Once Upon a Project (23 page)

She sighed and picked up her book, but her thoughts didn't allow her to concentrate on it. So her plan to make Ricky her third husband hadn't worked. For once Pat was seeing someone with real promise while she stood on the sidelines, listening to Pat talk about all the expensive places Andy took her while she and Eric went to the movies and places like Chili's and Panera Bread. Grace didn't like being the one out in the cold. She was the only one of her longtime friends lacking a suitable partner.

Susan was married, of course. But look at poor Elyse, with a deathly ill husband. Medical science had made great strides in recent years, but pancreatic cancer still represented a real hurdle. Pat had asked her to ride up to Lake County to call on Elyse last weekend, and Grace was secretly glad when Elyse asked them to make it another time because her parents were visiting from Tennessee. Grace wasn't good at handling these types of situations; she never knew what to say. They must have gotten the pathology results by now. Grace could only hope the news had been good. Surely if it hadn't been, Pat would have mentioned it. It seemed that all she talked about these days was Andy.

Grace was glad Pat had found someone she liked, but she thought Pat a fool for worrying. She clearly hadn't learned a thing from all that uproar with Ricky. Plus, she was getting way ahead of herself. Andy might not mind letting his kids know he was seeing a black woman, for kids today tended to be more broadminded about these things, but he might be just as reluctant to introduce her to his parents as Pat was to present him to hers.

It was ridiculous for Pat to allow her parents to call the shots. If she'd played her cards right, she would be happily married to Ricky Suárez today. And Ricky wouldn't have made a bad husband.

That's why she'd tried so hard to get him for herself.

Chapter 36

 

E
lyse, her arm linked through Franklin's, waved jauntily at a passing neighbor. She and Franklin had taken to walking around the neighborhood after dinner. She wanted everyone to see Franklin up and about, to quell any rumors about his imminent demise. Elyse knew how people gossiped, even though she knew it came out of concern. After fifteen years in this house, she and Franklin had gotten to know their neighbors fairly well. They looked out for each other's children and property. Several people had brought covered dishes over while Franklin was hospitalized, just to make things easier for her.

They'd deliberately been close-mouthed about his illness, mentioning the word “cancer” but not its origin. Pancreatic cancer had such a negative connotation to it; she didn't want anyone starting a death watch. For all their neighbors knew, Franklin had merely had a patch of skin cancer removed although she'd heard that some skin cancers could be particularly grueling and require all kinds of treatment.

It was wonderful to see Franklin back to his old self. His hair was growing out, and he had regained much of his strength. They were even making love again.

“Oh, look, here's the ice-cream truck,” he said. “I feel like a good old-fashioned chocolate fudge cake ice-cream bar.”

“Do you really?”

He patted his midsection. “Ice cream will help me pick up some of the weight I've lost.”

Elyse squeezed his arm. “Come on, let's go get it. We can get a couple, and we'll put them in the freezer. Hell, I'll buy him out.”

“Elyse, I know you're trying to fatten me up. I've never eaten so much fried food in my life. You've even been frying broccoli, for crying out loud.”

She shrugged. “I like fried zucchini and you don't. But broccoli florets work in the batter just as well.”

“I'm not complaining. But don't get carried away, okay? No point in going into remission if you're going to clog my arteries.”

“All right. But let's catch the truck before it drives off.” It delighted her that he wanted to eat dessert. He was usually too full after dinner. Of course, she'd been cooking a lot of high-calorie foods, like mashed potatoes and gravy and macaroni and cheese, along with the usual meat and vegetables.

Franklin's recovery helped him develop an optimistic outlook about his future, and that in turn raised her own spirits. Frankie and Rebecca weren't hovering around as much as they used to, thank God. Elyse doubted that she could ever look at her stepchildren the same way after the contemptible way they'd questioned her. How dare they think she would take less than optimum care of Franklin!

As her life slowly returned to normal, Elyse didn't see as much of her old friends anymore. Pat, Susan, and Grace had come to spend a few hours with her when she needed them the most, and of course there'd been Kevin.

She'd felt so guilty after he kissed her. Why had he done that? Although their phone chats had slowed down to a crawl as Franklin recovered, she still looked forward to lunching with him, but his inappropriate behavior had put a stop to that. She sent him an e-mail that same day and told him that she didn't feel that they should see each other anymore. He wrote back telling her how sorry he was. He asked her not to blame him because he found her attractive. She reminded him that his action had been unsuitable and suggested that they limit their future correspondence to an occasional e-mail.

Elyse did appreciate his being there and helping her through a difficult time, though, and she sent him a gift card to have lunch on her.

As for Pat, Grace, and Susan, she knew they were all busy with their own lives. Susan's husband had taken the family up to Lake Geneva over Memorial Day, Pat had flown to L.A. for a long weekend with her new boyfriend, and Grace . . . Well, maybe she'd gotten as far as the Oak Street Beach.

Elyse chided herself for being so petty, but she was annoyed at Grace. When she'd mentioned how caring and concerned Kevin had been during Franklin's diagnosis, Grace had promptly asked what he did for a living. Grace then nicknamed Kevin “The Orkin Man,” which Elyse thought was just plain mean. She knew it had to be eating Grace up inside that Pat had captured the attention, perhaps even the heart, of a rich man, while Grace was stuck with that Wade kid. He really couldn't be called a kid, but he was younger than them by four or five years. Grace's way of not liking anyone to achieve more than she did was well known by anyone who knew her.

But Elyse was truly happy for Pat. She'd done the only thing her conscience would allow at a tragic time for her family and given up the man she loved to help ease her parents' pain. But thirty years later she was still alone. Maybe this thing with the fellow she'd first met in law school would really turn into something.

Chapter 37

 

S
usan awakened on the morning of her fiftieth birthday feeling better than she had in a long time. Quentin and Alyssa presented her with orange juice and a pink grapefruit on a tray that held fresh flowers in a small vase and a newspaper. . . at eight in the morning, with Bruce bringing up the rear.

“Oh,” she said groggily, propping herself up on her elbows. “How sweet, kids. But it's awfully early, don't you think?”

“You're usually up by now, Mom,” Quentin said. “You and Daddy must have had soooome celebration last night.”

Susan met Bruce's eyes. Last night he'd taken her to dinner and dancing on a boat out on Lake Michigan, after which they came home, sent the babysitter on her way, and made love. But all Bruce's preparations and attempts to make her feel special left her feeling strangely empty. He'd made romantic gestures, like kissing the back of her hand; and he even managed to squeeze her left breast, although he still avoided the right one, from which the cancer had been removed. Susan didn't see the action as building up toward where they had been before her surgery; she saw it as a valiant attempt to recapture something they'd lost, an attempt she now knew could never be successful. She also couldn't help wondering what was behind Bruce's sudden change of heart.

But as she fell asleep with Bruce's arm wrapped around her, all she could think of was Charles.

She'd driven down to Chicago twice more during the kids' last week of school. Since then, seeing him had been more of a challenge. Susan had a housekeeper come in every Wednesday, and she often ran errands during that time, leaving the woman in the house with Quentin and Alyssa. On other days when she needed to go out she asked a fourteen-year-old girl from the neighborhood to stay with Quentin and Alyssa. The problem was that most of the time she actually did have errands to run: the bank, the supermarket, the dry cleaner. She'd managed to see Charles just once, meeting him at a small Italian restaurant in nearby Zion, across the Illinois border.

She'd already acknowledged with sadness that it wouldn't be possible to see him on her actual birthday. Since it was a Sunday, Bruce was home. They were all going to dinner in Kenosha: she and Bruce, the kids, her long-divorced parents, and Sherry and her family. Charles accepted the situation, but she could tell he didn't like it much.

Susan suggested to Charles that they meet for lunch Monday in Zion, under the guise of a shopping trip. She knew Bruce wouldn't be suspicious, for he always gave her money for her birthday; and the kids hated going shopping and preferred to stay at home. Charles agreed to this. Already she couldn't wait to see him.

Funny. She used to feel guilty for cheating on Bruce . . . But now being intimate with Bruce made her feel like she was cheating on
Charles.

Susan rushed into the garage at 11:45 Monday morning, car keys in hand. She activated the garage door opener, then began backing out. A telltale
thump-thump-thump
made her heart stand still. She shifted into PARK and jumped out to inspect her tires.

The tire on the rear driver's side was completely flat.

She cursed under her breath, then got back into the car to get her cell phone. She punched in Charles's number. No way could she meet him at noon; it would probably take an hour for the auto club to get here and repair her tire.

He answered. “I'm about a block away from the restaurant. Are you there already?”

“No. I'm afraid there's a problem.” She told him about the tire.

“I'll come get you.”

“Charles, you can't. Someone might see you. My kids might see you and ask questions. I can't risk that.”

“I didn't plan on ringing the doorbell, Susan. Just walk down the street. Your kids will never know the difference. They think you've left already, don't they? Now, you're near the lake, so that tells me I should keep going north across the state line and then head east?”

“Uh . . . yes.”

He hung up before she could protest. She didn't bother to call him back. Charles could be awfully stubborn sometimes. Instead she went to the front of the garage and stood in the corner near the opened garage door. The kids never came into the garage, so they wouldn't notice the car still there. Her neighbors, though, were another matter.

She saw no activity on the other side of the street. Her neighbors were probably preparing lunch or relaxing in their yards. Still, she could see only one side of the street, the opposite side. For all she knew someone on this side of the street could be out tending to his or her front yard. It would look mighty suspicious if she started walking down the street carrying her purse, like she was going somewhere on foot. It would look worse if someone spotted her getting into a Blazer with Illinois plates. Someone with a flair for the dramatic might think she was being abducted and call the police.

An idea occurred to her. She went back to the car, opened the trunk with her remote, and dropped her purse inside, retaining only her cell phone and keys. If she went for a walk, better to do it without a purse. She'd look more like someone just out for exercise.

At the garage door she paused once more, then walked halfway down the driveway and glanced up and down the street, which appeared quiet. Maybe she had nothing to worry about after all.

Her cell phone rang, and she retreated toward the garage to take Charles's call. “Are you here?”

“I'm on Lake Shore Drive. Any farther east and I'd be in the damn lake. What number is your house?”

She told him.

“All right. Looks like I'm going the right way. I should be there in about two minutes.”

“Okay. I'm coming out now. Just keep driving.” She hurriedly broke the connection, stuffed the cell phone back in the pocket of her capri pants, speed-walked out of the garage, and closed it with the remote she kept on the ring with her car keys. All she had to do now was prevent anyone from seeing her get into Charles's truck, and she'd be fine.

She'd barely gotten to the curb when she spotted his Blazer approaching. He pulled over between her house and her neighbor's, and she hastily got in.

“That was fast,” she said. To her despair, he made no move to drive on.

“This is some house,” he said. “Is
this
where you live?”

“Be it ever so humble,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Humble, my ass. It's a damn McMansion! It's practically a castle. Is that a whatchamacallit . . . a
turret?
”

“Yes. Let's go, Charles. I really don't want my kids to come running outside and see me with you.”

“Oh, sure.” He started to drive, but slowly, his eyes focused on her house rather than the road. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “I knew your husband made good money, but it didn't occur to me that y'all lived like
this.
”

“Business is good,” she said matter-of-factly. “People will always use credit cards. Somebody has to process all those transactions.” She shrugged.

“I didn't realize that credit card processing paid so well,” he remarked dryly after he'd resumed a normal residential speed. “How many rooms does that house have?”

“Four bedrooms, a home office, a bonus room, a family room, and three and a half baths.”

Charles whistled. “And it's right on the lake. I suppose you've got a beach on your property?”

“Yes. Bruce provides quite nicely for us. I'm not bragging, Charles. I'm just stating a fact.”

“No wonder you're so reluctant to leave him.”

She looked at him through eyes suddenly gone narrow. “That has nothing to do with anything. I'm not happy with him.”

“And no wonder you were so skeptical when I said I could take care of you.”

She looked straight ahead and sighed. Maybe this outing hadn't been such a good idea. She didn't want to think about how a radical change in living environment would affect Quinton and Alyssa, nor her desperate need for medical insurance. She'd just turned fifty and was living in comfortable but miserable circumstances . . . and she was too frightened of an uncertain future to do anything about it. Charles being so freaked out at the sight of her house did nothing to help. Didn't he understand it wasn't merely about how much money he had?

“I thought today was supposed to be about my birthday,” she reminded him gently.

“You're right. So, how'd the big day go?”

“Nice,” she admitted. “We all went out to dinner. My mom, my sister, her husband, their kids . . . even my father. Getting everyone together at once doesn't happen too often, and I'm happy to report that no one got hurt.”

“You celebrated turning fifty by going out to dinner? That seems kind of ordinary for such a milestone.”

“Bruce offered me a trip out of town, but truth be told, I didn't feel all that much like celebrating. Dinner with the family meant a lot to me. Plus, Bruce and I went out Saturday night. We went on one of those dinner cruises on Lake Michigan.”

“Did you have a nice time?”

She turned to him, exasperated and knowing that he really didn't want to hear about her night out with Bruce any more than she wanted to talk about it. Charles didn't know that she and Bruce occasionally still had sex; she'd deliberately given him the impression that Bruce was so turned off by her postlumpectomy body that he didn't come near her. She knew it was wrong to mislead him, but she also knew that if Charles knew the truth he would insist she leave Bruce right away. She couldn't blame him. What man wanted to feel like he was sharing his woman? And what kind of woman would consent to being shared?

The kind of woman Ann Valentine said
I
was.

Charles's mother would have a field day if she knew what was going on. Susan tried to chase the thought away, but it stuck like peanut butter to her palate. Her life had become so complicated. She never would have believed she'd ever find herself in such a pickle.

“Why are we even talking about this, Charles?” she asked.

“I asked a simple question. I don't see a need for all the fuss.”

“No,” Susan said forcefully. “I tried not to show it, but I
didn't
have a good time. I wanted to be with you. All right? Do you feel better now?”

He braked for a stop light, then swiftly leaned over, his palm bringing the back of her head closer, and kissed her hard. It felt too good for her to be concerned about who might recognize her. She moaned approval, the familiar tingling coming over her body.

Charles broke away from her. “
That
makes me feel better.”

“It only makes me want more,” she said softly.

They had reached the main street, Sheridan Road. Charles turned right. “Charles, you're going the wrong way,” she said. “Zion is that way.” She pointed to the left.

“But my hotel is this way.”

“Your hotel?”

He grinned at her. “I didn't want to spring this on you until after lunch, but I'm going to stay up here for a couple of days. I could stand some time away from home, and maybe you'll be able to drop in if I'm not too far away.”

“But I won't have a whole lot of time, Charles. What'll you do all day?”

“Oh, maybe take a tour of the Jelly Belly factory, or do some shopping at the outlet mall.”

She laughed. “Are we going to the mall now?”

“I'm sure they've got restaurants around there.”

“Let's see what your room looks like first. I'm hungry, but not for food.”

He took his hand off the wheel long enough to squeeze hers. “I like your thinking.”