Deceptions (21 page)

'She won another prize with them,' Nathan Goldner interrupted. 'While you were gone. She's too modest to say so herself.*

Sabrina breathed a silent thank you and changed her sentence. *—^the most incredible you've ever done. Which prize did you win?*

'First place in the Midwest Fall Competition,* said Dolores, serving baked chicken and rice. 'I thought I told you I was entering.'

*A wonderful pastime,* Martin Talvia said. He turned to his wife beside him, small and neat, her dark hair cut close like a cap, her mouth pouting beneath a little pug nose. 'You could do something like that. You're wonderfully creative when you try.'

Linda looked at him coldly. 'And when I don't ay?'

"Then the house goes to pieces,' he said amiably.

•There's nothing creative about cleaning house. It bores me.'

"The way marriage bores you?'

She shrugged.

'More wine?' Nathan asked.

'Please,' said Sabrina. She was uncomfortable.

He moved about the table, refilling their glasses. 'Did I teU you—'

*The way I bore you?' Martin pressed on.

Linda shrugged again. 'How lively issomebody who writes books on corporations?'

'How would you know? You never listen when I talk about them.'

*I am not interested in corporations.'

'Ah, but if you listened Today, for instance, I collated

survey results on adultery among executives' wives. Wouldn't that be right up your alley? You do know about alleys, at least.'

'Of all the filthy remarks! Why don't you just accuse me of something instead of hiding behind your textbooks?'

'Would you like that? Would you like me to spell it out?'

'Hey,* said Nathan. 'You're embarrassing us. Especially Stephanie, who's had two weeks to forget how you go on. I am changing the subject. Not to orthopedics, since I assimie that fascinates no one but me, but to my hobbies. Which shall it be? My recent hike in the treacherous forests of southern Wisconsin, or the newest Venetian goblet in my glass collection?'

'The goblet,' Sabrina said quickly, grateful to him for cutting off the wretched quarrel - though everyone else, she noted, seemed to take it in stride, as if it were a regular occurrence.

'A good choice,' said Nathan, 'consideringyour wondrous necklace. I've never seen it before. Where did it come ftomV

Sabrina's eyes widened. 'I don't know—'

'Sweden,' Garth said quietly.

Oh. A present from Garth. Which, for some reason,

Stephanie has never worn. So now Garth is pleased. Does he think I wore it for him?

'Where'd you find it. Garth?' Nathan asked.

*In Stockholm, when I was at the Genetics conference a couple of years ago.'

Two years. Why hadn't Stephanie worn it? They were looking at her. 'I never realized it was so beautiful,' she said. *But this morning it looked like pieces of autumn sunlight, all golden and glorious like the day, and I felt so happy... I just decided to wear it.'

Garth's face softened as he watched her. She looked away. Dolores and Linda were clearing plates, and in a minute, catching on, Sabrina pushed back her chair. 'No,' said Dolores. 'It'syour birthday. You don't work tonight.'

They sang 'Happy Birthday,' presenting her with a Cuisinart food processor from all of them. 'Use with caution,' said Linda. 'Or eveiything becomes baby food. You should see what I did to onions the first time.'

'The idea was to chop them,' Martin said. 'Which took two seconds. One more and they were diced. In the flicker of an eyelash, they were minced, mangled, pureed and juiced. Fumes filled the house. We wept for a week.'

He and Linda laughed with the others, their storm over. Sabrina cut the birthday cake, Dolores poured coffee and the talk turned to the neighborhood fight for a stoplight near the school.

Sabrina looked around the table. A quiet evening with simple food, firiendship, shared experiences, even acceptance of a private quartel. Nothing unusual. No suspicion, among a husband and four close longtime friends, that she was not Stephanie Andersen. How could that be? She made slips of the tongue; she couldn't answer some of their questions; her timing was off. Why didn't anyone see that something was wrong?

Because people see what they expect to see. No one has any reason not to expect me to be Stephanie. Whatever I do, they'll fmd a way to explain it or ignore it because otherwise it doesn't make sense. When people believe something is true, they work hard to make it seem true,

Tou were so quiet over coffee/ Garth said later as they walked home. 'Was something bothering you?'

'Oh, no. I was just being comforuble. It was a nice evening.'

He looked at her strangely but said nothing more until they reached their front porch. He put his hand on her arm. 'I wanted to tell you—' She stiffened and he dropped it immediately, but she felt the force of his will, holding back words.

Tm Sony,' she said. 'It's just that I'm not settled down yet. In a few days—'

He put out his hand and touched her necklace. 'It meant a great deal to me that you wore this tonight. Stephanie, I want to understand you, what you're trying to do. If you can't talk about it now, I'll wait until you can. I won't push you, I'll stay away from our bed, if that's necessary for you now. But at some point we have to talk about wher* we arc and where we're going. There are too many questions, too many unresolved angers. ... What is it, why are you crying?*

'I'm not.' But there were tears in her eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she said again. 'Please just give me a few days—'

He kissed her forehead. 'I think I'll stay out here for a few minutes. Why don't you go on upstairs? I'll lock up.*

She nodded. 'Good night. Garth,' Briefly she touched his hand. 'Thank you for a wonderful birthday.'

Thursday morning, after everyone had left, Sabrina climbed the stairs to explore the third floor. There were three rooms, each with an angled ceiling beneath the sloping roof. One was a storage room; the second, simply furnished with twin beds and a dresser, might have been a maid's room or a hideaway for Penny or Cliff when friends spent the night. But the third room tugged at her and she went in.

It was a sad room, empty except for a small desk and chair and some cardboard cartons covered with dust. Someone had cleaned it, hidden every sign of activity and left, a long time ago. Sabrina sat at the desk and opened the top drawer. Neat sucks of paper lay side by side, each labeled with the name of a North Shore suburb: detailed records of Stephanie's

estate sales in the two years she had kept her business going. There were itemized inventories of the contents of her clients' houses, everything from paring knives to canopied beds, with the price she had assigned each item, the amount it had brought at the sale and her commission.

In the next drawer, Sabrina foimd color photographs Stephanie had taken of each client's house, inside and out, and of the rare and valuable silver, ciystal, furniture and antiques in the sale. Leafing through them, Sabrina knew she could have found buyers for most of them among her customers in England and Europe. What a wonderful team she and Stephanie could have made! But when she had suggested it once, on the telephone, Stephanie had changed the subject. Perhaps she knew her business was failing and was already preparing to pack it away.

Sabrina touched the open drawers. She felt in her fingertips the tenderness with which her sister had neatly squared each stack of papers and photographs and placed it perfectly in line with the others. And at the same time my bad years were ending and I was beginning to succeed. Stephanie, why didn't you tell me? We could have worked together and saved your business. Instead, you kept asking about Ambassadors and I kept telling you all my triumphs. How awful for you, to hear about my success while your own business was already failing. I should have known. I should have kept asking until you told me everything. I let you down.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. She jumped up and then realized she was crying. She wiped her eyts on the back of her hand. As soon as I get home, we'll talk about working together. We need each other. She wiped her eyes again and ran downstairs.

When she opened the door, Dolores Goldner walked casually through the house to the kitchen. Sabrina followed, astonished at the intrusion. But was it an intrusion? Dolores must do this all the time, she thought. As Stephanie probably does in her house.

In England, the closest friends wait to be invited inside. In America, where even strangers call each other by their first names, fiiends walk in without asking.

'We have to talk about Linda,' Dolores said, sitting at the

table in the breakfast room. She turned, looking for something.

'I was about to make tea/ Sabrina said.

'The Chinese converted you to tea-drinking? That's why I see no coffeepot?'

Morning coffee. Sabrina remembered. She turned her back to make a fresh pot and her mouth curved in a small, wicked smile as she played with the truth. 'You can't believe how strange coffee seems to me. I feel as if I've been drinking nothing but tea for years.'

'Well, at least you didn't come back in blue trousers and jacket, or whatever it is they're wearing these days.'

*No, but everything I put on feels strange, too. As if I'm wearing it for the first time.'

'You're too impressionable. If you traveled more you'd get over that. Look what one trip did for you - drinking tea, hiding photographs ... you even look different somehow. Are you doing something new with your hair?'

'No, does it look new? I'm sure it's just what you said: I'm feeling different about who I am.'

'Yes, well, let's talk about Linda. She and Marty are in trouble. We must do something.'

Sabrina poured coffee into two mugs and sat down. 'For example?'

'No cream? Good heavens, Stephanie, aren't you carrying this too far?'

'Sorry, I was thinking about Linda.' At the reMgerator she hesitated, then decided against a pitcher and brought the carton to the table.

As Dolores talked about Linda, Sabrina's other self, the cool observer, watched: two women in a sun-filled breakfast room, drinking coffee, talking about their friend who was unhappy. The observer felt ashamed of herself, playing a reckless game of being Sabrina while Dolores was concerned about Linda. Sabrina disliked people who tried to arrange other people's lives - fleetingly, she thought of Antonio-but it was hard to dislike Dolores; she really cared about her friends. If she tried to manage them, it was because she wanted them to be happy.

'Stephanie? Are you with me? You look like you're a million miles away.'

'No, I heard you. I was just thinking how nice it is that people care about each other.'

Dolores looked surprised. 'I should think so. Now how about it? Lunch next week with Linda and then the crystal exhibit at the Palmer House. She needs a chance to talk. Can you get off work one day?'

/ won't be here. But Stephanie would want to do it. 'I think so. Can I let you know on Monday?'

'Of course. We won't go without you.' She got up and walked back through the house as casually as she had come in. 'Will I see you at the soccer game this afternoon?*

'Yes.'

Sabrina had promised Qiff she would be there, and she found the school athletic field a few minutes before the game began. Cliff was slouching nonchalantly with his team, but his face lit up as he saw her and ran over. 'We're playing Lakeside. They're in third place. We'll win. The only one to worry about is the tall guy; he's their best forward.'

Behind Sabrina, about forty women and a few men watched the play, the women tense and silent, the men shouting instructions or criticism at their sons. Dolores came to sit with her, but Sabrina barely noticed. She and Stephanie had grown up with soccer in Europe, and she had kept up with it in the last ten years; some of the men in her circle were top amateur players. She knew the game as well as most Americans knew baseball, and within a few minutes she was caught up in the action.

Cliff was good, she saw; he was alert and fast, and his teammates trusted him. 'Go!' she breathed when another forward passed him the ball, and he moved it skillfully in short kicks towards the goal, twisting and darting around the Lakeside defenders. Sabrina jumped to her feet as if she ran with him, feeling the joy and excitement of the chase. Seconds later, with a thundering kick. Cliff sent the ball flying past the goalie to score for his cheering, shouting team.

'A prouder parent could not be found,' said Garth, beside her.

She turned quickly. 'I didn't know you were coming.'

'Neither did I. But I recalled your just criticism of my missing past games. What's the score?'

'One to nothing. Cliffs point.'

'I could tell that by looking at you.'

A proud parent. She felt like one. 'I'm glad you came,' she said to Garth. 'Cliff will be so pleased.'

He was; Sabrina saw his grin from across the field as he ran to them at halftime. By then he had made a second goal. 'Next half I'll do even better/ he said. 'Did you watch Pat Ryan? The tall guy? Is he mad! He made a bet with his team that he'd score more than me.'

Pat Ryan made three goals in the second half. One of Cliffs teammates scored, but Cliff had been guarded fiercely and had not gotten near the goal. A few minutes from the end of the game, with his team tied three to three, he was angry and frustrated. Seeing the desperation in his face, Sabrina shook her head. 'He's lost sight of the game.' Garth started to say something when a shout came fi^m the field.

'Cliff! Here!' A forward on his team was yelling at him, but Cliff, taking the ball down the field along Uie sideline, ignored him. The forward had broken free of the Lakeside defenders and had a clear shot at the goal. 'Pass! Pass!' he screamed. No one from Lakeside was between them; it was a perfect play. Cliff looked up briefly and saw the play, but he also saw a small opening in his own path to the goal. 'Pass!' This time his coach shouted it - an order. CUff scowled, hesitated, then, keeping the ball in his control, feinted to the left to maneuver through the opening.

*Oh, he's good,' Sabrina said. 'He has wonderful control. But he can't... he's going to lose the ball.*