The Long Way Home (26 page)

When Marnie had moved into the upper duplex in the spring, she never dreamed she’d be moving out before the summer ended. She hired a different moving company, Hernia Movers, this time around, mostly because their slogan, “The Potentate of Totin’ Freight,” amused her to no end. Even with hiring professionals, there was still plenty to do beforehand, the wrapping and boxing and packing that was so tedious and necessary. She and Troy ate breakfast at Laverne’s that morning because all of their food was packed away. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Laverne said, hovering over her kitchen table. She pushed a plate of toast at Troy, who took another piece even though he already had one in front of him.

“We aren’t leaving
you,
” Marnie said. “You’ll still see us. Remember, I’m going to see you on Friday when I drive you to the clinic.” Laverne had finally set up an appointment at the sleep apnea clinic at Marnie’s urging, but only after getting the assurance of a ride both ways. She’d talked about renewing her driver’s license for the last several weeks, but didn’t seem to be in any hurry to actually do it.

“I still don’t see why you have to go,” Laverne said. She gave Troy’s shoulder a poke. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here with me and Oscar?” Upon hearing his name, the cat mewed from under the kitchen table.

She was clearly teasing, but Troy answered in all seriousness. “No, I want to go home.” And he meant that literally, because Marnie had bought their old house back from Kimberly. In retrospect, it was fate. She and Troy had driven past the old house one Sunday, and noticing there was an open house, stopped to tour the place. One last time for old times’ sake. Walking through the house, she was surprised to see that much of the furniture was still there. A flood of memories washed over her. The spot to the right of the fireplace was where they always put the Christmas tree, the pull-out spice rack Brian had custom built for her (in their early years) was still tucked into one of the cabinets, the window seat where she curled up and read on rainy days was still there, paisley cushion and all. Every room called up something special. It hadn’t been just Brian’s house, she realized with a start—it had been her house too. Maybe even more so.

After they walked in the door and she signed in on the clipboard, Marnie had explained to the realtor, a lady wearing a pantsuit and dark red lipstick, that she and Troy used to live in the house. Good thing she came clean right away, because Troy couldn’t hide his reaction. “It looks the same,” he exclaimed. “Can I go up and see my room?” She’d given him the okay and smiled when she heard his footsteps clattering on the hardwood floor above her head. While a young couple with a baby made small talk with the realtor, Marnie picked up the information sheet and read the specs. All things she already knew. It was a two-story colonial with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, central air, a two-and-a-half-car garage, and a wooded lot. The price, she saw, was in line with other homes in the area; in fact, it was a little on the low side. She was surprised Kimberly hadn’t gotten an offer yet. It wasn’t that much money, considering the neighborhood and the home’s amenities. In fact, Marnie had more than that amount in her savings account. She could afford it.

By the time Troy came downstairs, she had put in an offer on the house. It was crazy and impulsive, which was unlike her, but it felt right. When the realtor explained there could be a delay in hearing back from the owner because she was in Europe, Marnie said that was fine. She could wait.

When Troy got wind of what she’d done, he was beside himself with joy. In the car after they’d left he asked, “Do you think my mom will let me live here with you?”

“I don’t know, Troy. That’s a lot to ask.” Kimberly had already agreed to let Troy stay until the end of summer and agreed to future visits to Wisconsin. Marnie was afraid to push her luck.

“But she has to.” He clicked his seat belt on. “
Everything
is here.”

Teenagers were all about the absolutes. Everything was here. Nothing was there. As if Las Vegas had nothing to offer, but suburban Wisconsin was a hotbed of activity. “It’s not that simple,” Marnie said. “She’s your mother. I’m not related to you.”

His face fell. “That bites,” he said angrily. “What’s it to her, anyway, if I stay here? It’s not like she has time for me.”

“To be fair, she has a very demanding career. Give your mom some credit. She runs a multimillion-dollar company.”

He didn’t care about her multimillion-dollar company. “She can’t make me stay. I’ll run away. I’ll come back on my own.”

Marnie started the engine. “Troy, don’t be that way. I’ll call and ask her, if you want, but don’t count on it,” she said, not wanting to get his hopes up.

Marnie waited until after the closing on the house to make the call. Once the papers were signed by Kimberly’s attorney and the deal was finalized at the end of July, she felt she had a stronger case. She picked up the phone and took a deep breath, ready to launch into a speech about the advantages of having Troy live with her. But when Kimberly answered, Marnie got a surprise. Before she even had a chance to give her argument, Kimberly said, “Well, maybe if you could hold onto him for the time being that would be best. I’ve got a big project coming up and I can’t even see straight right now.” She laughed. “It’s been crazy, Marnie. And you know Troy doesn’t really roll with my schedule.” She spoke with the familiarity of an old friend, like Marnie would sympathize.

Marnie’s heart filled with joy. Still, she needed to clarify, just to be sure. “So he can move with me to the old house, and I can enroll him in school for his freshman year?” Next to her, Troy held his hands together like he was praying. When Marnie nodded yes in his direction, echoing Kimberly’s response, his fist pumped the air, and he got out his phone to text his friends. When she finished the call, Marnie said to Troy, “You understand that this is just for now? She left it pretty open. I got the impression this is not long term.”

Troy blew off her concerns. “That’s how Mom is about everything. She’s not like you, Marnie. She always makes it sound like she’s going to do things later on, but she never does. If it’s not about her company, it doesn’t happen.”

“Well, I’m sure she means well,” Marnie said, feeling suddenly charitable toward Kimberly. “And you probably need to plan on visiting her during school holidays.” But she might as well have been talking to herself, because his attention was completely on his phone. Just like old times.

And today, they were finally moving back to the house that both she and Troy thought of as home. The movers were scheduled to come at ten that morning. “Moving back to a place where you used to live—does it seem like you’re going backward in life?” Laverne asked, pouring more coffee into Marnie’s mug.

“Backward? No,” Marnie said. “I might be moving to our old house, but I’m not going backward. I’m definitely moving forward.”

Jazzy was going to be late, but this time around she would be late on purpose. Her road trip friends were throwing a surprise going-away party at Marnie’s, although Jazzy wasn’t supposed to know it was a party. The invitation was for dinner with Laverne and Rita. “So you can all see my house and we can say good-bye before you move to New York,” Marnie had said over the phone.

“Sounds good,” Jazzy said, jotting down the date and time. “Can’t wait to see you guys!” She knew, of course, that there was more to it than Marnie let on. Jazzy’s grandmother had given her a preview, the most detailed vision she’d had to date. In her mind’s eye she saw that Marnie’s house would be festooned with crepe paper and balloons. Above the fireplace would hang a long white banner with gold letters that spelled out, “BON VOYAGE, JAZZY!” The kitchen table would be filled with trays of appetizers and petite desserts, while the countertops would hold warming trays full of meatballs and other hot dishes. A case of champagne would be stored under the table, along with an ice bucket and a box of champagne flutes. This would be saved for the toast at the end of the evening. Jazzy could see the house crowded with people she knew from all the compartments of her life: Mrs. Griswold, the neighbor lady from her childhood home; assorted coworkers from the store, one still wearing his blue vest; the other women from the grief group at the rec center; and various high school friends and their dates. In her preview, she mixed graciously among the guests, wearing a summer dress and strappy sandals, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Troy would be there too, along with Matt Haverman, his best friend since grade school. The boys would mill around, trying to figure out if it was possible to snitch a bottle of champagne without anyone noticing.

Jazzy also knew that arriving on time would ruin everything. Several of the attendees were going to be a few minutes late, and Marnie would meet guests at the door and ask them to move their cars around the corner. Knowing this, Jazzy had Dylan drop her off a few blocks away, and as she walked to Marnie’s house, she used the extra time to practice looking astonished.

When she walked up the path to Marnie’s house, she was impressed. The front blinds were drawn, and Rita’s car was in the driveway, but otherwise, nothing gave it away. She rang the doorbell and thought she heard the hushed sounds of a large group of people trying to be quiet. Marnie opened the door breathlessly. “Jazzy!” she said, and embraced her before she was barely across the threshold. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She pulled back and gave her an appraising look. “Don’t you look pretty! You’ll make the rest of us look bad.” Marnie ushered her into the house, chattering nervously about what she was serving for dinner, all of the talk bogus, Jazzy knew, but she played along. “Rita and Laverne are in the kitchen,” Marnie said. “Come along.”

Jazzy followed obediently, ready to do her surprised look: eyes wide, hand covering her mouth. She’d even practiced saying, “You guys!” while tipping her head modestly to one side.

Like a compressed slinky, she was ready to let go, but when she got in the kitchen, there was no party. It was only Laverne and Rita, standing at the counter, each holding a glass of wine.

“You’re late, gal,” Laverne said. “But I’m glad to see you anyway.”

They greeted her with hugs and compliments, and Jazzy was so confused she didn’t say a word. Finally, she couldn’t help it. “Where is everyone?” she blurted out.

The other three women looked confused. “We’re all here,” Rita said.

“Who else were you expecting?” Marnie asked.

“Well,” Jazzy said, suddenly sheepish, “I thought Troy would be here, and maybe Glenn.”

“Girls’ night means no boys allowed,” Marnie said firmly, pouring another glass of wine and handing it to Jazzy. “Troy is spending the night at a friend’s house.”

“And Glenn is enjoying the solitude,” Rita said, an amused smile crossing her face.

Marnie gave them a tour of the house, and they ate dinner shortly thereafter: pork tenderloin, broccoli casserole, and fresh beet slices. Marnie was a nervous host, jumping up from the table every few minutes to get a pitcher of ice water or “check on things in the kitchen.” At every turn, Jazzy expected a large group of people to jump out and surprise her. By the time the dessert was served she realized it wasn’t going to happen. What had gone wrong?

“So tell us about your new job,” Rita said to Jazzy.

Jazzy stopped eating her chocolate cake. Where to begin? She had been reluctant to take this offer when she’d first met Scarlett Turner on their trip, but she’d done a complete reversal since then. Knowing Carson was going to be nearby was a big part of her change of heart. They’d been in constant touch every day since she’d been home and planned to meet up in New York in three days. The wait was killing her. If she had a time machine, she’d jump in and program it to take her three days in the future.

“Ha, look at her blush!” Laverne said. “She’s thinking about more than just the job.”

“I am very much looking forward to starting my new job,” Jazzy said primly. “I believe it will provide me with opportunities for personal, professional, and financial growth.”

The ladies whooped, and Laverne said, “Gal, you are so full of hooey.”

When the laughter died down, Marnie asked, “So where are you going to be living, then?”

“With my boss, Scarlett Turner, at first,” Jazzy said. “She’s got a big apartment on Central Park West.”

“Fancy,” Rita said approvingly.

What Jazzy didn’t say was that she doubted she’d be living there for long. She needed a place to stay, rent was high in New York, and Scarlett had offered. For now this was the easiest solution. Carson, on the other hand, had a rental arranged for him by his new employer. She had a very strong feeling that eventually they’d be together, but she didn’t want to start out that way. All in good time.

After dinner, they carried their wine glasses into the living room and exchanged stories about what was new in their lives. Laverne had recently been diagnosed with sleep apnea. “Turns out my sleep was constantly being interrupted all night long, even though I didn’t know it. No wonder I was so darn tired all the time.” The solution, she was told, was to wear a CPAP mask at night while she slept. “As if it wasn’t hard enough trying to sleep with this thing strapped to my face,” she said. “My cat, Oscar, likes to sit on my chest and he bats at the air hose, like this.” She illustrated with her cupped hands. “Darn annoying. I finally had to lock him out of my room, and now he cries like a baby.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean,” Jazzy cried. “Let Oscar play with the medical device.”

“Maybe you could get him his own CPAP,” Rita suggested.

“Yeah, that would be one expensive cat toy,” Laverne said.

The doorbell interrupted the conversation, and Marnie said, “That’s probably a salesperson. I’ll get rid of them.”

She left the room and Rita said, “It seems like the cable people stop by every week lately, wanting to talk to me about upgrading my plan.”

When Marnie returned, she wasn’t alone. Trailing shyly behind her was Carson, carrying an enormous bouquet of roses. “Look who showed up,” Marnie said, gleefully extending her arm. The other women jumped up and shouted, “Surprise!”

“Carson?” Jazzy stood up, stunned but happy. She crossed the room and threw her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you surprised?” Laverne said. “We’ve been planning this for weeks.”

Speechless, Jazzy put her palm on his cheek and shook her head in wonder.

“She’s surprised,” Rita said. “No one could fake that reaction.”

“I came early to pick you up,” Carson said. “So we can drive to New York together.”

“But my brother already booked a plane ticket for me,” she said.

“No, he didn’t,” all the women said in unison, laughing.

“He didn’t?” Jazzy looked around the room at her friends. “So all of you were in on this? Even Dylan? I can’t believe you pulled one over on me.” Her grandmother’s energy drifted into the room and Jazzy picked up on how pleased Grandma was with herself. Clearly, her grandmother’s surprise-party preview had been a ruse to throw her off her game.

Good one, Grandma,
she thought.
You had me completely fooled.