Authors: Nancy Frederick
"Well, gee, I don't know what to say!
Thank you so much.
But I can't ask you to feed your husband and leave him home alone when he was expecting to attend a dinner party."
Annabeth paused for a moment and her mind cleared.
"Listen, this is silly.
George probably forgot and when I see him I'll clobber him, but I'm just going to get in the car and drive to your house.
Is that okay?"
"Yes, of course it is.
And hon," Becky paused briefly and then continued, "I'm sure he's fine.
Probably just a mix-up."
When, a little while later, Annabeth pulled up into Becky's driveway, she took a deep breath, opened the door and walked to the house.
Becky was right.
It was surely just a mix-up.
"Hey!" said Becky, opening the door and enfolding her in a hug.
"You poor thing.
Come on in."
She removed the dessert from Annabeth's hand, cooing, "Oh this looks fantastic.
Come meet Shep and then I'll put this in the dining room."
Annabeth followed her friend into the living room, where Becky's husband rose to greet her.
"It's so nice to meet you," he said warmly.
"Now how about a glass of wine--or would you prefer some iced tea?"
Annabeth looked toward where Shep had been sitting, and spying his glass and its contents, she answered, "Oh, iced tea is just great."
Shep laughed and said, "Another bon vivante, I see."
"We can eat anytime but why don't we sit and chat for a while before we do," said Becky, returning from the dining room and indicating that Annabeth should be seated on one of the two couches in her spacious living room.
"I hope I haven't ruined your supper by being so late," said Annabeth, and then looking up she noticed hanging over the large fireplace two beautifully framed watercolors.
They were her own.
"Oh look!" she said almost involuntarily.
"I was waiting for you to notice them," laughed Becky.
"After you insisted that I take them, I couldn't just leave them lying around, so there they are."
Annabeth raised her hand to her throat briefly, then lowered it and spoke in a soft voice, "I'm just so touched."
Becky smiled first at Annabeth then at her husband.
"See," she said winking at Shep who returned her grin, "I told you she was insanely modest."
"So how many shows do you girls intend to do in the next few weeks?" asked Shep.
"At this time of the year, my wife is a lean, mean, moneymaking machine.
Makes me want to retire."
Becky laughed.
"He called me lean!
You're a witness."
She smiled again at her husband, then reached over to the coffee table in front of her and pulled out a calendar on which she had noted the various dates.
Pointing to a few specific weeks, she said, "Now these are the best shows, so if you have to choose, these are the ones not to miss.
Here, I Xeroxed the page."
Annabeth accepted the photocopy and scrutinized it as Becky flipped to the next page of the calendar and handed her another Xerox.
"That's a pretty calendar," commented Annabeth idly as she glanced up briefly.
Becky nodded.
"It is, isn't it.
That's what you should be doing, not painting on bowls and trays.
I wonder what you have to do to get them to consider your work?"
"Oh go on!" exclaimed Annabeth, blushing.
"Look on the back," said Shep, "Must be a publisher's name."
Becky flipped the calendar over, then noted the name.
"Here, give me that a sec," and she reached for the copies that Annabeth still held in her hand.
Without her having to say a word, Shep rose, removed a pen that was still clipped to the local paper on top of the completed crossword puzzle and handed it to his wife.
Becky then carefully wrote down the name of the publisher and their address.
"Now you call these people.
I mean it."
Annabeth blushed again, then tucked the pages into her purse after agreeing to try to make the shows that Becky had indicated.
They adjourned then to the dining room, where Annabeth was amazed to see two more of her paintings.
"Did you frame them all?" she asked in a low voice.
"Just eight," said Becky.
"Gosh," whispered Annabeth.
Becky served supper then, and they sat at the table for several hours, eating, talking, and laughing like the old friends Annabeth hoped they would ultimately become.
Eventually they all retreated to the kitchen to clean up, something that took very little time.
Watching Becky and Shep interact, Annabeth thought how much they reminded her of Maggie and Hugh, and how little of R.J. and herself.
She could not imagine R.J. agreeing to entertain a woman friend of hers and being so supportive and charming.
Of course they had socialized hundreds of times over the years, but so often R.J. had been surly or absent.
Not all marriages were like her own, she realized.
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Annabeth, "Look at the time.
We'll never get that early start tomorrow this way.
I better get going."
After warm hugs and confirmations of tomorrow's departure time, Annabeth drove back toward her house, still thinking about Becky and Shep, and about R.J. and herself.
She knew, deep under the surface, that there was something to be realized, a lesson to be learned, but no matter how she dug, Annabeth could not quite define it.
Arriving at her door, the thoughts and memories gnawed away at her until she recognized George's car parked in front of her house.
She exited her own car and silently walked up the steps to the front porch where he sat.
He was clearly uninjured.
"Hi, babe," he said, grinning at Annabeth.
"What happened to you?" Her voice was calm and controlled and it betrayed no emotion, although she was certain her face looked disapproving.
"What do you mean?"
"We had a date tonight for supper with my friends."
"I called you."
Annabeth listened silently.
"The machine didn't pick up."
"I don't have a machine."
George nodded, "It was an emergency."
He watched Annabeth's face as he spoke,
"Someone I sold a house to last month.
Termites.
They just discovered them and were pissed off.
I had to go over there and calm them down.
They threatened to sue."
The ire in his voice grew as the details of the story fell into place, "Oh baby, I'm so sorry."
He walked toward Annabeth then and enfolded her in his arms, and despite herself, her rigidity turned to softness and she began to hug him back.
After a long interlude of lovemaking, Annabeth snuggled against George, then glanced at the clock.
"Oh it's so late.
I have to get up in less than five hours."
"Don't be silly.
Let's sleep in."
"Art show tomorrow."
"Oh I had no idea."
George leaned over and kissed Annabeth, then reached for his clothes and started dressing.
"You can still stay over."
"I wouldn't want to make any more work for you.
I'll stay over the next time."
"You could help us load my stuff into Becky's van in the morning."
George looked at the clock once again, then said, "Oh no, I wouldn't want your friend to think I'd been here all night.
Wouldn't want to compromise your reputation."
Seeing him fully dressed, Annabeth resigned herself to sleeping alone, and reached for her robe to see him to the door.
"No, no.
You stay right here.
You need your sleep.
I'll see the door is locked and let myself out."
George reached down, kissed Annabeth briefly, then lumbered out of the room and down the stairs.
"He said that?" laughed Becky after hearing Annabeth repeat the details of her involvement with George during a lull in the art show.
"Compromise your reputation?
With me? After Sally had walked in on you?"
Annabeth nodded, laughing with her friend and relieved to have been able to share the complete story with someone.
Becky shook her head, a look of disapproval on her face.
"Just how involved with this guy are you?"
Annabeth paused to help a customer, then considered the question.
"Gosh I don't know.
He's only my second boyfriend ever."
"I hope you won't get mad at me for saying this, but if I were you, I'd start looking for number three."
"Oh, I don't know.
He's not bad."
"Forget not bad.
Concentrate on good.
I'm going to discuss it with Shep.
I bet he knows someone who's perfect for you.
And since he's an accountant he knows where the money is too."
Annabeth laughed.
"Sure, I'll become a golddigger."
Becky nodded.
"Good.
That's the idea.
Talk, dark, handsome, rich, sexy, smart, funny…." Her voice trailed off as she spoke, the romance of the moment capturing her imagination, causing her eyes to glaze over a bit, but then Becky regained her focus and mumbled, "Um, yeah, what were we saying?" causing them to dissolve in a merry fit of giggles.
Later that night, after the show was over, after she had marveled over her profits, after a long, steamy shower, Annabeth lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of what Becky had said to her.
Then she thought of George and the nights she'd spent so happily lying in his arms.
There was something comfortable and familiar about him, something safe and unintimidating.
And he was such a good lover.
What if there were no number three?
Annabeth tossed on the bed, her back and shoulders aching from the long day, then she blushed, alone in her room, thinking so callously of men as numbers.
Besides, she cared for George.
He was her boyfriend.
14
Annabeth reached for a sweater hanging on the back of her chair at the kitchen table. There was a chill in the air; maybe it was fall at last.
She wrapped herself in the old sweater, a garment she thought of as her ratty artist's sweater and continued painting garlands of flowers on the frame of a mirror until the chiming of the doorbell caused her to jump.
Glancing at the clock, she shrugged her shoulders, smoothed her hair, then walked to the door.
R.J.!
He swept into the room with confidence, then smiled at her as though nothing were wrong at all.
Without a second thought, Annabeth returned her husband's grin.
"How are you?" she asked.
"I been thinking about you all day," he replied sincerely. "Just seems kinda terrible things been so bad between us."
Annabeth watched R.J. as he spoke, confused by his change of attitude.
"Aren't you gonna ask me to sit down?
Not even one of your homemade cookies?"
"Well, sure.
Want some coffee?
I don't have any beer."
"I don't drink beer all day long you know."
Annabeth walked toward the kitchen and R.J. followed.
As she prepared the coffee and a plate of cookies, he took the time to examine what she had been painting.
"This is beautiful," he said.
"Thank you," she replied, genuinely touched.
It was the first time he had ever commented about the things she painted although he'd been surrounded by them for so many years.
Setting the coffee and cookies on the table, she took a seat facing R.J..
"I really admire your creativeness.
It's wonderful to be talented like you are."
R.J. smiled once again, then reached his hand casually across the table and pressed it on top of Annabeth's.
He bit into a chocolate chip cookie, the smile still on his face.
"These are still my favorite too!
Almost like you knew we was getting' together today."
R.J. squeezed her hand tightly as they talked, causing familiar sensations to flutter inside her.
Not knowing what to think or say to this man who'd been so important a part of her life, Annabeth mumbled, "Everything all right, dear?"