Rebecca. Yes, I heard she was back in Middlewood, living with her parents. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her or her people. I understand that her brother Daniel bought his own pharmacy. I’m sure he’ll do well—but those people always do, don’t they?”
“His name is David. And he and his people are fine.”
“You needn’t take that tone. You know what I mean.” She took a sip of her wine. “You haven’t touched your coq au vin. Should I ask Martine to prepare something else? You haven’t met my new housekeeper, have you? I think I’ll keep this one. She’s a real gem.”
You mean you hope she doesn’t quit like all the others before her, Carter thought. He put down his fork and stared at his plate. “The chicken is fine. I’m just not hungry.”
His mother continued speaking, but Carter barely heard her words. Yet it wasn’t his mother who was the cause of his distraction. At the moment the only person on his mind was Becky. She was acting as if he’d been responsible for what had happened that night three months ago. Hell, she’d known what she was doing—she was twenty-seven, not some blushing schoolgirl. Okay, so maybe afterward he’d been a jerk, but he’d apologized for his crude remark, hadn’t he?
“She wants you to call her.”
Carter looked back at his mother. “Excuse me?” he asked again.
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying. I said that Wendy called. She wanted to know when you’d be back.” Eleanor took another sip of her wine. “This is a 1976 Chateau d’Yquem, in case you’re interested. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
Carter regarded her with suspicion. “What special occasion?”
“I’m celebrating your homecoming. That and the New Zealand job. Can’t a mother show pride in her son? As much as I hate to see you gone for two years, I know what this project means to you. You’ll finally be made a full partner, something you’ve wanted for a long time. Anyway, I can come down at Christmas to visit, if you’d like. It’s summer then, isn’t it? I’ll even stay the whole season.”
Good Lord, was there nowhere he could go to escape her? “The partnership is not the primary reason why I’m going,” he said curtly. He immediately regretted his tone. Eleanor was just being Eleanor. After thirty-two years he should be used to the way she tried to run his life—and the lives of everyone around her.
But either the insult had evaded her or she had chosen to ignore it. “Of course it’s not the main reason,” she said. “I know how much you enjoy your work. But you have to admit, the prestige that goes along with being a full partner is a definite plus.”
“Tell me something, how many country clubs are there in Middlewood? And what’s the sense of joining if I’m never here?” He was sorry he’d told her about the trip in the first place. He should have known she’d zero in on the partnership. Even though the promotion wasn’t contingent on his going to New Zealand, it was true that the trip would cement it. He removed his napkin from his lap and tossed it onto the table. “I should go home. It’s getting late and I still haven’t finished unpacking.”
Eleanor looked up at the grandfather clock behind him. “But it’s still early! What about dessert? We’re having your favorite, crème caramel, in honor of your return.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but I’m tired and I have a lot to do tonight. But thank Martine for me, will you?” After unpacking, he wanted to review his notes on the Denver project. The school for the performing arts was small potatoes compared to the New Zealand job, but it was coming up fast. Even though tomorrow was Saturday, he and Mike Walters, one of the firm’s two senior partners, were meeting in the morning to go over the plans.
“I insist that you stay, Carter.” Once again she glanced at the clock.
And once again Carter eyed her with mistrust. “What is it, Mother? Are you expecting someone?”
“Promise me you won’t get angry. I invited Wendy for coffee. She happened to be in town visiting her parents, and I thought that inviting her would be the decent thing to do.”
“Right. She happened to be in town.” He stood up and headed toward the hallway, then abruptly turned around. “The decent thing to do? Now that’s almost funny. I don’t think Wendy would recognize decency if it slapped her in the face. I’m going home. Make my apologies for me, will you?”
“Come back here!” Eleanor called after him, a note of panic in her voice. “What am I supposed to say to her?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”
She shouldn’t have delivered the news that way. Becky had been sure that Bubbe would drop her teeth, right there at the table, into her soup. The last person she ever wanted to hurt was her grandmother, dear Bubbe, whose entire world revolved around her family, but Becky had had enough. Her mother was driving her crazy. Becky knew she’d have to move out soon, or she’d end up in a strait-jacket.
She trudged through the blowing snow, hugging her chest as if at any moment she would be lifted up and blown away. She could feel the wind right through her jacket. Her leg still felt tender underneath the warm camel slacks she’d changed into before dinner, but at least the sting was gone. A person needs snowshoes in this weather, she thought, not two-inch-heeled boots from Macy’s sale catalogue.
No one else was out walking tonight—in this weather who in their right minds would be?—and for a moment she imagined herself alone and lost, trying to find her way out of a forest. Worried about the future, her fears assailed her as she walked without aim, her boots crunching rhythmically on the frozen snow.
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
Pregnant, unmarried, unemployed, oh my!
Not that she didn’t want to be a mother. On the contrary, she wanted to be a mother more than anything in the world—someday. But right now there was this one small detail. She wasn’t married. It wasn’t the stigma that bothered her; she was terrified at the prospect of raising a child alone. She couldn’t even support herself, never mind a baby.
I do have some skills, she’d told her mother. Unfortunately, she just hadn’t discovered what they were. She’d studied Greek mythology in college, but these days there wasn’t much of a need for Greek mythologists, especially in a small town like Middlewood. After graduation she’d flitted from job to job, trying to make ends meet. I’m just not cut out for office work, she’d told herself. Was it her fault she didn’t have the filing gene? Or the answer-the-phone-without-alienating-the-customer gene?
Anger filled her as she pushed on, fighting the wind. Nothing had gone according to plan. She was supposed to help put Jordan through medical school, and once he was on his feet, it would be her turn. Maybe she’d go to graduate school. Maybe she’d start her own business. Or maybe she’d be a stay-at-home mom. But all those dreams had ended. During his first year of internship—after four years, eight months and three weeks of marriage, not that she was counting—Jordan had up and left.
How did one fall out of love, precisely? The salon-bought redhead with the surgical bosom had nothing to do with it, her husband had insisted while packing his new Louis Vuitton suitcase. Becky had even helped him pack, making sure everything was folded just right. Was that new underwear? she’d wondered absurdly. Not only had the redhead bought him new luggage, she’d
