Summer Friends (24 page)
Authors: Holly Chamberlin
43
Maggie was in her hotel room that Tuesday afternoon, trying to decide what to do for dinner, when Delphine called. She had been prepared for Delphine to retreat from the idea of an overnight trip to Boston. When Delphine instead said, “Yes, let's do it,” she was stunned.
“You mean it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“So, I can go ahead and book a hotel?”
“Make sure to look for a bargain.”
“Of course. Delphine, I am so happy, really. We're going to have such a good time.”
Delphine hadn't answered immediately. When she did, what she said was, “I hope so.”
When Maggie hung up she went immediately to her laptop and began the search for a nice hotel, something Delphine could afford and something she herself could tolerate. She quickly found a few optionsâshe was a well-seasoned traveler, used to hunting out dealsâand made a choice. She put the room on one of her credit cards. She and Delphine would discuss money later.
She realized that she was hungry, even after the rather large lunch she'd had, and at about five-thirty went out to Black, the sushi place in town. She wondered if Delphine liked sushi. It was something she would ask her on the drive down to Boston. Delphine would be a captive audience. She would have to listen to Maggie's questions and opinions whether she wanted to or not. Maggie smiled at the thought. She wondered what music Delphine listened to these days. The radio in her truck was never on. Maybe it didn't even work. Well, Maggie was open, as long as she didn't have to drive to rap or, God forbid, heavy metal.
After a good meal of sushi, sashimi, and green tea, Maggie bought a bottle of wine at the Village Market and went back to her room. She got undressed and into a nightgown, opened the bottle of wine, and poured a glass. She settled on the comfortable couch and put on the television, though there was nothing in particular she wanted to watch.
She stopped on a reality show that had something to do with fashion. As she watched tattooed, spiky-haired young people throw fits and bits of fabric, she felt almost giddy with the idea of a girls' night away. She felt like a college kid again, unencumbered by responsibilities other than getting to class on time and achieving a passing grade. She felt like a high school kid again, looking forward to a long summer with nothing more to do than lie on the beach and watch the boys. She had no desire to call her husband or to e-mail her daughters. She knew she should check in with the housekeeper about the ant situation but just didn't want to. She felt as if she was about to embark on the pursuit of a guilty pleasure, something wrong but wonderfully exciting. She barely knew it, but she was reveling in that great gooey mess called avoidance, and its dangerous cohort escapism.
Maggie flipped to another channel, unable to bear the antics of the fashionistas. Another reality show, this one with scantily clad men and women throwing themselves through the air as though they were having a fit. They were supposed to be dancing. Whatever. It was only visual background for her thoughts.
And what she was thinking right now was that she had achieved something of great value that afternoon. She had won Delphine's trust. She was proud of Delphine for taking this step, and she was grateful. One little night away. It seemed so minor, but she knew that for Delphine it was something major; it meant something more than what it was on the surface. What, exactly, that was, Maggie hoped to discover.
Her excitement was suddenly tempered by the realization of a responsibility. She was the one who had suggested the trip, who even had pressured Delphine to agree to it. She would be careful with her in Boston. She wouldn't push her about leaving Harry or standing up to her parents or buying some new and decent clothes. And she would not suggest they stay a second night, as much as she might want to make that suggestion.
Maggie smiled to herself. They were definitely taking her car. No way was she going to drive into the city in that rusty old truck. Imagine what the hotel's valet would think when Delphine handed him the keys!
Yes, Maggie thought, taking another sip of wine, it would be a road trip à la Thelma and Louise, but without the murder and the suicide and the high-waisted jeans. So maybe Thelma and Louise was a bad comparison. Instead, they would create new heroines, be stars in their own chick flick, two women out on the town, childhood best friends now cohorts in middle-aged fun. She would convince Delphine to let her take them out for a fabulous meal at one of the city's best restaurants. She would order champagne. She couldn't remember if Delphine liked champagne, but what the heck, she'd drink the whole bottle by herself if she had to.
They could even, if they wanted, pay a visit to Maggie's home in Lexington. But that visit might have to wait for another time, and Maggie was convinced there would be another time, and another after that. Maybe someday she could convince Delphine to fly to Puerto Rico with her for a few days. They could drive out to Rincon and feast on fresh seafood and watch the gorgeous young surfers. There was nothing wrong with looking, was there? Maybe she could persuade Delphine to go to New York City. It was magical at Christmastime and they could spend hours in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Whitney, and the Guggenheim, and MOMA and the FrickâDelphine loved portraitureâand they could . . .
One step at a time,
she reminded herself. Dealing with Delphine was like dealing with a timid woodland creature. One false move and she would run away. It hadn't always been that way, but it was that way now.
she reminded herself. Dealing with Delphine was like dealing with a timid woodland creature. One false move and she would run away. It hadn't always been that way, but it was that way now.
Still, she would bring the aquamarine necklace to Boston and give it to Delphine there. There was no way Delphine could find a necklace threatening to her autonomy or whatever it was she was so fiercely protecting. The entire trip would be a celebration of the rebirth of their friendship, a friendship that had first been born forty years earlier.
Maggie turned off the televisionâa waste, anywayâand got up from the couch. She recorked the half-empty bottle of wine and put it in the mini-fridge. Then she went into the bathroom and completed her before-bed ritualsâmakeup removal, nighttime moisturizer, expensive under-eye creamâand crawled into bed. For a while she was too happy to sleep. Imagine! Too happy and excited and eager to sleep. That hadn't happened since she was a girl, looking forward to a trip to an amusement park or her birthday party or presents left by Santa Claus under the tree. She smiled in the darkness of the room. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
44
It was Wednesday afternoon and Jackie had stopped by Jemima's to deliver a carton of eggs. She didn't entirely like Jemima Larkin. She found her to be a bit too self-righteous, without the intelligence to back it up. That and on occasion, as Jackie had said to Maggie, a drama queen. But there was no denying she was a good friend and neighbor to Delphine, so for her sake Jackie was friendly. Well, she was friendly with pretty much everybody. It was her nature and her policy.
Jackie followed Jemima into the kitchen. Jemima's house was spotless, as if all the energy she saved by not catering to her appearance went into the care of her home. Jackie could have done without the faint but consistent aroma of ammonia, but hey, that was Jemima's problem.
“I ran into Delphine's friend in town this morning,” Jemima said, pouring a cup of coffee for Jackie. “Maggie. She told me that she and Delphine are going to Boston for a night. She just rushed right at me and blurted the news like she had something to prove. Like she expected me to faint or start screaming or something.”
Jackie hid a grin. The rivalry between her sister's two friends was amusing in some ways, though she wouldn't want to see it flourish. Nothing good would come of this sort of jealousy between women.
“Well,” she said, “I guess she's just excited.”
“Excited! She's not a kid. She's a grown woman for God's sake and she should act like one.”
Jackie declined to comment. But Jemima wasn't finished. “I don't know what's gotten into your sister since that woman showed up. She's acting different. I mean, why didn't she tell me about this Boston thing?”
Maybe,
Jackie thought,
because she knows you would have tried to talk her out of it.
What she said was: “They're old friends. They were inseparable for years. Delphine's just having some fun. She's fine. Frankly, I think she needs a break. Sometimes I think she's going to just, I don't know, fade away with nothing to show for her life.”
Jackie thought,
because she knows you would have tried to talk her out of it.
What she said was: “They're old friends. They were inseparable for years. Delphine's just having some fun. She's fine. Frankly, I think she needs a break. Sometimes I think she's going to just, I don't know, fade away with nothing to show for her life.”
Jemima shook her head. “That's not right to say. Delphine does so much for everyone around her. She's a vital part of this community.”
“Yes,” Jackie agreed, “she is and she does; she's almost entirely unselfish. But what does she have for her own? She doesn't have a husband. She doesn't even have a boyfriend who's fully committed. She doesn't have kids. She doesn't have any friends in Ogunquit but you and me, and I'm her sister; I almost have to be her friend. And Delphine won't concentrate on her knitting, which in my opinion could make her a small fortune, because she's always so tied up doing things for other people.”
“She's happy,” Jemima stated emphatically.
“Is she?”
“She's content.”
Jackie considered this for a moment. “I think that maybe she was, before Maggie came back. Maybe Maggie will shake her up, light a fire under her again, get her moving.”
And then what? Then Maggie would leave Ogunquit and return to her life in Boston and what would happen to Delphine then, without her immediate influence? For a moment Jackie wondered if maybe Jemima was right about Maggie's being bad for Delphine, but she dismissed the thought. If Maggie were a drug fiend or a criminal, then yeah, she'd be a bad influence.
“I'm glad Delphine has someone like you as a friend,” Jackie said now, “someone so fiercely loyal and protective. I am. But you know she's got to live her own life and make her own mistakes. You can't keep her from making choices, good or bad.”
“Of course I know that,” Jemima snapped. “I just don't know what that Maggie person is after. She wants something from Delphine, but for the life of me I can't see what it is.”
This was a new thought for Jackie. It hadn't occurred to her to impute a motive to Maggie's reappearance other than the desire for a vacation in a relatively quiet beachside town. A town that just happened to be home to the friend of her youth, but Jackie had assumed all Maggie wanted was a respite from a high-powered, high-pressure career and to spend a few weeks reminiscing. That was all.
“Well,” Jackie said, putting her empty cup in the spotlessly white sink, “Delphine will figure everything out for herself.” She hoped that that was true. “I've got to be going. Thanks for the coffee.”
45
The last of Wednesday's dinner dishes had been washed, dried, and put away. Patrice, Charlie, Joey, and Jackie were in the living room. Patrice was sewing a button on one of her husband's work shirts. Charlie was reading the local daily paper. Joey was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.
“What do you think of Maggie?” Jackie, who was leaning against the mantel, asked her brother. She knew that he and Harry had run into Maggie and Delphine at the hardware store. Delphine hadn't told her. Joey had.
Joey shrugged. “She seems okay. Sort of different from how I remember her, but I can't really say how. She's pretty.”
Jackie sighed. “Men. They're so articulate.”
Charlie folded the paper and placed it on the end table by his chair. “Why does Delphine need to go to Boston anyway?”
“Because she wants to,” Jackie said. “Because she's having a nice time with a dear old friend.”
Patrice frowned. “Well, she knows this is our busiest time of the year. I don't know what she's thinking.”
Jackie sighed. “Mom, when was the last time Delphine had a break, even a full day off? Lori's doing great learning Delphine's job. She knows the computer system almost as well as Delphine does. We'll have everything under control while she's gone. Come on; she deserves this little vacation.”
“Well, I don't know about âdeserves,' ” Patrice said. “And for that matter, when was the last time any of us had a day off? Answer me that.”
“Then maybe we're doing something wrong,” Jackie snapped. “Really, Mom, what's the problem with some time for relaxation? It's normal. It's healthy.”
“Even God rested on the seventh day.” Joey rose from his chair and reached for his baseball cap. “Though this guy's gotta get up early tomorrow. I'll be heading home now.”
“How is Kitty feeling?” Patrice asked. “Did she like those oatmeal cookies I made her? I could make another batch for her tomorrow.”
Joey adjusted his cap unnecessarily. His mother wouldn't want to hear that he had eaten them after Kitty had nibbled on one and put it down. “Sure,” he said. In truth, he was very worried about his daughter but uncomfortable talking about her. He and Cybel were taking her to another doctor, someone Delphine had found for them in Portsmouth. He'd be glad when all this was over and Kitty felt like her old self again. He didn't enjoy feeling helpless, and the thought of anything being seriously wrong with his daughter made him feel nauseous.
“I'd better go, too,” Jackie said. “I need to walk Bandit.” Jackie grabbed her bag and followed her brother outside. She needed to get away from her parents and the house that could sometimes feel like a prison.
She got into her car and waved as her brother pulled out of the driveway ahead of her. Maggie's surprising visit. Jemima's fierce dislike of her. Harry's dislike of her as well, something Jackie had also learned from her brother. The incident between Dave Jr. and the boy from away. Kitty's weight loss and exhaustion. Jackie had an increasingly bad feeling that life for the Crandalls was tending toward some sort of crisis, and she had absolutely no idea of how to prevent that crisis from coming.
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