Maybe This Time (7 page)

They moved on and bought T-shirts and black-and-white-striped leggings and a stretchy black jersey flounced skirt for Alice who made gagging sounds, but once they began on Carter's clothes, the little girl got serious, meticulously choosing what he needed.
Shopping therapy,
Andie thought, and dragged her to a home store where she bought white paint to take the pink out of Alice's room. “I want
black,
” Alice said, the first thing she'd said since they'd left the car, and Andie said, “You can draw on the white with your markers,” and watched Alice almost smile. It was a little ghoulish. Then they went to the bookstore.

“Is that your kid?” the store clerk said, when she walked in. He was pointing at Carter, so she said, “Yes.” “And you're going to buy all these books?” the clerk said, pointing to the stacks on the counter. Andie sorted through them and saw comics and books on drawing and books on drawing comics. “Yes, I'm going to buy all these books,” Andie said, flashing North's plastic, and a few minutes later Alice came up with two books on butterflies, and Andie added them to the pile.

When they were done and had everything loaded into the car, Andie said, “Groceries,” and Alice started to scream, “No, no, no, NO, NO, NO,” until Carter said, “Chill. We have to eat.” Any illusion Andie had of them picking out meals together was dashed when Carter got in the car, and Alice followed him. Andie moved up and down the grocery aisles with speed and precision and was back in the car in half an hour.

“Now,” she said when she got in the car. “Home.”

She turned on the car and the tape player kicked in, startling her. She recognized the song and turned to the back seat as “Somebody's Baby” bounced out of the speakers. “Did you put this tape in?”

Carter shrugged.

“There's a whole thing of them,” Alice said, scowling. “Right here. Nobody was using them. I didn't hurt anything. It's
your
tape.”

Andie craned her neck and saw an old box under Alice's feet, the tape case she'd shoved under the driver's seat on a road trip a couple of years before and then forgotten about in favor of her CD player. Alice kicked it and then stared at her defiantly, and Andie hit eject and caught the tape as it slid into her hand. It had “Andie's Music” written on it in North's strong block caps.

Mix tapes. They really had been young. Then it came back to her, he hadn't given it to her, just slid it into his car player one night. “You made me a mix tape?” she'd said, and he said, “No, this is just songs you like.” She shook her head but Alice said, “Put that back in,” so she did, and Jackson Browne sang about the guys on the corner as Andie pulled out of the parking lot. He'd been singing about the guys on the corner when she'd first met North.
Our song,
she thought, and almost ejected it again. Avoiding old memories warred with avoiding Alice's screams, and Alice won.

“Why does he try to shut his eyes?” Alice asked.

“Who?” Andie said.

“Because she's so pretty,” Carter said, deep in a book again, and Andie realized they were talking about Jackson Browne, singing his troubles on the tape.

“Why wouldn't he want to look at her if she's pretty?” Alice said.

“Because she's going to make him feel like a dork and then dump him,” Carter said, still in his book.

Whoa,
Andie thought. That was pretty cynical for twelve.

“She's not nice,” Alice said.

“He doesn't know that,” Andie said. “He hasn't asked her yet. If he asks her, maybe she'll dance with him.”
And maybe go home with him and marry him the next day. It happens.

“He should ask her,” Alice said, and moved on to another topic.

Andie listened to them, Alice asking questions and Carter answering
them even though he was trying to read, talking to each other as they ignored her completely. They were a family of two, screwed up maybe, but not screwed up in their relationship with each other. Maybe that's why they were still moderately sane in that creepy house with that wack-job housekeeper. They must have been miserable when Carter was sent away to school. A school that immediately turfed him . . .

She looked at Carter in the rearview mirror. Carter was quiet but not quiescent. If the only way he could get back to Alice was to set fires . . . “Carter,” she said, and waited until he looked up, his brown hair flopping in his eyes. “I'll make sure you're not sent away from Alice again.”

His blue eyes stayed as flat as ever, and then he went back to his book.

Maybe she didn't need them to like her. Maybe she just needed them to trust her for the next month. If she got them books and clothing and whatever else they needed, maybe they'd trust her enough to let her take them away from the hellhole they were living in. One step at a time.

When they got to New Essex, she pulled into the Dairy Queen. “Hamburgers and ice cream for lunch,” she said, and when they were surrounded by food, she went to the pay phone and dialed.

If she got Carter cable, he might even speak to her.

 

North looked up as Kristin came into the office. “I'll see Mrs. Nash now.”

Kristin closed the door. “Miss Miller is on the phone. I know she's supposed to talk to me, but she insists on speaking with you.”

Andie. Well, if he was going to act on stupid impulses, he was going to pay the price. “I'll take the call. You stall Mrs. Nash.”

Kristin nodded and faded out the door, and North thought,
Make it quick and hang up fast,
and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“You weren't kidding about rural,” Andie said, her voice low, the laugh that was always there underneath making it richer. “I had to leave the house to make a phone call.”

“Where are you?” North said, trying not to be seduced into prolonging things just to listen to her.

“The Dairy Queen in New Essex. The kids are inhaling food at a picnic table over by the car, so I can talk. Have you been to that house? It's like something out of Dickens.”

“Because you had to leave to make this call?”

“Because it's bleak as hell. We need cable TV, North. I can't believe Carter is surviving without it.”

“Fine. Call the cable company.”
Get off the phone,
he told himself.

“I just called them and they were unhelpful. The house is too far out. I need somebody with clout.”

“I don't know anybody at a cable company.”
Get off the phone.

“Well, you undoubtedly know somebody who does know somebody at a cable company. Put Kristin on it. She looks like she'd enjoy a challenge.”

“I will do that,” North said.
For Christ's sake, get off the phone.

“Also, have you been here lately?”

“No. Is there a problem?”

“The place is falling apart. The stone's crumbling, there are weeds everywhere, anything that's metal has rusted and run down the outside of the house, and the drive is a real hazard.”

“Damn it,” North said. “I sent funds to fix all of that two years ago.”

“To Mrs. Crumb?”

North pictured the housekeeper. Elderly. Dyed red hair. Smelled like peppermint and rubbing alcohol. “Yes, I sent a check to Mrs. Crumb.”

“Well, the funds stayed with Mrs. Crumb. I suggest you hire people directly this time.”

“I'll have a contractor come out and look at the place.”

“Tell him to talk to me, not Mrs. Crumb. And to look at the inside, too. The kitchen is awful. I can't even bake here.”

He closed his eyes and remembered late afternoons, Andie home from teaching and doing the Four O'Clock Bake, the smell of banana bread or chocolate chip cookies or cinnamon rolls, dozens of different smells telling him the day was almost done—

“North?”

“Right,” North said. “Contractor. I'll put Kristin on it.”

“Also, if anybody calls from this end of the world, we're still married.”

North stopped looking at his watch. “What?”

“It's the only thing that gives me clout. They're very impressed with you here. I figured, what could it hurt? You're never coming down here. Will's never coming down here. Nobody in Columbus will ever know. So I took back my married name.”

“You didn't take my name when we were married,” North said, trying to find his footing again.

“I was going through an independent phase. Now I'm going through a practical phase. It's a good thing to be an Archer down here. Come to think of it, it was probably a good thing to be an Archer up there. I should have taken your name just for the power. As your mother so often told me, I was an idiot.”

So was I,
North thought, and then shook his head before regret could set in. The past was gone and the present had Mrs. Nash in the waiting room. “I'll get Kristin on the cable—”

“That'll be a help,” Andie said over him. “Because frankly I could use a bargaining chip with the kids, too. I made a hot breakfast this morning and Alice refused to eat it and went for the damn cereal anyway. Mrs. Crumb thinks she's winning. According to her, the two of you are very close. You think of her as a mother.”

“Is she delusional?”

“Everybody here is delusional, including your nannies. Carter didn't set fires because he's crazy, he set them so he'd get kicked out of school and could come home to take care of Alice. He needs to be in a good public school where he can make friends and then see Alice every night. They're really close, North. If you don't separate them, I think he'd go to school without a fight.”

“Damn.” North leaned back. “I knew boarding school was a bad idea. My mother tried to send me away when Southie was six, and I wouldn't go. Kids need each other. But the last nanny kept telling me he needed discipline, so—”

“He has discipline. He's so self-disciplined he's barely breathing. Alice, on the other hand, has no discipline at all. If something's going on that she doesn't like, she screams. But it's not like a normal temper tantrum, there's something else going on there. Carter I can eventually reach, I think. Alice . . . I don't know.”

She sounded worried, and North tried to think of a way to make her feel better and then realized that was ridiculous. She was doing a job for him, she hadn't called for comfort, they weren't married anymore no matter what lies she was telling down there, he had Mrs. Nash waiting, and there was nothing he could do anyway . . . “Do you need me to come down there?”

“No, I can handle this,” she said, her voice as confident as ever. “It's the kids I'm worried about. I don't know if I can make things normal for them. I think I can make things better.”

“You always make things better.”

The silence stretched out at the other end of the phone as he thought,
Dumb thing to say,
and then she said, “Thank you.” Her voice was softer than it had been, and it brought the past rushing back again.

“You're welcome,” he said, thinking,
Get off the damn phone.
“I'll get you your cable and your contractor and somebody to fix the phones.”

“I know you will. You always come through.”

Jesus.
“Call me if there's anything else,” he said briskly, trying to find his way back to normal.

“I thought we weren't supposed to talk to each other.”

“I was going through an independent phase,” North said, and then closed his eyes as her laugh bubbled through the phone.

“That was a helluva long phase. I'll call if there's anything else. You have a good day.”

She hung up, and he sat there with the phone in his hand for a minute, trying to find his way back to normal, until Kristin came in.

“She needs cable down there,” he told her, hanging up the phone. “Get it for her, please.”

“That's going to cost you,” Kristin said.

It's the only thing she's asked for in the entire time I've known her.
“Get it for her. Also find a good contractor down there and have him go out to talk to her, not to Mrs. Crumb. And call the phone company and find out why they lose service and if there's anything we can do about it. Bills to come here.”

Kristin nodded. “And Mrs. Nash in the waiting room?”

“Give me a couple of minutes,” North said, and Kristin nodded again and went out.

Andie had never asked for anything. He'd kept waiting for her to, it was crazy of her not to, to ask for a house instead of his apartment in the attic of the family's Victorian—he'd heard her bitching at the stove once and sent in people to redo the kitchen for her—for a car instead of public transportation—he'd surprised her with a bright yellow Mustang and she'd loved it—hell, for an engagement ring and a decent wedding ring—he'd tried to give her a good ring once and she'd insisted on keeping that damn green band—but she'd just gone on with her life, tromping around in those crazy skirts and tight tank tops, her hair wild no matter how much she fought it, arguing with him, laughing with him, falling into bed with him . . .

He closed his eyes and thought,
I really was an idiot.

He just wasn't sure if he'd been an idiot for marrying her or for letting her go.

Not that it mattered anymore. She was gone, and he had a client to interview. He punched a button on the intercom and said, “I'll see Mrs. Nash now,” and went back to work.

After North hung up, Andie put more coins in the phone and called Flo and told her everything was fine, and then called Will and said the same thing, but he wasn't as easily put off.

“Have you talked to North?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I asked him to get us cable.”

“I wish you weren't talking to him.”

“I'd talk to Satan to get cable,” Andie said, and changed the subject, giving him half her attention while she watched Alice lean against Carter's arm, sitting as close to him as possible. “I have to go,” she said when they'd finished their ice cream, and then realized she'd interrupted him in mid-sentence. “Sorry, the kids . . . I have to go.” She hung up and went back to collect the kids, taking a phone number tab from a flyer for the Happy Housekeepers cleaning service she found on the Dairy Queen's bulletin board. She lost the kids again as soon as she stopped the car on the flagstones behind the house, Carter taking the bookstore bags and Alice dragging the bags of clothes and office supplies. Andie took everything else into the kitchen and put the food away, taking a surprised satisfaction in seeing the fridge and
cupboards fill up. Then she took the rest of the bags upstairs, dropped Carter's striped comforter off in his room without getting so much as a glance from him, and took Alice's blue comforter into the nursery where she set up her sewing machine, tore the sequined chiffon into strips, and sewed the strips all over the comforter.