The Wildwater Walking Club (18 page)

After I finished walking, I drove home barefoot, windows down, radio blasting, singing along with David Ogden’s “No Better Place.”

When I turned on to Wildwater Way, I could see Michael’s red vintage Mustang convertible sitting in my driveway with the top down. My first impulse was to circle the cul-de-sac and drive right out again, but I figured I might as well get it over with.

As soon as I turned off my radio, I heard chickens clucking like crazy.

“Nora,” Michael yelled. “Call nine-one-one!”

The Supremes had him backed up against my front door, and they were pecking at his shoes.

He gave his foot a little kick. “Come on, knock it off,” he said. “That’s Italian leather.”

I got out of my car so I could get a better view. “How’s it going?” I asked.

“Hurry up,” Michael said. “Do something.”

“Here’s the thing about hens,” I said. “They don’t take disloyalty lightly. These three ganged up on a rooster once and killed him, just because he didn’t really give a shit about them.”

“Ouch,” Michael said. “Hey, come on, what did I ever do to them?”

“It might be time to reassess your life,” I said, “when even the chickens have got your number.” Then I went in through my back door to get some cereal.

“So, that’s it?” Michael said after I’d finished walking the Supremes halfway down the path back to Rosie’s house. “They just wanted a snack?” He was leaning up against his car, trying to be cool, but I could tell he was ready to jump in and make a quick getaway if he had to.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

I reached in for a handful of Kashi Good Friends, then held the box out to Michael. He shook his head.

I popped some cereal into my mouth. “So,” I said. “Talk.”

“I think I might have a lead on a job,” Michael said. “A start-up shoe company on the Left Coast. I’m over the whole EBAC thing.”

It was like he was speaking a language I no longer understood. I vaguely remembered VRIF was the Voluntary Reductions in Force phase, and IRIF the Involuntary Reductions in Force phase. CAD was Computer Aided Disaster and GIGO meant Garbage In Gospel Out. All this corporate speak seemed like such a long, long time ago.

“EBAC?” I said.

Michael flashed his perfect teeth. “Extremely Big-Ass Corporation. This one is small enough that I’m hoping I can talk them into letting me consult under the table at a reduced rate until my benefits run out. I mean, what’s not to like? It’s a total WW.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Win-win,” he said. “Anyway, I was thinking you should come with me, Nora. You know, fresh start and all that. I mean, what’s holding either of us back?”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“That’s okay,” Michael said. “Stuff happens. I think we both have to turn the page and move forward.”

I popped some more cereal into my mouth and chewed while I let Michael’s profound cluelessness sink in. I hoped it was a measure of my recent growth that I could no longer imagine being even remotely attracted to him. He looked like a pair of my mother’s penguin earrings in that stupid suit.

“No,” I said, “that’s not what I meant. I’m trying to say that I’m sorry any of it happened. I mean, all that sneaking around…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, you have to admit, it was pretty hot.”

I didn’t bother to say that I thought the idea of it had been hotter than the actuality.

“I was kidding,” Michael said. “Come on.”

I shrugged.

“It’s about Sherry, isn’t it?”

“No,” I said, “it really isn’t.”

“That guy who was in your car?”

I knew that even with a hundred guesses, Michael would never get it, so I told him.

“It’s me,” I said. “I know what I want now. Or at least I know what I don’t want.”

Michael reached for a handful of cereal. “Listen, it doesn’t mat
ter how things started. What matters is that we both want it to work. Come on, we have so much commonality, so many shared memories….”

I started closing up the cereal box. “I’m going inside now. It’s over. And I really need a glass of milk.”

I turned and started walking toward my house.

“Okay,” he yelled, just as I was opening my front door. “But don’t think you can call me a few months from now when things don’t work out with that guy you were kissing. This is a take-it-or-leave-it one-time offer, Nora.”

I turned around.

“Oh, Michael,” I said. “Grow up.”

“
YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS,” TESS YELLED FROM
her front steps, even though it was 8
A.M
.

“What?” Rosie and I stage-whispered.

“I am so incredibly pissed off,” Tess said as we all walked out to Wildwater Way. “There are two women going around town claiming to be the ones who put bubbles in the fountain. I mean, you leave Marshbury for one lousy weekend, and suddenly people are impersonating you.”

“Wait,” I said. Rosie moved up in front of us so Tess and I could walk side by side. “Isn’t this a good thing? Call me crazy, but if anybody gets arrested for putting bubbles in the fountain, I’d actually prefer it to be someone other than me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tess said. “I hate that they’re taking credit. Okay, we have to step things up a notch before anybody else thinks of it. As soon as we finish walking, we make up some flyers. We deliver them house to house, and anywhere we see a clothesline and/or a sign, we knock and extend a personal invitation.”

Rosie turned around. “To what?”

We caught up with her and crossed the street. Then we spread out across our shortcut road. “To a secret meeting of the Marshbury Ban the Ban Alliance. We’ll plan our strategy at the first meeting. I was thinking we should get the group to storm a selectmen’s
meeting, but we might want to just cut to the chase and ask them to put us on the agenda.”

“Can we have the meeting in my lavender shed?” Rosie asked. “It’s almost all cleaned up, thanks to Noreen’s mother and my father. It looks so great, and I really should be thinking about drumming up some business. Unless you think that’s too self-serving?”

“Nah,” Tess said. “It’s just good multitasking. Your shed would be perfect. And we can set up chairs on the lawn if we get an overflow crowd.”

“Great,” Rosie said. “I’ve got some tiki torches I can burn citronella and lavender oil in to keep the mosquitoes away.”

“You might want to lock up Rod and the Supremes, too,” I said. “So your dad doesn’t have to rescue my mom again.”

Rosie gave me a little smile as we walked across the beach parking lot. “I think that’s half the fun,” she said.

We walked single file through the opening in the seawall and spread out across the hard-packed sand closest to the water. The tide was almost dead low again, and we had to jump over ribbons of seaweed as we walked. I wondered if the next tide, or the one after that, would bring Rick back into my life. I liked him. I hoped he’d call, but I was okay if he didn’t.

THE WHEELS THAT
had been turning in some mysterious part of my brain suddenly clicked into alignment. I raced to the hardware store and bought all ten retractable clotheslines they had left.

“Wow,” the woman behind the counter said as she rang them up. “You must have some serious dirty laundry. You know, there’s been a real run on clothespins lately, too. Time to reorder, I guess.”

I pulled a flyer out of my purse.
BAN THE BAN
, it said.
THE MARSHBURY CLOTHESLINE ALLIANCE CORDIALLY INVITES YOU TO LEARN
MORE ABOUT HOW GREEN IS THE NEW BLACK AND CLOTHESLINES ARE THE NEW COOL
. 7
P.M
.
AT THE LAVENDER FARM ON HIGH STREET
.

The woman finished reading and looked up again. She pointed. “You can hang it up right there,” she said.

“No pun intended,” I said.

She laughed. “I’ll spread the word,” she said. “And you just might see me there, too.”

Next, I stopped at the drugstore and bought ten little clear plastic travel-size spray bottles. I was hoping for purple, but I had to settle for sage green.

I left my car in the driveway and covered the nonexercise half of my garage floor with newspapers the minute I got home. Then I started making some sample painted retractable clotheslines. I got the one I’d painted for my mother out of my closet, unwrapped it, and painted another one just like it. Then I painted one that looked like a tiger-striped cat all curled up in a ball.

I covered another in green paint and added darker green stripes, and painted pink polka dots over an orange base on another. Then I painted one sea green, and spattered blues and greens and whites all over it until it looked like the ocean on a wild day. I didn’t think I’d been this happy since my childhood finger painting days. I stayed relaxed and didn’t worry about them coming out perfectly. I just wanted them to be fun.

I’d stayed up late last night scrolling through photos and drawings of lavender on the Internet, and I’d finally come up with my trademark design: a single bloom of lavender blowing in the wind. I painted my last five retractable clotheslines a pale lavender color, then painted my original lavender design in sage green and dark purple on top of that.

I went back to the nonlavender clotheslines and painted a tiny, logo-size lavender plant down near the bracket end on each one.
Finally, I hand-lettered my company name on each of the ten clothesline reels:
LAVENDER LINES
.

I stood back and took a good look. I sat down on the floor with the spray bottles and carefully painted a tiny lavender bloom on each one. Then I called Rosie.

I had just enough time to take a water break and touch up a few spots I’d missed before Rosie came over.

She ducked under the half-opened garage door and started circling the patchwork of newspaper on the floor. “These are amazing, Noreen. I love them.”

“Really?” I said. “Enough to sell them at the lavender shed? I was thinking I could fill the little bottles with lavender water and include one with each clothesline.”

Rosie fluffed up her red curls with both hands. “Of course we can sell them in the shed. Maybe it’ll actually bring in some business.” She put her hands on her hips. “Not in a million years would I have come up with an idea like this. Maybe I should hire you to take over the lavender farm.”

“Actually,” I said, “I’m not sure I’d want to take over the farm. But I think between your lavender and the clotheslines and some other ideas I have, we could have a great online business. You can sell my things in the shed, and I’ll promote any lavender products you want to sell on my Lavender Lines Web site.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least take over the lavender shed?” Rosie said. “Maybe you can make it your office.”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I definitely don’t want to be tied down to a brick-and-mortar office, even one that smells like lavender. Ever again, if I can help it.”

THE SMELL OF FRESHLY BREWED COFFEE WOKE ME UP. I
kicked off the covers and headed for the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “How was Nantucket? Still wet?”

“Lovely,” my mother said. “Just lovely.”

My mother looked lovely, too. The silver dolphin earrings with blue glass inserts she was wearing weren’t even half bad. “Nice earrings,” I said.

She reached both hands to her ears and stroked the dolphins. “Thanks, honey. Kent bought them for me to remember our first trip together. Here, let me pour you a cup of coffee.”

“Sit,” I said. “I’ll get it. You’re really crazy about him, aren’t you?”

My mother smiled. “We have fun together. Sometimes I think that might be the most important thing. When I remember your father, you’d suppose it would be the romance I’d remember, or all the firsts with you kids, but it’s really the laughter I think about the most.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

My mother and I both laughed. I put a couple of pieces of whole wheat bread in the toaster and sat down at the table with my coffee.

“Aren’t you going to fill me in on everybody?” I asked. I figured
I might as well get it over with, so I gritted my teeth and got ready to hear how much better my sister and brothers were doing than I was.

“They’re fine,” my mother said. “Everybody’s fine. How was your trip?”

“Really fun,” I said. My toast popped up, and I jumped up to get it before my mother could.

“One thing, Noreen,” my mother said.

I finished spreading on the peanut butter and turned around. “What?”

“Do you have any idea how my leopard bra got into the garage?”

WHEN I PULLED
into my driveway after grocery shopping, Hannah was sitting cross-legged at the edge of her lawn. I stopped my car down by the road and got out.

“Hi,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Ha,” she said.

I sat down next to her and crossed my legs, too. “Your mother just wants you to be safe, you know.”

Hannah shrugged and twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

“So do I. And if I ever see you doing anything you shouldn’t be doing, I want you to know I’m going to tell her right away.”

“Don’t worry,” she said in a sad little voice. “I’m never going anywhere again. My supposed friends totally sold me out.”

“What happened?”

A tear rolled down one cheek, and she brushed it away. “Well, we all got caught equally, but then everybody else decided to say it was my fault. Like I kept them out all night without them having anything to do with it. So now nobody’s allowed to hang out with me. As if I’d hang out with them anyway.” She took a ragged
breath. “I can’t wait to get out of this stupid town. It’s so annoying.”

“Your life will get better,” I said. “Next time you’ll be smarter, and you’ll pick better friends, too.” I hesitated. “And a better boyfriend.”

Hannah looked me right in the eyes. “Did my mother tell you?”

I nodded. “Here’s my best advice: pick a guy who deserves you. And the smartest thing you can do is to make sure you don’t get pregnant in the first place.”

“No shit,” Hannah said. She looked exactly like Tess when she said it.

WE GOT A
fabulous turnout at the first meeting of the Marshbury Clothesline Alliance. About thirty women and exactly three men, not counting Rosie’s dad, Tess and Rosie’s husbands, and Rosie’s two sons, milled around in the lavender shed and sat on the lawn in folding chairs Tess had borrowed from her school. The citronella and lavender oil in the tiki torches Rosie had lit kept the mosquitoes at bay and also smelled great.

Rod Stewart
cock-a-doodle-do
ed a few times, and the Supremes took turns working the lock on their pen, but I could see that somebody, possibly my mother, had wrapped some extra wire around to hold the gate secure, so I knew they were out of luck, at least for tonight.

My mother and Rosie’s dad were handling the cash box, while I took orders for custom clotheslines. Lots of them. Apparently clotheslines really were the new cool.

“Oh, that’s a great idea, Lo,” a woman was saying. “That lavender wreath would be perfect on my front door. And thanks, I didn’t even see those lavender bath salts.”

As soon as the woman walked away, my mother said, “I only wish we had my Florida friend up here selling her lingerie. It would be the hit of the party. Maybe you and Rosie should look into it as a sideline.”

“That’s a fine-looking plant,” Rosie’s dad was saying to another woman. “Here, let me get the wheelbarrow for you, and I’ll wheel it out to your car.”

“I got it, Mr. Stockton,” Hannah said. She grabbed the wheelbarrow and started maneuvering it through the crowd.

Tess looked at me. “Scary,” she said. “You don’t think she has a body double, do you?”

“She’s a great kid,” I said. “She’s going to be just fine.”

Before we started the meeting, Rosie and Tess’s husbands made sure everyone had either a glass of seltzer or some lavender black currant champagne, made the real way, without cutting any muddling corners.

Tess stood in front of the chairs and clapped her hands. I could suddenly picture her as a teacher. I bet the kids quieted down right away for her.

“Welcome to the first meeting of the Marshbury Clothesline Alliance,” Tess said. “It all started with a few posters on a clothesline and a vast quantity of bubbles in the fountain, but on the advice of counsel, we’re not allowed to discuss that.”

Everybody cheered.

“Most days,” Tess continued, “I am proud to live in this beautiful little town, but every so often I am outraged by the elitist, small-minded, judgmental, bourgeois….”

I made a cutting motion across my neck.

“But I digress,” Tess said. “Anyway, we’re here tonight to strategize so we can right a simple wrong. Energy costs are crazy, and there’s nothing like the smell of your sheets fresh off the line. Green
is the new black, and clotheslines are as green as you can get. The Marshbury Clothesline Ban has seen its day, and it’s up to intelligent people like us to make sure the ban is banned. I’d like to see a clothesline in every yard in Marshbury by the end of the year. Whether they want one or not!”

Everybody cheered again.

I stepped up beside Tess. “We’d like each of you to take a copy of the Ban the Marshbury Clothesline Ban petition. If you can circulate it for signatures, and drop it off back here at the lavender farm by August fifteenth, that would be great. We’re hoping to go before the board of selectmen to present our case at the end of August. If we get enough signatures, they’ll put a question on the ballot at the town election in November. And, of course, we’ll win.”

The cheering grew even louder, then tapered off. I waved to Sherry, who was sitting between two other women from work. It was nice to see them again.

Everybody started surging toward either the petitions or the lavender black currant champagne.

Something made me turn to look down Rosie’s long driveway. A man was emerging from the path that ran through the pine grove from my house to Rosie’s.

I threaded my way through the cars that lined both sides of the driveway and met him halfway.

“Hey,” Rick said. “Some party.”

“It is now,” I said.

“
ISN’T IT LOVELY
you boys have so much in common?” my mother said. She lowered her voice and whispered, “I have a good feeling about this one, honey.”

Rosie’s dad had borrowed his grandsons’ Wii, and he and Rick were getting it plugged into my television.

“So, what will it be, bowling or tennis?” Rick asked.

“Ladies’ choice,” Rosie’s dad said.

“How about bowling?” I said. “I have fond memories of Wii bowling.”

Rick was squatting in front of the TV. He turned around, and his eyes met mine. My heart leaped, and we both smiled like we were kids again.

“Bowling’s fine with me,” my mother said.

“You’ll love it,” I said. “And don’t worry, you’ll pick it up right away.”

“Oh, please,” my mother said. “I’m on a Wii bowling league at my condo clubhouse. I even have my own designer Mii.”

After we finished playing, I walked Rick out to his Honda.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“What?” he said. “I had a great time. Plus, we kicked their butts.”

I smiled. I’d had a great time, too, a grand time, as my mother would say. A grand time with a man who might or might not be able to dance, but he was definitely quite the nice guy.

We both looked up at the sky. The moon was almost full, and about a gazillion stars twinkled around it.

Rick put his arm around me.

“So what made you just show up tonight?” I asked.

“Well,” he said. “I was going to wait and talk to you tomorrow at Fresh Horizons. You know, give you some time to figure out whatever you needed to with the guy in the suit.”

I leaned into Rick. “Nothing to figure out. Old news.”

“Good to know. But then I was afraid you might misinterpret it as a lack of interest on my part and take my head off in front of our small-group cohorts again.”

I laughed. “I didn’t take your head off. I was just drawing a line in the sand.”

“Perfectly executed,” he said. “That small-group stuff is really rubbing off on you, isn’t it?”

And then he kissed me.