Midsummer's Eve (16 page)
Authors: Kitty Margo
When we met later,
Adam
carried a little white bag with gold lettering from Jared's Jewelry Store. Yep, you read it right, JARED’S JEWELRY STORE. To say my excitement was hard to contain would be a gross understatement. I could have easily joined the nearest cluster of scantily clad teenaged girls and giggled and discussed my possible engagement with them for the next several hours. I so wanted to snatch the bag from
Adam
’s death grip and take a quick peek inside. Curiosity could definitely kill this kitty!
“
What’
s in the bag,
Adam
?”
As hard as I tried I
couldn’t suppress the urge to ask.
“
Just something to show s
o
meone how very much I love her.”
His tender words caused
my heart to restrict painfully. “I hope the contents of this bag will finally prove that my heart belongs to her forever and ever.”
Oh, I wanted to break
into Oprah’s ugly cry right there between Abercrombie and Hollister! I would surely blubber
like a blithering idiot when he placed a
sparkling diamond
on my finger. I determined right then and there to watch my salt intake over the next two days. Good Lord,
what if I
swell
ed
up like a toad and the ring refuse
d to fit my finger?
Why did
I have to eat
that salty pretzel?
However, I also warned myself not to get overly excited about a supposed engagement ring and go jumping to all manner of conclusions
,
as I was very prone to do
. It
may be entirely
too soon after. . . what’
s her name. I also couldn’t allow myself to get too disappointed if it was
a bracelet or necklace or even
God forbid
earrings. With
Adam
, who knew? I’m sure his credit was shot, what with the looming foreclosure, and I knew he didn’t have a few thousand lying around for frivolous expenditures. Life was so unpredictable with
the man
.
Having more bags than we could carry comfortably we returned to his snazzy sports car—which I secretly hated, give me a comfortable sedan any day-- where he made a point of locking the littl
e bag securely in the trunk
. Surely, at this advanced age, I was too old to even consider sneaking into the bag while he was asleep, wasn’t I?
“What’
s so funny?”
he asked, as I struggled to keep from chuckling at the absurdity of the thought. So I told him.
“
So, in other words, I need to sleep with my keys under the pillow tonight?
”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt,”
I admitted as he reached over to kiss me. Good Lord, the man could kiss!
“
We could visit Teri while we’re in Charlotte,
if you want
?
Doesn’t she live close to
the mall?
”
I had to think fast. “No.”
Adam
didn’t want
to be the victim of one of Teri’
s severe tongue-lashings anymore than I wanted him to be. As strong as her absolute disgust was for him, who knew what type of misery her conniving brain might conjure up
with him actually in her domain
instead of having
to plot his demise from afar? “No, I’m exhausted
. Let’
s go home. I told you Lawrence, her husband, can bare
ly tolerate company at his age.”
“Would you marry a man for money,
Eve
?”
“I might consider it, if he had a bank account similar to Lawrence
’
s.”
“It would just be a consideration and we both know it.” He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss that sent shivers curling down my spine. He stopped at a stoplight and leaned over to kiss me, leaving me breathless. “You are a hopeless romantic and would never marry for anything short of true love.”
I found it to be more than just a mind-boggling coincidence that he was discussing the concept of marriage shortly after placing a package,
from a jewelry store
, in the trunk of his car.
Oh! Believe me! It was a beautiful, sunny day in the hinterland.
At home we made a batch of fudge and popcorn and plopped down in front of the fire to watch one of those boring action flicks that failed to hold my interest long enough to keep me awake. Sometime during the night he woke me and we went to bed.
And to sleep! I just bet if he were crawling into bed with Chia, he wo
uldn’t roll over and
proceed to snore
like a lumberjack
! Nope! I wasn’t going to think about that right now.
I snuggled up to his back
, breathed a contented sigh,
and was asleep in seconds.
Adam
came stumbling down the hall the next morning around 11:00. After his requisite two
cups of coffee he mumbled, “
I’ll s
ee you tonight after work, Eve.
That damn whippoorwill kept me awake half the night.
Next time I come I’m bringing my
shotgun.
” Then he kissed me on the cheek and left. The poor thing would never be accused of being a morning person.
I called him at 12:00, th
en 1:00, and then 2:00
to ask if he wanted me to buy steak or chic
ken to grill
later tonight
, but h
e didn’
t answer. What could that mean? Was he on the phone and not accepting my call? No, he
had most likely
crawled in bed to take a nap before work
.
Eight
I
t was the second Mond
ay of the month and that meant g
irl’
s n
ight. We were going t
o Teri’
s house for dinner, not supper as
Tammy
,
Mallory
and I referred to our evening dining experience.
Teri lives in the exclusive Piper Glen section of upscale South Charlotte, where you tend to feel like you’re walking into the Smithsonian the minute you enter her three-story manse. She happens to be one of those domestic goddesses who, if you drop a crumb, is at your feet with a dustpan, broom, and a look that begs the question, “Must you be eternally clumsy?”
Hey, we didn’
t tell her to request the installation of pristine white
carpeting throughout the house. And talk about cold! The girl is extremely hot natured and the house could easily substitute as a meat locker for Perdue Farms. I couldn’t understand why her frail husband hadn’t perished from a fatal bout of bronchial pneumonia years ago.
Imme
diately upon entering her house
,
I stop at the entry closet and grab an afghan, which she keeps there jus
t for me
and it remains draped around my shoulders for the entire visit. It never fails to annoy the hell out of me that sh
e can traipse around her
glacial dwelling wearing daisy dukes and a tank top as if the thermostat might register a sweltering 99 degrees.
Once she notices my lips beginning to turn an unsightly shade of blue
,
she usually breathes an irritated sigh and, as a great sacrifice to me, ignites the gas logs in the fireplace. Within the short span of five minutes she commences to perspire heavily, turn a bright vivid red in the cheeks, and appear to have difficulty breathing. So since I can gather warmth from my afghan, while she seems on the verge of a
n impending attack of apoplexy
, I clutch my life supporting cover tighter and shut off the logs.
And get this. She listens to show tunes. Angela Lansbury was bellowing from the stereo singing somethi
ng about somebody called
“
Mame
”
.
“
D
on’
t you just love this song?”
Teri trilled in between singing to the high heavens with her arms thrown in the air and spinning gaily around the room.
“
Yeth
.”
Tammy
cried with a stricken look.
“Liar,”
I whispered in her ear as Teri waltzed us through her imposing manor. Her husband is a wealthy, geriatric stockbroker.
“
Surely she won’
t force us to listen to that music through the entire meal will she
?”
Mallory
asked with a put upon look similar to
Tammy
’
s. Her shoes clicked on the black and white marble floor of the foyer as she trailed behind. She knew the deeper you ventured into Teri’s
abode the louder the
music would become.
“You know
the
will.”
Tammy
moaned. “
Dothn’
t the
alwayth? Do you think Lawrenth
ever
complainth
?
”
“N
o.”
Mallory
said. “
He only has to remove his hearing aids. To be so
frigging
lucky!”
“
It sounds like the poor woman could be in pain.” I glanced
a
t Teri and
sigh
ed heavily
.
“Why do you feel the need to torture
us every time we come to visit?”
“
How can you call
“
Mame
”
torture? Why, I never heard such a
ludicrous notion!
“
Mame
”
torture?”
She act
ually pretended to be shocked. “
It’s a
classic!”
Then she fell into dance and twirled around the room for the entire song, as I huddled in my life supporting afghan praying for the song to end, and the other
two just looked at her as if scientist
had just discovered a new form of life on planet Earth.
Years earlier, prior to her sex change, Teri had been a popular stage performer/drag queen with lurid tales of her onstage antics that could cause your ears to sizzle. I had been to several of her shows and remembered her doing an excellent Cher. Teri was then, and still is, an exhibitionist at heart. She had pa
id go
od money for her triple D’s
and had
no intention of shielding them from the casual observer.
At Teri’s domicile
, if show tunes weren’
t blasting from the Bose speakers hidden in the walls, she was playing songs from the 80's. Laura Branigan, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, and Blondie were a few of her favorites.
W
here
wa
s
the extra strength Tylenol
?
To top it off, she has an obnoxious affinity for anything with a coat of fur or feathers. There is either a dog runn
ing, a bird flapping, a rodent
(
in others wo
rds a freaking rat
)
--
which I keep about a hundred glue pads in my basement in an effort to annihilate the horrid creatures-- spinning on a wheel or a rabbit hopping through the house at any given moment and she treats them like her children. You never knew what was going to gre
et you when you arrived on Teri’
s doorstep.
“Oh, would you just look.” I cried glancing around her Victorian inspired living room. Four stunning vases of gorgeous roses sat at various locations around the room, one each of red, yellow, pink and orange. “They are exquisite.”
“Lawrence had four dozen roses delivered for Valentine's Day. One for each year we have been married.” She frowned as we all moved to a different vase to touch and smell the delicate floral arrangements. “After four years of
wedded bliss the man still hasn’
t figured o
ut that I simply detest flowers
and I haven’t the heart to tell him.”
“But today isn’
t Valentine
’
s Day, tomorrow is,” I informed her, sniffing the orange bouquet.
“We
know. He said my real Valentine’
s gift will be delivered tomorrow.”
“What do you think that will be?”
Mallory
was
savoring the fragrance of a delicate, sunshine yellow rose.
