The Glass Wives (14 page)

“Just because you forgive someone doesn’t mean you forget what happened,” Beth said. “It’s your right to remember.”

“Damn straight you better remember!” Laney bellowed. “Now tell us what you’ve learned about
Nicole
.”

Nicole had not asked Evie to keep a confidence, and even if she had, Evie owed her nothing. Secrets were a burden and one she was not willing to shoulder for Nicole. She told Beth and Laney everything.

*   *   *

“Holy crap,” Laney said. “That’s horrible to lose two husbands by the time you’re thirty. And a little girl. It’s awful. My heart goes out to her … but … it’s all a bit fishy, don’t you think?”

“How?” Evie asked.

“Maybe they never existed and she’s just plying you for your sympathy.”

“I’m not stupid,” Evie said. “I saw pictures.”

“You can get pictures of anything—and anyone—online.”

“That would be dishonest,” Beth added.

Evie and Laney cocked their heads and stared at Beth.

“Okay, okay, she doesn’t have a history of honesty, but no one would do that.” Beth crossed her arms for punctuation.

“Did you Google it?” Laney asked. “I’m sure it was in their local paper.”

Evie shook her head. Was she so desperate to accept Nicole that she didn’t think she might be manipulating her? She needed Nicole and Luca around. Nicole’s making things easier was Evie’s personal oxymoron.

Laney left the dining room and returned with Jocelyn’s pink netbook. Head-to-head-to-head, the best friends found the information they sought.

“This sounds awful,” Evie said. “But I’m glad she wasn’t lying.”

“Me too,” Laney said. “It’s still quite a coincidence though, don’t you think? Two dead husbands? Two car accidents? You don’t think she was responsible…”

Evie elbowed Laney and she gasped and rubbed her side, feigning injury to her body and her psyche.

Beth ignored Laney’s comment.

Laney continued scrolling down the page. “There it is. The driver was charged with vehicular homicide and driving while intoxicated.”

“I hate to say it, but that’s a relief,” Evie said.

“When is she moving out?” Laney asked.

“What do you mean? She just moved in,” Beth said, sweeping crumbs into her hand.

“For now, it works. I don’t know how she can afford to do it, although she does get Social Security for Luca.”

“Who the hell cares?” Laney said. “Even in this market, if she sells the house, she’ll have plenty.”

“That house is mortgaged to the hilt, the cars are leased, even some of that furniture? Rent-to-own. That’s why she’s leasing the house to another professor,” Beth said.

Evie gasped.

Beth’s mouth twisted. “You didn’t know?”

Evie shook her head, and she and Laney were silent, mouths agape as though they had stuffed noses and couldn’t breathe.

“How do you know all this?” Evie asked.

“She asked me to recommend a Realtor, so I asked what was going on. She told me. Sometimes all you have to do is ask nicely.”

“So where the hell will she go when Evie finally comes to her senses?” Laney snarled.

“My senses are just fine.” But Laney was right.

“You’re in financial turmoil and your savior is a young widow with a wad of cash and a bucket of secrets.”

“Richard had life insurance that was part of your divorce, right?” Beth asked.

Evie nodded, even though she didn’t remember ever mentioning it. “It’ll pay for college—if it ever comes through. But even with Nicole helping, it’s complicated. Paying COBRA eats a huge chunk of what I have, but after eighteen months, that’s over. I can’t add the kids to my health insurance because it’s private, so if I don’t find a job, I’m going to have to look into All Kids.” Evie whispered the last two words. Considering state-sponsored health insurance for her children had never before been on her to-do list.

More silence. Evie knew her friends searched for words that weren’t there. These things weren’t usually discussed because they didn’t need to be discussed. Health insurance, car insurance, employment, mortgage payments … they were all givens in Lakewood.

“So, you’ll get a great job,” Beth said. “And this living arrangement will really help when you interview. Nicole will watch the twins. She loves them.”

“How about
Nicole
get a job?” Laney said.

“Right now her job is helping me make ends meet. If she moves out before I have all this figured out, I’m screwed,” Evie said.

“Speaking of being screwed, have you called Scott?”

Evie shook her head, tipped back the last drop of her wine, and before she set the glass on the table, Beth had it refilled.

Chapter 10

E
VIE PRAISED THE
A
NN
T
AYLOR
gods for adding 10 percent Lycra to the fabric of her suit jacket. If she couldn’t convince Sam to go to school without a meltdown, at least she could look polished and professional with nonpopped buttons when she went to see the principal. Evie had spent a week compiling all the relevant information and filling out all the officially required paperwork so that she could bring Sam’s books and lessons home until he was ready—until he was able—to return to school. The blue suit added credibility, showed she meant business.

Her robe would not have been nearly as effective.

Sitting in the same wooden chair that had hosted a generation of students and parents, Evie looked down at her navy, stacked-heel pumps and leaned from the waist to wipe away the layer of closet dust visible under the fluorescent lights. The big, round, generic wall clock sounded like a heartbeat. The desk stretched from one wall to the other and appeared to have an intense wood grain. Evie feigned an itch on her calf and gave the desk a surreptitious pat, just in case someone was watching. Particleboard. Things were rarely as they seemed.

The bell rang. Evie heard feet scatter in the hallway, directions yelled in teacher voices, and a far-off recess whistle. She liked the sounds of children running and laughing; she missed those sounds. She closed her eyes to hear it all more clearly, to insert her own children’s voices into the mix.

The door opened and Evie opened her eyes. Mr. Mueller entered, looking more like a frazzled gym teacher than a principal, even though he wore a tucked-in, button-down shirt. Evie’s mood was modern suburban
disheveled,
so his cockeyed tie put her at ease. But his broad shoulders underneath the oxford-cloth shirt, and arms that filled out the sleeves, did not. How had she never noticed that the kids’ principal looked like a geeky Matthew McConaughey? Evie straightened a bit and scooched to the front of the chair. She glanced at his left hand.
No ring.
She ran her hand through her hair. What was she doing?

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Glass,” Mr. Mueller said. “But this is very unusual. We don’t advocate you keeping Sam out of school, even if you are willing to
tutor
him.”

The handsome-principal distraction vanished.

“Homeschool,” she said. “Just until he’s ready to come back.”

“If he’s ready.”

Evie didn’t want to think about Sam staying home with her until June, so she didn’t. “He just needs more time to adjust.”

“The school has requirements that must be met.”

“Do you have children of your own, Mr. Mueller?”

“No, but I completely understand this type of situation.”

“Did you grow up with two parents?” It was a risk, but everything was a risk these days.

“I did.”

“Then you do not completely understand.” Nor did Evie, but for the moment she was doing a good job at faking it. “To feel grounded, Sam needs to be at home, with me. If he’s distracted at school, he won’t be able to do any of his work. Which is why we’re going to find a solution that meets his needs—not yours.”
And not mine.

“When we make allowances, sometimes children take advantage of us, Mrs. Glass.”

She had considered that Sam was manipulating her, even just a little. But if it helped him feel as though he had some control, she didn’t care. After this, he wasn’t going to lie around playing video games for hours each day. A little nudging was going to be necessary; Evie just had to figure out how much was enough but not too much.

“You did a good job getting Sophie to come back to school. Maybe you could use the same incentive?”

Evie cringed at the word
incentive
. Was he suggesting she hadn’t tried everything? That she didn’t know her son? In this case the adage was true. Mother did know best. She placed her hands on the desk and leaned in. “Excuse me, Mr. Mueller.” Evie looked at the diplomas on the wall. How could someone so well educated be so stupid? Maybe he should spend less time at the gym and more time with the students. “Don’t compare Sam and Sophie. Different kids have different needs. But as an educator I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. Nor do I have to tell you that according to the Lakewood Schools Charter, I can keep my child home without your permission or input as long as I file the township paperwork. I just want Sam to be able to get right back into the swing of things here at Eden when he’s ready, so I thought it would behoove us to work together on this. But if you don’t want to help a little boy who just lost his father…”

Mr. Mueller twirled his pen like a baton and then nodded to a stack of folders on top of a filing cabinet. “Those are from Sam’s teachers, full of the past month’s lessons and assignments.” His voice was soft. “Everything seems to be in order.”

Not the words Evie would have chosen.

*   *   *

“What do you mean I have to do all my schoolwork at home?” Sam’s blue eyes grew wide.

“It’s just temporary, until you’re ready to go back. If you don’t keep up, I’ll get in a lot of trouble. And if you don’t keep up,
you
won’t go to LJH next year.” All the fifth graders looked at Lakewood Junior High with awe usually reserved for rock stars and professional athletes. If Evie’s getting into trouble wasn’t enough of a tug on Sam’s heart and motivation, perhaps
not
being a Lakewood Lion would be. Sam looked at the floor and then up at Evie. “You’re more than a month behind, sweetie, but we’ll catch up.” Evie double-pumped her fists and smirked. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled. He was too smart to fool and too sweet to tell her she was lame. Evie reveled in the flash of the Sam she remembered.

“I want to go to school at home too,” Sophie piped up.

“You will because you’ll do
all
your homework here with Sam,” Evie said as she unzipped the sparkly Justin Bieber backpack. She slowed her pace to offset rising panic. Though Sophie sometimes slept with Evie, she got up every morning and went to school. A tidbit of normal. They were not going to move backward. She placed the books on the table in front of what would become Sophie’s chair. Laying down the law was never hard for Evie, but now she tiptoed around
no
as though it were a disease.

“What’s that?” Sophie pointed to the table.

“My stuff.” Sam lined up worksheets edge to edge.

“I have math homework and spelling homework,” Sophie said.

Sam looked at Evie, leaving his hand on his papers.

“Oh, right, you do too, Sam. I’ll show you which ones.” The twins were in sync but also competitive. Knowing that Sophie was moving ahead in her schoolwork might be the ticket to motivating Sam. And keeping Sam motivated would keep Evie motivated. She hoped.

Sophie sat in her chair, tucked one leg beneath her bottom, and slumped with her head on her hand, picking up a pencil and writing her name on the upper left-hand corner of the page on the designated line.

“Put your name on your paper, Sam,” Evie said. He looked at her. “So when you go back to school, it’s still a habit.”

“Jessica doesn’t have a dad,” Sophie said without looking up.

“That’s sad for Jessica.” Evie mentally scanned the faces of familiar Jessicas but couldn’t think of whom Sophie meant. “What happened?”

“He got killed in Iraq. He was a soldier.”

Evie fumbled with a cup full of pens and pencils, flipping them all to be point down. “That’s sad, Soph. When did you find out?”

“Jessica told me when I went back to school.”

“Tyler never had a dad,” Sam said.

“What do you mean?” Evie knew Tyler’s mom from basketball and always assumed she was married to a workaholic. But if she was divorced, why didn’t Evie know? She could have used the camaraderie.

“I don’t know, I just know that one day at practice—Dad was there—and Tyler said he wished he had a dad.”

Evie wished little boys asked more questions.

Lots of kids were without dads. Evie knew that. She also knew it didn’t make anything easier or better or simpler. What it did was show Sam and Sophie they weren’t the only ones. Just knowing built a bridge of sameness. Evie hoped her kids would hang on tight and cross that bridge, maybe one day offering a hand of hope to someone else.

Sam and Sophie were healthy, warm, fed, and loved. They had a roof over their heads, even if Evie didn’t know for how long. They had TVs and telephones and a freezer full of rising-crust pizza. Evie swallowed hard and felt a tightening in her throat. She was fortunate simply because she was there.

“Mom? Mom!”

Evie snapped back to the dining room.

“I do want to go to school. But you’ll still walk me in and pick me up, right?” Sophie begged.

“Of course. Not until you’re ready for me to stop. Just like Sam can do his work at home until he’s ready to go back. You guys need different things to make this hard time easier. Well, not easier, but less hard. You can both use this room for all your homework and projects, okay?”

The twins abandoned their books. Sam walked to the kitchen and Sophie toward the stairs, but when they nodded it was in unison, both heads tilted right.

Evie arranged books on the shelves where she’d stored family heirlooms. Now her legacy would be passing along a new normal. She lined up pens and pencils, calculators, maps, textbooks, and worksheets and stepped back to admire the order she’d just created. Neat and tidy wouldn’t last long, but it sure looked good.