The Glass Wives (8 page)

“That’s not what I meant…” Laney said.

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, it is, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about Richard.” Laney reached her hand toward Evie, who took it in hers.

“I’m sure Beth is tickled pink that things have picked up between you and Herb.” Evie looked at Laney and rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for more bad feelings.

“Beth is a romantic.” Laney twirled her loose curls around her finger. “She can’t fathom the reality of a bad marriage. How alone it can feel. How desperate.”

“Well, I have a new definition of
desperate
.” Evie deflected from Laney’s fairy tale with reality—every kick, every vomit blast, and every tear—right down to opening the door and seeing Nicole in the driveway and baking the cookies. “And then there’s the money situation,” Evie said, cookie lodged in her throat. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t mention that to anyone.

“You’re okay, right? Richard left you all taken care of, didn’t he?”

Who kidnapped Laney and replaced her with an optimist? Evie got the stack of bills from the kitchen and fanned them out on the couch. “Welcome to the new game show—
Which Bills Get Paid This Month?
Pick a bill, any bill!”

Laney’s face changed from annoyed to concerned, scowled to soft.

“There is Social Security,” Evie said.
After I fill out the paperwork, sit at the Social Security office for a day and a half, and prove sixteen times I am who I say I am.

“What about life insurance? He had life insurance. Ev, tell me there was life insurance.”

“Yes, there was a mandated policy for the divorce, and I have everything ready to mail back to them. But it’s for the kids, Lane. For college.”

“They’re ten! And there are grants and loans, and by then, who knows how kids will be paying for college educations. What about the house? Can you pay off the mortgage or use the insurance in place of child support? Camp! The money can pay for camp so the kids have something to do this summer!”

Evie was tired of Laney’s well-meaning barrage of questions and suggestions. How many times did she have to say that the insurance money was paying for college?

Laney’s voice dropped an octave. “Evie, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me for rambling on about Herb and me, but this is shit. Leave it to Richard to not have enough insurance. Figures. He always was cheap.” Laney knew the last part wasn’t true. The only thing not uptight about Richard was his wallet when it came to his kids. But at least the real Laney was back. “What are you going to do?”

“Get a full-time job?” Evie phrased it as a question because she didn’t really know what she was going to do.

“Are you going to ask for more hours at Third Coast? You haven’t worked full-time since the twins were born. Do you really think this is the time to leave them?”

“No, I don’t, but what choice do I have? When the life insurance pays out, it’s for the kids. A little bit will be left after setting up a 529 plan, and that will definitely help, but it won’t be the amount Richard paid in support every month. I can’t even figure out what kind of job I’d want or be qualified for, even with a master’s in American history.” Evie hadn’t thought that far before that moment. It was true. She worked at Third Coast because the hours were good and the pay was fair, especially earning commissions. Plus, Evie liked being there. But Millie couldn’t pay her a real salary or provide health insurance for the kids. Next month she’d have to pay COBRA to keep the twins insured.

“How are you getting by now? I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but still. What’s going to happen when there’s no check next month?” Laney’s eyebrows bunched up. She was ignoring potential lines in her face. Laney was a true friend.

“I’m going to use my retirement savings.”

“Your South American cruise fund?”

Evie nodded.

“You need Plan C,” Laney said.

“The new job
is
Plan C.” More like Plan Q.

“No, Plan C is a second husband.” Laney counted on her fingers. “The father figure, romance, and money problems solved in one ingenious swoop. Let’s work on Scott.”

Laney started toward the computer. Evie grabbed her arm. “No!” Laney sat with a thud and crossed her arms as if foiled again. “I wasn’t on a husband hunt before, and I’m not about to start one now.” Evie waggled her finger at Laney, who uncrossed her arms and held both of Evie’s hands.

“I know that’s not what you want—or at least that’s not how you want it. I just thought … I assumed you got insurance money and were fine. I mean, not fine, but okay, at least, financially. God, I feel so stupid for not asking. I’m supposed to be your best friend but I’m an ass.”

A little self-deprecation went a long way. Evie cut her friend some slack. “Assumptions are funny things.”

“So when do you get the insurance money? I thought that happened, like, the day after someone died.”

“I don’t know. I’ve mailed all the paperwork but haven’t heard anything from Midwest Mutual.”

“Okay, so, what about Scott? Call him, he’s a financial guy. Ask him for help.”

“I did call. I left messages. I’m done.” Tired of Laney’s inquisition, Evie raised her shoulders to her ears and then smirked. She was devoid of energy for an explanation or a confrontation with Laney or Scott. “If he wanted to help, he would be here.” When she allowed herself the luxury, Evie missed him. Maybe she should call him for help—at least with navigating some of the financial waters. He would feel needed. Men liked feeling needed. Maybe Scott was just backing up, making room, giving her space. She certainly needed space—she just wasn’t sure how much or for how long.

“I’m sure he doesn’t know what you want or what to say,” Laney said.

“That makes two clueless people because I have no idea what I want except to wake up and find out all that isn’t real.”

Evie pointed again to the stack of insurance papers, government forms, bills, death certificates, and photos. One-stop shopping. But Laney was right. Scott didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. Maybe it was his way of being considerate. Maybe it was his way of being a jerk. Evie wouldn’t know until she actually talked to him.

Even with no partying in her, Evie did have to eat. Lisa would like her rationale and love that Evie was thinking like a mercenary dater. So Evie would reach out to Scott, only for a meal, not a meal ticket. Laney perched on her stool for support, beaming with pride as if Evie were her daughter who’d just earned a spot on the U.S. Olympic Dating Team. Evie picked up the phone, dialed Scott, looked at Laney, and then put her finger to her lips. He never seemed to mind calls at work, although she had rarely done that. She said a silent “let him be busy” prayer so she could leave more than just a hello message.

Finally—a prayer answered.

“Hey, Scott, it’s me again. I’m wondering if you still want to have dinner with Laney and Beth and their husbands next weekend. Let me know, okay? I hope you’ve gotten all my other messages.” One dig, and then, click.

“What do you think he’ll say?” Laney asked. “He seemed like a great guy. He’ll probably know what you can do with your retirement accounts too.”

“He was a great guy. I mean, is.” Evie wondered which part of her statement was true. As for talking to Scott about finances, she wouldn’t do it. Why was it okay to share your bed but not your bank balance? Some things were just
too
personal.

What Evie didn’t tell Laney was that until Laney mentioned Scott, Evie hadn’t thought about him much—a clear indication that her mental in-box was reaching capacity.

Laney checked her watch. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Dressed?”

Laney took Evie’s mug from her lap and set it on the coffee table. No coaster meant Laney was distracted. She led Evie through the house to the foot of the stairs.

“You love doing your hair and makeup and spending an hour finding that perfect casual ‘I just threw this on’ outfit,” Laney said. She was right. Laney had sat on Evie’s bed many Saturdays when Evie chose date outfits that ranged from sporty to sophisticated.

“I’m not getting dressed up to … do what?”

Laney swung her hair behind her shoulders in lieu of a response. “Well, at least put on some cover-up and change into sweats. No matter what else you do, the terry cloth has to go.”

*   *   *

Evie drew lines on her face with a basic beige cover-up stick. If the makeup were black, she’d have looked like a football player. She moved her ring finger—weakest finger, strongest contender for cosmetic application—upward and around. She blended and patted. Camouflaging under-eye circles was easy. If only there were a concealer for uncertainty, something enclosed in a blister pack, hanging on a hook at two for six dollars. Evie dragged a brush through her hair and added a spritz for imaginary lift. A treasure trove of cottony warm-up suits from the workout days stuffed Evie’s bottom drawer. She fluffed out the gray set and picked a plain black tee. Smooth and zip—she was dressed. But she drew the line at real shoes and slid her feet into slippers. The fuzz was matted but the padding was thick, providing a soft, quiet step. Before heading downstairs she stood straight and pulled back her shoulders. Her back cracked.

Laney had yanked Evie out of a funk when Richard moved out and was now kicking Evie’s self-image ass once again. “It all starts with looking good,” Laney said. “Then you’ll feel good too. Eventually.” Laney was right three years ago, and Evie wanted her to be right again—right this minute. “I feel better,” Evie said, curtsying.

“Told you so,” Laney said. “You look like you! And now I’ll get going, and if you’re not going to talk to Scott about your finances, you should call Alan and get this money stuff figured out. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Things have a way of working out.”

Did they?

“Oh, and your cell phone rang while you were upstairs.”

Evie’s heart dropped.
Scott.
“Don’t go yet.”

Laney took Evie’s hand and they walked into the kitchen, away from the kids’ ears and interest. Evie pushed the button on the phone to hear the voice mail.

“Hey, Ev, I got your messages. I was thinking…”
Thinking isn’t necessarily good. Thinking is definitely bad. Anytime I think too much there is big trouble.
“You’re busy and have a lot to deal with. I’m going to let you settle a bit, you know, get into your new routine. Call me when things get back to normal, okay? I miss you. Really. Talk to you soon.” Click.

Normal? Scott wanted her to call when things got back to normal! A dead ex-husband, a widow, a baby, grieving twins, and no weekends off.
I’ll show you
normal,
bucko.
Plus, “I’m going to let you … go now / get back to work / finish what you’re doing / get back to normal” was the classic emergency-exit strategy. Evie knew because she’d employed that tactic herself with a few of the men she dated: the homely one who talked about how handsome he was; the one who was always looking around the room while he talked to her; the one who had dirty fingernails he cleaned with the tongs of his fork. She’d met nice guys too, but the worst encounters always made the best stories. Until now.

Evie put down the phone and waited for tears, but all she felt was a release of tension in her neck, looseness in her shoulders. It was better than checking something off the to-do list—it was deleting it. She would miss Scott. But did she want to be with someone who backed off at the first utterance of bad news—even if it was really bad news? Good riddance to bad rubbish, Bubbe would have said. Evie now had one less person to think about, worry about, plan for. With only a smidgen of regret, Evie smirked and shook her head at Laney, as if taking the breakup hit were an ordinary part of her day.

“What an asshat,” Laney said.

Evie giggled thinking of Scott with a hat on his ass. Or wiggling his ass, a hat on his head. He did have a nice ass. And he looked good in hats.
Enough!

“This is a lot for people to handle, Lane, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Evie opened the phone again and scrolled through the stored numbers. She deleted Scott in triplicate. Home, work, cell. “I can’t worry about dating right now.” The truth was, Evie didn’t want to see his name every time she looked at her contact list.

Laney flipped her head and absentmindedly gathered her curls into a ponytail, even though Evie saw no rubber band or scrunchie or banana clip. “Okay, maybe Scott’s not the right guy, but you can’t stop trying.”

Evie’s stomach rumbled even though it was full. She wasn’t hungry for food, just for simplicity. Maybe this would help more than it hurt. “I just did.”

The phone rang. Did Scott change his mind? Evie had a moment of hope, but no, he did not. “Hey,” Evie said in two syllables, her attempt at nonchalance.

“How about dinner?” Nicole said. “I made the macaroni salad the kids like.”

Sam and Sophie liked macaroni salad?
“Sure, five o’clock.” Evie looked at Laney, who shook her head and waggled her finger.

“Should I bring Luca’s food?” Nicole said.

Evie knew the answer without checking the fridge, but there was Laney sipping and listening and tapping her index fingernail on the counter. “I have some.” Evie did because she bought Luca’s favorites at the grocery store.

“You have some of what?” At least Laney waited until Evie had hung up the phone to ask.

“Food.” No need to be specific.

“If you’re not careful, that woman is going to eat you out of house and home. Or worse.”

“Now you sound like my mother. And Lisa.”

“Good, maybe you’ll listen to one of us.”

Evie was tired of listening. She was ready for doing. She scavenged the silverware drawer for the purple baby spoon and held it up to Laney. “Don’t count on it.”

The only things Evie counted on were transferring her savings account into her checking account on Friday, and the fact that Sam and Sophie would be going back to school on Monday.

Chapter 5

E
VIE PACED, GETTING MORE EXERCISE
today than she had in the past week and a half. She skittered through the kitchen, then the living room, across the foyer and into the dining room, around the table and back again. Where were Beth and Alan? What was taking so long? They lived twenty seconds away if they cut across the front lawns or backyards, which they were apt to do, although not with two feet of snow on the ground.