more than a handful. She’s almost twenty and insists she’s an adult, but she acts more like a teenager.”
Susannah brought out pictures of her children and showed them to Carolyn. Chrissie and Brian were very attractive, and so was Joe, Susannah’s husband, in a solid, appealing way. Although she’d never met him, Carolyn had a positive feeling about Joe—about all of Susannah’s family. She rarely admitted it, but she would’ve liked a husband and children of her own. It hadn’t happened. The divorce had devastated her, and she’d buried herself in her work in an effort to forget. Before she knew it, she was forty and then her father got ill.
Still, most of the time she didn’t mind being alone. Better that than marriage to a man like her ex-husband, whose repeated infidelity had undermined the little confidence she’d had. In fact, she was shy and always had been. She’d learned to overcompensate in other areas and was an effective manager. Few would guess how difficult it was for her to communicate with a man socially.
Susannah slipped the photos back inside her purse. When she glanced up, she seemed to study Carolyn, then said, “You look happy.”
Her friend’s assessment surprised Carolyn. But Susannah was right. Only recently she’d found herself singing as she dressed for work. The sound of her own voice had caught her off guard and she’d stopped abruptly, wondering what there was to be so excited about. She’d realized then that it wasn’t anything in particular. She was content and had become secure in herself. Yes, every now and then she entertained regrets, but she suspected everyone did. The business was running at a profit and that would have pleased her father beyond any of her other accomplishments. The mill was once again Colville’s main employer and as the mill went, so did the town. She had reason to be proud. The family business had given her a sense of purpose; it was in salvaging Bronson Mills that she’d truly forged her identity.
“What about you?” Carolyn asked, wondering about her friend’s marriage. “Are you happy?”
“Of course,” Susannah answered quickly, perhaps too quickly. She reached for her Coke. After a moment, she said, “The truth is, I’ve been depressed and out of sorts for the last few months. Joe says this all goes back to losing my father, but I disagree.” She glanced up. “I…” She hesitated, looking mildly embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Jake.”
“Really?” Carolyn watched her friend closely.
“It started a little over three months ago. I haven’t told anyone—I can’t. Not even Joe…Out of the blue, Jake came to me in this…this stupid dream. I can’t even tell you what it was about. From that moment on, he’s been on my mind almost constantly, and now he shows up in my dreams practically every night.”
Carolyn didn’t know what to say. “He’s probably married, don’t you think?”
Susannah nodded. “It’s flirting with danger, but I want to find him.”
“And do what?”
Susannah frowned. “I don’t know yet. Ask him, I guess, why he never wrote me after Doug died. Ask him why he moved and didn’t tell me where he’d gone. I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d run away with him that night.”
Nothing good was Carolyn’s guess, but presumably Susannah knew that.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard if he’s living in the area?” Susannah asked, her eyes alight with hope.
Carolyn didn’t. “No, but then I don’t know everyone in town.”
Susannah pushed the hair away from her forehead. “Like I said, I haven’t told Joe about this. I feel so guilty, as though I’ve been unfaithful, but I haven’t done anything. I wouldn’t risk my marriage over this. I’m just curious, you know?” She looked nervously at Carolyn.
“And you want to find out what happened to Jake.”
Susannah slowly nodded. “Yes. I want him to be happy and to let him know that I am, too. I’m not interested in starting an affair.” She smiled. “As Erma Bombeck once said, I don’t have the underwear for it.”
Carolyn laughed.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I have to tell you it feels good to discuss this crazy idea.” She paused, staring into the distance. “All I want is five minutes with Jake. Even a phone conversation would satisfy my curiosity. Is that so terrible?”
“No.” Carolyn understood, but although she didn’t say it, she agreed with Joe. Susannah’s discontent—apparent in this sudden urge to find her high school boyfriend—was somehow connected to her father, to his death. She knew that the relationship between Susannah and her father had been a difficult one; this was a huge loss in Susannah’s life, whether she accepted that or not.
Once more her friend made a circular motion with her straw setting her ice cubes clinking. “You were always the kind of friend I could talk to. I would never have made it through those last five months in France without you.”
“We were good friends,” Carolyn said simply, thinking Maybe we can be again.
The waitress came by and they ordered fresh drinks. “I should head back to Mom,” Susannah said reluctantly, “but I don’t want to leave. Talking to you has really helped. I don’t feel nearly as guilty or alone as I did earlier. Thank you for that.”
“Do you know how long you’ll be in town?” Carolyn asked. Her friends were few, and she had little life outside of the mill. She gardened, fed the deer that ventured on to her property, did a bit of needlepoint and worked fifty-or sixty-hour weeks. That was the sum total of her activities.
“I’ll be here for two or three weeks,” Susannah told her. “It all depends on how things go with Mom.”
The waitress returned with their Diet Cokes.
Carolyn picked up her drink. “If you get a chance, stop by the mill and I’ll give you the grand tour.” It would be fun to show her friend the improvements she’d made, even if Susannah didn’t understand their importance.
They talked for another fifteen minutes, and Susannah tested her French, which after all these years was surprisingly good. Carolyn remained fluently bilingual. Toward the end, Carolyn’s mother had spoken exclusively in her mother tongue.
“I remember that my conversational French improved according to how much wine I drank,” Susannah said, laughing.
Carolyn grinned. “Mom made me learn French as a child. I grew up speaking both languages.” She rarely used it now, but she certainly didn’t regret having the ability.
“Have you gone back to Paris since high school?” Susannah asked.
“A few times. My grandparents died in the war and I only had one aunt, who never married. My mother didn’t want me to lose my heritage and I’m grateful for the time I had there, but my life is in Colville.” Carolyn knew why her mother had insisted she study in France. She’d been hoping her daughter would meet a nice French boy and fall in love with him. Unfortunately, Brigitte hadn’t realized how closely the nuns watched over their charges at the boarding school. Any chance of meeting boys inside—or outside—those convent walls had been virtually nonexistent.
Susannah checked the time. “It’s nine o’clock.
