“Melissa?”
“Hi, Mom. What’s going on?” Melissa asked, breathing heavily. Kendall sincerely hoped she was . . .
“I’m just jogging, trying to get in shape for that 5K I’m doing.” A few more huffs and puffs followed. “You OK?”
Grateful that her daughter seemed happily occupied, Kendall focused on presenting a front of normalcy she wished she could feel. “Sure,” she lied, crossing her fingers over the falsehood. “Mallory’s here.” She sent a weak smile to Mallory, who’d just come back in and now stood in her office doorway. “And we’re just, um, getting ready to go to the airport to pick up Faye and Tanya. We’re going to be doing some brainstorming up at the mountain house.” She paused for a moment, but kept the smile firmly on her face. She’d heard once that shaping your lips into a smile whether you meant it or not made your words sound happier. “And then I’ll probably stay on to work on the book I have due.”
“Wow, that’s great, Mom. I guess now that we’re gone you don’t really have to be at home if you don’t feel like it.”
“No, no, I don’t,” she said, shutting her mind to the fact that she was already a stranger in her own home.
“Maybe we’ll surprise you one weekend. I’ll tear Jeffrey from his girlfriend and we’ll both come up.”
“Jeffrey has a girlfriend?” Kendall asked dully. The fact that her shy sports-fanatic son was seeing a girl was yet another breach in the Aimses’ status quo.
“Oops, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.” There was some more heavy breathing as Melissa attempted to run and backpedal at the same time. “Don’t tell him I said anything, OK?”
“No, no, of course I won’t.” Kendall was getting pretty good at not telling things. And she was pitifully glad that Calvin hadn’t felt compelled to tell the kids about their breakup. Mallory was right about that; there was nothing to be gained by upsetting them until there was something more concrete to tell.
Still, the fact that her children were so obviously living their own lives was bittersweet. Their independence was what you hoped for and worked toward, but the reality was you just weren’t that critical anymore.
That realization hit her squarely in the gut. She had become superfluous to her husband as well as her children. They had moved on with their lives. And what had she done? She’d run to the mountains to hide, and she would still be there feeling sorry for herself if Mallory hadn’t come and dragged her out.
“Hey, Mom?” Melissa said, panting. “I’m glad you called. I hope you’re not too lonely without us.”
“I’m OK, sweetie.” Maybe if she said it enough times it would simply be so. “I miss you, but I’m going to have my ‘peeps’ with me all weekend. It’s hard to feel too lonely with the whole gang filling up the place.”
Melissa giggled. “Glad your people are flying in. I gotta go, OK? I’ll call you soon.”
Then Melissa was gone and Kendall was standing in the middle of her office once again feeling lost and unsure.
“Are you all right?” Mallory stepped toward her, a worried look on her face.
Kendall nodded, focusing most of her energy on holding off the tears that threatened. “Let’s go pick up Faye and Tanya,” she finally said, turning her back on her office and heading toward the garage. “Then let’s treat ourselves to a really huge lunch.”
“I have to admit I was picturing something slightly more . . . elegant,” Mallory said with a sigh as she crumpled her napkin and tossed it onto her empty plate.
They were sitting around a table in the center of the Clayton Café, the remnants of their afternoon feast surrounding them.
“Well, it does remind me a bit of the Downhome Diner,” Tanya conceded, “and I wouldn’t say this to Belle, but that’s some of the best fried chicken I’ve ever had.”
“You can’t get black-eyed peas and collard greens like that in Chicago,” Faye added. “I’m going to have to let the waistband out on these pants. And I know I shouldn’t have had that piece of peach cobbler.”
They left a hefty tip and paid their checks on the way out. Practically waddling from all they’d consumed, they stepped out onto the sidewalk two abreast and decided to walk off some of what they’d eaten.
Faye hesitated in front of the bookstore, but Mallory shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. Kendall has a whole slew of reasons for not setting foot in there right now, which I’ll explain when I’m not so close to exploding. But I bet you big money she’d be glad to show you the Home Depot.”
Kendall blushed slightly. “Well, I did think we might stop off just for a minute so I could pick up a few supplies. There are a few things up at the house that I’d like to take care of.”
“That’s because the store manager’s a real hottie and has a thing for Kendall,” Mallory teased.
Kendall blushed again. “And I thought we might stop off at the grocery store, too, so we can lay in some food.”
“Now that’s a great idea,” Mallory said. “Let’s buy enough so we don’t need to come down the mountain until it’s time to go back to the airport.”
“Damn straight,” Tanya said. “I say we give ourselves tonight off and then get up early tomorrow morning and get right to work on Kendall’s idea.”
“Absolutely,” Mallory said.
“I’m with you on that one,” Faye added.
Kendall just stared at the three of them, trying to keep the panic out of her eyes. “I hate to disappoint you when you’ve gone to such effort to come visit. But I don’t know how much I’m capable of right now. I mean I’m thrilled to have the company and the support, but I don’t feel even the tiniest germ of creativity at the moment. I can’t even concentrate long enough to
read
a book right now; I can’t imagine trying to write one.”
She saw the quick look the other three exchanged and she held her hands up in surrender. “Hey,” she said, “I’m not saying I wouldn’t love to be writing, and I know for a fact I
need
to be writing. I just don’t think there’s much of anything you could say or do right now that would make that possible.”
16
Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
—E. L. DOCTOROW
Mallory sat propped up in bed, her laptop, appropriately enough, in her lap, as she stared at the view through the sliding glass doors of her basement-level bedroom. She’d been sitting in this position since just before 6:00 A.M. when her alarm had gone off so that she could start writing.
So far she’d spent most of the last hour and a half either watching the sun’s rise through the layer of clouds that hovered over the valley floor or staring at the cursor blinking its
nyah nyah nyah nyah nah
at the top left corner of the blank page. In between these two time wasters, she’d checked her e-mail, which was full of communications from her editor and agent, but displayed not a single message from Chris.
Tired of looking at the blank screen, Mallory closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried, once again, to place herself inside the mind of the character from whose viewpoint she’d intended to write this scene. But her own mind raced, lighting briefly on everything from what they’d have for breakfast to getting Kendall started on her book to her agent and editor’s queries about her progress. Chris was there, too, yet another member of the crowd in her head vying for her attention.
The only person who didn’t seem to be there was the character she was supposed to be writing.
With a groan, Mallory pressed back against the pillows and closed her eyes more tightly, but she could barely remember what Eleanor Rafferty looked like let alone what she thought or felt.
Above her head, footsteps sounded on the wood floor of the kitchen. Soon the scent of coffee reached her nostrils. She was debating whether to admit defeat or soldier on when the dinner triangle clanged loudly and Tanya’s voice pierced the morning quiet.
“Rise and shine!” Tanya yelled. Another clanging of the triangle followed. “It’s time to get out of bed and get to work!”
Mallory thought a rooster would have been both kinder and gentler, but Tanya seemed to be taking her role as alarm clock and personal motivator seriously.
“Don’t make me come in and pull you all out of bed!” she threatened, after several more clangs failed to produce the desired result.
Mallory pulled on her sweats and tied her hair back in a ponytail then took the stairs up to the main floor. Within fifteen minutes they all sat around the kitchen table with steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. Some of them looked more compos mentis than others. Tanya was the only one who seemed not only completely awake, but eager to get started. “Boy, you all are pathetic,” she said. She hadn’t bothered with makeup but was fully dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair had been tied on top of her head with a scrunchie. Her face bore a look of determination.
“I would’ve already waited ten or twelve tables by now.” She looked at the three of them then focused on Mallory. “I bet Mal’s already done her twenty pages.”
“I wish,” Mallory mumbled into her coffee. Maybe she should hire Tanya as her personal motivator.
“You wanna go ahead and finish them up while I whip these two into shape?” she asked, as she pointed toward Faye and Kendall, who still looked half asleep.
“No!” Mallory sat up too quickly and came close to knocking over the sugar bowl. “I mean, we’re, um, here to get Kendall started. My work can wait.”
All three of them looked at her as if she had just offered to tear her clothes off and run naked through Times Square. But focusing on Kendall’s panic had allowed her to minimize her own and she still believed—or at least desperately hoped—that applying their combined creativity to Kendall’s idea would not only get Kendall going but also somehow unstop her own logjam.
“Well,” she challenged. “Isn’t that what we’re here for?”
“Absolutely!” Faye roused and raised her mug in agreement.
“Without a doubt!” Tanya added vehemently.
The three of them now turned to Kendall, who looked as if she were trying to hide behind her ceramic coffee cup. “Yeah, um, right.” She got up and walked to the coffeemaker, where she took her time pouring and creaming another cup of camouflage.
“So, why don’t we cook a real country breakfast—eggs and bacon and the whole nine yards,” Tanya suggested. “Get lots of protein up to our brains.”
“And fat to our arteries,” Mallory couldn’t help adding.
“And then we can set up on the deck and get started,” Tanya concluded as she began to open cupboards. “I’ll cook if you all want to set the table and brew some more coffee.”
Faye joined Kendall at the coffeemaker. “Do you want to take care of the coffee while Mallory and I set the table?” she asked.
Kendall turned to face them. “I’m not quite ready to eat yet, but you all go ahead.” Then she walked over to the hall closet and retrieved a large rectangle of canvas, which she buckled around her waist, just above the drawstring to her pajamas. “I thought I’d go ahead and try to replace that bad section of baseboard in the living room.”
Tanya, who’d already started removing eggs and bacon from the refrigerator, stopped what she was doing to take in Kendall’s attire. “She’s got a tool belt on over her pajamas,” she said to Faye and Mallory, as if they couldn’t see this for themselves. “I didn’t even think they let suburban women wear those things.”
Mallory noted the odd clothing combination but was even more concerned by the anxiety etched on Kendall’s features. The woman would rather work with power tools than think about her manuscript. Mallory understood all too well. She herself would rather have her fingernails pulled out one at a time than be forced to sit down and try to write at the moment.
But they had limited time together. And none of them wanted to leave Kendall until she was back on track with her manuscript under way.
“Honey,” Tanya said, moving in on Kendall. “The only tools you need today are your brain and a pad and pencil. I really don’t think—”
Unable to bear the panic on Kendall’s face any longer, Mallory cut Tanya off. “Why don’t we let Kendall go ahead and take care of that baseboard?” she suggested. For some reason Mallory didn’t understand, working with her hands seemed to calm Kendall; right now she didn’t think they should rip away a security blanket of any kind.
Checking the kitchen clock, Mallory proposed a compromise. “It’s eight right now,” she said. “It’ll take us about thirty or forty-five minutes to make breakfast, eat it, and clean up. Maybe another thirty minutes for those of us who want to shower and dress. So why don’t we get to work on
Sticks and Stones
at nine thirty out on the deck?”
She looked first at Kendall, who nodded in relief. Faye and Tanya agreed, too.
“Good, we’ve got a plan.” As always Mallory preferred to be proactive rather than reactive. “Since you all have the cooking and table setting covered, I’m going to go down and take a shower and dress so that I can handle cleanup while you two get ready.”