The Glass Wives (15 page)

She ambled into the kitchen as the phone rang. When Evie saw the Midwest Mutual number on caller ID, she looked around for Nicole. She waved from the living-room floor, where she was camped out with Luca and a magazine.

“This is Evelyn Glass,” Evie whispered, dispensing with the formality of hello. “Please hold on.” Evie walked through the living room without looking at Nicole, took the steps two at a time, and locked herself in her master bathroom.

“I’m back,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as though she was sitting on a closed toilet.

“Hello, Ms. Glass.”

She recognized the nasal monotone of the agent assigned to her, Mr. Donald Baker from Midwest Mutual, but Evie did not want to seem comfortable or familiar or friendly. She was none of those, so it was easy. “Have you worked out the glitches with my ex-husband’s policy?”

“Ms. Glass, we need a court-certified copy of your divorce decree along with the original marriage license for you and Mr. Glass.”

A few years ago Evie would have corrected him. A Ph.D. made Richard
Dr.
Glass. She was no longer concerned with propriety or labels. “Are you kidding me? I sent you all that weeks ago.”

“I wish I was kidding, Ms. Glass. We need certified and original documents. We also need the death certificate for your ex-husband.”

A balloon swelled in Evie’s throat, closing her airway; she gasped for breath. “What is the problem? He paid the premiums, didn’t he? Oh my God, don’t tell me he let the policy lapse.”

“The policy was current at the time of death.”

Momentary paralysis set into Evie’s limbs. “What does that mean?”

“It means there were no problems before he passed. The problems with the policy are coming up postmortem, which is why we need the additional documentation. It’s really just details, Ms. Glass. When the file is complete, we’ll have resolution and disbursement of funds.”

Evie shook her leg to stop it from falling asleep. “Doesn’t anyone care that I have children to feed?” Silence. “How long will this take?”

“I can’t say, ma’am.”

“You can’t say or you won’t say, Mr. Baker?”

“I won’t speculate. Every case is different.”

Evie had started to hate the word
different
.

*   *   *

“I’ll stay home with Nicole,” Sam said without looking away from the computer monitor.

“No, you’ll come with me. It’s part of today’s math lesson,” Evie said.

Sam pushed away from the dining-room table. “The grocery store is math.
Right
.”

“Right. Get your stuff on. Let’s go.”

“We’ll come too if that’s okay,” Nicole said. She looked at Evie and winked.

“Sure,” Evie said. “The more the merrier.” The more the weirder is what she meant, but Nicole was trying to help and Evie knew it.
Be nice, be nice, be nice.
It was getting easier to be nice.

Walking through the grocery-store parking lot, Evie said, “Now remember, you’re going to estimate the weight of the fruits and vegetables and cross things off the list as we put them in the cart. Maybe you’ll even figure out the total bill before we get to the register.”

“I thought you were joking,” Sam said.

“Yep, I’m a comedian.”

Sam huffed but followed her, and Nicole and Luca followed him. They were a freakish family parade going into Jewel. All they needed were some flags and batons.

“Hey, Evie, nice to see you,” said Gwen Barton, who seemed camped out amid the organic produce. Gwen chaired Eden’s PTO, had launched the neighborhood book club, and was president of their temple’s sisterhood. She eyed the meager contents of Evie’s cart. Evie knew Gwen had already snapped a mental picture of Evie’s hoodie du jour and the banana clip in her hair.

“Nice to see you too, Gwen,” Evie said. Gwen’s cart almost toppled over with the green-stickered produce in her own reusable tote bags and three half gallons of soy milk.

“We miss you at Bunco,” Gwen said, never taking her eyes off the nutrition label on organic soy cheese.

“Sorry I can’t be there anymore.”

“It’s understandable. Karen had been waiting for a Wednesday-night opening, so it wasn’t a problem. She was thrilled to take your place.”

The story of Evie’s life.

Gwen leaned over her cart handle and whispered, “How are the kids doing?” Her eyes were wide. She almost licked her lips. Evie knew Gwen anticipated an avalanche of information, which she could then disperse through an e-mail list or phone tree.

“They’re both doing fine, thanks for asking.” Evie stepped as far back from Gwen as she could get without landing in the arugula and risking a misting.

“I’m so glad. It must be so hard.” Gwen’s eyes shifted across the store, then back to Evie.

“The kids are doing fine. Thanks for asking.” Evie felt like a doll whose string you pull and she says the same thing over and over and over. It was all she said to anyone about her kids. She was too tired to recount details that would evoke pity but no answers. Did Gwen want to know Sam was estimating the total so that they had enough cash? That COBRA ate half of the Social Security checks? Probably not.

Nicole pushed her cart, with Luca tethered into the seat, right up next to Evie. “Hi, I’m Nicole. And this is Luca.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Evie mumbled. “Nicole, Gwen. Gwen, Nicole—and Luca.” Evie put out her finger and Luca grabbed it.

“So, I hear Evie took you in,” Gwen said, lifting one eyebrow at Evie.

Evie gasped. “Where did you hear that?”

“Not much goes on without everyone knowing.”

“Well, maybe everyone should mind their own business,” Nicole said.

Naive Nicole. Gwen made everyone’s business her own, so to her, she was doing just that.

Gwen looked Nicole up and down. “Sweetie, if you minded
your
own business, Evie wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Knock it off, Gwen. Please,” Evie whispered, and cocked her head to the right toward Sam. Then she remembered Nicole was listening too. “You don’t know the whole story.”

Gwen put up her hand like a crossing guard. “I don’t want to know the whole story,” she almost certainly lied. “I know quite enough.”

“I’m happy to lend Evie a hand,” Nicole said.

“I think Evie’s had enough of your type of help.”

“She’s a big help with the twins,” Evie said, touching Nicole’s foot with her own. No one needed to know their living arrangement was because Evie needed Nicole in order to pay the mortgage. Let them all think it was Evie who was doing Nicole the favor, although Nicole could have used the good press.

Gwen looked at her watch. “Whatever works for you. Truly.
I don’t judge.
But I do have to go. I’m meeting someone for lunch.” She walked off pushing her cart without acknowledging Nicole.

“I’m sorry she was so rude,” Evie said as Sam dumped bananas and apples and oranges and two cucumbers into the cart. “Get four potatoes,” Evie said.

Sam sighed and Evie watched him scan the bins of yellow, white, red, purple, and sweet potatoes.

“She’s rude?” Nicole said. “You didn’t even try to tell her what’s really going on.”

“And what is really going on?”

“I can go back to my house, I could sell it and buy something else, I could go back to Iowa, I just don’t want to. You
need me
to stay. You can’t pay your mortgage or your bills without me.”

Nicole had a firmer grasp of the situation than Evie had thought. “Beth told me you rented out the house, so don’t threaten me with moving—because now you don’t have anywhere to go.”

“It’s a month-to-month lease. I can go back anytime.” Nicole turned away and then to Evie. “Beth told you?”

“I know Beth is nice to you. She’s nice to everyone. But she’s loyal to me.”

Nicole shuffled her feet, as if trying to get away without moving. “So you think it’s okay for that Gwen to think this arrangement is
charity
if the charity is
me
?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Is it?”

“If I remember correctly, you so desperately wanted out of your house that you kept showing up at mine—uninvited.”

“If I remember correctly, you offered to let me move in and said you’d accept my offer to pay. I didn’t beg, I just suggested it would benefit both of us.”

“Fine. You’re right. Next time I see Gwen I’ll make sure she understands.”

“Thanks,” Nicole said, her voice lifting.

“No problem.” It was no problem because Evie would just make sure she didn’t see Gwen Barton until the insurance money came through or she’d gotten a job, or both.

Chapter 11

L
ANEY STEPPED OUT OF HER
car and trekked through the pristine foot of snow on the patch of grass that separated the friends’ driveways, her boots disappearing under her knee-length coat. Evie knew what would follow.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a showdown with Gwen? I had to hear it from Beth, who heard it from Darcy, who heard it from Gwen! Don’t leave me out of the loop like that!”

Evie clamped her lips to invoke Laney’s silence.

“Hey, Sam!” Laney said, giving him a thumbs-up through her leather gloves. “He didn’t hear me,” she whispered.

Sam stood his shovel in a pile of snow and waved.

“Finish the bottom step and then you can be done,” Evie said to him. “I’ll make hot chocolate when I come inside.”

Sam scooped the final bit of snow, stomped into the house, and slammed the door before Evie could tell him not to. Evie wondered if he took off the boots or if she’d slip on the wet floor when she removed her own boots. Time would tell.

“So why didn’t you call me?” Laney said again. “If you’re going to bite someone’s head off, give
me
a heads-up next time.”

“It wasn’t a showdown. And believe it or not, this isn’t about you.” Evie turned her back and shoveled imaginary snow.

Laney grabbed the broom that was leaning against a bush and swept away the snow dust left on the walkway. “She said you were rude. I said you were exhausted. I have a feeling it was both.” Evie felt pushed into a corner with each swoosh of the broom. Laney cared. Laney meant well. Laney pushed more than snow.

“Really? She said just ‘rude’? She was a pain in the ass. It’s over.” Evie surveyed her blanketed front lawn, then walked down the clean driveway to look at the house from the street. Alan had used his snowblower on the driveway, but Evie insisted he leave the path and steps for Sam. Sam needed to know that being home meant pitching in, not watching TV. Standing at the curb, Evie thought the new snow on her roof made her house look like an iced cupcake; the icicles hanging off the edge of the roof were like candy decorations ready to be plucked and eaten, except that one was big enough, and looked sharp enough, to spear a fish.

Laney, chic even when bundled up, shooshed her way to Evie and stood shoulder to shoulder, speaking without looking at her. “It looks perfect. Your house always looks pretty in the snow.” Evie knew it did. She and Richard had bought it in winter, snow-covered. It looked like the front of the Christmas card she’d never send.

“On the outside,” Evie said. “The inside is a freaking mess.” Although with Nicole’s housework OCD, it was tidier than ever.

Laney looped her arm through Evie’s. “I know.” Laney tugged, and Evie let her friend lead her up the driveway and to the front door. “I won’t tell you what to do, but maybe it’s time for a little housecleaning.”

“What do you mean you won’t tell me what to do? You
always
tell me what to do.” Evie’s voice was louder than she intended.

“No. I tell you what I
think
you should do. What
I
would do. Obviously you do what you want.” Laney rolled her eyes and smirked. Evie knew Laney expected her to laugh, but it wasn’t funny.

“Well, now I want you to come inside and…” She wanted to ask Laney to scavenge in Evie’s closet for interview clothes. She wanted to ask Laney to keep her company while she scoured more websites for jobs. She wanted to sit in the kitchen and sip a lukewarm cup of coffee and solve the world’s—or at least Lakewood’s—problems. Evie wanted help, and asking for it was harder than shoveling snow.

“And what?”

“Never mind.”

Evie turned the doorknob. She was relieved she hadn’t been locked out. Banging on her own front door, Rex barking, Nicole and Sam running to the door to let her in was more action and attention than she wanted at the moment. She wanted to slip inside unnoticed. She wanted to slip inside unneeded. Just for a few minutes. Help from Laney came with effervescence and energy. Evie was too tired for help from Laney.

“Don’t do that to me. I’ll come in, just tell me what you want me to do. You want me to tell Nicole to leave? I’m all over it like wasabi on sushi.” Laney grabbed Evie’s arms and Evie pulled away hard.

“Don’t do that,” Evie yelled, her affection for Laney sidelined. “You can’t do this to me anymore. She’s not going anywhere. It’s working for me.”

“It’s fucked up.”

“Nobody asked you!” Evie pushed open the door and stepped, slamming the door shut behind her.

Laney stood on the other side yelling, “Hey, don’t shut the door on me!”

She didn’t have to be part of the solution, but she couldn’t be another of Evie’s problems. Evie couldn’t deal with Laney and then come in and check the floor for slush, look for a job, chat with Nicole, dole out Sam’s schoolwork, and call Midwest Mutual. Not to mention make hot chocolate.

Heart pounding from exasperation as well as exertion, Evie slid off her boots and put them on the vent. Sam’s boots were neatly off to the side. Coat and hat in the closet, Evie considered her attire. Just like her house, she was appropriately dressed on the outside but a mess underneath. Evie had traded in her robe for a faded White Sox T-shirt, stretchy pants, and a hair clip. She was one sensible-shoe step away from embroidered kitten sweatshirts. She was glad Laney wasn’t there to see the latest outfit; although Evie was surprised Laney didn’t follow her into the house demanding something or other. Evie stayed on the rug in front of the door and looked at the floor in front of her. It was dry, no footprints. She tentatively walked through the living room to the kitchen without slipping.