Vintage (30 page)

“No, I mean we need to tell them
now
.”

“Right now? We only have the moving truck until three, and then I’ve got to get you to the closing.”

“Okay, maybe not this minute, but soon. This week, at least. The baby and I shouldn’t be something you have to hide.”

Charlie crouched down beside her. “You’re not. They already know we’re back together.”

“Yes, but they haven’t seen me since spring, so it’s probably not real for them. I bet they’re hoping we’ll break up any day. In order for this to be real, for them and even for us, it needs to be out in the open. Completely.”

Charlie put a hand on the small of her back. “I know you’re right. We’ll tell them.”

“When?”

“I’ll call them tonight and set something up.”

T
he next evening, Charlie and April walked hand in hand up the stone walkway to the Cabots’ sprawling, Tudor-style house. White rosebushes bloomed on either side of the varnished front door. Charlie rang the bell, and a high-pitched barking sound greeted them from inside.

Judy Cabot cracked the door and said, “Careful for the dogs.”

Charlie and April squeezed through the barely open door, which was tough for April with her protruding stomach. As soon as they were over the threshold, two white, hypoallergenic balls of fluff jumped at their ankles. Their tiny claws scratched against April’s bare skin—she was wearing a skirt and flip-flops. The shoes, she knew, were probably not up to Judy’s standards, but she was eight months pregnant and the thought of stuffing her bulging feet into a pump or even a wedge sandal was not something she could tolerate.

“Oh, my, look at you,” Judy said when her eyes landed on April’s belly. That was all she said. No knowing glances from one mother to another, no mention of “that glow” so many women told April she had.

“Doesn’t she look great?” Charlie said, putting his arm around April’s wide waist.

Seeing Judy, April thought immediately of the day she’d gotten the wedding cancellation card in the mail, and the memory still stung. But Charlie’s proud smile made her realize how far they’d come as a couple since then, and she had the strength to say, “Hello, Judy.”

Charlie gave his mother a terse kiss on the cheek. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s on the patio. Come on out.”

They followed Judy through the kitchen, where she paused and asked, “Would you care for a gin and tonic? I just made some for your father and me.”

“Sure,” Charlie said.

April watched in astonishment as Judy mixed her son a drink and didn’t bother to offer her anything nonalcoholic, which seemed like an obvious courtesy, given that April was both underage and pregnant with her grandchild. Charlie, thank God, was a little more observant. He walked over to the fridge and opened it.

“Do you want some lemonade, April, or maybe some San Pellegrino?” he asked.

“Lemonade would be great, thanks,” she said. While Charlie poured her some, April glanced at Judy, who was squeezing lime into a rocks glass with singular concentration.

Judy took the stirring spoon out of the glass. “There we are. Let’s go outside, shall we?”

On the back patio, Trip sat at a table, swirling a near-empty glass and gazing out at his dazzling green, chemically enhanced lawn.

“Hi, Dad.” Charlie sat down across from his father and motioned for April to join him.

April grabbed both handles of the low patio chair and eased herself down onto the cushion. All her life she’d taken for granted the ability to get in and out of chairs without trouble.

“Well, hi there,” Trip said. “What brings you over tonight?”

April thought it odd that Charlie lived in the same city as his parents but had to have a reason for coming over.

“Oh, just wanted to catch up on some things before school starts, and the baby comes, and things get hectic as all hell,” Charlie said.

Judy frowned. “Charlie. Language.”

“I’m an adult, Mom. I can say ‘hell.’ It’s not like I said ‘fuck.’”

Judy’s mouth dropped open. “Charles!”

April elbowed Charlie under the table. They had enough of a challenge in front of them. He didn’t need to start early by getting his mother riled up.

“Yep, you’ve definitely got your work cut out for you,” Trip said. “I’m sure medical school is hard enough, without worrying about caring for a child, too.”

“I think I can handle it,” Charlie said. “April and I are going to share responsibilities for the baby, which is why we’ve decided to live together.”

“Is the engagement back on, then?” Judy asked, not looking pleased.

“Maybe someday,” Charlie said. “I hope so. But we’ve got time to figure that out. For now, we’re just going to see how things go.”

“‘See how things go’?” Judy didn’t even try to keep the disapproval out of her voice. “This isn’t a high school romance, Charles.”

“I’m not in high school anymore,” said April. “I’m starting college in a few weeks.”

“You’re still a
teenager
.” Judy crossed her tennis-toned arms in front of her chest. She turned her gaze to her son. “Go ahead and do what you want, Charles. I won’t try anymore to talk you out of it. But you’re not getting one cent from us.”

“Oh, you’ve made that quite clear already, that I can only have your money if I do things your way. Don’t worry. I’ve already had my student loans approved, so I won’t need anything from you.”

“Fine.” Judy slammed her drink down on the table. The ice cubes clanked around and sloshed some gin and tonic over the side. “Because you haven’t shown us that you’re responsible enough to make a plan and execute it. First you were getting married, then you weren’t. You were set to go to school in Boston, now you’re here. We will not finance that sort of bouncing around, will we, Trip?”

“Mmmmm,” said her husband.

Now Charlie slammed his drink down. “I have a
plan
. It’s the same plan I’ve wanted since the beginning, to go to school here and be with April and the baby. Just because it’s not
your
plan doesn’t mean it’s not responsible.”

“We wanted to tell you because we hope you’ll be a part of the baby’s life, and ours.” April spoke up, even though she was thinking that her life would be a hell of a lot easier if Judy and Trip lived halfway across the country. She knew, though, that it was the right thing to say. Charlie’s parents had lived in Madison for over thirty years and they weren’t going anywhere, except maybe on the occasional golf trip or Mediterranean cruise.

Judy sighed. “I just wish you’d think things through before making such big decisions, that’s all.”

“I have thought it through, Mom. And if you’re going to keep questioning my judgment, I’m not going to sit here anymore and listen to it.”

“I’m sorry, but we just can’t watch you ruin your life, can we?” Judy said. She turned to her husband.

Trip fidgeted in his seat. “Er, yes,” he said. “I mean no.”

April felt a surge of emotion run through her—a river of rage that threatened to spill over in an outburst similar to the one she’d had at the store on the day she stormed out of Hourglass Vintage. She pictured Judy putting botanical stamps on all those cancellation cards, and in particular, the one that was addressed to April.

Charlie jumped to his feet, extending a hand to April to help her out of her chair.

“Where are you going?” Judy asked.

“We’re going home,” he replied. “I don’t have to sit here and take your insults and condescension. I don’t
need
you.”

That, perhaps, may have been the most hurtful thing Charlie could have said to his mother. April watched Judy’s berry-tinted lips turn downward and the fire go out of her eyes. Charlie was an only child, like April (she didn’t really count her half siblings in Ohio, whom she barely knew). For him to say he didn’t need his mother was to extinguish her purpose in this world. April wasn’t fooled by Judy’s luncheons and charity events. They were nothing more than a way to fill up her otherwise long days, and an excuse to show off her latest St. John suit. Her true vocation was fretting over her golden-haired son, and without that outlet for her boundless nervous energy, she appeared, all of a sudden, to be lost.

Charlie left his still-full drink on the table. He walked over to his father, patted him on the shoulder, and then went with April into the house.

“I can’t believe her,” Charlie said as soon as he’d closed the French doors behind them. “I’m just trying to be honest, so that maybe we can get to a point where they’re not constantly disapproving of us, but man, she makes it really hard.”

“It’ll blow over,” April said, hoping it was true.

Charlie headed toward the front door. “Let’s go.”

“Hang on, I have to use the bathroom. Sorry.” Being pregnant was a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Charlie looked impatient. “Okay, I’ll wait for you out in the car.”

April padded through the foyer and let herself into the marble-tiled guest bathroom. On her way out, she almost ran into Trip.

“Oh, good. You haven’t left yet,” he said.

“We’re just about to.”

Trip scratched his head of thick, gray hair. “Sorry about all the quarreling.”

April shrugged. “It’s okay.”

He glanced at her midsection and asked, “Are you feeling well? I mean, everything is going all right with the baby?”

April put a protective hand on her belly, remembering her blood pressure scare and the bed rest. “Things were a little rough for a while, but I’ve been feeling good lately. Thanks for asking.”

Trip cleared his throat and continued. “My wife loves Charlie and she means well, but it doesn’t always come across that way.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and produced a piece of paper, which he pressed into April’s hand. She looked down at it and, from the signature line on the back, could see that it was a check.

“Don’t tell Judy,” Trip said.

April handed the check back to him without looking at the sum written on it. “I can’t accept this.”

“Please, I feel so terrible about everything. About the way we’ve handled the”—he cleared his throat and glanced at April’s stomach—“situation.”

April couldn’t take the money, even though it would be nice to start a college fund for the little one. She knew, though, that Charlie would be hurt if she cashed the check, especially after his speech today about not needing his parents anymore. Still, April was touched that Trip wanted to help.

“Please, take it,” he said.

April shook her head. “Save it for one of the baby’s birthdays or graduation. I hope you’ll be there. You and Judy both.”

Trip didn’t hug her—the Cabots weren’t big on physical affection—but he did lock eyes with April for a long moment, and she could have sworn she saw him blink back a tear.

INVENTORY ITEM
: coat

APPROXIMATE DATE
: 1962

CONDITION
: good

ITEM DESCRIPTION
: White cashmere coat with three-quarter-length sleeves. Matching elbow-length kid gloves.

SOURCE
: Betsy Barrett. Worn to the White House for a luncheon in support of the arts.

Violet

ON A LATE-AUGUST EVENING
, Violet hummed along to a Dolly Parton album as she painted an orange accent wall in her new store. She smiled as she recalled the look on Ted Mortensen’s face when she told him she would, after all, be taking his offer to give her two months’ worth of rent to sign away her right of first refusal and move out voluntarily—except that she’d demanded six months’ rent instead. With Karen’s prompting, she’d told Ted that it was a “small amount of money” to avoid the hassle of having to go to court over her lease, when the development firm was so eager to close and get started on its condo project before cold weather set in.

To her surprise, Ted had agreed. Violet used the money, along with her earnings from the Hourglass Revue, as part of her down payment on April’s mother’s bungalow.

Violet was reaching for a high corner with a paint roller when the phone rang and she nearly fell off her ladder. She climbed down and turned down the music before answering.

“May I please speak with Ms. Violet Turner?” said a woman’s voice on the other end.

Violet gripped the curly cord of her rotary phone. “Speaking.”

“My name is Ellen and I’m a caseworker at Agrace Hospice. I understand you’re a friend of Betsy Barrett?”

“Yes.” Violet almost lost her balance. She leaned on the counter.
Hospice?
Isn’t that for dying people?

“We’re organizing a spiritual service at the chapel here for her, and she asked me to contact you to see if you’d like to be a part of it.”

Violet felt a tightness rise in her throat. She didn’t want to hear what she feared was next. “Is—is she dead?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I should have made that clear. Mrs. Barrett has been moved to the inpatient unit here at the hospice. Our nursing staff had been treating her at home for a while, but there are lots of limitations on in-home care. Last week she came down with pneumonia, so her nurses recommended that it was time for her to be moved to the inpatient unit, and she agreed.”

“But pneumonia’s curable, right?” Violet asked.

“For healthy people, yes. It often is. But for a cancer patient, like Mrs. Barrett, whose immune system is compromised . . . well, it’s very difficult to recover.”

Violet let this information sink in. “But that can’t be,” she said. “I just saw her a few weeks ago. She came to a fashion auction that our store put on, and she looked fine. Skinny, I guess, but she’s always been thin.”

“Things can change drastically for someone with a terminal illness, especially at her age.”

The words “terminal illness” clattered around inside Violet’s head.

“I’m sorry if this is a shock to you,” Ellen said. “But please know that the reason I’m calling is that Mrs. Barrett wants to see you. She has asked for a spiritual ceremony, sort of a living memorial to help her prepare for her next journey. She’d like to ask if you’re willing to do a reading or a reflection. She would have called herself, but she’s been very tired and in and out of sleep all day, so I said I’d take care of it for her.”