Authors: Kate Sweeney
Kit chuckled, and so did Roz and Bess. Helen smiled. “It’s good to see you two together and laughing. This is what I missed most in these two dreadful years. And I’m sorry if I deceived both of you. But given your collective stubbornness, this nonsense would go on indefinitely. Any time away from the one you love is excruciating. I know. I also thought of your father.”
Kit’s head shot up; she immediately reached for her mother’s hand, which she took. “I miss him horribly,” Helen whispered. “And what I miss most is his laughter. And the quiet time we shared at night. Don’t let this, whatever it is, go on much longer. You’re both young and have a good deal of time left on this earth. Don’t spend it apart.” She offered a sarcastic smile. “Unless one of you goes skydiving again.”
Kit and Roz smiled. “Never again,” Kit assured them.
“Hallelujah.” Bess held up her hands.
“Good,” Helen said. “Now before tonight’s festivities, I’m going to take a hot bath and bask in my newfound courage. Then take a long deserved nap. I’m an old woman, you know.” She patted Roz’s and Kit’s hands. “You two hash this out. Bess, come along.”
Roz and Kit sat in silence for a moment as they walked away.
“I hate it when she’s right,” Kit said.
“It is irritating,” Roz conceded.
“So,” Kit said, taking a deep quivering breath. She felt the perspiration start to drip down her back. “Do we have a lot to talk about?” She picked up a napkin and wiped her forehead.
“I think so,” Roz said in a quiet voice. “I hope so. You know, Kit…”
“Oh, God!”
Roz grinned. “I know. I feel the same, Kit. We were so wrong. I…what’s wrong?”
Kit looked like a thermometer. Her face flushed, and her entire head was immediately damp. “God, not now!” she cried out and stood. The heat was excruciating. Her entire body was on fire from within—and not in a good way. She felt stifled and closed in, and before she knew it, she was yanking the hem of her T-shirt out from her jeans. The hormones flew out of control as she ran to the French doors that Roz had opened; otherwise, there would have been a cartoon shape of herself through the door. She flung her T-shirt over her head. She faintly heard Roz calling her in the background, but she didn’t pay any attention. She needed relief, and she needed it now.
“I can’t stand this anymore!” She ran out onto the patio in her bra. The sweat dripped down her spine and her legs. It glistened over her arms and chest and…well, shit, her whole body was soaked. If it didn’t stop, she’d strip off her jeans next. In fact, she started to unzip. But the shade on the patio offered the cool relief, only because the flash subsided that quickly.
“Thank God,” she whispered as she hung her head, leaning her hands against the patio table. And there she was in her bra and unzipped jeans, head completely damp and body glistening.
“Oh, damn,” Roz said urgently from behind her. “Kit!”
It was then she realized they were more than likely not alone. She felt as though she was being watched. It was bad enough Roz had to witness the hormonal meltdown, but she looked up to see Nate Hutchins standing on a path, mouth agape, and the look of horror was comical. He didn’t seem to know where to look, so he just stared. Then he looked from Kit to Roz, and his eyes widened.
“Oh, no, no,” Kit said quickly. “We’re not having sex.”
“Oh, geez, Kit,” Roz said.
“But we’re not. It’s not what you think. I’m having a hot flash.”
“That’s okay. That’s okay,” he called, waving his hand; he walked as quickly as he could out of sight without screaming and taking off in a dead run.
“Really,” Kit called after him. “It’s a…” She stopped and let out a dejected sigh. “…hot flash.” She immediately tensed when she heard the gentle cough. “I give up…” She whirled around to see Roz standing there holding her T-shirt. She wrenched it out of her hands.
“Still having ’
em
?”
Kit glared. “No, I just like to spontaneous strip for no reason at all, you fathead.”
“Isn’t that Tourette’s Syndrome?”
“What the hell is going on?”
Dale stood in the doorway with Sandy right behind her, looking like an owl. “I said what’s going on?”
Kit looked to the heavens as she struggled into her T-shirt and zipped her jeans; she looked at Roz and burst into laughter. Roz joined her.
“Rehearsing tonight’s entertainment,” Roz said, still laughing.
Kit shook her head as she laughed along. “Yes. Practice, practice, practice.”
“Next show’s at eleven. And I’m selling tickets to pay for this elaborate shindig for the birthday girl,” Roz said, offering her hand to Sandy. “Hello, I’m Roz Maguire, welcome to bedlam.”
********
Bess rolled on the bed, holding her sides from laughing. Kit sat there, watching her.
“All done?” she asked.
“Oh, hell no. I can’t believe you stripped in front of Roz and Nate and, hell, almost everybody. And I missed it. Wait until your mother hears this one.” Bess dried her eyes and sat up. “Wow. That was a good laugh.”
“I’m so glad you’re amused,” Kit said miserably.
“Hey, what was Sandy doing here?”
“Oh. She drove Dale back and wanted to apologize again for what happened. I think she’s afraid I’m going to sue or something. She’s really a nice woman. And while we were talking, I was thinking how good she’d be for Dale. They were lovers, you know.”
“No,” Bess said, wide-eyed.
“Yes. I’m not sure what happened there. But given the maturity level of Sandy and the lack thereof of Dale, I think I can safely assume what happened.”
Bess cocked her head. “So you’re truly not involved with Dale?”
Kit sighed. “No. Not really. I mean, truthfully, she’s nice and amusing. But I’ve been lying to myself about her and about so much.”
“You sound tired,” Bess said softly.
“I am. I’m tired of a lot of things. But I don’t know what to do.” Now she felt like crying.
Bess quickly walked over to her. “It’s okay. One of these days, it’ll stop.”
“It’ll never stop.” Kit now cried uncontrollably. “I hate myself. I’ve become this overweight hormonal old…thing!” She flounced on the nearby chair and cried. “None of my clothes fit…”
Bess handed her a tissue; she knew the routine. Inwardly, she wanted to strangle Roz. She should be here. The whole in sickness and in health thing. She made a mental note to give her hell again…
Kit took the tissue and blew her nose. Taking a deep breath, she chuckled as she wiped her nose again. “Lucky you. You get to witness all my crazy shit.”
“That’s what friends are for. Su loco poo-poo
es
mi loco poo-poo.”
“We’ll have that etched on our tombstones.”
“All right now,” Bess said, pulling Kit up. “No more references to death. It’s your birthday. And if your insane mother told me you’d be here, I’d have a gift. So when we get back, we’ll go shopping. The entire day, my treat.”
Kit’s eyes lit up. “Can we have a spa day?”
“Yes, we can. Stop pouting. Anything you want. Now no more crying. You need to get ready. It’s four o’clock, we haven’t much time.”
Kit raised an eyebrow. “Cocktails don’t start till six, that’s two hours.”
“I know,” Bess said, pushing her toward the door. “So get a move on, birthday girl.” She laughed again. “You stripped in front of Roz.”
Kit laughed sarcastically, slammed the door on Bess’s laughter, and went back to her room. After a hot shower, she felt alive, well, she felt better. Wondering what to wear, she tried to put the negative feelings about her weight and everything menopausal out of her mind for the night.
So she chose something loose fitting and comfortable. The words of her mother rang in her ears—“You can’t have the body of your youth.” It was true, and while Kit realized that was what she was trying to do, she knew she could still get in shape as best she could while
menopausaling
…Dale was correct there—Kit did want to get in shape. Just not the regimented military style Dale was accustomed to. When she got home, she’d start something.
The pang of loneliness wafted through her again thinking of starting this alone. Seeing Roz once again, she realized how much she truly missed her, missed everything about her. Even the arrogance and stubbornness. It was all part and parcel of Rosalind Maguire. Now what?
She finished dressing, and once again, she’d forego the makeup. Not because Roz liked her that way, but… She laughed at herself.
“Who are you kidding?” she asked the woman in the mirror. “It’s exactly the reason.”
She walked back to the desk by the window to get the room key. As she looked out, she saw Roz sitting on a huge boulder by the stream. She wasn’t fishing, just sitting. She looked comfortable and at peace.
As she continued to watch Roz, an anxious feeling gripped her stomach muscles. She had no clue what the night would bring. But she was hopeful, so hopeful.
She smiled and stuffed her room key in her pants pocket and headed downstairs.
********
Roz retreated to the safety of the creek. Mark and Stella had everything under control for dinner. She’d only be in the way. As a matter of fact, Stella actually chased her out of the kitchen and the dining room. So she had time before she had to get back and set up the bar.
She sat on the huge boulder on the creek bank, looking at the sparkling stream. She thought of getting her fishing rod, but she was too comfortable. She laughed out loud then at the sight of poor Kit’s hot flash earlier. And while it was amusing, Roz felt a pang of regret and culpability knowing Kit was probably alone when she needed Roz the most.
Helen’s words stuck with her because, as Kit pointed out, Helen was right. This was a ridiculous situation between them. Both of them willful and stubborn, neither of them admitting and giving in. She looked back at the field of clover and grinned.
It was time this foolishness ended. Maybe that night was the night.
Chapter 14
“Mark, go and make sure the table is set,” Stella said as she checked the menu for dinner. Roz really outdid herself with it. “She’s gonna go broke, the idiot.”
“Miss Adams is going to be at dinner, isn’t she?” he asked absently.
Stella looked up from her list. “Mark…”
“Okay, okay.”
Stella shook her head and examined the menu once again. It was obviously everything Kit liked. Luckily, Stella had ninety percent of it on hand. After a quick run into town, she had everything ready.
“So first course. French onion soup, gruyere cheese, which I had to go into town for, check. Second. Mixed greens salad, raspberry vinaigrette, check. Third. Prime rib roast, it’s in the oven, garlic and rosemary parsley roasted potatoes, check. And a fish course. That huge trout Dale caught. Baked with crabmeat stuffing in a lemon caper sauce, check. And dessert, tiramisu, which was time-consuming, but done and in the fridge, check. Now—”
She looked up when Roz came running in the kitchen, her arms full of...
“What are you doing with weeds?” Stella asked, looking over her glasses.
“They’re not weeds. There’s some green and white clover and wildflowers. I want to make a centerpiece for the table.”
Upon further inspection, Stella grunted. “They’re weeds.”
“Oh, you have no romance.”
“I have plenty of romance. It’s just dormant right now. I’ll leave it all up to you,” Stella said, puckering her lips in a kiss.
“Hardy-
har
. Well, I hope Kit remembers…” Roz said fondly.
“So have you talked to her?” Stella asked.
“Not as much as I’d like. But we started. It’s gonna take a while. There’s been two years between us and…” She stopped and looked at Stella. “What if I’m wrong? What if it’s too late and I blew it? We haven’t talked to or seen each other in two years. What if—”
Stella put up her hand. “Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself. Take it slow and steady. Have a good dinner, and maybe you’ll be able to really talk afterward.” She smirked then. “If her girlfriend doesn’t mind, of course. Oh, and did you find out if your ex-wife’s girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend will be joining us for your ex-wife’s fiftieth birthday bash?” Stella batted her eyelashes. “
Kinda
ridiculous, ain’t it?”
Roz hung her head. “Why do you do this to me?”
Stella laughed and slapped her on the back. “Because I think you deserve it. Getting yourself in this situation at this time in your life. You’re a grown woman, playing around like this.”
“And yes, I invited Sandy.”
Stella smiled sweetly. “And why would you do that? Don’t you think that will be awkward for her?”
Roz leaned on the counter. “It’s been awkward from the get-go for everybody. Why should she get away unscathed?”
“Does she know what the story is?”
Roz shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. If Dale or Kit wants her to know, they’ll tell her. Don’t look at me, Dale asked if she could come tonight with the woman standing right there. What was I going to say?”
“You have a point. An imbecilic one, but I see what you’re saying. Mark will serve the dinner, so it’ll go smoothly. As long as he can keep his raging hormones in check. Now everything is all set. The salads are in the coolers, the roast is in the oven. The trout is ready to be baked. The soup is ready. Let me help you with these weeds.”
“They’re not…”
“How
goes
it?” Helen asked, poking her head in.
“We’re all set. Come in here, let me take a look at you,” Roz said.
Stella’s cell phone went off just as Helen walked in without the cane.
“Wow,” Roz said, twirling her finger.
Helen obliged and turned around in a circle. “Too much?”
“Not at all.” Roz nodded with approval. “Stunning. Not too dressy and not too casual, this will be me.”
“Now that’s the Roz I remember.” Helen held out her arms.
In a heartbeat, Roz was in the comfort of her mother-in-law’s embrace. “Man, I missed you,” Roz said, feeling the emotions well up inside.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Helen whispered, then pulled away. “Now no crying. It’ll ruin my makeup. It’s almost cocktail hour. You’d better go shower.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And what’s up with the weeds?” Helen asked. “Are there bugs in these?”
“They’re not weeds, and no,” Roz insisted. “Where did Stella go?”
“Her phone rang, she’s on the back steps. Here she comes.”
Stella came dashing in. “You’ll never guess what’s going to happen.”
“What else could possibly happen on this weekend?”
Stella laughed. “Not this weekend. But I just got the scoop from Marge, who talked to…”
Roz held up her hand. “Cut to the chase, please.”
“You’re going to have a food critic from the
Denver Post
come out here.”
Roz was stunned. She staggered back against the counter. Helen was quickly at her side. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Helen asked.
“Of course it is. You’ve only been established here for a couple years, Roz.”
“Do you know when?” Roz asked.
“Marge isn’t sure. She thought she heard in a couple weeks.”
Roz chewed at her bottom lip. “That gives us some time.”
Helen laughed. “Thank God it wasn’t this weekend.”
“Or last weekend with the Sumner family,” Stella said.
“What happened then?”
Roz waved her off. “Long story. Bee stings and I had to give them a refund.
Oy
, what a mess. But they were very kind and very English. My first international guests…”
“Oh, you poor dear,” Helen said. “But you’ll have time to get prepared. Good heads-up by your friend.”
“Yeah. They’ll probably send some old pretentious fart,” Stella said with a laugh. “They sent some old geezer to a place a friend of mine owns. But it turned out all right. Let’s not worry about that right now.”
“You’re right. We’ll live that nightmare after this one is over,” Roz said, avoiding the slap from Helen.
“Dinner will be fine. Now these weeds,” Helen said again.
“Damn it, they’re not weeds. They’re going to be a beautiful centerpiece. Stella’s gonna make it. Gotta shower.” Roz smiled sweetly at her glaring chef, then scooted out of the kitchen.
Helen looked at Stella. “Is she serious about these?”
“Yep. If you look at them correctly, they’re
kinda
colorful. You’ve got green and white of the clover, and those wildflowers have a nice variety.”
“True,” Helen said. “They just look dirty.”
“Really? Try this.” Stella opened the refrigerator and took out a long thin frosted bottle. She got two
apéritif
glasses down from the cabinet and poured the cold lemon drink. “
Limoncello
. It’s Italian, but I got this from a friend of mine in Greece. He sends it to me periodically.” She handed the small glass to Helen. “Enjoy.”
“Here’s mud in your eye,” Helen said, taking a sip. “Ooh, that’s good.”
“After a few of these, those weeds will look like roses. Let’s get to work on them.”
True to Stella’s word, after a couple of
Limoncellos
, the centerpiece came to life. They placed the colorful wildflowers in the middle with the green and white clover artfully situated around the rim of the short oval vase.
“I think we did a good job.” Helen absently wiped her forehead. “Is it getting hot in here?”
“That’s enough.” Stella corked the bottle and returned it to the fridge. “Remind me to call
Theos
and have him send me another. I’ll get your address, and he can send you a bottle, as well.”
“You’re a good gal, Stella,” Helen said. “And I need to sit.”
“What are you two up to?” Bess walked into the kitchen and looked at the centerpiece. “That’s lovely.”
Helen snorted. “They’re weeds.”
“They are not,” Bess argued. “You did a wonderful job.” She ran her fingers along the clover border. “Ah, Roz’s handiwork, I bet.”
“And you’d be right.” Stella looked at the clock. “Shit. We’re getting close to cocktail time.”
“What have we been doing?” Helen asked.
“Bess, would you please take the weeds…um…centerpiece and put it on the table?” Stella asked.
“Sure thing.” She picked up the vase and glared at Helen. “Shame on you for starting without me.”
“Okay, Helen. As much as I adore your company, I’ve got an hour before this birthday dinner starts.”
“Battle stations. I’ll leave you to your culinary expertise.”
Helen walked out into the dining room just as Bess set the centerpiece on the long table, set for eight. Mark did a wonderful job with the linen tablecloth and napkins. The glasses sparkled nicely. Roz was behind the bar, already mixing drinks for Stan, who looked very sporty in a nice dark green sweater and tan slacks. Nate stood by the bar along with Stan. He wore a lightweight sport jacket, pale blue shirt and dark tie, and crisply pleated dark slacks. With his engaging smile and perfect teeth, he looked like an ad for Brooks Brothers.
Helen nearly let out a belly laugh when Mark came out of the kitchen with a huge bucket of ice; he gazed lovingly at Bess, then turned his attention to both men and scowled deeply. Ah, testosterone, Helen thought.
It had turned a bit chilly, so Roz had a fire going, and all was set for the birthday dinner. All they were missing was the birthday girl. Oh, and Dale. Dale was the one she was missing. Oh, and Dale’s friend Sandy. “An eclectic group if ever I saw one.”
“Helen? Can I get you a cocktail?” Stan asked.
“You may. A sherry would be wonderful. And may I say you look very handsome.”
“You may,” Stan said with a dimpled grin. He leaned in then. “And who invited Gorgeous George?” He motioned to Nate.
Helen laughed and gently pushed him toward the bar. When Kit walked into the room, Helen smiled. She looked wonderful. Fresh-faced and smiling, Kathleen Weston was simply an attractive woman. She favored her father in coloring with sandy blond hair, which did not show much gray, thanks be to God. And Helen could be looking right into Roger’s blue eyes.
“The birthday girl has arrived,” Helen announced.
To Kit’s embarrassment, everyone applauded. Kit blushed horribly and did a mock curtsy.
Bess leaned into Roz. “Where’s Dale?”
“Who cares?” Roz never took her eyes off Kit. She poured a glass of red wine and walked over to her. “Happy birthday, Kit.”
Still blushing, Kit took the glass of wine. “Thanks, Roz. Thanks for all this. Shit, I’m gonna cry.”
“Wait. Hold that tear,” Roz said, fishing a neatly folded linen handkerchief out of her pocket. She presented it to Kit. “Can’t be bawling on your birthday without a hanky.”
Kit examined the hanky. “This is…”
Roz nodded. “The one you gave me for my birthday. But God forbid I could remember which one.”
Kit searched Roz’s face; she swallowed her emotions and smiled. “It never mattered,” she whispered.
“No, it didn’t,” Roz said. “It still doesn’t.” She felt the tears sting her eyes and coughed. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Kit said, taking a sip of wine.
They both looked at Helen as though she would burst into tears. “You two,” she exclaimed. “Come here.” She opened her arms, pulling both women into an affectionate hug.
“Are we late?” Dale asked. Sandy stood behind her as Dale walked over to Kit. “Mrs. W., you look lovely.”
Helen caught Bess’s Eddie Haskell smirk before kissing Dale on the cheek. “Thank you, dear. Well, belly up. It’s cocktails before dinner.”
Dale rubbed her hands together. “Kit, do you need…oh, I see you have something.” She glanced at Roz, who smiled. “Are you off duty?” she asked Roz.
“For the most part. But I’ll get you a drink. Beer?”
“Please.” Dale looked at Sandy.
“Oh, red wine would be fine, thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Roz turned and bumped into Bess.
“Out of my way, Roz. I need to see the birthday girl. Happy birthday.” Bess put her arm around Kit and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “It looks like it’s shaping up to be a nice evening.”
Dale smiled. “I suppose.”
Kit looked at her and didn’t like the frown as she watched Roz, who made her way back to them with the drinks. There was a silent exchange, and it was most uncomfortable.
Helen and Bess awkwardly glanced around them.
“So,” Bess said quickly, making Helen jump. “How…?”
“Miss Adams, can I get you anything?” Mark asked, coming up behind her.
Bess jumped and turned around. “Good grief. Don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine, Mark. Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you,” Bess said slowly, watching the love-struck expression. She looked down to make sure his feet were still on the ground.
“Mark,” Roz said. “Don’t you have something to do?”