Thursdays At Eight (22 page)

She relaxed in her chair for the first time since she'd arrived. The burden of Victoria's life was lifted from her shoulders; she and her mother were allies, united in the quest to help her sister. She felt a hundred times better.

She shoved her plate and the sunflower centerpiece aside and leaned her elbows on the table. “Okay, Mom, let's get to work.”

CLARE CRAIG

T
he house was in chaos and that wasn't going to change any time soon. Mick was home for the summer. He'd arrived late the night before, his car loaded down with a year's accumulation of dorm room necessities.

Yawning, Clare ambled down the hallway to the kitchen, maneuvering around his half-size refrigerator with a microwave balanced on top. She paused to look inside the laundry room and gasped.

Rather than deal with what appeared to be an entire semester's worth of wash, she closed the door and continued into the kitchen. To her surprise the coffee was already made.

“Morning,” Mick greeted her from the family room. All that was visible was his arm, which lay across the back of the sofa, and his head. His hair went in all directions and he was badly in need of a shave.

“How long have you been up?” she asked, reaching for a mug.

Mick merely shrugged.

“You haven't been to bed yet, have you?” Her son, like his father, was a night owl.

“I was too keyed up from the drive,” Mick confessed. “I sat down in front of the television and then it was too much effort to move.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Some,” he muttered, but from the look of him, Clare doubted it.

She'd never understood why Mick always insisted on unloading the car the minute he arrived home. The boys were still hauling in one load after another when she'd gone to bed. She was relieved that Mick and Alex were back on speaking terms.

Her own relationship with Mick had also been strained, and Clare hoped that everything would resolve itself now that he was home. She hoped he'd make his peace with his father, too. Her oldest son's anger toward Michael hadn't wavered. He refused to have anything to do with him, even though Alex and Clare saw Michael regularly.

“Do you feel like talking?” Clare carried her coffee into the other room and sat in the recliner across from Mick.

He stiffened. “Not if it's about Dad.”

“All right.” Her son was more intuitive than she'd realized.

“I'm glad school's out,” he said. Mick was obviously searching for a topic of conversation.

“I'm not going to be around as much this summer,” Clare told him. To her relief, her taking over at the dealership had gone relatively well. Because she already knew the staff, the transition had been quick and smooth. Nevertheless, she worked far more than the normal forty hours a week.

“Alex told me you don't get home until eight o'clock,” Mick said, frowning.

“Just some nights.”

“I don't understand it. Why are you helping Dad? How
can
you, after what he did to you?”

“What he did to
us,
” she corrected. That was what Mick was really saying. The pain their sons had endured was as great as her own.

“I can't forgive him.”

“I'm not sure I've completely forgiven him, either,” she said. Even now, Clare found it difficult to look past the agony Michael had brought into their lives.

“But you're helping him.”

“I know.”

“Why?” Mick cried. “Is it because of the cancer?”

It deeply pained her that neither boy was aware of the full truth regarding Michael's illness. She'd promised not to tell them Michael was dying, and, in fact, had only a few months to live; it was a promise she regretted now.

“What else could I do?” she asked, her voice low. “Michael came to me. The dealership was floundering, and someone needed to step in. Otherwise the business might fold entirely.”

“Are you hoping Dad will come back?” Mick asked angrily.

Clare had given some thought to that question herself. A part of her
wanted
him to want her back, to plead with her to forgive him. The scenario had played in her mind a thousand times before and after the divorce, and in each version she'd rejected him. She didn't know what she would've done if Michael had actually attempted to reconcile.

“Are you, Mom?” Mick pressed.

She shook her head. “He doesn't want me anymore.” That was the truth, painful though it was to admit.

Mick's face hardened. “Or Alex and me.”

“That's not true,” she insisted. “Your father loves you both.”

Mick snorted. “Sure he does.”

Clare wanted to argue, but stopped herself, hardly able to believe she'd turned into Michael's champion. As far as his father was concerned, Mick had already made up his mind.

“I'm glad Miranda left him,” he added.

Clare hated the edge she heard in his voice and realized it was an echo of the anger she'd carried herself for all those months.

“I saw her, you know.”

Clare glanced at him. “When?”

“Last Christmas, while I was home. She was with some guy.”

“Someone her own age?”

Mick nodded. “She had her arm around his and was looking up at him with these big adoring eyes. I thought, you know, this was what Dad deserved. He cheated on you and now everything had come full circle and she was cheating on him.”

“Poor Miranda.”

“Poor Miranda?” Mick sounded incredulous. “You've got to be joking.”

Clare avoided meeting his gaze. “It's taken a long time, but I finally understand what happened. Miranda lost her father without a minute's warning. One day he was alive, and the next day he was dead. That shook her whole world.”

“And there was Dad, so helpful, taking care of everything,” Mick said sarcastically.

Clare nodded, her throat tightening. “The poor girl got confused. In her pain and grief, she turned to Michael, somehow transferring the love she had for her dad to him. She was looking for another father figure more than she was a lover. In a way, I can understand that.”

“Well, I can't.” Mick's voice was stubborn, uncompromising.

“Michael offered her strength and comfort.” Clare didn't
condone the grief their actions had caused, but she wanted Mick to be a little more compassionate.

“That might excuse Miranda, but what about Dad?”

“I…I don't know. Perhaps there was something lacking in me.” She'd gone over her own role in this fiasco again and again. “Miranda needed him and I…I didn't.”

“All that tells me is you're strong and Dad's weak.” Mick bolted off the sofa and stood in the middle of the family room, fists clenched at his sides. “We weren't going to talk about Dad, remember?”

“Right,” she said, forcing a smile. She knew what her son was saying. It had been this way for more than two years now. Everything—every conversation, every argument, every thought—always went back to Michael.

“When I was in high school,” Mick said, “Dad was around all the time and it was no big deal.”

Even when he'd declared he
didn't
want to discuss Michael, Mick was the one bringing him into the conversation.

“Now Dad's gone, and I feel his absence far more than I ever did his presence.”

How articulate Mick was. She stared at him with a renewed sense of love and appreciation.

“I hope you'll go see him,” she said.

Mick's response was immediate. “No way!”

“Oh, Mick, don't turn your back on him out of any sense of loyalty to me. Your father needs you.”

Her son shook his head vehemently, his face unyielding. “What about all those times I needed him and he was playing daddy with Miranda? Don't push the issue, Mom.”

The pain vibrated from him, and Clare could see that Michael had a lot of work ahead of him if he hoped to heal the broken relationship with his oldest son.

“What's everyone doing up?” Alex asked, wandering into the family room in his swimming shorts. He yawned and scratched his head.

“Mick never went to bed,” Clare told him.

“Hey, why not?”

“I was watching reruns of
The Brady Bunch.
”

“The Brady Bunch?”
Alex repeated. “Why would you do that when there's all those stations? What about VH-1?”

Mick shrugged. “I don't know. I was in a groove.”

Strangely, Clare understood. Her son wasn't interested in the entertainment value of a decades-old situation comedy. What he saw was a happy blended family. With the Bradys, problems all seemed trivial and the parents loved each other and everyone worked out their differences. This was the fantasy family, whose lives were far removed from his own.

June 10th

Michael phoned the dealership six times from the hospital this afternoon. The chemo's especially rough on him this go-round, and the doctors felt it was best if he stayed there for the week.

I was busy each and every time he phoned. I waited until I had a free minute before I called him back. He asked me to take over for him, but I've discovered that he wants to keep close tabs on everything I do. I know I was being unfair and unreasonable, but I let Michael have it.

I should apologize for that outburst. It must have been very hard for him to step down and let me assume the leadership. We're different people and our work methods don't necessarily agree. Nor do we handle staff in the same way.

I don't think Michael has quite realized what a financial mess the business was in. He'd obviously been putting work off for
months, letting orders slide. I'm trying to get things in shape, but he has opinions on everything I do. Even from his hospital bed, Michael can't leave it alone. More than once I've been tempted to tell him exactly what he can do with this job.

I haven't, and I won't. I understand how difficult it was to turn the management over to me. He says he asked me to do this for the boys, and I know that's true. The dealership is their inheritance, but unfortunately they're not interested. Neither of them is willing to work here, even for the summer. Alex's job at Softline keeps him busy and Mick got a job as a lifeguard, which he loves. He's tanned and gorgeous and the girls are flocking to the house. Kellie is still dating Alex, but she's got her eye on Mick. A mother knows these things.

On a brighter note, I had an unexpected but welcome surprise. Leslie Carter phoned me from Hawaii. We chatted for nearly thirty minutes. He talked about the sailing trip and what he learned about himself and his limits. I found it really interesting; he's a perceptive man. I told him about working at the dealership. We only met that one time, but he's stayed in my mind and apparently I've stayed in his.

Both boys were home when Leslie phoned and were full of curiosity. It was all a little embarrassing. Mick had a lot of questions, and for a while there, I felt like I was being interrogated. Really, there's nothing to tell. Leslie is a wonderful man and I'm glad I met him. I don't have any idea if I'll be seeing him again.

I hope I do, though. I really would like to know him better.

THURSDAY MORNING BREAKFAST CLUB

L
iz, by nature, was prompt and thus the first to arrive at Mocha Moments. She ordered her croissant and coffee, and secured the table by the window so she could watch for her friends.

These few quiet minutes helped her compose her thoughts. She needed to process the conversation she'd had with her son the night before. Brian, spurred on by his sister, was worried about her. Funny, her son had been perfectly content to call her once a month until he'd learned from Amy that their mother was dating again. Now he felt he should visit home and check out the situation.

Liz didn't know if she should be pleased by her children's concern or insulted by their lack of trust in her judgment.

Clare arrived soon afterward, looking harried. The last two Thursdays, she'd only stayed about ten minutes before rushing off to the dealership. Earlier in the week, Liz had left a message with Alex, but Clare hadn't called her back.

“Morning,” Clare said, carrying her espresso and scone to the table. She was about to sit down but stopped in midaction. “I never did return your call, did I?”

“No.”

“Damn, I'm sorry. It's just that I've been running around like a lunatic for the last couple of weeks.” She sank into her seat.

“I noticed,” Liz said, without chastisement.

“Hello, everyone.” Julia pulled out her usual chair and joined them.

The maternity jumper seemed new and Liz was pleased to see some color in her cheeks. Julia dipped her tea bag in the white ceramic pot.

“How was your week?” she asked them both. Before they could answer, Karen appeared.

“Sorry I'm late.” She greeted them with her cheerful smile as she bounced into her seat. The backpack went onto the floor next to her chair; this week's latte was plunked down on the table and some of it sloshed out of the cup.

Liz studied the frothy concoction Karen had bought and wondered what flavor combination she'd selected today.

“How is everyone?” Karen asked.

“I'm feeling great,” Liz said and she meant it. She smiled widely; happiness seemed to radiate from her. Everyone at work had noticed. Her secretary, Donna DeGooyer, people in the cafeteria—everyone—and they all knew the reason, too.

“So speaks a woman in love.” Julia poured her brewed herbal tea into her mug.

“In love?” Karen raised her voice in excitement. “You're falling for that doctor friend of yours, aren't you?”

All three turned to stare at her.

Liz was uncomfortable with their scrutiny. She was sur
prised she'd been able to hide her feelings this long. “The operative word here is
friend.
Sean and I are just friends.”

Clare eyed her skeptically. “Nothing more…”

“Nothing more,” Liz quickly agreed, and she was serious. Sean wanted her in his bed, but he'd accepted her refusal with unexpected grace. As a result, their friendship had flourished, deepening beyond work talk and casual conversation. For the most part, he avoided any mention of his ex-wife and their divorce, but he'd divulged a few of the details. Liz felt certain she was one of the few people privileged with that information.

“Yeah, right,” Karen muttered, not bothering to conceal her disbelief. “The way you feel about him is written all over you.”

“Don't say that.” Liz groaned aloud. “Brian's coming for a visit this weekend.”

“To check out Sean?” Clare had two boys of her own and knew exactly what Brian was up to, Liz thought wryly.

“Well, he didn't admit it, but we both know why he's developed a sudden interest in visiting his mother,” she replied.

“Amy sent him,” Clare said, raising her eyebrows.

“That's my guess, anyway.” Liz shook her head. “I never thought my children would react like this.”

“React like what?” Julia peeled away the paper lining on her blueberry muffin, then looked at Liz, awaiting a response.

“Like my being attracted to another man is this huge shock.” There, she'd come right out and said it. Liz was interested in Sean. Sure, they had their differences, but everything had changed the night he took her to Little Lambs. He'd revealed an unprecedented trust in her and she, in turn, had shed her own prejudices.

“My dad died ten years ago,” Julia continued, splaying her hand across her abdomen as the baby kicked. “And if my mom
started dating after all this time, I'd wonder, too. It's only natural, don't you think?” She threw the question out to the group.

The other two agreed.

“I'll say one thing,” Clare said, “you look happier than I've ever seen you. What was your word for the year again?”

“Time,” Liz said. Funny Clare should ask, because she'd given a lot of consideration to her word lately. She'd chosen it because she was afraid life was passing her by and there were so many things she had yet to do, yet to experience. Falling in love wasn't something she'd anticipated. But it made every day, every hour, feel vivid and special—made her conscious of time in a new way.

“I suggest you don't waste any
time
making excuses, either,” Karen said, half-humorously. “When Brian comes, just hold your head high.”

“She's right,” Julia said. “Brian might feel shocked, as I would, but be honest and ask for his support.”

“What I can't get over is that my own children doubt my judgment.”

“From some of the things you told us about him early on,
I
doubt your judgment,” Clare muttered, then refuted her disapproval with a wide smile. “But if you see something redeeming in him, then it must be there.”

“There is,” Liz said with a soft sigh. She wouldn't be with Sean until the weekend, and already she was counting the days.

“Help me, please,” Clare moaned. “My friend is falling in love and she can't think straight.”

“Cut it out,” Liz returned sternly, but was unable to keep back a smile. She
was
in love, and it felt absolutely wonderful.

“Love can have consequences,” Julia said, placing her hands over the small mound that was her baby. “Before you ask, everything's developing nicely. I'm nearly seven months along
now. I guess I spent so long trying to deny that I was pregnant, the weeks just slipped away.”

“What about Adam and Zoe? Have they had an attitude adjustment yet?” Liz asked.

Julia shook her head. “Most of the time, they're still angry and upset with Peter and me, as though we purposely set out to destroy their self-involved little lives. That's one of the reasons we don't talk much about the baby around them.”

“It's fairly obvious you're pregnant,” Clare said. “It isn't like they can ignore it.”

“Yes, they can,” Julia insisted. “And they are. They don't understand that being parents to a newborn means more than having a package of disposable diapers on hand. This baby is going to cause a major lifestyle change, and
everyone's
been ignoring that fact, including me.” Julia sounded near-frantic. “To complicate everything, Peter and I still don't know what we're going to do about day care.”

“I thought you said Peter could get three months' paid leave after the baby's born, and that he'd bring him or her to you at the store for feedings.”

“But that's only three months, and I don't even know how well it's going to work.”

“You can't keep the baby at the store?”

“Not if I intend to give good customer service. I think people would be tolerant for a little while, but not on an everyday basis. It is, after all, a retail store.”

Liz agreed with her. “It's one thing with an infant,” she said. “You might be able to manage. But when he or she begins to crawl…”

Julia nodded.

“I thought your mother was retiring,” Karen inserted.

The worry in Julia's eyes diminished slightly, and Liz could see that her friend had pinned her hopes on her mother's help.

“Mom is retiring, but I can't expect her to leave one job and take on another, especially when it's this demanding. If she were to offer, then that'd be great. Peter and I would be thrilled. But she hasn't—and I can't ask her.” Julia's voice faded with disappointment.

“What about Georgia?” Karen suggested.

“My cousin? You're joking, right? Georgia hasn't been around babies very much and doesn't know a thing about them. I love my cousin, but she'd hate me if I saddled her with this baby for more than an hour at a time. Besides, she already has a job.”

“What about baby clothes and all the other paraphernalia you're going to need?” Liz asked.

Julia looked more distraught than ever. “Clothes are the least of my concerns. Between my sister and the women from church, I'll have more than enough clothes to see this baby through kindergarten.”

“Day care is a big problem for a lot of women,” Liz said, knowing how heavily the issue weighed on Julia's mind.

“I don't know what I'm going to do,” she murmured again, eyes disconsolate. “I might have to close the shop. I'd hate that and it would make me resent my baby—which I don't want. But I don't want to throw away all my hard work, either.” She shrugged helplessly. “The baby has to be my first priority.”

“There don't seem to be any easy answers, do there?” Clare's voice revealed her sympathy.

“None—and the crazy part is, I'm actually looking forward to having this baby. After all the angst and doubt I had in the
beginning, I didn't think that was possible. Now, if only my children would develop some tolerance…”

“Adam and Zoe will come around,” Karen said. “Just be patient.”

“Six months of substitute teaching, and the girl's an expert on child-rearing,” Clare muttered under her breath.

“Hey,” Karen countered. “I spend eight to ten hours a day, four days a week, dealing with teenagers. I know how they think.”

Liz was surprised. “You must be substituting a lot more hours than you were before.” Come to think of it, Karen hadn't mentioned an audition for some time now.

“I've been filling in at Manchester High School,” she said.

“Isn't that where the chemistry teacher works?” Liz asked. “The one you hooked up with?”

“Yeah.” Karen lowered her gaze.

Liz read the signs like a skilled scout. “You like this guy.”

“I do,” she admitted. “Glen is wonderful.”

She was charmed by the way Karen's eyes brightened when she mentioned his name.

“Glen met my parents this weekend,” she said with deceptive casualness.

“You took Glen to meet your
parents?
” Julia asked, unable to disguise her shock.

“Not exactly. Glen and I were rollerblading near the beach and we ran into my parents at the marina.”

“Did mom and dad approve?” Clare asked, although the answer to that should be obvious.

“How could they not? Glen is smart and polite and traditional. Plus he's got a respectable occupation.” She grinned. “He's everything my parents always wanted for me.” After a brief pause, she added casually, “You know, I'm getting along much better with my mother these days.”

“That's good news.” Liz was sincere. Every week, it seemed, Karen had come with a long list of grievances against her mother. Liz recognized that this was a relationship between two stubborn people, neither of whom was willing to meet the other's expectations.

“How's your sister doing?” Clare asked next.

Karen didn't say anything right away, and it seemed to Liz that she struggled to answer. “Okay, I guess. She isn't speaking to me at the moment.”

“Why not?”

If Clare had been able to stay for more than ten minutes the last couple of weeks, she'd know. Karen had told them about the lunch with her mother and how she'd inadvertently blurted out the truth about Victoria's marriage. Her mother had then confronted Victoria, and Karen's older sister had resented the intrusion.

Soon afterward, the two sisters had an angry exchange. In the end, Victoria had slammed the door in Karen's face, but not before she'd screamed that she wanted nothing more to do with her. Karen had felt horrible. She hadn't mentioned the episode since, but Liz knew the strained relationship continued to bother her.

“Here's what I wanted to tell you,” Karen said, clearly eager to move on to another topic. “Guess what I've been teaching?”

“English?”

“No. Drumroll, please. Drama classes! And, guys, I absolutely love it.”

“Drama?” Liz repeated. “Karen, that's great!”

“Yeah, and with the year-round schedule, I can work all summer long, if I want.”

Clare rolled her eyes. “I still can't get used to that. I'm just
grateful only one of my boys was involved in it. Manchester High School didn't go year-round until after Mick graduated.”

“Well, I'm just grateful they did,” Karen said. “Otherwise I'd go back to being a starving artist. I've had work and I've had none and—”

“Work is better,” Julia finished for her.

“Exactly!” Karen agreed.

“Get back to Glen meeting your parents,” Clare insisted. “I want to hear about this. And I mean details, girl.”

“Well…” Karen hesitated. She started to laugh. “You know what my mother said to Glen? That he was the first boy I'd dated who didn't have tattoos or a ponytail.”

“She didn't!”

Karen nodded. “She did, but I think she was just so happy to meet someone she considered normal, she simply forgot herself.”

Although Karen had made it obvious that she didn't want to discuss her sister, Liz was dissatisfied with their unresolved conversation about Victoria. She felt anxious about this woman, felt that her husband was a time bomb, waiting to explode. “Are you sure everything's all right with Victoria?”