The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again (12 page)

13

In the late afternoon, Carolyn sat at her paper-strewn desk in her office at Sperry’s, scanning documents and signing them, although her body begged for a nap. As much as she would have liked to turn all directorial tasks over to her father, it was out of the question. Aubrey was absentminded these days, too busy with his new wife to focus properly on his work.

And this was good, Carolyn reminded herself. Her father was obviously invigorated by his marriage. He looked younger and happier. Certainly the food Heather prepared him was healthier than the heavier, more traditional meat-and-potato meals Mrs. B. had been serving for years. Once a week, when Carolyn and Hank and Aubrey and his wife ate together, Heather insisted on preparing the dinner, and Carolyn was impressed by the delicious, low-fat, high-fiber food Heather served. Aubrey had begun taking daily walks, too, with Heather at his side, the pair of them in matching navy blue jogging outfits. They looked pretty cute together, actually, so Carolyn was doing her best to suppress her anxieties.

After all, she had done what she could to satisfy herself that Heather was not a gold digger. Recently, when Carolyn had finally found her father in the company office alone, she’d summoned enough courage to ask him whether Heather had signed a prenuptial agreement. Yes, Aubrey had assured her, Heather had. In the case of divorce or death, Heather was to get a lump sum of $100,000. She’d also signed a statement waiving any rights to stock in the Sperry Paper Company. Aubrey made it clear that he found Carolyn’s concerns about his sweet new wife insulting.

Carolyn had been sorry to give him reason to be angry with her, but glad she’d asked. Her suspicions were allayed.

Although . . . she could not forget the moment when she’d found Heather prying into the household accounts, how Heather’s mask of sweetness had fallen away, how threatening, almost feral, Heather had looked. Carolyn had discussed this with Hank, but he thought that Carolyn had overreacted. Wasn’t her pregnancy making her more emotionally volatile?

Perhaps. Carolyn asked her private secretary, in strictest confidence, to check out Heather Grinnell online. The secretary reported that Heather was exactly whom she appeared to be: a thirty-two-year-old woman who’d grown up in Arlington, Massachusetts, the daughter of a plumber and a housewife. Heather had, as she’d said, one brother, Harry, thirty-four years old, who had taken over his father’s plumbing business. Both parents were deceased. According to the online white page directory, the address of both adult children was their parents’ house.

Next, Carolyn decided to get to know Heather. She offered to take Heather shopping for a dress for the company’s upcoming annual Christmas party. Before their shopping expedition, Carolyn treated Heather to lunch, and afterward, to tea. During their girls-together day, Carolyn made several subtle attempts to probe beneath Heather’s girlish surface, but Heather had remained all sweetness and light.

On Carolyn’s desk, the clock’s hands clicked to five o’clock. Everyone else was going home; she should, too. She wasn’t accomplishing anything here.

——————————

The towering old house was silent as she let herself in. Hank was out of town overnight on an environmental fact-finding visit. She hurried down the hall to her suite of rooms and collapsed on the sofa, not bothering to take her coat off, instead pulling it over her as a cover as she curled on the sofa and slipped gratefully into sleep.

——————————

A knock at her door awakened her. Yawning, she opened her eyes and checked her watch. She’d slept for over an hour.

“Come in,” she called, sitting up and stretching.

“Carolyn?” Mrs. B., their housekeeper, looked in. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. Come in. Sit down.” Too hot now, Carolyn tossed her coat aside and smoothed her hair.

“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. B. entered, taking care to shut the door tightly behind her. She settled in a chair. “My, look how big you’ve gotten! How are you feeling?”

“Slothful,” Carolyn said wryly. “What’s up?”

The frown line between Mrs. B.’s eyes deepened. “Perhaps you already know this. I just feel that it’s my responsibility to mention—you’re aware that there’s a line of guaranteed credit on the household account.”

“Of course.”

“And also on your father’s personal checking account.”

The baby seemed to be pinching her bladder with her toes. Carolyn changed positions. “I didn’t know about my father’s account. I’ve never had occasion to use it. Now that you mention it, I’m not surprised. We all have lines of credit, it’s standard. We set it up for the household account for emergencies—fire, the roof falling in, whatever.”

“The thing is, Carolyn, the bank statements came the other day. I balanced it against the checkbook. Your household account has had fifty thousand dollars drawn on its credit line.”

“Really?” Carolyn frowned. “I can’t imagine why.”

“So I took the liberty, because, you know, I open all your father’s personal mail for him and sort it—he gets so many requests for charitable donations, so many invitations. I opened his bank statement. His personal checking account just had one hundred fifty thousand dollars withdrawn from the personal credit line.”

A cold wave of dread clutched Carolyn.

“I don’t mean to cause trouble. You know I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” She leaned forward, peering at Carolyn. “Carolyn, are you all right?”

A mysterious force boiled inside her. This must be how a volcano feels just before it blows, Carolyn thought. She put one hand on her belly and the other over her eyes. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, I’m so sorry.” Mrs. B. looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—perhaps I should have waited—”

Carolyn shook her head briskly. “Mrs. B., it’s all right. Please, don’t worry. You absolutely did the right thing, coming to me.”

Mrs. B.’s voice broke. “I care so much about you and your father.”

“And you know we couldn’t keep this house going without you.” The housekeeper was getting old, Carolyn realized with a shock. She assured her, “You were right to come to me. I’ll talk with Father and let you know what’s going on. In the meantime, don’t fret.”

“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. B. rose and went away.

Carolyn’s heart surged, agitated and alarmed.

——————————

That evening, Carolyn made herself a grilled-cheese sandwich to eat with the enormous salad and ratatouille Mrs. B. had left for her. She ate in bed. It felt so good to put her legs up! She wondered whether she ought to have a bed, or at least a recliner, moved into the office for the remainder of her pregnancy.

Yet as tired as she was, Carolyn knew she’d never sleep tonight. Anxiety pulsed through her like a breaking news broadcast on a television screen.

Aubrey had probably bought a
fabulous
car for his new wife, Carolyn decided. Except there was no new car in the garage. All right then, a fur coat, and tickets for a cruise around the world—it was easy to spend $200,000.

It was almost eleven o’clock when she saw headlights flash in the driveway. Ready for battle, Carolyn headed down the hall.

“Oh!” Heather peeped as she and Aubrey entered. “Hello, Carolyn! I didn’t expect to see you up so late!”

“Did you have a good evening?” Carolyn asked conversationally.

“Wonderful,” Heather cooed. “I’ve never had such delicious food before in all my life.”

Aubrey helped his wife slip out of her coat—it
was
fur. “What’s up?” he asked Carolyn.

“There’s something I need to discuss with you. Won’t take a moment.” Forcing a smile at Heather, she added, “It’s just business, Heather.”

But Aubrey squinted his eyes suspiciously at Carolyn and wrapped a protective arm around Heather. “I want Heather to learn about our business, Carolyn. She’s welcome to sit in on any discussion.”

“Fine.” Carolyn led them into the living room, flicking on a few of the lamps. Carolyn claimed the best armchair. Heather settled on the sofa, with Aubrey close by. Aubrey looked dashing in his expensive suit, his cheeks ruddy from the cold air, his eyes sparkling. He looked like a happy man.

“Father, I’m sorry to do this now, but I won’t sleep if I don’t get it settled.” Carolyn clenched her hands and straightened her back defensively. “Mrs. B. came to me today, terribly concerned about the money you’ve withdrawn on your credit line from the household account and your own private one.”

Her father’s face reddened dangerously. “I hardly think this qualifies as an emergency.”

Carolyn leaned forward. “Please, Father. I don’t want a detailed accounting. Just a brief explanation.”

“I won’t have you accusing me of mishandling my own funds!” Aubrey snapped.

“I’m not
accusing
you, Father,” Carolyn replied, stunned at his sudden anger.

Aubrey’s voice shook. “You have no right—”

“I have every right—”

“Oh, dear!” Heather burst out. “I never meant to cause trouble between the two of you!”

Aubrey stared at Heather, amazed. “You aren’t causing us any trouble, darling.”

“I only wanted to make you happy, Aubrey.” Heather wrung her hands together. “I tried using the housekeeping funds, but there wasn’t enough money, and besides, Carolyn was so angry when I looked in the housekeeping computer! I wanted it to be a wonderful surprise for Christmas! I had such plans! My brother was going to come help me set everything up. Now it’s all spoiled!”

“Darling girl, nothing’s spoiled,” Aubrey promised soothingly.

“What’s spoiled?” Carolyn demanded.

“New f-f-f-furniture,” Heather stammered. “Your place is so masculine, Aubrey, so cold. I wanted to surprise you with a more r-r-r-romantic bedroom. I bought a b-b-b-beautiful new bed. I know you like nice things, Aubrey, so I scoured all the antique shops in the area. I was going to have the new things set up Christmas Eve day.”

“What a wonderful thing to do,” Aubrey said.

“But wait,” Carolyn said. “That still doesn’t explain how the money—”

“I gave Heather my passwords and protocols for transferring funds from those accounts.” Aubrey was still red-faced, and his voice was stern as he spoke to his daughter. “I gave her free access to my funds. After all, she is my wife. It’s only natural she’d want to change our part of the house for our own comfort. How much is Mrs. B. worried about?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Well.” Aubrey paused, then regrouped. “That doesn’t seem exorbitant for new furnishings.”

Carolyn disagreed, but kept silent.

Heather’s lower lip quivered.

“I think you owe Heather an apology,” Aubrey told Carolyn.

“What for?” Now Carolyn was angry. “I didn’t accuse her of anything. I only asked you for an explanation.”

Heather sat up straight, sniffing, blinking back tears, the perfect picture of the brave little soldier. “ I wanted to buy furniture that was really elegant.
Important
furniture. It’s not like Aubrey is just starting out in life, after all.”

The implication lay unspoken before them: Aubrey’s old. This furniture will be the last he has until he dies. How heartless of you to deprive him of joy.

“Are you satisfied?” Aubrey asked curtly. Before Carolyn could reply, he stood up. “This is all the time I want to spend on this unfortunate interrogation. I’m taking Heather to our quarters now where we can turn our thoughts to happier matters.”

Carolyn sighed. “Good night, then, Father. Good night, Heather.”

“Good night,” Aubrey and Heather replied in sync.

Carolyn watched the pair leave the room, so closely entwined they moved as one. She was exhausted, vaguely embarrassed, and still not entirely satisfied. Her pulse hammered in her throat.

14

Agnes and Belinda were on the living room sofa, watching
Wheel of Fortune.
Agnes had her granddaughter sitting on her right, and her enormous pocketbook stationed on her left, right next to her thigh, as if she were in a train station and needed to protect it from theft. Julia would have bet $500 a new jar of Marshmallow Fluff was hidden inside the purse.

Julia squatted in front of Belinda, who clutched Kitty Ballerina with one hand. Belinda still wore a pink leotard and ballet slippers. When, after the Halloween party last week, Belinda had refused to take off her ballerina costume, Julia had had a genius idea. She’d enrolled Belinda in ballet class. Belinda loved it.

“Okay, curly girly,” Julia said brightly, tugging on Belinda’s toes, “Dad and I are going out to a movie! You get to have Grammy for the whole evening!”

Belinda looked sullenly at Julia and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“Can I kiss Kitty Ballerina good-bye?” Julia asked.

Belinda shook her head and clutched her doll tightly to her chest. Agnes smiled.

Fine,
Julia thought.
Embarrass me in front of my archenemy, you little traitor.
Rising, she leaned forward and quickly pecked Belinda on the top of her head. “Later, gator.”

Tim ruffled his daughter’s hair and kissed her unresponsive cheek. “Have fun, Belly.”

At the door, Julia turned. Although Agnes had made frequent Gestapo Stealth Raids, this was the first time she’d babysat for Belinda since Julia and Tim had married. “Agnes, I’ve left the phone numbers of the restaurant and movie by the kitchen phone. We’ve got lots of tea and cookies in the cupboard, and Belinda’s nightie—”

“I believe I know my way around my daughter’s home!” Agnes bristled, insulted. “I helped her decorate Belinda’s room!”
You thoughtless bitch!

A soft answer turns away wrath, Julia reminded herself. “Yes, and it’s a beautiful room.”

“We’d better go or we’ll be late,” Tim cut in. “Thanks, Agnes. See you both later.”

During the ride to the restaurant, Julia felt smothered by the thick venomous cloud of Agnes’s dislike. She wanted to roll down the car window and stick her head out, like a Newfoundland on a hot night. But once they were seated in the restaurant, with a glass of ruby red wine in her hand, Julia relaxed. Tim relaxed. They stopped talking about Belinda and Agnes. Tim talked about work, and as Julia listened, she felt her spirits rise. She loved him so much. She’d almost forgotten that.

During the movie, Tim held her hand. In the car afterward, he pulled her against him and kissed her so thoroughly, Julia nearly melted into the seat.

“My, my,” she whispered. “We’ll have to have Agnes babysit more often.”

——————————

The autumn night was brisk, slapping their cheeks with cold as they hurried from the car to the house. Inside, it was like the Sahara. Clearly Agnes had changed the thermostat. Agnes was in the same spot on the sofa, watching television.

“How did it go?” Tim asked.

“Oh, we had a wonderful time!” Agnes stood up, clutching her purse against her chest, no doubt hiding the Marshmallow Fluff. “We watched television, and I made her a snack, and then I gave her some little prezzies. An adorable baby doll. I made a dress for Belinda just like the doll’s dress, pink with white lace, so sweet! Belinda liked the dress so much she went to sleep in it!”

Julia laughed. “She does get attached to her clothing. She wore her Halloween ballerina costume day and night until she had the flu and barfed on the net.”

Agnes’s face fell. “You mean the dress
I made
for her is nothing special.”

“Oh, no, Agnes, not at all!” Julia protested. “I’m sure the dress you—”

“I know what you meant.”
Nothing good, that’s for sure, you sadistic slut!
Agnes turned to Tim. “She went to sleep at nine thirty, Tim.” Head high, Agnes went to the hall closet. “And I did all the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Agnes,” Tim said.

“It was nothing.” Agnes pulled on her gray down coat.

“Agnes,” Julia said, “you’re not leaving! We thought you’d spend the night here.”

“I’ll sleep better in my own bed.”
Away from you, you heartless bitch.

“But Agnes,” Tim said, “it’s a three-hour drive back to the Berkshires.”

“Well, I know that, of course. But I’ve got my gospel tapes to play, and a nice Thermos of hot chocolate to keep me awake on the way.” She patted her capacious bag.

“Please don’t go,” Julia begged. “I hate the thought of you driving all alone through the night. Stay here. Sleep in your room.”

With a martyred expression, Agnes said, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”

“But you’ve stayed here before,” Tim reminded her.

“True, but George was always with me. No, I’m leaving. I had a lovely time with my granddaughter, and six hours of driving here and back is a small price for me to pay for the pleasure of seeing my daughter’s little girl.” Slump-shouldered, she left.

Julia and Tim stared at each other, half-amused, half-depressed.

“Will I ever be able to win with that woman?” Julia asked.

“Just don’t take it personally,” Tim said. “Agnes would behave the same way toward any woman who took Annette’s place.” He pulled Julia against him. “But don’t let her spoil our mood. I’m feeling relaxed and just a little bit amorous.” To prove his point, he nuzzled beneath her ear and kissed her throat.

“Mmm.” Julia leaned against her husband, giving herself over to the rush of lust.

“I’ll check the doors and shut off the lights,” Tim said. “You get ready for bed.”

“Lovely.” Julia trailed her fingers down his torso, then went down the hall to their bedroom, taking a moment to peek in at Belinda. The child was tucked in bed, sound asleep, Kitty Ballerina next to her.

Not bothering to turn on the bright overheard light, Julia crossed her darkened bedroom and flicked on the bedside lamp. Dreamily, she undressed, thinking this might be the night to wear the red lace teddy Tim had bought her last Valentine’s Day. Naked, she strolled into the bathroom.

And stopped dead, every hair on her body bristling like an animal scenting danger.

She scanned the room. Next to the sink she kept a tray of lotions, creams, and bath salts. Everything had been moved.

Well, Julia thought. Well, okay. Perhaps Agnes used her hand cream. So what? But Agnes always used the other bath that served the guest bedroom and Belinda.

She opened the cupboard where she kept her tampons, pads, potions, creams, and powders. Here, too, everything was just slightly in the wrong place.

Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, Julia returned to her bedroom and turned on the overhead light. In the bright glare, she opened her chest of drawers.

The top drawer held her serviceable everyday cotton undies and sports bras, as well as her few bits of sexy lingerie. Hidden beneath, Julia kept several pair of old cotton panties, the stains from menstrual blood washed and bleached to pale taupe blotches, ready for the first day of her period, when she often, in spite of all precautions, bled through everything. Now these stained garments lay on top of her other lingerie. The sight was like a kick in the stomach.

In the other three drawers, her T-shirts and sweaters had also been rearranged. Obviously Agnes had gone through her clothing. Either she didn’t care whether Julia knew or wanted Julia to know and was daring Julia to confront her.

Sick at heart, Julia opened Tim’s drawers, hoping to find them in similar disarray. No, everything here was as neat as it had been earlier today, when Julia had folded his laundry and put it away.

In the closet, Tim’s jackets, shirts, and trousers hung in their usual places, but Julia’s clothes had been moved around. Because most of her clothes were black, she’d developed a kind of ranking system, putting her best black slacks and shirts at the far end of the closet, because she used them the least, and hanging her everyday jeans, trousers, and shirts at the front, where she could grab something in a hurry. Now her expensive black crêpe Ralph Lauren pants were mixed in with the ordinary clothes. Her little black knit Prada shirt was balled up on the floor, beneath one of her good high-heeled shoes. When Julia retrieved it, she found the shoulder seam ripped.

Moaning, she backed away from the closet.

Tim came into the room, pulling his tie from his shirt collar. “Belinda’s sleeping like a—what’s wrong?”

“My clothes,” Julia gasped. “Agnes went through my clothes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This.” She held her shirt out to him. “She went through my things. She ripped my shirt!” Her lip trembled. “I f-found it on the floor.”

“Oh, Julia, how can you be sure?”

“Look!” She thrust the shirt toward him. “It was on the floor! It was torn! My most expensive shirt!”

Tim shut the bedroom door. Taking the shirt, he let it hang limp from his hand as he inspected it, noting how the seam had been ripped from neck to armhole. “It can be sewn back up.”

“That’s not the point!” Julia cried.

“I know.” He sank onto the bed.

“Tim, this is
creepy.
This is
sick.
”

Tim looked miserable. “Oh, Julia—”

“What? You don’t think it’s
sick
? That crazy old bitch goes through my things, ruins my best shirt, and—”

“I’m sure she didn’t know it was your best shirt. I’m sure she doesn’t even know what Prada is.”

“And that makes it okay?” Julia was so angry she had to pace the room.

“No, of course it doesn’t. Calm down, Julia, or you’ll wake Belinda.”

She turned on him. “Is that all you care about? That I might wake Belinda?”

“No, of course it’s not. I’m just as appalled as you, Julia.”

“I doubt that very much. Tim, she went through my lingerie. She handled my personal-hygiene things, my
tampons,
for God’s sake.” Julia shuddered with revulsion.

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand over his forehead.

“You don’t need to be
sorry.
” Julia strained to keep from shouting. “You do need to help me decide what to do!”

“What on earth
can
we do?” Tim was ashen.

“I don’t know.” Julia collapsed on the bed next to him. “I don’t know. Except we’ve got to agree right now that she’ll never be alone in this house again.”

Tim nodded bleakly.

“I won’t call her.” Julia was thinking aloud. “I won’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know how angry she makes me. She’s such a manipulative, convoluted old cow, she’d be
thrilled
if I got angry with her. She’d use that somehow, to prove I was a bad stepmother.” Julia hit her pillow. “But it’s not fair! I try so hard, and this is what I get, all my things grubbed around with, her nasty cooties over every single thing I own and wear!”

Tim tried to put his arm around her, but Julia jerked away. “Don’t think you can make this okay with a little jolly snuggle, because you can’t!”

“I wasn’t trying to make it okay,” Tim protested. “I just want to help you, somehow. We were having such a good time. I thought we were going to make love.”

“Oh, right, like I could enjoy that! Agnes probably spat on the sheets.” Julia stormed to her dresser and began to dump her clothes into a wicker basket. “I’m not sleeping there until I wash the bed linen. I’m not going to be able to change my clothes until I’ve washed everything.”

“Julia, please.”

“Please,
what
? Please don’t feel violated by your mother-in-law’s invasion of all my personal things?”

Tim raised his hand, palm up. “I just—I don’t know, Julia. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want Agnes to come between us.”

Hefting the heavy wicker basket, Julia went out of the bedroom, down the hall, through the kitchen, and out to the utility room. Her rage was making her illogical. She wanted to dump the entire contents of the Tide container into the washing machine. She needed to do something huge and reckless that would use up her anger. She wanted to kick something, tear something, she wanted to throw back her head and howl with rage. She turned the dials on the washing machine, then stood there, gripping the cold white metal. Her fury roared through her head, blocking her ears with white noise. No way could she calm down enough tonight to sleep, and the thought of making love with Tim was repulsive right now.

So Agnes had caused discord between them. Tonight, Agnes won.