Louisiana Saves the Library (23 page)

C
HAPTER
35

B
rendan's new house was a white mini-mansion that looked like something made out of frosting rather than wood and paint.

“Princess castle!” Zoe said.

Zoe didn't want to be lifted from her seat anymore, so Louise opened the van door, unstrapped her, and stood back. The girl climbed down by herself and jumped onto the Astroturf-like lawn.

Max got out and stared. “Is this Daddy's house?”

“Yes. He and Ms. Julia moved in last week,” Louise said. The opulence of the place was a stark contrast to her own modest three-bedroom. She didn't want a big, fancy house, but seeing it still made her feel inferior. She fought the urge to flee as she guided the children up the paving stones that served as the front walkway. “Do you want to ring the doorbell?”

Max raced up the steps and stood on tiptoe. “I can't reach it.”

“Zoe ring!” Zoe stumbled up behind him, crying.

Louise lifted Max and let him push the bell. “It will be your turn next time.”

Tears ran down Zoe's face. Her cheeks turned an angry shade of red whenever she cried, and now the blotches appeared like magic. The taking-turns lesson wasn't worth Brendan seeing Zoe looking like she'd lost her best friend. Louise hoisted her up, and Zoe poked at the bell just as the door opened.

Julia raised her eyebrows at the sight of Louise awkwardly holding the red-faced girl. Brendan's new wife wore a tank top, white capri pants, and lace-up Roman-style sandals. The outfit appeared to be freshly ironed.

“She wanted to ring the doorbell,” Louise explained.

“Brendan went to get lunch, but he'll be back soon.” Julia led the way into the kitchen. It rivaled even Sylvia's for modern sleekness. Everything was new: the white cabinets without a smudge, speckled granite countertops, matching stainless appliances, and professional-size cooktop with separate wall-mounted double oven. Boxes took up almost every inch of floor space, and Julia began unpacking one, lifting out a flame-colored Le Creuset cast-iron Dutch oven.

Louise eyed the expensive new pan wistfully. Though Brendan could barely boil water, he loved to eat and had encouraged Louise's culinary experiments. She sometimes missed the days of coq au vin and haricots verts.

“I don't even know what to do with this thing,” Julia said. “And it's so heavy.”

Max and Zoe found some wadded-up newspaper from one of the boxes and tore it to shreds, throwing the confetti in the air and laughing. At least they weren't destroying their father's kitchenware.

Louise opened another carton. More pots and pans in pristine condition. “Did Brendan buy this stuff for you?”

Julia shoved the Le Creuset pot into one of the low cabinets. “Yeah, he thinks I'm going to learn to cook. What a joke.”

“I could teach you,” Louise said, immediately regretting it. She didn't really want to give cooking lessons to her replacement.

“Thanks, but I don't have time. Plus, I don't really care.” Julia dug farther into the box. “What is this?”

“A potato ricer. I wish I had one of those.”

“Here. Take it. I'll tell him it got lost in the move.”

“Are you sure? I mean, this wasn't cheap.”

“Consider it a gift.” Julia opened a drawer and started shoving in spatulas, garlic presses, and serving spoons.

“Thanks.” Louise crammed the ricer into her oversize purse.

“He claims he's going to learn to cook if I don't,” Julia said. “I can guess how long that will last.”

“He'll buy a bunch of fancy gadgets and give up after a couple of weeks.” Louise helped unload a brand-new food processor and a shiny black KitchenAid mixer.

They worked in silence for a while. Louise was grateful that she recognized none of the bowls, plates, pots, or even silverware. Brendan had left her all the kitchen things and bought everything new. Still, it was very strange to be helping him set up a household with someone else.

Julia gave Max and Zoe new boxes of crayons and coloring books after they got tired of the newspaper. A child-size table with two chairs had been hidden behind a box in the corner, and Julia put drinks on it for them. She even had the kind of sippy cup that Zoe liked. Brendan had never bothered to ask about Zoe's cup preferences. Julia must have seen her use one during the last visit. Or she got lucky.

There were so many little things about Max and Zoe that only Louise knew—their favorite foods and TV shows, the idiomatic expressions they used, the way Zoe squinted when she laughed, Max's insistence on having two straws in his juice. She didn't mind that the teachers at the day care knew some of it. But the thought of this other woman finding out all about their lives made her queasy.

The front door creaked, and both kids looked up.

“Mommy, what's that?” Zoe asked.

“I think it's your dad.” Louise unwrapped another dinner plate. Surely, she wouldn't be expected to joyfully greet her ex.

“Hey,” Brendan said, setting two paper bags on the kitchen island. “I got sushi for the adults and pizza for the kids.”

“Pizza!” Max said. “I love pizza!”

Brendan opened the pizza boxes for the kids and cleared off the center island. He began to arrange plastic sushi boxes on the counter.

Max picked the pepperoni slices off his pizza and tossed them into his sister's box. “Here you go.”

“Okay.” Zoe ate the pepperoni and then pinched bits of cheese off her pizza with her fingers.

Julia stopped putting glasses away long enough to dip a spring roll in peanut sauce. “Louise, why don't you leave the kids here for a while and go shopping or something?”

Louise froze, chopsticks hovering over a slice of tiger roll. The plan was to take a look at Brendan's new place and then head to the park. The idea of dropping the kids off hadn't even occurred to her. “Do you guys want to stay here?”

“Yeah, okay,” Max said through a mouthful of pizza.

“Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, we have a lot of unpacking to do,” Brendan said.

“They'll be fine.” Julia winked at Louise before taking a pair of chopsticks and deftly picking up a piece of salmon nigiri.

Back in the van, Louise sat for a moment, trying to collect herself. She'd eaten just two pieces of sushi before leaving. She'd wanted out of Brendan and Julia's new house as quickly as possible, and now she felt lost. There was only one thing to do: drive to Sal's farm. She was afraid to call him and find out that he wasn't there. Instead, she headed out of University Heights and got on the interstate.

No one answered the door of Sal's mobile home. What had he told her on the phone the previous night? Something about fixing a fence? Or helping his sister?

She fought her way down the overgrown path to the greenhouse, two of the larger Chihuahuas on her heels. She shooed them away before opening the door. When she saw Sal squatting next to a row of pots, she was worried. Had the new batch of strawberry plants died? She approached and put a hand on his shoulder. “How are the strawberries?”

“They're doing okay so far,” he said. “Francis—that's the farmer who sold them to me—said that they were a cross between a variety that tastes really good with one that's resistant to fungus. He thinks they still need some babying, though. Bugs like 'em, and the fungus will still creep in if you're not careful. I'm trying some nonchemical sprays and elevating them so they don't get too wet. We'll see. Where are the kids?”

“Brendan wanted us to go see their new house, and he and Julia—well, Julia at least—wanted them to stay for a while.”

“You could have called me. I would have driven into Saint Jude and taken you out to dinner.”

“I wanted to come here. Get away, you know?”

Sal nodded. “I'm sorry we didn't plan to get together this weekend. I've just been really busy with the end of the season. Summer will be better. There's blueberries, but no strawberry patch tours or anything like that. I'm supposed to shut everything down later today—we have a big barn where we store the strawberry patch stuff during the off-season. You want some lunch? I got ham and some nice pickles Betta made.”

“That sounds great.”

As they walked back to the mobile home, Louise told him about the sushi and the house and the coloring books and the sippy cup. By the time they got inside, she was trying not to cry.

“Hey, look, those kids are going to be fine.” Sal went into the kitchen and got out two beers. “My dad was an airline mechanic, did I ever tell you that?”

“You mentioned it, I think,” Louise said.

“He had another apartment in Florida because he had to be there so much. On weekends when he was home, he slept till noon and then I'd have to help him with chores. Mowing the lawn, raking leaves. I didn't want to. I wanted to go with my friends. But I guess it was his way of being with me.” Sal opened a beer and handed it to Louise before sitting at the kitchen table. “Kids need to be around their dad. It gives them a sense of who they are, if nothing else. Plus, if the dad doesn't want to see them, the kids assume it's something they did wrong. Max and Zoe aren't old enough to think that now, but they will be soon.”

Louise drank some beer and nodded, trying to keep her emotions under control. Sal wasn't telling her anything new, but he made it sound simple and reasonable. Brendan wasn't the enemy; he was the father of her children.

Sal took an unlabeled jar of pickles, a container of ham, sliced processed cheese, mustard, and mayonnaise out of the fridge.

“Blue Plate,” Louise said.

“Huh?” Sal half turned, a bag of Bunny Bread in his hand.

“Blue Plate mayonnaise is much better than Kraft.”

Sal grinned, undoing the twist tie on the bread bag. “I'll remember that.” He got out two plates and began spreading mustard on the bread. “I usually eat two sandwiches. How many do you want?”

“One is plenty, thanks.” Watching him layer the bread with ham and cheese, Louise began to feel calmer. He was right. The kids would be fine. She took another sip of beer.

 

Brendan was ready with a list when she arrived to pick up the kids. He didn't have his Moleskine notebook, but he'd clearly made bullet points in his head.

“Apple juice,” he said. “The kids keep asking for it. Do you know that stuff has arsenic in it?”

Louise didn't.

“Zoe has no interest in using the toilet. How long do you intend to wait? And she doesn't know any of her letters or numbers. You should be teaching her this stuff. She gets most of her colors wrong too. The only one she recognizes is pink.”

Louise waited. There was no point in arguing with him. She had to ride it out and not break down. Thinking about Sal helped.

“Max doesn't know simple math or his sight words.”

Sight words? Louise had no idea what he was talking about, but she put on a serious expression.

“He can count, but he doesn't get the concept of adding. Also, his hair is still too long. With those shorts and that big shirt, it looks like he has no pants on. And when he went to the bathroom, I noticed that his underwear was on backward. His socks don't match either.”

Julia appeared behind her husband. “Hi. The kids had a great time. Thanks for letting them stay.”

Louise forced a smile. She decided to assume that Julia had not contributed to the list. “I hope they were good.”

“Oh, yes. Why are you guys standing in the doorway? Come in,” Julia said, starting down the hallway.

Brendan looked like he wanted to say something else. Probably he had noticed more infractions: Zoe wore too much pink. Max had dirt behind his ears.

Zoe ran straight into Louise's legs. “Mommy!” Louise bent down and folded the girl into her arms. “Did you have fun?”

“I watching TV,” Zoe said.

Louise smiled, for real this time. Brendan could pick on her all he wanted, but he'd let them sit in front of the boob tube absorbing noneducational programming. Behind Zoe she could see Max sitting on a puffy leather couch, glued to
SpongeBob SquarePants
.

“Hey, Mommy, I'm watching
SpongeBob,
” Max said.

“I can see that,” Louise said. “But it's time to go now. Say good-bye to Daddy and Ms. Julia.”

“I want to watch the rest of the show.”

“There's only a couple of minutes left,” Julia said. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks.” Louise leaned against the couch, her back to the TV.