Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakthrough (12 page)

  "I won't be long. I'll make lunch for you when I get back." She tossed the words over her shoulder, half expecting Joe to charge down the steps and drag her back. But if he started in public, it would be harder for Kettle to pretend they didn't know what was happening. She was safe until she got home.

  She fell in step beside Vivian, hardly daring to breathe in case she woke up and found this was a dream. But the sun shone, the wind rustled the changing leaves, and she didn't wake up. So she drank in the companionship and admired the way Vivian managed to look down -to-earth and like a sex goddess at the same time. Maybe Erin would start wearing this sweater more often.

  "Pretty day."

  "Yes." She chewed the inside of her cheek, unsure how to chat, still more unsure what Vivian expected of her, what had prompted her to want to walk together.

  Vivian looked back over her shoulder and Erin copied, terrified she'd see Joe staring after them with his thundercloud eyebrows. But thank God, he'd gone back in.

  "Men are so pathetic." Vivian gestured in contempt. "They put on the macho independent act, and fall apart when we're not there."

  "Right." Erin smiled nervously. She wasn't comfortable talking about Joe. He'd been such a forbidden topic for so long, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to mention his name in public.

  "You're the only person I remember from my visits to Kettle when I was a kid." She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. "Tell me what you remember. I'm curious."

  Vivian's words made Erin feel special. She started to relax. "My father used to live next door to you. Not Mike's house, the other one."

  "Now home to Tweedle -Dum and Tweedle -Dumber?"

  Through force of habit, Erin tried to suppress her laughter and ended up sounding as if she couldn't breathe through a cold. Vivian had nailed the Johnsons.

  "You can laugh around me." Vivian turned toward her, and Erin felt her power and understood.

  "Thank you." She blinked fiercely to avoid tears, since tears made her sniffle like a schoolgirl and she wanted to pretend for this short time that she and Vivian were friends and equals.

  "Before you go on, Erin, answer me this. Is
anyone
in this town not completely bunged up over something?"

  She had to remind herself, but she managed to let her laughter out. It felt good. Tickly and freeing. "Very doubtful."

  "I thought so. Go on."

  "I was six, you were nine." She wondered if it would seem odd to have cemented Vivian's visit in her memory, but she was so anxious to let the story out, she didn't care. "I was playing out back when you came over."

"I just showed up in your yard?"

  "We didn't have a fence or anything. I remember thinking you had much nicer clothes than I did." She gave a wry smile. "I guess some things don't change."

  Vivian laughed, and Erin felt as if she'd been given a gift. "Then what?"

  "Then you came right over and asked me what I was doing."

  "What were you doing?"

  "Building a house out of a shoebox, with rocks and leaves and grass for furniture."

  Vivian groaned. "So I lorded Gran's doll palace over your hut?"

  "No." Erin shook her head emphatically. "Not at all. You helped me and then you asked me if I wanted to play in your house when we were done."

  "Really. Nice to know I had some kindness in me back then." Her sarcasm was tinged with bitterness.

  "You had plenty." Erin wanted to hug her and tell her how they'd run together from her father's anger and how that had been the one time she'd felt she had an ally except for imaginary Alice. She wanted to tell Vivian that Vivian would be okay, which was ridiculous because no one needed to tell Vivian that, and who was Erin to be giving out life advice?

  They passed Sarah's house, with the maroon chrysanthemums blooming cheerfully in their white painted wagon. Vivian made a scornful noise. "Here dwelleth the Pumpkin Queen. Abandon imperfection all ye who enter here."

  Erin frowned. "Sarah's not as bad as she seems."

  "Right."

"She tries to be nice."

"When it suits her."

  Erin frowned harder. She wasn't surprised Sarah and Vivian hadn't taken to each other. But Erin would have expected Vivian just to laugh at how Sarah clung to perfectionism like a shield. A transparent shield.

  They passed Sarah's house and the pumpkin -fi lled lot next door, which made Vivian snort and say, "Whatever."

  Erin didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. She'd thought Vivian's Come As You're Not theme and makeover idea were great, except for once she agreed with Joan. No one would let Lorelei Taylor make them over. The town had voicelessly united to block her at every turn. There had never been a crime in Kettle, and she, being a criminal, came far too close.

  In Erin's opinion, there had scarcely been a day without crime in Kettle. Sometimes she thought drug deals and murders and robberies were preferable to the small cumulative evils that went on here every day.

  "So Erin, is there a place in town people post these kinds of notices?"

  "At the church." Erin gestured ahead to the white building where the Social Club met. "And down Main Street at Granley's Stationers."

  "Excellent."

  At the corner of Spring and Main, Vivian darted into the church to pin her announcement to the community board while Erin waited on the sidewalk. An elderly woman passed, glaring fi rst up the steps where Vivian had disappeared, then at Erin for the sin of associating with her. Erin wanted to laugh. The same woman probably passed Erin dozens of times in the last thirty -plus years and never even noticed her. Being around Vivian made her visible.

  Vivian reappeared through the big wooden doors and skipped down the steps, scowling. Even scowling, she burst with life and passion and beauty. "How long before that gets ripped down? Ten, twenty minutes?"

  "If you're lucky."

  "Well it's worth a shot." She sighed. "You'll come to my classes, won't you, Erin?"

  "I'd like to." Her voice came out dull and hopeless. She didn't offer anything more. Vivian had to understand.

  "Then do it." Vivian's words were low and urgent, then as if she were changing into someone else, she smiled and stepped back. "There were notices up for the Halloween party, too. Our Sarah must have been busy."

  "Sarah usually is." Erin started walking with her down Main Street, and if Vivian noticed the way people stared or did double takes, she didn't let on. "Halloween is a big deal in Kettle."

  "Why's that?"

  "In 1920 a bunch of women barricaded themselves in your house to protest men not letting them vote, even though it was just made legal." She grimaced, hating the hypocritical pride the town took in the story. "The men gave in, so along with the holiday, Kettle celebrates the power of women."

  Vivian burst out laughing, a long, loud guffaw about as opposite from the way Erin laughed as you could get. Then she grabbed Erin's arm and stopped walking. "
Are
there any powerful women in Kettle?"

She tried to hide the hope in her eyes. "There's you now."

  Vivian stopped laughing. She slid her hand down Erin's arm until their hands were clasped, the same way they'd been decades ago when they ran away from the angry sound of Erin's dad's voice.

  Then in full view of passersby, who would no doubt carry the story home to their loved ones that night, Vivian leaned over and planted a long, sweet kiss on Erin's cheek.

Eleven

Sarah's entry in her diary

May 26

Morning after senior prom

Dear Diary,

I had such a good time with Tom! He's so sweet and so handsome and so romantic. We danced together almost all evening. I'm sure the entire female half of the class wanted to dance with Tom, too, but no way was I letting them near him.

  
Sally Jordan had a keg party after at her house by the lake, and my parents said because my grades were so good all year that I didn't have to be back until the next morning! Which is now! So here I am writing
this on no sleep! Not a wink. It was so great. I think I'm still drunk, but not only on beer!

  
Tom has got to be the world's best dancer. After in his car, I let him get to second base, but I stopped him doing more even though he really wanted to. That's for my future husband.

  
He's going to Minnesota to be a camp counselor this summer, then to UW Madison next fall. He's soooo cute! He says he wants to go to law school someday, too!

  
Anyway, it was a great party and now I have to go to bed because I'm pooped!

Love, Sarah

  Sarah walked into Granley's Stationers, carefully smoothing back her windblown hair. She registered Tom's presence behind the counter, but stopped at the front of the store, pretending to consider some note cards so he'd have the chance to admire her before she spoke to him. She wore pleated, wool crepe pants and a matching short jacket in a fl attering shade of rust that she'd bought from Talbots online at a very reasonable price. There was no excuse not to look lovely every day when clothes could be bought at reasonable prices. To complement the ensemble, she'd chosen a cream -colored blouse that set off both her suit and her skin to perfection. The neckline ventured a little farther south than her necklines usually ventured, but she felt a little reckless today, so why not?

  She smiled at that thought, hoping her smile looked mys terious and would make Tom wonder what she was thinking. Then she turned, broadening the smile into a special hello.

  Of course she hadn't been wrong, he
was
staring at her, and started when she caught him, which sent a delicious tingle through her body. Innocent, all of it, but so much fun.

  She was here to pick up a Cross pen she'd had him order specially for Ben. A sleek, platinum -plated ball point, to replace the one he'd been using so long it was scratched and worn. Tom had sent her an e -mail that the pen was ready, and reading a private note from him, even one so businesslike, had been vaguely thrilling as well.

Sarah. I wanted to let you know that your pen has arrived. Stop by any time. Tom.

  "Hello, Tom." She kept contact with his beautiful dark eyes as she approached the counter.

  "Hi Sarah. You look very nice. As always."

  "Thank you." She dropped her eyes modestly. When people complimented you, they didn't want you acting as if you agreed with them. "Very nice of you to say so."

  "You're here to pick up the pen?"

  "Yes." As if she were reaching out to touch his hand, she laid hers on the center of the scratched glass covering the advertisement for Parker Pens that had been there since she was a girl. "I've been so busy preparing for the party, but I wanted to pick it up."

  "I'm glad you did."

  She let herself thrill just a little at his deep voice saying

that. "This morning I found a child at a hospital in Ladysmith who will benefi t from our Halloween fund -raiser."

  "Good for you, Sarah." He beamed in admiration, and Sarah felt as if she could rise up and float around his store.

  "Thank you for your e -mail. It's a nice method of keeping in touch, don't you think?"

  He nodded, eyes warm in that way that told her so much more than he ever said. "Absolutely."

  "You never bother anyone with an e -mail the way you can with a phone call." She traced the outline of the photographed pen under the glass, wondering if he were imagining her fingers doing something else entirely. "And of course e-mail is always private."

  "Yes." His voice lowered to an intimate murmur and, oh my goodness, Sarah suddenly realized how that must have sounded. As if she were inviting him to e -mail her any time he wanted.

  "Ben will love the pen I ordered for him."

  "I'm sure he will." The warmth left his eyes. He straightened, and only then did she realize he'd been leaning toward her. "It's a beauty."

  Sarah smiled, but without much enthusiasm. There. She'd set him straight. Good that he got the message. Wasn't it.

  "Ben's such a busy man." To her surprise, her voice came harsh instead of warm and proud as she intended. "Always busy."

  She tucked her hair behind her ear even though it hadn't come untucked. She shouldn't have told Tom about Ben being so busy. She should ask for the pen and leave. But at her words, life had come back into Tom's face, and she couldn't bear to crush him again.

"He makes time for you, doesn't he? He'd be a fool not to."

  "Thank you, Tom, that's sweet." She hadn't answered his question. Hadn't rushed to say that, oh yes, Ben made loads of time for her and their marriage was so happy and strong.

  So there they stood, staring at each other, and a phrase from a romance novel she'd made fun of and secretly loved in college jumped into her head.
Naked need.
That's what they were staring at each other with.

  She suddenly imagined herself leaning over and kissing him for the first time since high school. She imagined feeling his hands all over her, she imagined experiencing true passion with Tom, the way she hadn't ever quite experienced it with Ben.

  What was she thinking?

  The bell on the store's front door rang, a gust of outside air entered the shop, and Sarah quickly covered a stab of disappointment with tremendous relief. Another customer. Good. She didn't need to dig herself in any deeper here. Leading Tom on was the last thing she intended, since of course she could offer him nothing more than mild fl irtation.

  "Well, Miss Sarah, fancy meeting you here."

  Oh no.
Her.
Sarah didn't even want to turn around. No matter how loud or trampy Vivian appeared today, she'd make Sarah look and feel dowdy and unfashionable. Bad enough the woman put makeup all over Amber's sweet, lovely face without clearing it with Sarah first. Sarah was going to speak to her about that, fi rst chance she got.

  Tom's eyes bugged out; he swallowed convulsively.

  Dark panic threatened, and Sarah had to start her three part yoga breathing to calm down. Tom would look, of course he would look. Even Sarah thought Vivian was beautiful on the outside.

  Vivian undulated—or whatever she got her body to do, it certainly wasn't mere walking like the rest of them found perfectly adequate—up to the counter and held out her hand, tipping forward to enhance Tom's view down her tight sweater. Behind Vivian, a small movement in Sarah's peripheral vision proved to be Erin, actually wearing the sweater Sarah bought her and looking much improved, as Sarah had known she would.

  Now there was a strange duo. Had they come in together?

  "Hello there." Vivian smiled at Tom and pressed her pelvis against the glass covering the display of pens and pencils.

  Her "Hello there" might as well have been Y
ou want to sleep with me, don't you.
Honestly, the woman was desperate to be attractive to people. Which probably covered deep insecurity. Sarah might even feel sorry for her except for an overwhelming urge to tear Vivian to shreds and feed her to zoo animals.

  "Hi." Tom gave a nervous chuckle that Sarah wanted to slap him for.

  "I'm Vivian."

  "Tom Martin." He glanced at Sarah, then back at Vivian, only his eyes took a downward detour before arriving at Vivian's face. "Can I help you?"

  "Oh yes, Tom." Said in a low, throaty voice designed to make him think about copulation. "I think you can."

  Tom chuckled again, another burst that contained little amusement.

  Sarah tried to relax her tight lips enough to smile and show that she felt nothing even approaching homicidal jealousy. If Vivian sniffed out Sarah's attraction to Tom, Sarah would be toast.

  "You see, Tom, I want to put up flyers for an aerobics class I'm teaching."

  Sarah nearly let out a snort of delight. Who did she think was going to come to a class
she
was teaching? That would be a fi rst -class disaster, one Sarah planned to enjoy.

  "Okay if I post one in your front window?" She tossed her hair back over her shoulders in the same way she made every movement, as if it were part of an elaborate seduction ploy.

  "Sure. Go right ahead." Tom's eyes dipped up another double-scoop helping. "Sarah, I'll get your pen."

  He fled to the back room of the store. Sarah was a little disappointed in Tom. But then it took a person of remarkable strength to face Vivian. Sarah wouldn't hold it against him that he'd gotten flustered the first time—in front of Sarah, no less.

  As she'd said so often, when she herself was perfect, then she could afford to judge others. In the meantime, she had the perfect opportunity to bring up the problem with Amber.

  "Vivian."

  "Sarah."

  "Amber came home from your house yester—"

  "Oh yes." She turned, wearing concern that would seem genuine on any other face. "My fault she was late. I hope you didn't blame her."

  "I would like to ask that in the future you respect my decisions regarding raising my daughter."

  Vivian's left eyebrow went up, and Sarah heard herself, sounding like a prissy, uptight horror of a mother. Damn it, why did Vivian do this to her?

"Uh . . . I just
said
I was sorry she was late."

"I
mean
that I don't let her wear makeup."

  "Ah. No makeup." Her voice came out pleasant enough, but Sarah knew she was still making fun. That she thought Sarah was not only prissy and uptight, but unnecessarily strict.

  "Amber should be able to enjoy her youth while she's young."

  Again the dark brow lifted. "And makeup would get in the way of that how?"

  Sarah felt her control slipping. This woman was the absolute limit. "Excuse me if I don't want my daughter growing up to look like a whore."

  Silence. Oh dear Lord. What had she done? Her voice had come out much louder than she intended. The words belonged to someone else, not the pleasant, caring woman she tried so hard to be at all times. Tom must have found her pen by now; he was probably cowering in the back, not wanting to come near her.

  "You know . . ." Vivian rummaged around in her garish pink handbag, came up with an elongated object, and held it out to Sarah. "I think you need this a lot more than I do."

  Behind Vivian, Erin's eyes went wide staring at Vivian's outstretched hand. Then she made a tortured face, as if she was trying not to cry. Or laugh.

  Sarah glanced down reluctantly and her face fl ushed crimson, her throat constricted, a buzzing started in her ears. She knew what it was. And she knew what women did with it. "Put that away."

"No, take it. I'm serious. It's a great stress reliever."

  "Put it away." She was whispering, furious, close to tears. If Tom came out and saw that thing . . . "Put it away
now
."

  "It's yours. Take it. Great little massager."

  Tom's tall form emerged from the back. "Sorry, it took me a while, Sarah. John must have shelved your pen under the—"

  He registered the standoff, picked up on the tension. Before he could focus on the dreadful thing in Vivian's hand, Sarah snatched it off her palm and shoved it into the pocket of her rust-colored wool crepe trousers, feeling its weight pulling the light material crooked on her waist and hips.

  She tried with every ounce of her considerable inner strength to smile gratefully at Tom, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Her brain was too busy figuring out how to kill Kettle's newest resident without making it look like murder. "Thank you, Tom."

  His face showed concern for her, which didn't make her feel better at all. "You're set, Sarah. It's paid for."

  "Yes. Terrific." She turned and marched out of the store, the vibrator bumping against her thigh all the way down Main Street. She couldn't even bring herself to call out gracious hellos to passersby.

  Bump. Bump. Bump. All the way home to her beautiful house, which didn't soothe her with its tasteful, ordered serenity the way it usually did. All the way upstairs, ignoring Ben's call. He wanted his water freshened, his socks aired, his pillow beaten. He could do it himself for once.

  Into their bedroom, over to the wall, where she took the thing out of her pocket and flung it with all her strength into the wicker wastebasket.

  A loud buzz filled the room.
Oh Lord, no.
She dug through the refuse and picked up a wad of tissues stuck together. What was that? No one had a cold this week. Was it glue? Had Ben been gluing something? She sniffed.