Field of Schemes (37 page)

“What?” I asked as I packed Rachel’s things. Gunther and the other parents packed soccer gear and started trickling into their cars.

“Mimi. That’s who Ron’s having an affair with,” Darcy said, still staring at the blank parking spot.

Dropping Rachel’s bag, I asked, “Why do you think that?”

“Did you see how she looked at me when you mentioned the hotel charges and restaurant bills? It was just, I don’t know, I could just tell.”

“Darcy, you can’t know from—”

“Oh, I know. I’ve known for awhile there was someone, but I finally figured out who. Come on, when has she ever apologized to you?
You
, Claire! She said she was sorry because it was
that
important to shut you up.”

Part of me felt kicked in the stomach by the idea of Ron having an affair with Mimi.
I
felt betrayed, and couldn’t imagine what Darcy was going through. Part of me ached for Darcy, and as much as I hate to admit it, a smaller part of me felt jealous. I’d struggled hard with my feelings toward Ron while he was busy sniffing around town for anyone who would have him. I wasn’t so special after all.

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Darcy was right. Mimi began lashing out at me right from the start. I was just a random hit at the Soccer Post, but after that it got personal. It went from a petty jersey battle to a full-on war when Ron and I had our first glimmer of attraction at soccer tryouts. I always assumed that she despised me because Rachel replaced Jinx’s daughter, Sissy, but I should have known that for Mimi to really, truly care about something, it needed to somehow affect her.

Darcy and I sat on the empty field, completely oblivious to the plummeting chill in the evening air. “Do you want to know for sure?” I asked.

“I already do,” she said as we walked to my car.

“Do you want to confirm your suspicions once and for all?”

We sat in the front seats of my car and turned on the heat. “Does your home phone have caller ID?” I asked.

“Please,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “Ron’s not even listed in the phone book, and gee, I wonder why.”

Oh boy.
Just as I’d resolved to drop it, Darcy pressed. “Why, what do you want to do?”

“If you really want to know, I can find out. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I dialed the Greer house and turned on my cell phone speaker. “Hello,” Ron said.

In my best English accent I replicated a gag I’d heard on the radio a few years ago. “Hello, sir, good evening. This is, um, Poppy from Romantic Roses Dot Com. I’m not trying to sell you anything, but since we’re new to the area, we’re doing a special promotion where we’re giving away free roses and delivering them to your special lady absolutely free.”

“Not interested,” Ron said.

“Sir, there is absolutely no charge for these roses. We’re going to deliver one dozen gorgeous long-stem roses to the special lady in your life at no cost to you. All we ask is that when you’re thinking about sending flowers in the future you think of us here at Romantic Roses Dot Com. Sound fair?”

“I don’t have to give you any money?” Ron asked.

“Nothing, sir. This is our way of getting out the word about the great service and quality of Romantic Roses Dot Com.”

“I don’t have to join any club that I have to quit after thirty days?” he asked.

“No sir, you just—”

“You don’t need my credit card number?”

Just shut up and let me finish, you cynical jerk!
I thought, before remembering that I was, indeed, trying to scam him, just not in the way he thought. “No sir, you simply give me the name and address of your special lady friend—or male as the case may be, nothing wrong with that,” I added.

“No, no, she’s a lady,” Ron chuckled good-naturedly.

“And her name is?” I asked.

My heart was pounding fiercely as Darcy and I looked at each other for the moment of truth.
Say Darcy, say Darcy. Please, if there is a God in heaven, let this man say Darcy!

“All right. It’s free, right?”

“Totally free.”

“No catches?” Ron asked. Darcy looked at me as if she were thinking the same thing:
Say the name already!

“No sir. No catches, no hidden fees. This is just our way of helping spread the word about Romantic Roses Dot Com. Now, who’s the lucky lady who will receive a dozen gorgeous roses from you this evening?”

“Mimi,” he said.

I looked at Darcy, who was clutching her chest, her mouth agape. Though we were parked in my minivan on a cold December evening, I suddenly knew how Thelma and Louise must’ve felt as their car started its descent, plummeting them into certain death. This was worse, though, because after hearing that awful name, I had to continue the charade.

“And what would you like your card to Mimi to say?” I asked, trying to maintain my chipper tone.

Please dear God, have him say, “Thanks for a great season, pal” or “From the Team.”

“Let’s see,” Ron pondered. “Write, ‘Remember Jamaica.’”

Darcy’s and my heads snapped toward each other.
Remember Jamaica?! What the hell did that mean? Had they actually been to Jamaica together? Were they planning on going and he was telling her to be patient and keep her eyes on the prize of Jamaica? Jamaica, Jamaica? Jamaica the restaurant?! Jamaica the punch line to a joke?
Whichever way you sliced it, “Remember Jamaica” had more intimacy than what was acceptable between a soccer team manager and the married father of a player.

Remember Jamaica?!
Darcy mouthed, gesturing with her hands that I should try to get more out of him.

“Is that all, sir? We’ve got plenty of room on our cards at Romantic Roses Dot Com. You could write an entire poem if you’d like.”

“No thanks,” he said. Desperately, pathetically trying to lessen the blow, I gave Darcy a facial expression as if to say,
See, he doesn’t care enough about her to write a poem.

Getting through the rest of the phone call without blowing it was a challenge. I wanted to scream at him for being such a lousy piece of shit to Darcy. Still, I continued with my happy little Brit routine, asking for Mimi’s address and nearest cross street. I couldn’t help myself, though. “Hmmmm, is this Mimi Shasta by any chance?” I asked.

“Uhh, yeah, it is. Why?”

“Oh, it’s just that she’s a very popular girl. This is the third bouquet we’ve sent to her on this promotion. Would you like to include your last name on the card so she can be sure who these are from?”

I finished taking his order and hung up the phone. Darcy and I sat in still silence, which slowly transitioned into her tears.

Rachel returned home that night proclaiming I would never believe what Mimi told the team at dinner.
That she’s having an affair with one of the team dads?
I didn’t say, and hoped to God that Mimi didn’t either. One could never be sure what that woman would share with the girls. “Gunther’s going back to Germany and left her with the team,” Rachel said. “Doesn’t that totally suck of him? He didn’t say a thing to us about it. He is so lame.”

“What do you mean he’s going back to Germany?” I asked.

“Uh, what part of he’s going back to Germany and ditched his team did you not understand?” Rachel asked, sounding more like Kelly Greer—and Mimi—than I cared for.

“Rachel, I think you’d better understand that speaking to me this way is getting you nowhere you want to be,” I told her.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Let’s start over. What exactly did Mimi tell you guys?”

“Gunther’s gone. He leaving for Germany tomorrow morning, and she’s got to take over the team if we’re going to go to State Cup.”

“Wow, I’m shocked he didn’t say anything to anyone.”

“You are?” Rachel said, laughing. “This doesn’t surprise me at all. It’s so typical. Anyway, I’m kind of excited that Mimi’s coaching us. She said we’re going to be in amazing shape for the games and will totally rock.”

Rachel then spent the next two hours rehashing the situation on the phone with the teammates she’d just shared dinner with. They all seemed to be in agreement that Gunther was a traitor and Mimi was their salvation. “Oh yeah, Mom,” Rachel said as an afterthought. “Mimi’s going to email all the parents tonight and let you know what’s up.”

It was tough to absorb anything more this evening. I was still reeling from the fact that Darcy confirmed that Ron and Mimi were having an affair, and everything else seemed trivial. “Okay,” I said lifelessly.

I wondered what was going on next door at the Greers. Darcy said she wanted some time to “sit on” her discovery while she figured out what she wanted to do. Her plan was to neither do nor say a thing to Ron that would let him know she was on to his philandering. This was the plan, at least. With all of Darcy’s nervous energy, I wasn’t sure she’d be able to contain herself for longer than a few seconds. I wouldn’t. If Steve had cheated on me, Maggie Jennings would’ve had to start a foundation to help stop the decapitation of cheating husbands.

“So make sure you check,” Rachel added, “because Mimi said all the parents need to know about the new training schedule that starts tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mom, Mimi says if we do everything she tells us, we have a real shot at State Cup. We’re having practice on Christmas Eve. That’s how serious she is about us, unlike Gunther who just took off. Did you know she played in college? She says I remind her of herself at my age,” Rachel said proudly. Shifting gears, she said wistfully, “The only thing I’m bummed about is no more of those amazing Girl Power bars.”

“So she’s not going to make those for you anymore now that she’s taken over the team?”

“No time,” Rachel said, shrugging. “Did you know that she runs the club foundation
and
is on the board of directors at Shasta Imports? Plus, she teaches aerobics to old people at the senior center. Her plate is, like, way full. Anyway, she wants us to stick to this athletes’ diet.” Rachel reached into her soccer bag and pulled out three pages of pink paper. I looked at Mimi’s directive to load up on vegetables and protein, and saw that the diet came from the Sports Medicine Department of our local hospital. At the very bottom of the last sheet was a promise that this diet would increase an athlete’s strength and reduce fat faster than any other program available. On the surface, this statement seemed innocuous, but something about the need for fast fat loss struck me as odd.

“Rachel, what was in Mimi’s Girl Power bars?”

“Oh my God, Mom, don’t even tempt me. Mimi said we can’t eat any more of those until State Cup is over.”

Oh no. She didn’t.

“But what’s in them? I mean, did she ever give you the recipe?”

“Nah, she said they’re a family secret, but it’s like this peanut butter goop, but better. Kelly said it tasted like macadamia nuts, but Mimi said it was some special seed from a fruit tree. Anyway, there’s that stuff on a graham cracker with a chocolate bar and coconut shavings. Then another cracker to hold it all together. Oh right, and some special powder that makes girls strong.”

“Special powder?” I asked, terrified.

“Yeah, it comes in this big jar with muscle men on it.”

Oh my God!!!

“But no more for awhile,” Rachel reported. “We even have to start drinking skim milk. Blah!”

I was afraid to ask the next question, but did anyway. “What kind of milk has Mimi been giving you?”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. She always puts it out in a big glass pitcher. She’s so fancy.” Then remembering a time when she saw the milk carton in the garbage can, she startled. “Oh right, it’s called half-and-half.”

“Half-and-half?!” I cried. “She serves you all half-and-half?”

Rachel said, “Except for Cara and Sissy. They’re dietetic so they can’t drink half-and-half. Or have Girl Power bars.”

“
Diabetic
? Cara is diabetic? And what’s Sissy doing there?”

“Dietetic,” Rachel clarified. “I’ve never heard of it either, but I’m glad I don’t have it ’cause Girl Power bars rock!”

“Rachel,” I said hesitantly. “Do you happen to have any of these bars?” Her eyes popped wide and she looked as guilty as I’d ever seen her. She shook her head no, unable to lie to me with words. That was positive, at least. “Boy, I really, really wish you did because if I could taste one myself, I’m sure I could figure out the recipe and make them once State Cup is over.”

Rachel looked down at her shoes, then shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Promise you won’t be mad?” I nodded my head to encourage her. “It was totally Kelly’s idea.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Well, last week Mimi said this was the last batch of Girl Power bars she was making, so we, um—”

“Yes,” I pulled.

“We sort of stole some,” she said quickly, sealing her lips when she finished.

“You
stole
them?”

“You said you wouldn’t be mad!”

“Rachel, I’m not angry, but this is so unlike you.”

“It was totally Kelly’s idea,” Rachel defended.

“An idea that you went along with.”

“You’re mad.”

“Do you have any more of these stolen bars?” I asked. Rachel nodded sheepishly. “Bring me one.”

Minutes later Rachel slinked back into the kitchen with an open tin of Girl Power bars, which looked more like cookies. “You stole them in a cookie tin?” She scrunched her mouth to the side and shrugged her shoulders.

I popped one of Mimi’s treats into my mouth and could see why the girls were reduced to a life of crime. They were beyond delicious. They were beyond three thousand calories each. And later that night, I discovered that they were beyond groovy.

At about ten that night, I was lying in bed thinking about how much I loved the world and everyone in it. Even Mimi. She was troubled and misunderstood to be sure, but underneath it all, weren’t we all beautiful creatures of divine spirit?

I reached for the phone to call Darcy before remembering that she had bigger problems to deal with at the moment. I looked at the clock and realized it was a half-hour past Lil’s bedtime. I dialed Dave’s cell phone, but it rolled directly over to voice mail.
Where was he at 10:30?
I wondered with a pinch of jealousy. Realizing that there weren’t many people who would welcome a late-night phone call about soccer drama, I decided to just lie back and write poetry in my head.