The Glass Wives (25 page)

Evie was stunned into silence. Laney was
giddy
. Laney, who had a zero-tolerance policy for aberrant marital behavior thought Evie should have slept with Richard out of spite. The people she knew best seemed to surprise her the most.

“Okay,” Laney said, breaking the quiet. “Enough about Richard and his child bride. Right now we’re going to focus on this second interview, okay? You’re not going to get the job if you look like a beleaguered hausfrau.”

Laney was right, of course, but Evie reached back, grabbed a throw pillow, and hit Laney in the stomach. They belly-laughed until Evie was gasping for breath. She stood and walked to the closet, resolute. She slid the closet door open wide. How had there ever been space for Richard’s wardrobe? She saw at least twenty black T-shirts hanging in a row—short sleeved, long sleeved, no sleeve, three-quarters. There were half as many black bottoms—jeans in several sizes, out-of-style stretchy pants, and even a pair of worn-out corduroys, not to mention dressy slacks. Did anyone say
slacks
anymore? Evie skimmed a row of black dresses with her fingers, feeling each fabric and trying not to notice the dancing dust.

Laney folded and hung up every item her friend discarded. Then, Laney reached into the abyss, pulling out wrinkled, camel-color pants. “Wear these pants with a white blouse and a cardigan. Unbuttoned. The cardigan, that is, not the blouse. Although that might help get you the job.” Laney chortled and slapped her hip. She was her own biggest fan. “It’s academic, it’s classy, and it’s functional. It’s an outfit that multitasks. It can take you to court and the classroom.”

Evie held up a long, navy cardigan and smoothed her hair. She closed her eyes to picture the outfit, but it didn’t come together in her head the way it obviously had in Laney’s.

“And no pearls, June Cleaver, I’ll lend you a funky scarf. You can be cool and sophisticated. Oh, and wear your diamond-stud earrings. That’s classic without being showy.”

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Laney cocked a sideways smile. “You know it is.”

“But…”

“But nothing. If you look confident, you’ll act confident and eventually you’ll feel confident. Plus, this is more
you
than any blue suit from 2002. There is nothing wrong with looking like
you
again, Evie. It’s time.”

*   *   *

“You’re going out
again
?” Sam said.

“Another interview,” Evie said while looking in the mirror, checking her teeth for runaway lipstick. Laney was right. Evie looked maternal and professional. She looked the part, now she had to get the part.

“Who’s going to stay with us?”

“Jordyn,” Sophie said from the living room. “Right, Mom?”

Evie looked at Sam. “I won’t be long. This is important stuff, remember? I could get a job teaching at County.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It would be more fun if Luca and Nicole still lived here,” he said without looking at his mother.

“You like Jordyn!” she said, but Sam was right. Did he have to remind her?

“What if I get sick while you’re gone?”

Evie took Sam’s hand and led him to the couch. She pulled him onto her lap even though he was too big for that. He didn’t resist. She pushed the hair off his forehead, but it fell back into its genetically predisposed position. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be gone a few hours. Sophie is here.”

Sophie stared at the TV but put both hands in the air.

“You’re without me all day in school.”

“Yeah, but then I know you’re at home.”

Evie patted his back. “You’ll be fine.”

“What if
I
don’t feel good when you’re gone?” Sophie asked.

Sam shuffled to his feet and Evie stood. “Everyone is going to be fine,” Evie barked. She pointed to Sophie. “You’re going to be fine.” Evie pointed to Sam. “And you’re going to be fine.” Evie pointed to herself. “And
I’m
going to be fine.”

The last part was the hardest to believe—and that’s the one they all depended on.

Driving the twenty minutes to County College, Evie replaced thoughts of the twins with thoughts of Sandy Perlman and how his blue eyes brightened when he talked about his students. Evie had noticed the naked ring finger, but asked if he had children—a lesson of divorce. Sandy lit like a neon sign when he mentioned a daughter and snarled with a smirk when he mentioned his ex-wife. He was smart, funny, and
very
handsome. Her heart pounded and she flushed. Evie had given up dating—but she wasn’t blind. Apparently she still wasn’t dead either.

The students would be easy to relate to, but Evie wasn’t sure about relating to Sandy Perlman, and not just because he smelled like Aramis and apple pie. She’d been part of Lakewood’s suburban milieu—in various configurations—for a dozen years. Wouldn’t even mild academia smell her coming from a mile away?

She pulled into a visitors’ parking spot, imagining herself in the staff lot around the back, closer to the main building. She smoothed her hair and turned her chin, peeking back at her profile in the rearview mirror. She tapped twice under her chin with the back of her hand. Minimal jiggle. Evie stretched her neck forward for an instant—and revocable—necklift.

This time as Evie walked to Dr. Talbot’s office, she strode secure, not looking at the map in her hand. The hallways were narrower, the ceilings lower, the distance shorter.

Evie opened the door, saw Dr. Talbot, and said, “Good afternoon.” Evie had hoped for the smiley buffer of the secretary, which could have served as her hot tip as to what was next.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Glass.” The chairwoman stood straight, clutching a stack of folders.

Dr. Talbot didn’t keep her waiting. “Please, sit.”

A second interview conducted in a waiting room? At a secretary’s desk? If County didn’t want her, they could’ve called, e-mailed, or even texted.

“Obviously I asked you back because I’d like to offer you the summer teaching position.”

Obviously.
Not.
Evie’s people-reading skills lacked finesse. She’d work on that in her spare time.

“Thank you.” Evie did not say, “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” though it stuck in the back of her throat.

“These are contracts and HR papers and lessons and procedures, but I guess you’d like to know how much the position pays before you accept.”

Since it was more than zero, Evie ached to stretch out her hand and say, “I’ll take it,” followed by jumping up and down on the desk. Instead, she stayed seated, nodded once, and said, “Yes, thank you, I would.”

Evie knew the pay wouldn’t be much, but that it would be enough. For now. What Evie didn’t know was that she’d be taking another walk with Sandy Perlman.

“Sandy will show you his—and your—office space again. He’ll give you a schedule of faculty meetings. You should start attending now, if you can, so when you start in June, you’ll be familiar with everyone and everything.”

“Absolutely.” Evie prayed the meetings were during her kids’ school day.

Dr. Talbot directed Evie to Sandy’s office. “He’s expecting you.”

Standing in front of the office she’d share with Sandy, Evie knocked. No one answered. She knocked again.
So much for being expected.

Evie slipped her new ID card through the reader, turned the knob, and opened the door as if someone were going to jump out from behind—first a few inches, then all the way. Leaning in, Evie looked around the dark office and flipped on the light. She didn’t enter but stared inside.

The room was smaller than she remembered. Maybe it was the additional desk and chair. Maybe it was that the blinds were down. She strained to look through the cracks to the campus green, crowded with business-clothed students sitting at picnic tables and sauntering on the winding, concrete paths. Some of those people would be her students.

She leaned against the doorjamb. She looked at the pictures on the wall, and when she shifted her eyes back to the hallway, Sandy Perlman was next to her.

“Welcome to the team,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“You should be.”

Evie dug into her purse for nothing. His sarcasm flustered her.

“I’m kidding,” Sandy said. “I’m glad you accepted.”

She looked up. “You are?”

“I don’t want to teach at night!”

Evie put her hand on her hip. “Very funny.”

“Glad to see you have a sense of humor. You never know what’s going to happen here, so we’re all pretty laid-back and adaptable. Did you have trouble finding the office?”

“Not at all.”

“If you want the desk on the other wall, I can probably slide it over there,” he said, gesturing.

“So you’re a tour guide and a furniture mover? I mean, thank you, it’s great.”

Sandy smiled and revealed white, straight teeth. Evie reached into her purse and retrieved her water bottle, but left the apple. An apple was way too cliché. All of a sudden, her stomach churned.

“We might not bump into each other too much this summer,” he said. “My classes are in the morning and afternoon.” He checked his watch. It was stainless steel and clunky with a blue face. Its size made his hand look small. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes, but we can talk about the curriculum until I have to go.”

“Sure.” Evie sat at what would become her desk, her chair, her space. It was better than a country-club membership. It meant she would be okay.

Sandy sat at his desk and tilted back in his chair. “Don’t be nervous about the students. These people all choose to be here, and most of them pay their own tuition. It might not seem like a lot to some people, but … well, you don’t find too many trust-fund babies at County.” He clamped his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just glad to be out of that environment.”

“You taught somewhere else before this?” Even though she knew nothing about him, Evie had assumed Sandy Perlman was a couldn’t-get-a-job-at-a-real-college, frustrated academic—although a handsome one.

He looked at her and squinted as if trying to remember if he left his oven on. “Yes, but at a college on the East Coast. In New Hampshire. Aah, you’ve probably never heard of it.” He clasped his hands behind his head.

“Try me,” Evie said before she could stop herself. Why would he assume she would be unfamiliar with an East Coast college? She grew up in Delaware. Although twenty-six years near Chicago had left her with a distinct Midwestern twang.

“It’s called Dartmouth. With a
D
.”

Evie stared at him, unsure if his sarcasm was the result of her transparent speculation on his professional tenure, or if he thought she’d never heard of Dartmouth.

“I’m kidding,” he said, shaking his head and holding up his hands in surrender.

“So you didn’t teach at Dartmouth.”

He patted his desk like a bongo. “No—I’m kidding that I think you’ve never
heard
of Dartmouth.”

Evie scanned the shelves and desk for photos, a glimpse inside more than the office. She saw one photo of Sandy and a young woman she assumed was his daughter, on his desk in a plain, black frame. Evie pointed. “Your daughter?”

Sandy nodded.

“She’s beautiful. And obviously very smart.” Evie mentioned the multiple hoods adorning the young woman’s graduation robe and hoped the Dartmouth gaffe was erased.

“Yep. That’s Rachel. She’s starting Kent Law next fall. Taking a year off to find herself first.” He chuckled. “I’m proud of her. You have two kids, right? How old are they?”

“Twins. Sam and Sophie. They’re almost eleven.”

Sandy’s eyes widened. “Young ’uns.”

Evie shrank at her desk. She wouldn’t defend or explain.

“It’s nice,” he said. “You have all the good stuff ahead of you.”

“I hope so.”

Sandy stood from his desk, stretched, and almost touched the ceiling. “Why don’t you walk with me to the meeting? It’s a Social Science meeting—a wild and crazy group.” He rolled his eyes around and did a mediocre Steve Martin impression.

Evie picked up her purse. Nerves overtook intrigue.

“Where’s your armor?” he asked.

She looked at him, deadpan.

Sandy ran his hand atop his spiky, peppered crew cut. “You have to lighten up, Ms. Glass, go with the flow. It’s just American History at County College, not life or death.”

Evie laughed from deep down, glad to know she still could.

Chapter 18

E
VIE STARED AT THE
C
OUNTY
College contract in her hands.
Evelyn T. Glass
would be employed as soon as she signed it. Part-time and temporary, for now. According to Sandy, there was potential. Potential with medical and dental benefits. The college paid more for an eight-week summer job than she would have received from Nicole in that time. Of course, if Nicole were there, Evie wouldn’t be worrying about who’d watch the kids two nights a week, what a judge would rule about Nicole’s insurance claim, and whether she’d be packing up the kids and moving in with her parents and eating early-bird dinners before the start of the next school year. But all that worrying would have to wait until after soccer. The kids deserved her full attention, even if she sometimes faked it with nods and smiles and extra quarters for the concession stand. “Let’s go, guys. Hustle,” Evie yelled. Sophie and Sam ran into the kitchen from different directions. “Get the leash, I’m bringing Rex.”

“Why?” Sophie asked.

“Because it’s a nice day, that’s why.” Evie also wanted a point of conversation other than the absence of Nicole.

“Why are you so dressed up?” Sam asked.

“I’m not dressed up.” Evie hadn’t thrown away her Minnie Mouse sweatshirt, but had folded it and tucked it in the back of her closet so it wasn’t easy to grab and go. Laney was right. Evie did feel better wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, red, thermal T-shirt, a long, beaded necklace from the Days of Dating, and hoop earrings. Her jean jacket had been cleaned, and she also wore one of Laney’s hand-me-down knit scarves. It had only taken Evie an hour to create today’s casual soccer-mom look.

With one collapsible chair slung over her shoulder, Evie pulled out her sunglasses. Sunglasses made her feel glamorous and served as a handy tool in the dating days. If she met someone outside, she could give him a surreptitious once-over. Today she hoped the dark plastic lenses hid her trepidation. Trusting Nicole had left Evie feeling like a loser on
Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?
She didn’t want anyone to know why Nicole moved out, so there Evie was again, making excuses for the truth. She did not want “I told you so” or the finger-wagging that would come along with admitting that her intuition had led her astray. She did not want to explain that while she was livid, she didn’t hate Nicole. She couldn’t explain it to herself; how was she going to explain it to someone else?