The Glass Wives (28 page)

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Evie said.

Sophie fell back onto her pile of stuffed animals and giggled. “I don’t like chopped liver!”

“You know what I mean!” Evie tickled Sophie’s side.

“But Aunt Lisa lives far away in Washington, and Grandma and Grandpa live far away in Florida, and all those other people live in faraway other places.”

“All what people?”

“All those cousins and everything, the ones that came here.”

“Well, most of them live in Delaware, sweetie. You know, where Aunt Lisa and I grew up. I moved to Chicago to go to college, and then I went to graduate school, and that’s where I met Daddy. And he grew up in Cleveland. So that’s where his whole family lives.”

“Mommy, I don’t want to go to California or Delaware or Cleveland.”

Evie leaned her body over Sophie’s and propped herself on one elbow. “What makes you think we’re moving?”

Sophie shrugged and buried her head and mumbled.

Evie snuggled down next to her daughter. “What makes you think we’re moving, Soph? We’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

Sophie looked at her. “Really? But Nicole and Luca left, and I know you needed her money for the house. What are you going to do without Nicole’s money for the house? What happens if you don’t pay for the house? Will the police come and—”

“Sophie!” Evie touched her face. “We’re fine. I don’t know what you heard, honey, but we’re fine. I’m sorry if any grown-up talk worried you. It did help us to have extra money when Nicole was here, but now I have that job at County College, remember? And now, some other things have worked out. We’re going to be fine.”

Evie sighed, relieved she wasn’t lying. She had deposited the insurance check that very afternoon, with Beth and Alan by her side.

“Who will stay with me and Sam when you work at the college?”

“Sometimes Laney and sometimes Beth.”

“Why not Nicole?”

“That just didn’t work out the way we wanted it to, that’s all. Do me a favor, Soph. If you hear grown-ups talking and it upsets or worries you, just tell me. Sometimes—no, lots of times—grown-ups say things they don’t mean or wish they hadn’t said.”

“Why do grown-ups do that?”

“I wish I knew.”

Evie poked Sophie in the side and she giggled.

“Do you think Nicole will be at the game with Luca this weekend?”

“I don’t know.”

Evie was beginning to think it would be easier when they were gone.

“I miss Luca,” Sophie said.

Or maybe not.
Evie tucked the blanket tightly around Sophie and kissed her head with a loud smooching sound. “I know, sweetie. Me too.” Then Evie headed to Sam’s room.

“Good day, kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s fun to have Aunt Lisa here, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh. She told funny stories about Daddy.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” What could she have told them that Evie hadn’t?

“She told us all about when he was going to propose to you but had no idea what kind of ring to buy, and how she had to help him over the phone because that was before the Internet or e-mail or anything.”

“Yeah, the Stone Age.”

Sam laughed. “And she said I look just like him when I stick out my tongue when I’m doing my homework.” He curled his tongue over the left side of his upper lip.

“Absolutely. I’ve told you that.”

“I know but…”

“But you believe it now that Aunt Lisa said it.”

Sam flashed a toothy smile and batted his eyes. Evie laughed, took his shoulders, and touched her nose to his and then sat back.

“That’s okay, it’s always nice to get a second opinion.”

Sam nodded. His smile softened but remained. He closed his eyes, and Evie could almost see the images of Richard that Sam saw on the insides of his eyelids. Richard in bed bouncing each child on one knee; Richard in his grubbiest clothes building a sandbox in the backyard with toddler twins playing with sand on the grass; Richard coaching; Richard growing tomatoes in the bathroom during his infatuation with hydroponics, teaching the kids how to tell when they were ripe and harvesting a bucketful even though he didn’t like tomatoes.

Evie searched her son’s face for sadness, the corners of his eyes for tears. Sam resembled Richard not only with the sandy blond hair streaked by sunlight, even though there was little sun in northern Illinois, and the way the hair fell over his eyes, but the way it didn’t seem to get in the way and was never deliberately swept out of the way. Sam clasped his hands behind his head the way he’d seen Richard do a million times and opened his eyes, still dry.

“You’re a lot like Daddy,” Evie said, sitting up. “All the best parts of him and the best parts of me are mixed together in different ways in you and Sophie.” Sometimes it was hard to remember Richard’s best, but when that happened, all she did was look
into
Sam and Sophie instead of
at
them. Evie held her left arm round as if cradling a large bowl. With her right hand she stirred with an imaginary giant spoon. “And that—is forever. No one can take that away.” She tucked in his covers under him.

Sam stretched and crossed his arms on top of the quilt. He looked relaxed, yet resolute.

“You look just like him when you do that,” Evie said.

Sam nodded and whispered, “I know.”

Chapter 22

E
VIE RANSACKED THE
E
VERYTHING
D
RAWER
in the kitchen desk.

“I can’t find them! Where are they? How am I supposed to leave without them,” she muttered.

Evie knelt and unzipped every zipper on Laney’s vintage Coach briefcase and dug her hand inside each pocket, sloshing around. She grabbed the organic-cotton tote bag Laney had given her and turned it upside down. Out rolled a water bottle, an apple, and a plastic bag of cookies. She’d leave them in the bag if it wasn’t appropriate, but faculty members got hungry at meetings, didn’t they? Evie stood, huffed, put her hands on her hips, tapped her foot, and looked around the room. Sam and Sophie stared—horrified amusement on their faces.

“What are you looking for?” Lisa said. “Maybe we can help you find it.”

“My sunglasses. This is the worst time of day to drive without them. I’ll have to hold my hand up like a visor the whole way to County, and when I get there, I’ll probably have a headache. Great for my first department meeting, right? I am
so
buying cheap ones tomorrow and putting them in every room of the house and in the car.”

“Mom?” Sam said.

“What!”

“You’re wearing them.” His gaze focused above her eyes.

Evie touched the top of her head. “Jeez. Now I’m going to be late.”

“You’re not going to be late,” Lisa said. “You gave yourself extra time, remember?”

“Chillax, Mom. You’ll freak everyone out,” Sophie said.

Lisa put her arm around her sister. The touch was firm, encouraging, and familiar. “She’s right, Sis. Chillax.”

Evie blew two audible breaths and walked to the table. “Thanks for the reminder, Soph.” Evie looked at Sam. “And thanks for finding my glasses.”

He chomped a cookie and smiled with a full mouth. Evie smiled at the laid-back manner as she reached over to hug him. “I should be home before bedtime.”

“We’ll be fine,” Lisa said.

“If there are any problems, call my cell.”

“We’ll be fine.” Lisa pushed back her chair and stood.

“I know, but…” Evie shrugged. “You never know, so just call me if you need me. If it’s an emergency. I left the college number by the computer, and someone will come and get me.”

Lisa put her hands on Evie’s shoulders and turned her toward the living room.

“We’ll—be—fine.”

“I know, but—”

“Go!” the kids yelled.

Evie saluted without turning back and touched the top of her head one more time.

She drove south toward County College and rearranged her mental priority list, pushing family to the bottom and work to the top—just for a few hours.

She’d stop in her office before the meeting. It was five o’clock. Sandy probably wouldn’t be there; his classes were in the morning and the afternoon.

Stopped for a red light, Evie glanced at the passenger seat and patted the container of oatmeal raisin—no risk of chocolate smudges anywhere they shouldn’t be. When Evie looked ahead, the late-afternoon sun pierced through the middle of the windshield. She squinted and slid sunglasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose. Even still, the view was so bright it hurt her eyes.

Evie parked, then walked up the well-worn path on the grass hill and through the metal security gate onto the campus green. This route offered a view of Sandy’s office window. The blinds were raised.

She entered the building and walked down the hall. Evie knocked. The door was unlocked.

“You don’t have to knock,” Sandy said, looking up from his monitor.

“I don’t want to disturb you. You must be busy.”

“Thank you, but it’s not necessary. Just catching up on paperwork. And besides, this is your office now too.”

Evie laid her tote and briefcase on the floor by her desk, took out her water bottle and the container of cookies. She felt out of place and in denial. Both she
and
her cookies belonged at picnics, not faculty meetings.

Sandy pointed. “Sharing?”

“Oh, um, sure.” She removed the lid and walked to Sandy like a waitress, not a colleague. She was getting it all wrong before she even started.

Polite as usual, he reached in and took two cookies. “Did you make these?”

Not sure of the right answer, Evie opted for truth. “I did.” She leaned on Sandy’s desk and then stood straight. “I shouldn’t have brought them. That wasn’t very professional, was it?”

“Are you kidding? We need sugar and caffeine at these meetings. You’ll see. These cookies might just save the department.”

Polite, handsome, and diplomatic. Evie stepped to her desk and sealed the cookies. “I know your daughter doesn’t live here. Do you have other family in the area?”

“No. And this year her boyfriend trumps both her mother
and
me for Passover.”

“Ouch. Need another cookie?”

Sandy smiled at her. “Definitely later. And next time.”

She looked at the time, stacked papers on the desk, gathered the briefcase strap and tucked it inside. Grabbing the tote, cookies, and water bottle, Evie headed to the door.

“You have time,” Sandy said, tapping his watch.

“I want to go a little early. The new person, you know. I don’t want to be late.”

“You want to make sure you get a good seat. In the back of the room.”

Sandy rose from his chair but left his jacket hanging on its back. He grabbed his keys. Evie turned the doorknob and opened the door. Sandy put his hand above her head and pulled the door wide. She walked through first and they broke into a familiar stride. When Evie tilted up her head to meet his gaze, she felt eye to eye even though her kitten-heel sandals only made her five foot six.

“It must be hard not seeing Rachel as much as you’d like.”

Sandy nodded. “I’m used to it, but splitting time between parents is never easy for a kid. No matter how old they are or how long they’ve been doing it.”

“I know.”

Sandy’s eyes questioned her, but he said nothing.

“I’m divorced.”

“I figured.” He pointed to her left hand. “No ring.”

Evie added
observant
to the Sandy list.
Oh, no. I am making a list.

They were the first ones in the conference room.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in another cookie? You could set the trend, make me look good.” She lifted her voice at the end of the sentence, grinned wide, and batted her eyelids like Jessica Rabbit, then stood straight wishing she hadn’t attempted cuteness instead of professionalism.

Sandy chuckled, a deep, husky sound that suited him and soothed her. “Thank you, but no.” He patted his stomach.

For two beats Evie’s eyes lingered on the winter-tanned hand against the starched white oxford. She looked up at him.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, raising one eyebrow and adding thought lines to his forehead.

Busted.
Being caught staring should have embarrassed her. Instead, it raised the stakes. If Evie was going to end up fired for flirting, she might as well enjoy herself.

“No, you can’t help me. That’s not what I meant. You did help me. I mean, thank you for walking with me. I appreciate it.” Evie wiped sweat from the back of her neck with a napkin, then shoved it into her tote bag even though the trash can was well within two-point range.

“No problem,” Sandy said, jingling his keys and chuckling. “If there are any cookies left over, you could leave them in the office. It would be nice to have some cookies to go with my coffee in the morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know about leftovers,” Evie teased. “My cookies are delicious.”

“Indeed they are,” Sandy said with a half smile. He tipped an invisible hat and backed away to his chair.

For that moment Evie had forgotten about the two kids, sister, widow and baby, pile of bills, endless housework, and a shedding dog—and she’d also forgotten about the new faculty members and administrators she’d meet in ten minutes.

It was the good kind of forgetting she had almost forgotten.

At the meeting, Sandy took a cookie and placed it on a napkin at his place, like a preschooler at snack time. As the men and women walked into the room, they introduced themselves to Evie and followed Sandy’s example, each taking a cookie. She figured they were just being polite, until none were left. Cookies were always a common denominator.

After the meeting, Evie waited in the hall for Sandy, leaning against the wall the same way she had waited for her friends after high school algebra.

“Thanks for the cookie thing,” she said when he walked out the door.

“No problem. I can’t reciprocate though. I don’t cook. Or bake. But if your desk wobbles or you want to hang something on the office wall, I’m your guy.”

“Tour guide, professor, and handyman?” Evie laughed.

Sandy bent toward her and looked from side to side. “I wear flannel shirts in the winter. Plaid ones,” he whispered.