A Slight Change of Plan (29 page)

“Is this where I start singing ‘Torn Between Two Lovers’?”

“If you do, I’ll throw myself out of this car.”

“Oh my God! Kate! Team Edward!”

“Cheryl, don’t you dare. I mean it.”

“And Team Ja—”

“Don’t!”

She sighed. “You never let me have any fun.”

She dropped me off, and I carried my bags into the kitchen, calling for Sam. He’d been downstairs with Mom.

“Are you going to be okay, baby?” I asked him as we unloaded the bags. “This thing with Alisa happened pretty quickly.”

He shrugged. “I know. But it was such a great opportunity for her, I never thought to argue. Besides, it’s only until October. I’ll be fine.” He had arranged some of the food I’d bought on the counter. “We can just heat this up, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I bought it. I won’t have to cook for the next couple of days.”

“Can we all eat downstairs? Gram and I are watching
M*A*S*H
reruns.”

Inside, I heaved a little sigh. “Sure, honey. Let’s bring this down.”

Mom and Sam sat side by side on the love seat, eating happily. Mom must have watched
M*A*S*H
for a long time, because she would say the lines along with the actors, making Sam laugh even harder. I sat back, ate my dinner, and watched them. My mother and I had never shared that kind of easy laughter. Even when I was a small child, she had never been completely relaxed around me, had never sat next to me on the couch, watching television, laughing, like she was doing with Sam. On one hand, I felt a twinge of jealousy. On the other hand, I was glad that Sam was so happy and comfortable with a woman who deserved an important place in his life, even as she remained a distant stranger to me.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

M
aryJo was arriving Friday, and had asked if I’d care to bunk with her in the city for the weekend. There was a flurry of activity as I made arrangements. Sam would be home most of the weekend. Laura could take Mom all day Sunday again. Regan was not on call at her clinic, and could fill in Friday evening until Sam came home from Columbia. I felt like I was running away from home, my little overnight bag packed, bus ticket in hand.

Her flight was delayed, so I sat in the tiny lobby of her hotel and thought a little bit about how my life was going. Still no job? Check. Still no permanent place for Mom? Check. Still hadn’t joined the health club? Check. Hmmm… maybe I should focus on the things I
had
done. I’d found Jake. That was good. And I’d found Edward.

How did things manage to get so complicated so quickly?

I must have been thinking things over pretty intently, because I was suddenly jolted by a voice beside me.

“Oh, honey, you must be in one of those ‘How’s my life going?’ modes. I’d recognize that look anywhere.”

I stood up and hugged MaryJo for a long time. She had put on weight, and she was heavier than I’d ever seen her. Her hair was much shorter, but still age-defying blond, and her smile was the same despite the laugh lines and age spots.

“MaryJo, you’re still a knockout.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just knocking out a whole different class of men these days. But you—my God, have you even gained a pound?”

“No. Sorry. But look at these wrinkles. Do they make you feel better?”

“Maybe. But I’ve got those, too. Let me get us checked in so we can get some food and drink a little something. I need it.”

The room was fine—two double beds and a view of the alley—but we wouldn’t be spending much time there. We walked to a little bistro I’d found online and had steak frites and crêpes for dessert; then we sat in a small bar and listened to jazz and drank wine until they closed.

“This is way past my bedtime,” MaryJo said.

“Mine too. But this is your birthday weekend. We haven’t celebrated it together in a long time. We need to splurge.”

In the morning, we had breakfast, then walked all the way uptown to the Museum of Natural History, had lunch, then meandered back to Midtown to wait for the play to start. Afterward, we bought a couple of bottles of wine. MaryJo wanted something stronger, of course, but I talked her out of her usual bourbon. We splurged on a cab back after the show. By midnight we were slightly drunk and giggling in our beds, having talked most of the day and night away.

I had told her all about Jake. Then I told her all about Edward. Then I sat there and looked at her. “Well?”

She gave me a very stern look and poured more wine into her glass. “Kate, you are a grown woman. What you choose to do with your own life is your own business. I know that when it comes to you and matters of the heart, logic doesn’t
stand a chance.” She shook her head and sighed. “You are in a very interesting situation here, girlfriend. Where would you like me to start?”

“Jake?”

“Fine. Are the two of you happy?”

“Yes. Right now, right this minute, I am.”

“But?”

“But what am I going to do about my mother? And Sam and Alisa? And I need a job. I mean, the kids will be okay. Sam is dependent on me right now, but not all that much, and I know that he’d be fine without my help. But my life is not where I want it to be, not if I want to think about a future with Jake.”

“It seems to me that you thought out a very detailed future with Jake when you were both unemployed dumbasses who couldn’t balance one checkbook between you.” MaryJo glared. “And wasn’t his mother sick at the time, cancer? And didn’t you want your baby sister to come out and live with you? Not to mention you were going to go to law school without any idea how you were going to pay for it, all the while saving money to buy a mountaintop somewhere so the two of you could play Mr. and Mrs. Grizzly Adams.” She shook her head. “There’s never a time when your life is going to be where you want it to be. Has getting older taught you nothing? At least that younger, stupid version of yourself knew to grab for the good stuff before it’s all gone.”

“So you’re saying I should really try to make a go of things with Jake?”

“Do not even try to put words in my mouth.”

“So, what about Edward?”

“I don’t know, Kate. What about Edward? He is the real clean slate. There’s no history there, good or bad. There are no expectations, no memories. He’s either the scarier choice, or the safer choice. All this with you and Jake is fine and wonderful and would make a great romance novel, but how does it play in the real world? Will you ever really trust him again?”

“I do trust him.”

“And you’ve forgotten all about how he made you sick with pain and heartache?”

“No. I’ll never forget that.”

“Has Edward done anything you’ll never forget?”

“You’re no help to me here, MaryJo.”

“That was never my job.” She looked into her wineglass before taking another sip. “Enough about these silly boys. I am sorry about you and your mama. Old people get like that, hard and stuck in their ways. But you’ll find a place for her to be safe, and that’s the best you can do. We all think there will be happy resolutions at the end of our lives, but the truth is, she’ll be the one dying without making peace. You’ve done all you could. Remember that.”

“Thanks for that. You’ll be out again for the wedding, right?”

“Of course. But do you still want me to stay with you? When we first talked about this, you didn’t have your mother living with you, and I was going to camp out in the basement.”

“Shit. You’re right.”

“I’ll be happy to find a hotel.”

“But I really wanted you to stay with me.” I was thinking furiously. Where could MaryJo sleep? With Mom? With me?

“Wait. I have a blow-up bed. We could stash you in the den. Or you could bunk with me.”

“Let’s count on the den. By then, somebody else may be bunking with you.”

“Good. Regan only let me invite six point two people. I hope you appreciate how valuable that invitation is.”

“Yes. I believe I got a rather long e-mail from you about all that. You called your daughter a what?”

“I can’t remember. I may have referenced a few heartless dictators. She is a girl who knows exactly what she wants.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh, shut up, MaryJo. I have to sleep now.”

“Yes, me too.”

“And nobody is going to be bunking with me anytime soon.”

“Famous last words.”

“Good night, MaryJo.”

That Sunday evening, Marie came over to see Mom. She asked if they could have a couple of glasses of wine, took them downstairs, and soon the television was off and they were laughing. Mom had changed in one respect in the past few weeks—she had welcomed someone new into her life. She had never been one to make friends easily, and I thanked God for Marie.

On the way out, Marie found me on the deck and sat down. “Kate, I hope you don’t think I’m interfering, but when Dane came by this weekend, he told me about your situation. I mean, now that Alisa is gone. I’d be more than happy to have Rose stay with me on Wednesdays, so you can
continue to go down and help Dane until your sister can drive again.”

I looked at her. “Really?”

She smiled gently. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I don’t care. Everyone at poker night thinks Rose is a real find. I so much enjoy her company. It would not be an imposition at all. And I know my son thinks very highly of you and the work you’re doing with those people, so I’d be doing it as much for him.”

“Did you ask her?”

Marie nodded. “Yes. She thinks it’s fine. She also thinks that it’s completely ridiculous that she has to be with you at all, but that’s another conversation.”

I smiled gratefully. “Oh, Marie, thank you.”

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll call Dane tomorrow. And Wednesday morning, I’ll come by and get Rose. I’ve already told her she’ll need her walker, because I can’t take half an hour to cross the street.”

“Regan wants us to try to get her in a wheelchair. We need to find her a dress for the wedding, and that would involve a shopping expedition.”

Marie frowned. “Please, Kate. I can only do one thing at a time. Don’t start getting pushy.”

I bit back a smile. “Sorry, Marie. You’re right. One thing at a time.”

“You need to call the post office,” my mother said.

“Why? You seem to be getting your mail just fine.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not getting any of my catalogs.”

“Oh. Well, the post office only forwards first-class mail. That’s why.”

“So how will I get all my catalogs?”

“You won’t.”

“But how can I see what I need to buy without them?”

“Mom, if you need anything, tell me. I’ll get it for you.”

“That’s not the point,” she said impatiently. “I like to look through my catalogs. I get ideas. Sometimes I’ll see something that I didn’t know I needed.”

“But you showed me your checkbook. You really don’t have a lot of money for buying things you didn’t know you needed.”

“What about Christmas? I do all my Christmas shopping from catalogs.”

“I’ll come down with the laptop and you can shop online. It’s the same thing.”

“But I can’t send a check online.”

“You use your credit card.”

“I’m not going to give a stranger my credit card number. Then anybody could use it.”

“Mom, Laura told me about how many times someone has taken money from your account because they had your checking account number. Using your card online is safer than sending checks in the mail.”

“No, it’s not. And besides, I don’t know how to use a computer.”

“It’s not that hard. All your friends here have computers. If you learned how to use one, you could go on Facebook, chat with them, do all sorts of things.”

“And just when do you think I’ll have time to spend playing around with all that stuff?”

“You sit down here all day and watch TV.”

“Exactly. Because I don’t have my catalogs to read.”

Oh, Mom.

I had a really good time with Edward.

He picked me up right after Sam got home, and we went into Morristown. He’d made reservations at Roots, which was very trendy, and although it had been open for a couple of years and dinner cost a pretty penny, it was almost impossible to just walk in and get a table, even during the week, because the food was that good. We were early, so we had wine in a little bar where everyone was younger than we were, but we sat outside and watched people go by and had a great time. Dinner was delicious, and we spent the whole time talking about English tax law versus American tax law. Not the titillating conversation I was expecting, but once we got started, it was hard to stop. He was smart. Very smart. And he thought about things the same way I did, and looked at things from the same perspective. By the time we were done, I felt like my brain had run a marathon, and won.

As we walked by the bar again, we peeked in. There was a live band in the corner, playing an old Bee Gees cover, with a few couples on the dance floor.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me in.

“Where?”

“Here. Dancing. Do you like to dance?”

“Yes, but, Edward, look around. We’re the oldest people in the room.”

“Who cares?” He was grinning. “Come on; let’s show them how it’s done.”

I had not spent much of the disco era strutting my stuff, because Jake had been a terrible dancer, and we never had the money to go to the nicer clubs. Most places we’d
hung out in had a jukebox that catered to the Willie Nelson crowd. But I’d always kind of liked the music, and I had always loved to dance. Edward must have been the “Night Fever” king, because boy, he had some smooth moves. The band, once they realized we were practically a floor show, played one seventies hit after another. Pretty soon, there were so many people dancing that we kept getting pushed into a corner. I finally gave up and collapsed against the wall, sweaty and hot and out of breath.

“Edward, I am way too old for this.”

“Nonsense. We were spectacular. Look at everyone out there, gyrating like fools. We’ve inspired an entire generation. Because of us, the glittery disco ball will be making a comeback.”

“God, I hope not.”

He was leaning against the wall right next to me, smiling. He’d worn a linen sports jacket over his polo shirt to dinner, and the lapel had turned up. I reached out to smooth it down, and he turned to me and leaned in, very close.