Peaches (16 page)

“Trust me, you’ll feel much better,” Murphy said.

The men continued to approach. She could see the gleaming white of Horatio’s outfit through the holes in the bushes. Birdie gripped the peach in her fist. She felt a giddy nervousness that made it almost impossible to keep from laughing out her anger, especially when she looked at Murphy’s expectant, gleeful face. “The pool will be Olympic standard,” Horatio was saying.

“Birdie, don’t,” Leeda whispered.

Birdie acted fast. She stood up, lobbed the pit over the bush toward Horatio’s back, and ducked.

“Eugh!”

Murphy snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth, then
clutched the branches as they stared through the spaces in the bushes.

Horatio had his hand on the back of his head and was leaning forward slightly. He clasped the back of his head, then looked up toward the sky, then around at the bushes, then down at the ground. He smiled at his friend and laughed fakely, and it came out so awkward that Birdie cringed for him. He picked up the peach and looked over toward the bush again, then the paltry patches of shrubbery and small trees in the opposite direction, his face going fire-engine red. He shook his shoulders, straightened them, and walked over to a caddy who was on his way across the grass. He started pointing around the area.

Murphy burst away from the bushes, keeping low to the ground. Birdie and Leeda followed, stumbling over themselves, moving on inertia.

They sprinted across the grass, breaking through the small patches of trees, and though they veered behind the clubhouse and out of Balmeade’s sight, they didn’t stop till they’d reached the road that ran along the back of the resort. It wasn’t until they got there that Birdie realized she had peed her pants. And then it was only because Murphy fell on the ground, laughing hysterically and pointing, while Leeda hovered over her, panting and strained, looking like she wanted to step on Murphy’s head.

On February 14, 1988, Lucretia Cawley-Smith and her huband, both drunk on too many sloe gin fizzes, accepted her cousin Cynthia’s offer to stay the night at Darlington Orchard. A few weeks later, Lucretia, who wanted only one child and was more than satisfied with the one she had, reacted to her first wave of morning sickness in the same way she met most of life’s surprises—with a raised eyebrow and a feeling of discontent that fate hadn’t checked with her first.

L
eeda checked herself one last time in the bathroom mirror, smoothing out the lines of her silver dress and running a few curls around her fingers to make them curvier. Out in the hall Murphy and Birdie were leaning against a wall, waiting for her—Birdie in a typically understated loose cotton dress and Murphy in one that was typically juicy, skimming her thighs in tiny pleats. They both looked beautiful.

Of course, at the moment it pissed Leeda off that Murphy looked beautiful. Leeda had been giving her the freeze-out since the peach incident, but by all appearances, Murphy couldn’t care less. She’d given up teasing Leeda about it. At first Murphy had called her a priss, pointing out several times that they hadn’t gotten caught. But Leeda almost wished they had, just so Murphy would be wrong.

“You look nice, Bird,” Leeda said, shooting Murphy a cool glance. Murphy seemed unfazed.

Outside, the workers were still gathered around the barbecue. As the girls stepped outside, everybody turned to look at them. Several people let out wolf whistles. The women all
smiled. Leeda shifted awkwardly, but she was pleased and touched. Just by the smiles on their faces, she could tell Birdie and Murphy were too.

As they started across the lawn, two faces loomed out at Leeda. One was Rex, who hadn’t even showered yet. He was driving separately because Leeda had insisted it would look suspicious for them to arrive together since she was coming from the orchard and the last thing she needed was for her parents to make the connection that Rex worked at the orchard. And though he’d said she was paranoid, he’d gone along. Leeda had been pushing her family’s buttons by inviting him in the first place. When they met eyes, she communicated with hers that he should get his butt ready to go.

The other face was Enrico. He was staring at Birdie as if she were a ball of light, his face illuminated, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Hey, Birdie,” Leeda whispered, leaning forward and pinching Birdie’s butt. “Your boyfriend’s catching flies.”

Birdie snaked a hand out stealthily, smacking her low and hard on the upper thigh.

“Ow.” Leeda shot her hand to her skin, surprised at how much it hurt.

Walking across the grass all dressed up felt strange—but special. It felt like being dressed up at the orchard, you glowed extra bright. The car arrived to pick them up exactly on time.

The Grand Ballroom of the Bridgewater Plantation View hotel was festooned with wine-colored candles that matched Danay’s lipstick. Leeda’s mom and dad stood by the big white doors
proudly, greeting guests as they came in. Leeda drifted up to them with Murphy and Birdie at either side. Her mom kissed her like she was one of the guests.

“Hi, honey. Hi, Birdie.”

She kissed Birdie lightly too.

“And who’s this?” she asked Murphy’s cleavage.

“That’s…Murphy, Mom.”

“Hi, Murphy,” Mrs. Cawley-Smith said fakely. Her mom could be so embarrassing sometimes. “Do you work at the orchard?”

Murphy crossed her arms over her chest defensively. But she managed to answer very politely. “Yep.”

“Can you find your sister and send her over?” Lucretia asked, turning to Leeda. “I need to ask her something.”

Leeda’s special feeling from back at the orchard immediately disintegrated. She’d barely seen her mom all summer. “Yeah,” Leeda said, “I’ll find her.”

The party was in full swing half an hour later, with a twelve-piece Zydeco band that Danay had requested after hearing them at Jazz Club in New Orleans. Rex arrived around that time, saying hi to the girls and then dragging Leeda out onto the dance floor. Rex didn’t dance like some guys, showing off, or like others, who danced like spazzes. Rex danced nicely, solidly, dashingly, but without so much dash that he came across as less than the
guy
guy he was. Leeda was proud of him.

“Your sister’s a good dancer,” he said, nodding to where Danay and Brighton were keeping perfect rhythm.

“I know. I hate it,” Leeda said, knowing she sounded bratty. Rex rubbed her back at the waist, where his hand was holding her.

“The audacity.” He smiled. Leeda did too. Good old Rex.

He swung Leeda around a few times. They brushed past Horatio Balmeade, who was dancing with his much-younger wife but who eyed Leeda all the same as they crossed paths. Murphy was also not far away, dancing with one of the waiters.

Birdie stood on the sidelines, sipping champagne in fast little spurts and looking like if she kept going at the pace she was, she was headed for the night of her life.

After giving the cute waiter her number, Murphy drifted up to the bar and ordered a Manhattan, disbelieving that it could actually be free. “You look a little young to be drinking,” the bartender said, still handing her the drink but doubtfully.

“Thanks,” Murphy said, flashing a seductive smile and sipping on her way to join Leeda, Rex, Birdie, Danay, and Leeda’s mom. Mrs. Cawley-Smith was in the middle of listening to herself talk about the migrant workers at the orchard. Murphy immediately wanted to turn around and hightail it elsewhere. But even though she was annoyed with Leeda for being so nitpicky about Birdie’s beautiful peach pit attack, she didn’t want to embarrass her by being rude. In fact, she’d never managed to act this mannerly for this long in her entire life.

Leeda stood listening, looking small. Murphy had never seen her tuck her shoulders or look so unsure of herself.

“It is really sad,” Danay said. “They don’t have any rights. No way to get around. It’s total exploitation. No offense, Birdie.”

“But,” Leeda ventured tentatively, “everybody’s fine with it. You should meet some of the workers. They work hard, but they
have a good time. And they can make enough in one summer to live on in Mexico for two or three years.”

Murphy watched the exchange, keeping quiet for once. Birdie, who knew more about the subject than anybody, was twirling an olive around and around in her martini, looking dazed. Occasionally she exchanged a look with Murphy and rolled her eyes. The only person Murphy didn’t observe was Rex. She was careful to keep her eyes off him.

Time and again when Leeda spoke, Mrs. Cawley-Smith’s eyes glazed over. It was really unbelievable. It started to irritate Murphy, the way she would start looking around as if she had somewhere to be or glance over at Rex like he was some kind of pest that had made its way into her party by mistake.

Leeda was in the middle of saying something about how hard the work at the orchard was when her mother looked at Rex coolly and drawled, “You know my Leeda, Rex, she’s never really worked a day in her life.” She said it as if she was bestowing Rex with a gift by saying something so chummy.

“Actually, that’s not true.”

Everybody in the circle turned to Murphy.

“Have you been to the orchard to visit her?” Murphy went on.

Mrs. Cawley-Smith tugged on her solitaire necklace. “I haven’t been to the orchard in years, actually. I’m not much into nature.” She smiled dryly.

“Are you much into Leeda? Because you could have come to visit. I mean, if you had, you’d see how hard she’s been working.”

Murphy looked at Leeda, who mouthed at her to be quiet. But once Murphy got started, it was hard for her to stop.

“It’s like you’ve typecast your own daughter.”

Mrs. Cawley-Smith’s mouth had straightened into a thin, perfectly lipsticked line. “Excuse me?”

“Murphy.” Rex had sidled up to her and was tugging at her elbow now. Murphy yanked it away.

“You and Danay are standing here, laughing about how Leeda is this and Leeda is that and you don’t even know her.” Murphy spat the words. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so pissed off, but she couldn’t control it.

“Murphy…”

Suddenly Rex was physically dragging her away from the group. Murphy caught Leeda’s eyes as she was pulled across the dance floor. Rex didn’t stop until he’d dragged her through a pair of white double doors out onto the huge, red-tiled balcony of the hotel.

When they got to the wall, he turned her around to look at him. “Stay here,” he said sternly.

“But I don’t…”

“Stay.” Rex pushed her back against the wall gently but firmly. Murphy stayed, shocking even herself.

He disappeared inside, and a minute later he emerged with a bottle of Voss. It figured the Cawley-Smiths would only serve designer water.

“Drink.”

Murphy did, looking up at his stern gaze and glowering.

“I was just sticking up for her. It wasn’t fair.”

“You weren’t thinking about Leeda. You were thinking how pissed you are at the world. You were thinking about Murphy, as usual.”

“But Leeda…” Murphy faltered.

“Look, I know her mom is crappy. But she needs to figure it out on her own. Embarrassing her isn’t going to change anything.”

Murphy crossed her arms over herself, thinking. She could see his point.

“But she looks at you like you’re a bug. Doesn’t that piss you off?”

Rex shrugged. “It’s not about me. I just want Leeda to be happy. And if that means swallowing my pride every once in a while, fine.”

Murphy sank back against the wall.

“She’s a good girl.” Rex’s features had softened, and he looked at Murphy intently.

“I know.” Murphy felt like she knew her more after an hour with her family than she had the whole time they’d spent at the orchard. It was like putting a piece of Leeda where it belonged in a bigger picture. Murphy had assumed that Leeda’s perfectionism was as natural-born to her as her pinky finger, just part of her perfect life. It was funny how it only took seeing another part of the picture to realize it was the opposite.

Leeda
was
a good girl.

But it made her heart throb painfully to hear Rex saying it. She tried to look as casual as possible, crossing her arms over her stomach. That seemed to make her cleavage poke out too much, and she didn’t want Rex to think she wanted him to look at her cleavage, so she uncrossed them again.

“Leeda will figure it out. She just doesn’t fit with them. She
tries.
”

“I always thought she was a total cardboard cutout.”

Rex shrugged. “She wants to be. She doesn’t realize she’s better than that.”

“She’s lucky she has you.” Murphy was thinking about how wrong the Cawley-Smiths were about him. It was amazing how wrong.

“She needs me,” Rex said, this time sounding a little wistful.

“Is that bad?”

Rex shook his head. “Not at all.”

With nothing more to say, they both looked out at the parking lot.

“I love the south of France, don’t you?” Murphy nodded toward the square of concrete as if it were the Mediterranean.

Rex grinned at her and patted the top of her wrist. His touch felt warm and sweet.

“Love it. I knew July was the best time to come.”

Brighton and Danay stood in front of the orchestra. A moment ago Brighton had tapped the microphone and the whole room had quieted. Now all eyes were on Danay and her fiancé.

Leeda milled nervously beside her parents, uncomfortable about what Murphy had said. She was dying for her mom to say something, anything, about it. Just so she could know what she thought. But Brighton was going on and on, thanking several of the guests by name, then thanking Lucretia and Phil for raising such a smart, beautiful, thoughtful daughter. He dug out the line about how children were a reflection of their parents and that if Danay was a reflection of hers, they must be two very incredible people.

Leeda wanted to keel over. Until Danay took the mike and
added a special thanks to her, Leeda, her maid of honor. This made Leeda’s heart warm up just a bit.

“Guys, she’s single,” Danay added. Leeda’s heart turned back into ice. She scanned the room for Rex, but he wasn’t in sight.

When the speech was over, she felt her mom’s eyes on her and turned. “Well, Leeda, I have to say your friend is colorful.”

This was what she’d been waiting for. “Murphy just gets…passionate about things, Mom. Anyway, I think she’s right. I don’t think you—”

“Birdie, you don’t hang around girls like that, do you?”

Birdie looked strangely tranquil, not fidgety at all. She swayed a little, the chocolate martini in her hands sloshing up the side of the glass. She grinned. “Murphy’s one of my best friends.”

Leeda blinked at her a few times. Then she turned to her mom defiantly. “Me too, actually. Murphy’s one of my best friends. So you should just try to accept her.” It sounded weird that it had come out. But the more Leeda thought about it, the more it felt true.

Leeda’s mom frowned, looking over Leeda’s shoulder, then back at her, then touching her lightly on the shoulders and turning her around. “Well, she does seem very passionate about Rex.”

Leeda’s eyes lighted on Murphy and Rex, standing out on the balcony, looking out at the view together. She turned back around.

“Oh, please, Mom. They’re my
friends.
”

“Well, they make a neat pair,” Mrs. Cawley-Smith said. “You
have excellent taste.” She wagged her cocktail napkin, showing that she was empty, and headed back toward the buffet table.

Leeda stuck her tongue out at her mom’s back, then looked back toward the balcony. It was nice that Murphy and Rex were finally getting along a little. It was.

“Your mom’s kind of a bitch,” Birdie said, her words long and drawn out.

Leeda looked at her. “Thanks, Bird.”

“Sorry.” Birdie smiled apologetically.

“She thinks she’s looking out for me.”

Leeda peered out at Murphy and Rex, talking earnestly with each other. She swallowed the tiny lump in her throat.

“Well, she’s wrong about Murphy and Rex. They can’t stand each other.”

“I know.”

Birdie followed her gaze thoughtfully. The view on the balcony told a different story. “Even if they do start getting along, it doesn’t make your mom any less of a bitch.”

Leeda agreed completely.

“I’m starving.” Birdie was good and woozy, and her stomach felt achingly empty. “I think I drank too much.”

“Maybe you have an oral fixation,” Murphy suggested.