By the end of the second day, Barbie could hardly stand it. She missed her mother. She needed her.
The dinner for the widows’ group was scheduled for Thursday night. Barbie was determined to go, but as Tuesday passed and then Wednesday, that resolve weakened.
This was ridiculous, she told herself. They’d both been at fault. They’d both said things they regretted. It was time to apologize and put this behind them.
Late Thursday afternoon, a floral delivery truck parked in front of her dress shop just as Barbie was about to close for the day. The man carried in a huge floral arrangement from Susannah’s Garden. This had to be a hundred-dollar order. It took up nearly half the counter space.
The driver handed her a clipboard, and Barbie signed her name as a rush of relief came over her. She didn’t need to look at the attached card to know her mother had sent the flowers. Like her, Lillie was sorry. She was apologizing, trying to restore what they’d lost. Smiling, Barbie removed the small envelope and opened it.
She was wrong; Lillie hadn’t sent the flowers.
Only one word was written on the card.
Mark.
Chapter 19
Anne Marie and Ellen were both looking forward to dinner at Lillie’s that night. Earlier, Anne Marie had called to ask what she could contribute to the meal.
“Nothing,” her friend had insisted. “Just bring yourselves.” As she replaced the receiver, Anne Marie thought that Lillie didn’t sound like herself. Ever since they’d made their wish lists, Lillie’s spirits had been high. But following their conversation, she wondered if she’d misread Lillie’s feelings. Her voice had been flat, emotionless, devoid of her usual enthusiasm.
Anne Marie was afraid this dinner might be too much work for her. Later in the day she phoned Lillie again, to make sure everything was all right.
“Everything’s perfectly fine,” Lillie said, although her tone belied her words. “Actually, I’m really enjoying myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for a dinner party.” Anne Marie heard a timer in the distance, and Lillie told her she had to get off the phone.
Still, Anne Marie wondered. She sensed that something was off, but Lillie obviously wasn’t going to tell her. All she could do was accept her word and hope that if there was a problem, it would soon be resolved.
The school bus rolled past the shop window and Anne Marie knew Ellen would appear in a few minutes.
“It’s tonight, isn’t it?” Ellen said happily as she bolted into the store. She released one strap and allowed her backpack to slip carelessly over her shoulder.
“Tonight’s the night,” Anne Marie concurred. Being invited to someone else’s home for dinner seemed to be a new experience for the eight-year-old. Although Ellen had always displayed good manners, Anne Marie reviewed them with her, just to be on the safe side.
“I won’t talk with my mouth full or interrupt the conver…conver—” she stumbled over the word “—the conversation.”
“Excellent.” Anne Marie smiled at her. “You can bring your knitting if you want.”
At that suggestion, Ellen raced up the stairs to the apartment as if they were heading out the door that very moment. Such exuberance made Anne Marie smile again.
They were both making progress with their knitting. Anne Marie’s first official class the day before had gone well. In teaching Ellen, she’d learned more about the basic knit stitch than she’d realized. After school on Tuesday, Anne Marie had taken Ellen to A Good Yarn and allowed her to purchase yarn and needles of her own. Lydia had chatted with Ellen for quite a while; by now, as Lydia said, the two of them were old friends. That evening, after the dinner dishes and Ellen’s homework, they’d sat side by side, helping each other. Anne Marie couldn’t avoid reflecting that this was something she’d never had the chance to do with her stepdaughter. Even as a ten- or eleven-year-old, Melissa had rejected all her attempts to work on projects together, whether it was reading or baking or gathering autumn leaves for a scrapbook. Whatever Anne Marie suggested was deemed “stupid” or “boring.” The memory had produced a sadness she found hard to forget.
In the knitting class, Anne Marie had learned how to purl and she had about three inches of the lap robe finished. Ellen was half done with the scarf for her grandmother; the girl had a good eye for color and had chosen a soft pink yarn and a peach. The combination was lovely. They were colors Anne Marie would never have thought to put together.
Lydia had praised her color choice, too, and Ellen glowed with pleasure at the compliment.
“Are you bringing your Twenty Wishes binder?” Ellen asked now.
“Yes, I think so.”
Ellen slipped her knitting into her backpack. “Should I bring my list?”
Anne Marie hesitated, a little worried that Ellen might inadvertently dominate the conversation. “Maybe next time, okay? For tonight I want you to sit and listen.”
“Okay.” Running up the stairs with her backpack, Ellen collected an excited Baxter for his walk, the requisite plastic bag tucked into her jeans’ pocket.
At four, Steve Handley came into the shop for his shift. Anne Marie didn’t have time to shower, but went upstairs to refresh her makeup. The day was overcast, so she decided to put a forest-green knit vest over her cream-colored long-sleeved blouse.
Ellen was modeling the new denim skirt Anne Marie had bought her when the phone rang.
“Want me to answer?” Ellen asked.
Anne Marie hesitated. “Let me check who it is first.” She glanced at the phone as Caller ID flashed Melissa’s name and number.
Instinctively Anne Marie backed away. She still hadn’t recovered from her last conversation with her stepdaughter. Another heart-to-heart might just finish her off.
The phone rang again and then again. After the fourth ring, voice mail came on. Anne Marie listened to the brief message. Melissa identifed herself, then said, “Call me,” without explaining why.
“Anne Marie?” Ellen spoke tentatively, staring up at her with worried eyes.
“Hey,” she said, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice. “I thought we had a dinner date. Are you ready?”
Ellen nodded eagerly.
“Me, too. Let’s go.”
On the short drive to Lillie’s, they sang camp songs. Or rather, Ellen sang. Anne Marie tried to sing and once again her voice sounded as if someone was strangling her. After the first few lines, she stopped and simply listened. Ellen truly was gifted and she loved to sing. After the first song, she immediately started a second one—“This Little Light of Mine,” a song she told Anne Marie she’d learned in church.
Which reminded Anne Marie that one thing she hadn’t done was take Ellen to church. It wasn’t part of her normal practice, not that she had anything against religion. Although, at the moment, she didn’t exactly feel God had dealt her a fair hand. Yet she realized that if she was going to maintain the routine Ellen had with Dolores, she should probably be taking her to Sunday-school class.
Just as Ellen’s song came to an end, Anne Marie pulled up outside Lillie’s house. This was the first time she’d been invited here. She parked in the circular drive, gaping at the sprawling Tudor-style house, which must have seven or eight thousand square feet. The outdoor lighting revealed a sweeping, verdant lawn and, closer to the house itself, an arrangement of flower beds filled with tulips of all colors, daffodils and delicate narcissus.
“Wow,” Anne Marie whispered.
“Does Mrs. Higgins live in a castle?” Ellen asked in a hushed voice.
“It seems so.”
Barbie arrived then, pulling into the drive behind them, and they all walked into the house together, followed a moment later by Elise. As soon as Barbie greeted her mother, Anne Marie could tell that something was amiss, although both Barbie and Lillie struggled to hide it. Instead of the usual camaraderie, the teasing and joking, they were stiffly polite with each other.
They must’ve had an argument or a falling-out. No wonder Lillie had seemed upset.
Lillie had arranged a small buffet with everything on a sideboard in the formal dining room. The buffet started with a selection of cheeses, olives, brie-stuffed dates and three different salads—a seafood pasta, a Caesar with home-made croutons and a fruit salad. For the entrée, Lillie presented them with ricotta-filled chicken breasts and scalloped potatoes.
Elise shook her head. “My goodness, Lillie, you must’ve been cooking for days.”
“Mother is a tremendous cook,” Barbie said quickly.
Lillie turned to her daughter. “Thank you. I enjoy spending time in the kitchen—it takes my mind off other concerns.”
The comment seemed to be directed at Barbie, whose cheeks flushed as she looked away.
Anne Marie helped Ellen prepare her plate and then served herself. The five of them assembled around the table, which seated twelve. Anne Marie noticed that Lillie didn’t have much of an appetite; for that matter, neither did Barbie. They barely seemed to touch their meals. Anne Marie, Ellen and Elise, however, savored every bite.
Conversation was general at first, with everyone asking Ellen about school and which classes she liked best. Reading, spelling and math, she’d answered, providing examples of what she’d recently learned.
“Speaking of classes, did you sign up for belly dancing?” Anne Marie asked Barbie.
Barbie jerked her head up, apparently caught unawares. “Belly dancing?”
“You said it was one of your wishes.”
“Oh, yes. No, I haven’t. Not yet at least. I will, though…probably.” She sat straighter in her chair, chasing the food around her plate before she set her fork aside.
“What else is on your list?” Elise asked her.
Barbie reached down for her purse and withdrew a sheet of paper.
“I started a binder like Anne Marie but left it at home this morning. I have my list here, though.”
“I left my binder at home, too. At Anne Marie’s house,” Ellen said in a comforting voice as if to reassure Lillie’s daughter.
“You know, I thought skinny-dipping would be fun.”
“I’ve always thought that would be fun, too,” Anne Marie murmured. She’d forgotten all about it until now.
Ellen tugged at her sleeve and when Anne Marie bent close, the girl whispered, “Is skinny-dipping a new diet? Grandma Dolores talked a lot about diets.”
Anne Marie wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s, uh, something like that.”
For the first time that evening a smile tweaked the edges of Barbie’s mouth. “I am going to do it.”
“Do what?” Elise asked as she and Lillie entered the dining room with dessert—platters of brownies, cookies and tarts.
“Skinny-dipping.”
“Barbie!” her mother gasped.
“At night, Mother. In what you’d call a controlled environment.”
“In the moonlight,” Elise added softly. “Maverick and I—” She stopped abruptly and her face turned bright pink.
“You and Maverick went skinny-dipping?” Barbie asked.
