ginger nudged her friend’s arm. “You did your homework, so don’t worry. This is the right thing to do. I’m sure you’ll do fine and the bank will approve the loan.”

“Two hours ago, I would have agreed with you,” Judy countered. She stopped talking when they reached the curb, checked for traffic and crossed the side street. “Right now, I’m not so sure.” She pointed to a little girl swinging on a playground set in one of the yards they were passing.

“That’s how it’s been for me ever since we all met at my house. One minute, I’m up, close to feeling totally positive this is the right thing to do. The next minute, I’m back to thinking I’m making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” She checked her watch. “In fourteen minutes, I have my meeting with George Winston, so I don’t have much time left to make up my mind, do I?”

“Not much,” Ginger conceded. “What does your gut tell you?”

Judy laughed. “My gut? Other than the fact that it’s telling me to eat a lot less chocolate and caramel apples, it’s saying to take a leap of faith and buy the salon.”

Ginger put her arm out to stop Judy, stepped in front of her and faced her eye to eye. “Then do it. Jump off the swing, land, plant your feet on the ground and don’t look back. Look ahead. You’ve had to do that to survive after Frank died, after Brian came to live with you, and ever since you found out Candy had run away from that halfway house in San Diego, haven’t you?”

“True.”

“Then why is this time any different?”

Judy’s gaze darkened. “Because I’m not alone any more. I have Brian to consider now.”

Ginger tilted up her chin. “Exactly. And all the more reason to recognize what an incredibly strong woman you are.” When Judy opened her mouth to argue, Ginger silenced her by holding up her hand. “You are strong. You have drive. You have talent. And you have clients who are depending on you. So jump, will you? Barbara and I will be there if you don’t land exactly right.”

Judy squared her shoulders and smiled. “You’re right. Thanks. For all the nice things you said, too.”

Ginger looped an arm with one of Judy’s and started them toward the avenue. “You’re welcome. Just do me one favor.”

“Which is?”

“Promise you’ll be in my corner when I think I’m ready to give up the fight.”

On her way home, Ginger stopped at the stationery store to buy a new sketch pad for Vincent. On impulse, she
also bought a card for Tyler, one of the “I still love you because” cards she used to give him a lot more often. She hesitated for only a moment, then selected a card for Mark and Denise to reassure them that they were not forgotten, even though most of their parents’ energies had been focused on their baby sister lately. When she passed the Butcher Bloc, she turned around and went back inside to pick out three steaks to grill for dinner. McAllister’s Bakery was too far away in the opposite direction from home to get something special for dessert, so she scooted into The Diner and bought one of their cherry cheesecakes, Vincent’s favorite.

Ginger was troubled as she walked home, but hopeful that tonight’s surprise celebration would help to ease Vincent’s disappointment that Lily had not called him for weeks now. Ginger had only spoken to her daughter once since their meeting at the airport, but Lily had cut their conversation short, as usual. Although Tyler had spoken to both Mark and Denise, who had each called to say they would not be home for Thanksgiving, he had not spoken to Lily at all. He refused to discuss her, other than to say Vincent was better off without her, a sentiment Mark and Denise both shared.

Apparently, Lily had not made any plans to come home for Thanksgiving. Otherwise, she would have returned the message Ginger had left on her cell phone, with Tyler’s reluctant blessing, suggesting Lily and Paul might want to slip out of Boston and spend the holiday here with Lily’s family. Since they had already spent so much time with Paul’s family, Ginger felt her request was fair, and could be an opportunity for all of the adults to sit down and see if
Lily would reconsider her decision not to make Vincent a part of her new life.

Loaded down with packages meant to recognize Vincent’s good report card, she managed to get home and inside her back door without dropping anything or running into Tyler or Vincent. She put the steaks and the cheesecake into the refrigerator, wrapped Vincent’s new sketch pad, wrote a personal note inside Tyler’s card and hid them inside one of the cabinets. Next, she wrote a note inside each of the cards for Mark and Denise asking them to be patient with Lily and reassuring them of their parents’ love, as well as sharing the good news about Vincent’s report card. When she heard heavy footsteps coming up the basement stairs, she set Mark’s and Denise’s cards aside, unfolded Vincent’s report card and held it out to Tyler when he joined her in the kitchen.

He wiped his hands on his work jeans and met her questioning gaze with a frown. “Good thing I was here. The hot water heater decided today would be a good day to die. I just finished cleaning up the mess. I called Joe. He can’t come to put in a new one until tomorrow, so it’s cold showers tonight. I sure hope this report card has good news for me.”

She kissed his cheek, and she was extra glad she had thought to buy a card for him. “It sure does. Take a look.”

He studied the report card and laughed. “He got an N, needs improvement, in art?”

She giggled. “I had the same reaction. Maybe you could have a talk with Vincent about following directions and drawing whatever the teacher wants him to draw?”

Tyler nodded. “Playing sports would be so good for
him. He’d learn to follow the rules, follow directions, get a little more self-confidence—”

“He doesn’t like sports,” she reminded him. “Maybe he would do better in school with art if he took art lessons. If he had some sort of assignment to do for his art teacher, he might be more inclined to do it, which might carry over into school.”

“And maybe he’d show his sketch pad to his teacher. I’m still not convinced it’s been such a good idea to let him keep it to himself or not to mention we know he didn’t lose those two backpacks, that he hid them in Lily’s closet.”

“We’ve talked about this before. He’ll tell us about the backpacks when he’s ready, and the sketch pad is all he has that’s completely his own. It’s like his diary. He’ll show us his drawings when he’s ready. It’s not like he’s been asking us to buy him another backpack or acting out in a way that would make us concerned about his drawings.”

Tyler let out a sigh. “Art lessons. I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

She kissed him again. “You’re a dear sweet man. Do you want to ask him about taking art lessons or should I?”

He glanced down at his dirty jeans. “Why don’t you go upstairs and show him his report card while I get changed? We can ask him together. I won’t be long.”

“Good idea. Oh, I wrote a quick note to Mark and Denise, too. I left the cards out on the counter in case you wanted to add something. And I picked up some steaks for dinner,” she told him as they went up the stairs together.

“Do you feel like firing up the grill or should I—”

“I’ll grill the steaks after I jot something on the cards for the kids.”

When they got to the top of the stairs, she kissed him again.

He grinned. “Maybe Vincent should get a report card more often.”

“And maybe you should come home early from work more often,” she teased. After he turned to go into the master bedroom, she hummed softly as she made her way down the hall. She passed Lily’s old bedroom and knocked at Vincent’s door.

No answer.

She knocked again. When he didn’t respond, she inched the door open and expected to find him either completely engrossed in his drawing or asleep on his bed.

He was neither.

He was not sitting at his desk. He was not in his bed.

The room was empty. Neat as a pin, but empty.

More confused than alarmed, she walked back to Lily’s room and peeked inside. That room was empty, too. Maybe he was in the bathroom. She went to the end of the hall to the bathroom. Empty.

“Vincent? It’s Grams!” she cried.

No answer, but her cry brought Tyler out of their bedroom. Ginger hurried to him. “I can’t find Vincent. He’s not here.”

Tyler frowned. “What do you mean, he isn’t here? I came upstairs with him only an hour ago and told him to stay in his room until I had the basement cleaned up.”

Her heart started to race. “Well, he’s not here.”

Tyler strode past her and checked all of the upstairs rooms for himself. “He doesn’t seem to be any good at following my directions, either,” he grumbled as he came back
to her. “He wanted to play with Jeremy down the street, but I said no. Vincent must have waited until I went down to the basement before he slipped out. Wait here. I’ll go get him.”

“No. I’ll call. It’s faster,” she urged. “You check the rest of the house.”

“There’s no need to panic. He’s probably at Jeremy’s house playing those video games he’s not supposed to play.”

“I hope you’re right, but it’s not like Vincent to deliberately disobey you, or me, for that matter. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She hurried into her bedroom to the telephone while her husband went downstairs.

Her fingers shook as she tapped in her neighbor’s telephone number. When the answering machine picked up, she did not bother to leave a message. She hung up the telephone and practically raced back down the stairs. “No one’s home to answer the telephone,” she gushed when she met Tyler in the kitchen. “He’s not with Jeremy.”

Tyler’s gaze grew troubled. “He’s not in the house. I checked the garage and the yard, too. He’s not here. Think, Ginger. Where would he go without telling me?”

His words sparked an answer that hit her square in the chest and took her breath away. She rejected the idea at once as being absolutely beyond possible, and too crazy…“I have an idea. Wait here,” she mumbled and ran back upstairs. She tore into Lily’s old bedroom and headed straight for the closet. When she checked inside, both of Vincent’s “missing” backpacks were gone. She raced to his room next. The sketch pad he kept under his bed was gone, too.

Terror filled her heart and chilled her soul. She ran back
downstairs and met Tyler at the bottom of the staircase. “I think…it’s time…to panic,” she managed as she struggled to catch her breath. “His backpacks are gone, and so is his sketch pad. I think Vincent’s run away, and I—I think he’s going to try to find Lily.”