The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again (32 page)

“How long have you been thinking of moving?”

“I haven’t been. I just drove past this place yesterday, and it caught my eye. The entire location.” He held out his arms. “So I phoned the Realtor this morning, and the moment she opened the door, I knew it was right. Doesn’t it seem
right
for us, Carolyn?”

Carolyn looked up at her husband, realizing how she hadn’t really paid attention to him for a month now. He’d been a kind of blur in the background, separated by a moat of baby’s cries, her body’s complaints, the fuzz of sleeplessness. Specks of gray salted his hair, and his eyes, like hers, were puffy. He had always accepted Carolyn’s weird family situation without objection. He’d behaved with affection toward her father, with courtesy toward the employees they occasionally and dutifully entertained, he’d accompanied her willingly and in good spirits on their journey through life, without asking for much at all. He was an intelligent, sensible, even sensitive man. She trusted him. She loved him. She liked it that he had been creative enough, open enough, to consider the idea of moving from her family’s elephantine residence. Like this house, he was young, full of light, cheerful, easygoing. Elizabeth slept soundly in his arm, as at home there as a baseball in a glove.

“Wouldn’t this be a kind of, oh, I don’t know,
impulsive,
thing to do?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Hank said easily. “Probably would be.”

Impulsive.
The thought of it—the sheer audacity of moving out of the house that had sheltered her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother! It made her feel daring. It made her feel young. It made her feel optimistic. “Let’s do it.”

39

Dazzling weather favored the open house with lingering light and a bright blue sky.

Under Shirley and Faye’s direction, the lounge of the old building was transformed. The casement windows were cranked wide, letting the spring air sweep in and the evening sun mingle with the electric lights, every single one on. In the lounge, the hearth of the marble fireplace held a huge urn spilling with forsythia, japonica, and wild-cherry branches. Smaller vases of tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths shared the various tables with platters of edible delicacies. Exhibits were set up in the four corners: paintings and photos in the art section; poems calligraphed onto handsome handmade papers in another; quilts in the third. In the fourth, the masseuse had set up a massage chair and was giving free, brief demonstrations.

The place was hopping. Cars were parked chockablock on the drive, in the back lot, and along the road. Clients of the spa, present and prospective, passed between pansy-wreathed stone lions into an entrance hall with its double set of French doors opening to the crowded lounge. They stopped to take a glass of wine or sparkling water, then moved around the room, studying the art on the walls, fingering the silky handmade quilts, lining up for a brief back and neck massage, reading the brochures and other literature placed around the room.

In the far corner of the entrance hall, mats had been laid out for Star, the yoga instructor, who was giving an informal demonstration. Alice watched, magnificent in a turquoise wrap skirt, white shirt, and a small fortune in heavy turquoise and silver jewelry. Gideon was with her. Next to them stood Marilyn and Faraday, both their red heads glowing like flames, although Marilyn, in her taupe silk trousers and a matching silk sweater, looked like a female cardinal next to Faraday, who was decked out in a nearly fluorescent tartan blazer of lime, yellow, and navy.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Shirley, sleek in a long, lavender tunic over violet trousers, sidled up next to Alice. “Thinking of taking yoga?”

Alice shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You should. Hello, Gideon.” Shirley leaned past Alice to kiss his cheek. “Hey, you know what? We’re thinking of offering a couple’s yoga course.” She turned to Marilyn. “Hi, guys. How about you and Faraday?”

Faraday leaned forward to receive Shirley’s air kiss. “It might not be a bad idea.”

Marilyn’s face went as red as her hair. “It might not be a good idea, either,” she said softly.

“Why not?” Shirley was pumped with adrenaline tonight, ready to champion every course offered at her spa.

“I don’t think so, Shirley,” Alice said.

“But,” Shirley persisted, “as we get older, we need to stretch more. It’s good for our muscles, our hearts, our brains. Yoga can—”

Alice gripped Shirley’s elbow, steering her backward until they were out of hearing range of the yoga demonstration. Curious, Marilyn followed. The three women bent toward one another.

“Sometimes,” Alice said to Shirley, “you’re as dense as paste.”

“Why?” Shirley demanded.

“Because I don’t want Gideon to see me in such revealing postures.” Alice glanced over at Star, who sat on the mat with her feet in her hands, balanced on her bum, her Lycra-covered crotch tilted toward the sky.

“Not to mention, “ Marilyn added in a whisper, “in that position, I’d be backfiring like a rhino on a rampage.
So
not romantic!”

Shirley laughed. “Listen, you two, in yoga class, everyone makes all kinds of sounds and they’re all acceptable. In fact, there’s even a position in yoga called the full wind-relieving pose. You lie on your back, wrap your arms around your knees, pull them into your sternum, and press your back to the floor.”

“Yeah, that would do it,” Alice said drily.

“The thing to remember is that your partner won’t be looking at you. It’s an inward focus. Each person is communing with his own body. There are gazing points, and sometimes your eyes are closed. Or you’re looking at the teacher.”

Faye, seeing the other three members of the Hot Flash Club, came across the lounge. “What’s going on?”

“She’s trying to convince us it’s okay to pass gas in front of our lovers,” Marilyn said, rolling her eyes at Shirley.

“Oh, dear.” Faye laughed. “Random acts of flatulence! Yet another of the glories of growing old. I was in the grocery store the other day, getting a can from the bottom shelf. When I stood up, I sounded like a fireworks display. I couldn’t stop myself, and a really cute young man was walking by. I wanted to sink through the floor. But what can I do? It’s all these vegetables I’m eating!”

“Keep it up,” Shirley advised. “You look really fabulous tonight.”

“I’ve lost twelve pounds!” Determined to be cheerful, Faye wore a new
red
dress to show off her new figure.

——————————

The four older women laughing together caught Polly’s eye as she came in the door with Hugh Monroe. She wished she knew them. They were having so much fun.

“Oh, there’s Star, my yoga teacher!” She led Hugh toward the demonstration.

This was her second date with the charming physician, and Polly couldn’t figure out whether she was more excited or terrified. On their first date, he’d taken her to dinner, beguiling her with his easy humor and intelligence. At the end of the evening, he’d walked her to her door, declined coming in for coffee, yet bent down to brush his warm lips briefly against hers, provoking a swell of lust Polly hadn’t known she was still capable of experiencing. She’d stumbled into her house as giddy as a schoolgirl.

Hugh had phoned her every day after their date, and now, a week later, he was accompanying her to this event. What would happen afterward? What if he did come in for coffee, or for brandy? What if he wanted to—
make love
? She broke out in head-to-toe goose bumps at the thought. She’d already cleared the idea with her conscience. She would not feel unfaithful to Tucker, not when she’d met Hugh through Tucker’s mother. In a weird way, it seemed almost meant to be. And she had no rational reservations. She was old enough. Certainly her senses provided every sign of approval.

It was her vanity, and her fear, that held her back. She was sixty-two. She was
old,
wasn’t she? Her once curvy body was downright plump after her self-tranquilizing by chocolate during the weeks she had been with Claudia. Worse, she might not even
know
just how bad she looked.

Tonight as she was putting on her bra, she was shocked to notice wispy hair sticking out from her armpits. How could that be? She’d only just showered and shaved under her arms. Returning to her bathroom, she picked up the little pink plastic disposable ladies’ razor from the soap dish where she’d dropped it a few minutes before. Turning it this way and that in the light, she could see, now that she had her glasses on, that she hadn’t removed the clear plastic safety cap from the blades. She made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan. So this was how old age began! Underarm hair one minute, food on the bodice the next, and soon you were wandering through the streets in your nightie? A thrill of fear raced down her spine. This was kind of funny in a horrible way, or horrible in a funny way. She needed to laugh, so in spite of prime-time rates, she dialed her best friend down in Tucson. But Franny was off hiking with some women’s group, her husband told Polly, and Polly had hung up the phone feeling even lonelier. This wasn’t the sort of thing she could discuss with Carolyn, Beth, or Julia. They were all too young. Perhaps, if she and Hugh became close, perhaps someday she could talk with him about it? After all, he was aging, too, especially around the belly, and thank heavens for that, otherwise she’d be too self-conscious to go out with him.

At her side, Hugh watched the yoga demonstration. “I should try this sometime,” he said. “I know it’s supposed to do marvelous things for the body.”

“It’s made me more limber,” Polly told him.

“Really?” Hugh smiled wickedly. “How interesting.”

Blushing, Polly looked away. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Julia coming into the building, holding hands with a china-doll child whose other hand was linked with a tall, gangly man. “Oh, there’s Julia. Let’s go in the main room and see her photographs.”

——————————

Shirley nodded hello to Polly as she headed for the main lounge with a stream of other guests. Turning to Marilyn, Faye, and Alice, she observed, “We should mingle.”

“Oh, right. I should be with my students’ exhibit.” Faye whirled off.

Shirley left Alice and Marilyn with their dates and went off into the main room, greeting people as she walked, at the same time checking on a thousand little details. Jennifer and Alice’s son Alan glided around offering drinks and canapés. Across the room, Justin chatted to a couple, both of whom had taken his poetry writing course; later on tonight, they’d read their poetry.

Justin was so handsome! Shirley sighed with pleasure at the sight. His silver hair was tied back in a ponytail, accentuating his narrow face. He’d been using the tanning machine a lot recently, and now his bronzed skin made his blue eyes glow like aquamarines. In jeans, a white dress shirt, a navy blazer, and black boots, he looked younger than his forty-nine years, and much younger than Shirley’s sixty-one. She understood how Alice, Faye, and Marilyn could doubt his love for Shirley, but even though he was always surrounded, as he was now, by women of all ages batting their eyelashes, presenting their bosoms, and laughing seductively, Justin spent every night with Shirley. She trusted him. She understood that all his careless charm tonight, the way he smiled into the eyes of other women, was for the benefit of her spa, to entice more women to join.

——————————

“Oh, these are marvelous.” As Carolyn complimented Julia, she hoped she sounded sincere. Actually, these photos of a little ballerina weren’t really Carolyn’s thing. She’d never been interested in all that little-girl stuff. She’d preferred sports to ballet, jigsaw and crossword puzzles to dolls, playing store to playing house. She’d never wanted to be the princess bride. She’d always wanted to be queen.

Julia introduced her to Belinda, cute in a flippy black skirt and Powerpuff Girls tee.

Carolyn crouched down to her level. “I like your high-top sneakers!”

Belinda grinned. “Thank you. Julia bought them for me.”

Carolyn rose awkwardly, grateful for Hank’s supporting hand. Her body still hadn’t snapped back to normal after Elizabeth’s birth. “I think we’ll go sit down for a few minutes,” Hank told Julia.

Carolyn found a sofa and sank gratefully into the cushions while Hank went to get her a glass of sparkling water. Tonight they’d left little Elizabeth home with a bottle and the new nanny, who’d come with a mile of references and such a mild manner that even the fretful baby settled down in her roly-poly arms. Too bad she couldn’t get a nanny for her father. She looked around the crowded room, searching for her father, whom she’d convinced to come out with them tonight.

Earlier, when Hank had brought up the subject of moving, Aubrey confessed he’d wanted to have his own place for years. He wanted to live in Boston, closer to the clubs, concert halls, and museums. He’d obviously given it a lot of thought, because he suggested giving the Sperry mansion to the town of Sperry to use as a historical museum, which would give them a great tax break. Thank heavens Hank thought so creatively, as well as being her Rock of Gibraltar.

“Carolyn?” A fabulous-looking black woman settled on the sofa next to her. “I’m Alice Murray. One of the spa’s board members.”

“Oh, yes,” Carolyn replied. “I remember talking with you in the Jacuzzi.” Who could forget this woman? Carolyn thought privately. She’d looked imposing in the Jacuzzi; dressed, decorated with her magnificent turquoise jewelry, she looked absolutely regal.

“I’m trying to put together a seminar, for the Spa Club, focusing on women’s leadership. I wonder whether you might be interested in helping me design and organize it?”

“Oh,” Carolyn started to object. She’d just had a baby. She was so tired. Yet the thought of collaborating with Alice Murray—who had been an executive, Carolyn remembered, because her mind retained such things, for TransWorld Insurance—was oddly energizing. “Well.” She felt herself wake up as she spoke. “Well,
yes.
I would be interested.”

“Great. I’ll be in touch.”

Just as Alice rose and left, Beth appeared out of the crowd, looking svelte and sexy in a sleek black dress and high black heels, towing behind her a handsome man in khakis and a blue cotton shirt. “Carolyn! I’ve been wanting you to meet Sonny.”

“Hello.” Sonny was handsome but aloof.

“Where’s Hank?” Beth asked, joining Carolyn on the sofa. Sonny stood staring around the room like a captain on the deck of a ship searching for land.

Perhaps Sonny was uncomfortable around her. People often were, it was one consequence of being a Sperry. “Off getting me a drink. My father’s around here, too, somewhere.”

“Good for him!” Beth said exuberantly. “Did you see the new brochures? They’re starting several new courses geared for seniors. A yoga course, a memoir course—that reminds me, are you going to come back to yoga?”

Carolyn groaned. “I don’t know, Beth. I don’t know if I’ll have the time or energy to drive out here for class.”

Hank arrived with the water for Carolyn and was introduced all around.

“Where do you live?” Hank asked Sonny.

“In Methuen,” Sonny said. “My family’s lived there for decades.”

Hank said, “That’s on the Spicket and Merrimack rivers, right?”

Sonny’s face brightened. “Right.”

——————————

Jennifer offered a tray of canapés to Marilyn and Faraday.

“Thanks.” Marilyn took a bacon-wrapped scallop, then whispered, “Do we have enough food for this horde?”

Jennifer laughed. “Just barely. Alan’s thawing out some more cheese straws and slicing up more veggies. Isn’t this a great turnout?”

“Fabulous.”

Jennifer disappeared in the crowd.

Faraday nodded toward the therapist. “You know, maybe I’ll give polarity a try. It’s a little alternative, but my leg’s been bothering me so much not even eight aspirin a day completely relieve the pain.”