Once and Again (21 page)

“Yes. And they want to have the wood paneling refurbished, too.”

“What else is being proposed?” Alicia asked. “The chandeliers?”

“I think the plan is to keep them—they have their own charm, plus they’d be difficult to replace—but I know that they want to refurbish the ceiling. Did you know that underneath that heavy red coat of paint there is an original Wardwell?”

“Really?” Alicia gasped. “So rare!”

“Really,” Carolyn confirmed. Her grandfather had told her that the upkeep of the mural by the famous early twentieth-century artist, a local legend, was simply too expensive, and so they’d simply covered up the work rather than pay for someone to refurbish it. “Imagine how gorgeous parties in here would be even with those changes.”

“I can see it,” Alicia said. “I really can. It would lighten the whole room up.”

“But not make it too modern,” Carolyn asserted. “The original look and feel of this room would certainly be maintained.”

Alicia was turning around the room now. “Yes,” she murmured. “What an improvement that would make.”

Perhaps Carolyn had hit her target after all. The best thing to do in such a situation, she knew full well, was to shut her mouth. “Shall we go over the plans for your party now?”

“Absolutely.”

“Wonderful.” Carolyn walked to the side of the room. “The ice sculpture will be placed right here as the centerpiece on the side table,” she said, indicating the spot between two large windows that overlooked one of the putting greens. “Of course that needs to be prominently displayed since our professional ice carver is creating a full-size bust of you, Alicia, in honor of this very special occasion.”

“Yes, indeed,” she said, her light blue eyes twinkling as brightly as the multitude of diamond tennis bracelets she wore on her left wrist. “What’s the point of turning fifty—again—if you don’t have a little fun with it?”

According to the records Carolyn had dug up, Alicia had thrown her last five fiftieth-birthday parties at Briarwood and given that she was likely well into her sixties, had probably thrown countless more in other locations.

“The chocolate fondue stations will be spread around the room on individual circular tables,” Carolyn said. “We want them to be as accessible as possible while still being out of the way so that your guests can continue to dance while dessert is being served.”

“Excellent,” the older woman said, but she didn’t sound as into the planning as she had a moment ago.

“Is that all right for you?” Carolyn queried. “We have plenty of time to change the dessert if you don’t want the fondue stations.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that…” She sighed again. “It’s just that my daughter, Isabella, loves fondue, but even that isn’t enough to tempt her to this party.”

“You two are not on good terms?” Carolyn ventured to ask.

“She and I are, but she and Vernon are not. The two of them simply don’t get along. Like oil and water. And Isabella has a very strong will, just like her father.”

“I’m sorry,” Carolyn murmured. “Does she have her own family?”

“Yes,” Alicia said. “And that’s the worst of it. I don’t get to see my two grandchildren nearly enough, since Isabella won’t be where Vernon is, and vice versa. It’s most distressing. Everyone thinks it’s crazy—me, her husband, even the kids—but she won’t budge. Part of it is ego, I suppose. They’re both very, very intelligent. Much more intelligent than I am. But really, it all comes back to the stubbornness. Isabella gets one idea in her head and Vernon gets another, and neither of them will give. Not one inch.” Alicia blinked. “Oh, listen to me go on. I don’t want to burden you, my dear.”

“It’s never a burden to talk to you, Alicia. I mean that.” And she truly did.

Alicia patted her twist, even though it was still in perfect condition. “If only Vernon weren’t so against change, in any form. He still treats Isabella like she’s a child, even though she’s fully grown and makes her own decisions. Good decisions, mostly.”

“And…” Carolyn started, then stopped and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m probing where I have no business to probe.”

Alicia stopped her with a wave of her hand. “Please don’t apologize. I brought up the subject, and I know what you’re tempted to ask. The answer is no—Vernon doesn’t insist on the same standard for me. I seem to be the one thing in his life immune to the no-change rule.”

“He must love you very much.”

“Yes,” Alicia said, sounding thoughtful. “After thirty-five years of marriage, I would suspect he does.”

“I hope things change with Mr. Chelmsford and Isabella,” Carolyn said. “I think over time, your daughter will appreciate having her father around more. Especially with you to help ease the way.” She offered a gentle smile. “And on that positive note, shall we talk about the entertainment for the party?”

Alicia smiled back, some of the weariness seeming to leave her. “Absolutely.”

Jane could hardly believe that Andy was seven. As she lit the candles on his birthday cake and blew out the match, she actually felt tears start to well in the corners of her eyes. She was doing it. She was raising this bright, beautiful child on her own. So what that his reading wasn’t where it should be, or that he didn’t have all his math facts memorized? He was a good kid, and he loved her. That was all that mattered at this point.

Then she and Mary began to sing, and every other emotion was pushed aside as a wave of joy swept through her.

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Andrew. Happy birthday to you!

Andy stood in front of his cake, his eyes bright with wonder. There’d been a big debate about whether Spider-Man or Batman should have the place of honor on the cake, but Spider-Man eventually won out, and by the ecstatic look on Andy’s face, Jane had definitely outdone herself. He couldn’t stop staring, so much so that the candles were beginning to drip wax onto the cake.

“Make a wish, honey,” Mary prompted.

“And don’t tell what it is,” Jane added.

Andy closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were sparkling. Then he blew all eight candles—seven plus one for good luck—out and grinned.

“Hooray!” Jane cheered, and so did Mary.

“You get to cut the first piece, sugar,” Mary said.

“I want to eat Spider-Man!”

“Sure,” said Jane, laughing. She helped Andy navigate the big knife through a fondant Central Park and slid the big piece onto a waiting plate. Then she carefully broke the webbing and handed it to Andy, Spider-Man and all.

“Wow!” Andy said.

“Mom, you want a piece?”

“All right,” Mary said, just as her cellphone rang. “Oh!” She reached into her pocket to get it. “Hello? Hi, Dan. Just a minute. He’s right here.” And then, to Jane’s horror, she handed the phone directly to Andy.

“Hi, Dad,” Andy said, his voice cool. “Thanks.” Then Andy got up and walked into the small living room.

As soon as she was sure he was out of earshot, Jane crossed her arms over her breasts and turned to her mother. “What are you doing, Mom?”

Mary lifted her chin. “Letting a father speak to his son on his birthday.”

Of course Dan had gotten to her, just like he’d gotten to everyone. He was so persuasive, so insidious, that he could spin any set of facts to favor himself. And now he’d fully co-opted her own mother. She should have seen this coming. Should have seen that keeping silent about what he’d done was just a recipe for disaster. “You have no idea—” Jane started, then thought of Andy. Before she let loose any words she’d regret later, she shut her mouth and bit her lip. “I just wish you’d asked me first.”

“Look, Jane, if you don’t want me here, just say so. I can be packed up and gone tonight.” And here came the guilt.

Andy was still in the living room, giving monosyllabic responses to Dan’s questions. Jane thought about her sweet little guy coming back in to hear that his beloved grandma was leaving early. “Don’t. Andy would be devastated.”

“What about you, Jane?” Mary’s voice was soft.

Luckily, she was saved by Andy coming back in with the cellphone held out to his grandmother. “I’m done.” Then he slipped right back into his seat and took a big forkful of cake. “This is so good, Mom. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” Jane said. “How was your talk with your dad?”

“Fine. Hey, do we have any ice cream?”

He was doing that thing he did when he was nervous—tapping the toes of one foot against his other ankle—but she didn’t want to push it. “I have some, but it’s downstairs. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

She could use a breather, anyway. The atmosphere in her apartment was getting downright stifling.

Evelyn was in the kitchen when she walked through the door, but as soon as she spied her, Jane could tell something was wrong. The older woman stood there, cellphone in hand, a dazed look on her face.

“What happened?” Jane said, rushing over to her. “Is it Sterling?”

Evelyn blinked and shook her head. “No. It’s not Sterling.” She wouldn’t look at Jane. “That was Patrick Underhill.”

Jane froze.
Had Dan actually made good on his threat? “The realtor?” she said carefully. “Why would he be calling?”

“Claudia Garlen is selling this building.”

“What?” This couldn’t be. “Is the deal already done?”

“I’m afraid so. They have a buyer and everything. They’re in escrow now.”

“But, that would mean—”

Evelyn grasped her hand and squeezed. “They’re kicking us out, Jane. All of the tenants in this building have to be gone by July first.”

“
All
the tenants?” Jane croaked out, thinking only of her apartment upstairs.

“All the tenants,” Evelyn confirmed, finally meeting her gaze. “Oh, Jane, I’m so very sorry.”

Late in the evening, after Andy’s party things had been cleaned up and he’d been tucked into bed, little fingers gripping the new Spider-Man figurine he’d gotten for his birthday, Jane sat at her small desk, going over their household budget for the rest of the year. Things were not looking good.

Her fingers ached. Her arms ached. Her brain ached, too, thanks to that giant bomb Evelyn had dropped on her this afternoon. Patrick Underhill had called her cell and left her a message, too, confirming Evelyn’s news.

All tenants gone by July first, a mere six weeks from now. Mountain Laurel Cakes, a thirty-year-old institution—gone, just like that! And she couldn’t even think about what she and Andy were supposed to do. The only reason they’d been able to survive in town was this seriously below-market rental. They were happy here, in this snug, sweet-smelling apartment in the heart of Eastbridge. Now it would likely be torn down for grand condos she could never afford on her salary.

Of course, after Mountain Laurel Cakes closed, she wouldn’t
have
a salary.

Evelyn was going to look for new space—at least, that’s what she thought she’d heard her boss say, but after Evelyn had said the words
all tenants,
Jane’s brain had gone fuzzy. It wouldn’t matter. It would take some time to get the new place up and running, and she couldn’t afford to have an income gap. She’d need to get another job around here. Or move to another town, which wasn’t ideal, because Andy loved Eastbridge Elementary and that school had the resources he needed.

Jane’s cellphone rang. She’d gotten wiser about checking the caller ID.
Caller unknown.
So she wouldn’t pick up. After a few rings, whoever was calling hung up without leaving a message.

A second later, the house phone rang. Who would be calling so late at night, except…?

Actual fear sliced through her.
Not again.
“Mom, don’t pick it up!” she called out to Mary. But she was too late. Mary had answered it in the kitchen. In a moment, she was at the door, wearing a brittle, hopeful smile.

“It’s for you,” she said.
Dan,
she mouthed.

No no no no no.

Slowly, she reached for the phone on her bedside table and forced herself to answer, for her mom’s sake. “Twice in one day,” she gritted out.

“Jane,” Dan said, in a warm, cordial voice Jane had no doubt was for Mary’s benefit. “How are you?”

Her mom ducked out of the room and Jane heard a soft click on the line, Mary hanging up.

Jane immediately lowered her voice “I told you not to call me here. Not to call me
ever.
You want something? Call the lawyers. And just to be clear, you were a real dick, calling during Andy’s birthday celebration, especially since you haven’t cared at all about calling in the past.”

“Not very friendly of you, Jane. Your mother gave me an explicit invitation to call. She knows a father needs to talk to his son on his birthday.” His voice lowered. “She still doesn’t know, does she? All the dirty, filthy things you did?”

“The things you asked me to do, Dan,” she hissed. “The things I was too stupid to realize were your sick form of blackmail.” As she said the words, she realized they were true. She’d gone into their marriage with trust and love. He’d gone into it thinking of her as a possession to be controlled. He just didn’t have the foresight to realize she wasn’t as weak as he thought she was.

“But you did them, Jane, didn’t you?”

“Because I loved you. And in return, you beat the crap out of me.”

“You didn’t document that very well, did you?” he said, sounding smug. “And memories fade. But I have proof of
your
transgressions. Just one press of the button and everyone will know what a little whore you are.”

She flinched at that word but didn’t falter. “Your words can’t hurt me, and neither can the photos. Release them. I don’t care. You’ll be violating the judge’s orders and you’ll take the heat.”

There was silence for a long moment. “I’m petitioning to have the custody issue revisited.”

“What? Why?”

“My reasons for wanting Andy are none of your fucking business,” Dan said, his voice cracking like a whip. “But I’m going to get him. And just so you know, the judge who heard our case has retired. Chances are I’ll get someone who can appreciate my side more.”

“You won’t win.”

“Oh, I will. You can count on it. And Jane?” He paused for one terrible moment and when he spoke again, his voice was chillingly cold. “I know
exactly
where to find you and Andy.”

Then he hung up.

Her worst nightmare was coming true…again! He couldn’t have Andy. She wouldn’t let him have Andy. Dan was just doing this to punish her; she was sure of it! She’d call her lawyer immediately. What others thought of her didn’t matter anymore; only keeping Andy did. She glanced at her watch. It was too late to call the lawyer. She’d do so first thing in the morning.

Tea. She needed strong tea right now.

When she went into the kitchen, her mother was there, the phone still in her hand, her face stricken. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Jane leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You heard him, didn’t you?”

“Jane, I—” She was still clutching the phone, shocked into silence. Really, what could she say?
Your dick of an ex beat you and has been blackmailing you with your sex photos?
Yeah. No.

“Now you know,” she said, turning to get a mug. She placed it on the counter. “Want some?”

“He’s a
monster,
” Mary breathed.

Jane took that as a yes. She got down another mug. “Decaf or regular?”

“Jane,” her mother prodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jane stopped messing around with the tea things and took a deep breath. “Because of Andy. Because he’s too young to know what his dad is really like. And because of me,” Jane said slowly. “I made a mistake.”

“The photos he mentioned?”

Jane nodded. “They’re bad, Mom. Really bad. I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

Her mother’s face crumpled. “Oh, Jane,” she said. “I could never think less of you. But I do think less of him, now. A lot less.”

“Don’t tell Andy. He can’t know.”

“You don’t give him enough credit, Jane. He’s a smart boy.”

“With an idiot for a mother.”

Her mom was crying now. “All this time I thought you were the one who skipped out on Dan. He let me think that!
You
let me think that! Why did you want to go through this alone? What is wrong with you, Jane?”

“I know I brought it on myself by not telling you,” she said, shaking her head, “but the truth was, I was ashamed. I still am.”

“No, honey. Don’t be. Don’t. The only thing you should be ashamed of is trusting the wrong man. And you won’t be alone. I’m here.” Then she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Jane’s waist. She put her cheek on her daughter’s shoulder. Tentatively, Jane hugged her back, not really sure how to handle this outpouring of emotion. “I’m so sorry if I—wasn’t as supportive as I could have been.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jane said, patting her back, still in a bit of shock that her mother seemed to actually understand what she’d gone through and wasn’t judging her.

“It’s not okay. I only wanted the best for you and Andy. I thought you were happy with Dan. All I was thinking was how difficult you made your life when you left him. I thought if you two were back together, you wouldn’t be struggling so much.”

“But I didn’t tell you. That was a mistake, too.” All of a sudden all the emotion of the day—Dan’s threat, Andy’s birthday, the shock of finding out her lease was being terminated and that she’d probably be losing her job
and
her home—caught up with her. Hot wetness pricked the corners of Jane’s eyes.
Oh, God,
she was going to cry. But it was okay. It was all going to be okay, because now her mom knew and she didn’t have to hide anymore.

“I understand why you did it, sugar. I just wish you’d trusted me more.”

Her mom was here. Supporting her. Loving her. And she realized that she was grateful.

“I will from here on out, Mom.”

And she enveloped her mom in a huge hug, finally letting the tears go. It felt good not to carry such a terrible secret anymore, to share the burden.

Her mother pulled back and wiped her wet face with a palm. “I said some things before that I didn’t really mean. I don’t really want to go. I’d like to stay longer. If you’ll have me.”

“I don’t have any more rooms for you to organize,” Jane said, trying to make light of the situation.

“Oh, Jane,” her mother sniffed. “I don’t want to organize rooms. I was just looking for something useful to do.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “Ever since your father died, I’ve been at loose ends. Home doesn’t seem like home anymore without him.”

Her mom was just as lost as she was, and when she thought about Mary, alone in New Hampshire in that giant old house with nothing to do, something welled up inside.

“Stay with us,” Jane said, surprising even herself. “Andy loves you. And so do I. We’ll find some way to make this work.” She’d get another job—maybe two, if she needed to—and Mary could stay to help with Andy.

Mary’s eyes were wide. “Do you really mean it?”