The Glass Wives Page 6

  * * *

  Back in the kitchen, Evie doled out the snacks bought by Lisa: a box of organic raisins to Sophie, and a carob-chip granola bar to Sam. Evie offered them to Nicole too, and she accepted. Laney stared, her mouth open wide enough to catch flies. No, a small aircraft. Evie put her fingers beneath her own chin and pushed upward. Laney closed her mouth and headed for the counter to her stool of choice, next to the coffeepot.

  “I’m ready to go,” Nicole said.

  Evie followed her and Luca to the door.

  “We make a good team,” Nicole said.

  Team? As far as Evie knew, Nicole didn’t do anything except ask for help and receive it. Teamwork implies give-and-take, not just take.

  “We could make this work,” Nicole said.

  “We could make what work?”

  “This…” Gesturing as if to embrace the house. “The kids loved having us here this morning. I’m a neat freak, I wouldn’t interfere with anything. And I saw the pile of bills on your desk. You work at that little gift shop, but without Richard’s support checks, will you be able to even stay in this house? Remember, I was his wife. I knew everything.”

  Evie bristled. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Nicole did not know everything. That was also part of the deal, just like the monthly checks.

  “Think about it,” Nicole said while strapping Luca into his carrier. “I can help with the twins, pay room and board.”

  Evie poked up her eyebrow so high it hid beneath her morning bangs. “You want to live here?”

  “Don’t worry,” Nicole said. “I can afford it.”

  Evie squirmed to shake off the innuendo. “You’re kidding, right? You have your own house and your own baby and you want to live in my house with my kids. And me.”

  “We’d be a family. And neither of us would have to do it alone.”

  Since when did Nicole care that Evie was doing it alone? She’d been the only adult in the house for over three years, and now Nicole thought that was not ideal? And what made her think Evie needed help with the twins? Why was Nicole contemplating Evie’s bank balance? Even she didn’t want to do that. Not yet.

  “I’m fine,” Evie said. She opened the door and propped it with her back. Don’t want the door to hit the widow on the way out. Evie kissed the baby on his head and patted Nicole’s back as she walked past. “Hey, where’s the Pack ’n Play?”

  Nicole called from halfway down the path, “I left it in the closet for next time.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean she left it here for next time?” Laney said, dipping her hand into the cookie jar.

  “She’ll be back. She knows it. I know it. I saw no reason to deny it.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Well, at least you’re rockin’ that robe,” Laney said.

  Evie ignored the style dig. So what if it was Week Two of the Clothing and Makeup Strike? There was no need for jeans and sweaters or mascara and blush. No need for shoes when memory-foam slippers would do. Evie wasn’t going anywhere. She would probably never go anywhere again. It had been six days with no call, text, or e-mail from Scott, which was fine, considering she would probably never again have the energy for a night on the town or in his bed. Right now all Evie craved was eight, no, seven—even six—hours of uninterrupted sleep. Just thinking it, she yawned. Maybe Laney would watch the kids while she napped. No, she wanted to hang out, be a good friend. She couldn’t lapse into emotional oblivion, she had to be alert and awake and available. This demanded much more coffee.

  “Kids!” She waved her mugless hand like a magic wand. “Go upstairs or downstairs—if you need me I’ll be right here.” Sam leaned in for a kiss. He did that all the time now. Sophie leaned in too but shook her head at the offer of cookies.

  “Let’s sit in the living room,” Evie said. She needed a change of scenery. She also needed a change of subject. Anything but death or her affection for terry cloth.

  “What’s going on with you and Herb?” Evie asked. “Tell me everything.”

  “You sure you want to hear? Let’s talk about you and the kids.”

  “No!” Evie snapped.

  Laney cackled. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to yell!”

  “I just want to feel normal for a few minutes. Humor me.”

  Laney lay back on the couch and looked at the ceiling, dreamy-like. “It just hit me.” She popped herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “How I would feel if all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Herb was just gone. I know I joked when he left for work and traveled, but it overwhelmed me that it could have just as easily been him—and not Richard.” She looked over and put her hands on Evie’s, who slid from the touch and picked up her mug with two hands. The coffee was warm. She drew it in through her teeth, pretending it was hot with a slurping noise. She abhorred being the poster child for “things could always be worse.”

  “Right there in the middle of the night after Beth called, I made him promise not to leave me,” Laney continued. “I was crying and he was crying. We were hysterical. I honestly don’t know if we were crying about Richard or about us. But things have been really great since.”

  “Must be nice. So Richard dies and you use that as a lesson to appreciate your husband. Great. Anything else I can do for you to make your life happier? Fall down the steps? Bite the inside of my cheek? Throw myself in front of an oncoming Metra train? C’mon, you can think of something.”

  “Don’t be mad at me for having an epiphany.”

  Evie raised and lowered one side of her nose. “Whatever.”

  “I felt so disconnected from Herb, you know that.”

  Evie was ashamed she took solace in Laney and Herb’s arguments—in their distance from each other—but it was a welcome departure from the on-screen love affair of Beth and Alan.

  “Look, I don’t begrudge your happiness.” Evie didn’t know if it was true, but it was the right thing to say. “Kind of sucks that this is what it took.”

  “I think everything happens for a reason.”

  “What did you say?” Evie asked, incredulous.

  “Just that I think everything happens for a reason.”

  “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re telling me that Richard died so that you and Herb could find your way back to each other?” Evie turned away and inspected the couch. Her kids’ loss seemed a steep cost for Laney’s gain. Evie wished she had time for a personal epiphany, one that would tell her what would become of her and Sam and Sophie. But if she knew what was next, it might be more intimidating than not knowing, so Evie would march forward without the comfort of foresight. The enigma sparked hope. Evie tasted it for a second, then swallowed the optimism with lukewarm coffee.

  “That’s not what I meant…” Laney said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Okay, it is, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about Richard.” Laney reached her hand toward Evie, who took it in hers.

  “I’m sure Beth is tickled pink that things have picked up between you and Herb.” Evie looked at Laney and rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for more bad feelings.

  “Beth is a romantic.” Laney twirled her loose curls around her finger. “She can’t fathom the reality of a bad marriage. How alone it can feel. How desperate.”

  “Well, I have a new definition of desperate.” Evie deflected from Laney’s fairy tale with reality—every kick, every vomit blast, and every tear—right down to opening the door and seeing Nicole in the driveway and baking the cookies. “And then there’s the money situation,” Evie said, cookie lodged in her throat. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t mention that to anyone.

  “You’re okay, right? Richard left you all taken care of, didn’t he?”

  Who kidnapped Laney and replaced her with an optimist? Evie got the stack of bills from the kitchen and fanned them out on the couch. “Welcome to the new game show—Which Bills Get Paid This Month? Pick a bill,
any bill!”

  Laney’s face changed from annoyed to concerned, scowled to soft.

  “There is Social Security,” Evie said. After I fill out the paperwork, sit at the Social Security office for a day and a half, and prove sixteen times I am who I say I am.

  “What about life insurance? He had life insurance. Ev, tell me there was life insurance.”

  “Yes, there was a mandated policy for the divorce, and I have everything ready to mail back to them. But it’s for the kids, Lane. For college.”

  “They’re ten! And there are grants and loans, and by then, who knows how kids will be paying for college educations. What about the house? Can you pay off the mortgage or use the insurance in place of child support? Camp! The money can pay for camp so the kids have something to do this summer!”

  Evie was tired of Laney’s well-meaning barrage of questions and suggestions. How many times did she have to say that the insurance money was paying for college?

  Laney’s voice dropped an octave. “Evie, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me for rambling on about Herb and me, but this is shit. Leave it to Richard to not have enough insurance. Figures. He always was cheap.” Laney knew the last part wasn’t true. The only thing not uptight about Richard was his wallet when it came to his kids. But at least the real Laney was back. “What are you going to do?”

  “Get a full-time job?” Evie phrased it as a question because she didn’t really know what she was going to do.

  “Are you going to ask for more hours at Third Coast? You haven’t worked full-time since the twins were born. Do you really think this is the time to leave them?”

  “No, I don’t, but what choice do I have? When the life insurance pays out, it’s for the kids. A little bit will be left after setting up a 529 plan, and that will definitely help, but it won’t be the amount Richard paid in support every month. I can’t even figure out what kind of job I’d want or be qualified for, even with a master’s in American history.” Evie hadn’t thought that far before that moment. It was true. She worked at Third Coast because the hours were good and the pay was fair, especially earning commissions. Plus, Evie liked being there. But Millie couldn’t pay her a real salary or provide health insurance for the kids. Next month she’d have to pay COBRA to keep the twins insured.

  “How are you getting by now? I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but still. What’s going to happen when there’s no check next month?” Laney’s eyebrows bunched up. She was ignoring potential lines in her face. Laney was a true friend.

  “I’m going to use my retirement savings.”

  “Your South American cruise fund?”

  Evie nodded.

  “You need Plan C,” Laney said.

  “The new job is Plan C.” More like Plan Q.

  “No, Plan C is a second husband.” Laney counted on her fingers. “The father figure, romance, and money problems solved in one ingenious swoop. Let’s work on Scott.”

  Laney started toward the computer. Evie grabbed her arm. “No!” Laney sat with a thud and crossed her arms as if foiled again. “I wasn’t on a husband hunt before, and I’m not about to start one now.” Evie waggled her finger at Laney, who uncrossed her arms and held both of Evie’s hands.

  “I know that’s not what you want—or at least that’s not how you want it. I just thought … I assumed you got insurance money and were fine. I mean, not fine, but okay, at least, financially. God, I feel so stupid for not asking. I’m supposed to be your best friend but I’m an ass.”

  A little self-deprecation went a long way. Evie cut her friend some slack. “Assumptions are funny things.”

  “So when do you get the insurance money? I thought that happened, like, the day after someone died.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve mailed all the paperwork but haven’t heard anything from Midwest Mutual.”

  “Okay, so, what about Scott? Call him, he’s a financial guy. Ask him for help.”

  “I did call. I left messages. I’m done.” Tired of Laney’s inquisition, Evie raised her shoulders to her ears and then smirked. She was devoid of energy for an explanation or a confrontation with Laney or Scott. “If he wanted to help, he would be here.” When she allowed herself the luxury, Evie missed him. Maybe she should call him for help—at least with navigating some of the financial waters. He would feel needed. Men liked feeling needed. Maybe Scott was just backing up, making room, giving her space. She certainly needed space—she just wasn’t sure how much or for how long.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t know what you want or what to say,” Laney said.

  “That makes two clueless people because I have no idea what I want except to wake up and find out all that isn’t real.”

  Evie pointed again to the stack of insurance papers, government forms, bills, death certificates, and photos. One-stop shopping. But Laney was right. Scott didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. Maybe it was his way of being considerate. Maybe it was his way of being a jerk. Evie wouldn’t know until she actually talked to him.

  Even with no partying in her, Evie did have to eat. Lisa would like her rationale and love that Evie was thinking like a mercenary dater. So Evie would reach out to Scott, only for a meal, not a meal ticket. Laney perched on her stool for support, beaming with pride as if Evie were her daughter who’d just earned a spot on the U.S. Olympic Dating Team. Evie picked up the phone, dialed Scott, looked at Laney, and then put her finger to her lips. He never seemed to mind calls at work, although she had rarely done that. She said a silent “let him be busy” prayer so she could leave more than just a hello message.

  Finally—a prayer answered.

  “Hey, Scott, it’s me again. I’m wondering if you still want to have dinner with Laney and Beth and their husbands next weekend. Let me know, okay? I hope you’ve gotten all my other messages.” One dig, and then, click.

  “What do you think he’ll say?” Laney asked. “He seemed like a great guy. He’ll probably know what you can do with your retirement accounts too.”

  “He was a great guy. I mean, is.” Evie wondered which part of her statement was true. As for talking to Scott about finances, she wouldn’t do it. Why was it okay to share your bed but not your bank balance? Some things were just too personal.

  What Evie didn’t tell Laney was that until Laney mentioned Scott, Evie hadn’t thought about him much—a clear indication that her mental in-box was reaching capacity.

  Laney checked her watch. “Let’s get you dressed.”

  “Dressed?”

  Laney took Evie’s mug from her lap and set it on the coffee table. No coaster meant Laney was distracted. She led Evie through the house to the foot of the stairs.

  “You love doing your hair and makeup and spending an hour finding that perfect casual ‘I just threw this on’ outfit,” Laney said. She was right. Laney had sat on Evie’s bed many Saturdays when Evie chose date outfits that ranged from sporty to sophisticated.

  “I’m not getting dressed up to … do what?”

  Laney swung her hair behind her shoulders in lieu of a response. “Well, at least put on some cover-up and change into sweats. No matter what else you do, the terry cloth has to go.”

  * * *

  Evie drew lines on her face with a basic beige cover-up stick. If the makeup were black, she’d have looked like a football player. She moved her ring finger—weakest finger, strongest contender for cosmetic application—upward and around. She blended and patted. Camouflaging under-eye circles was easy. If only there were a concealer for uncertainty, something enclosed in a blister pack, hanging on a hook at two for six dollars. Evie dragged a brush through her hair and added a spritz for imaginary lift. A treasure trove of cottony warm-up suits from the workout days stuffed Evie’s bottom drawer. She fluffed out the gray set and picked a plain black tee. Smooth and zip—she was dressed. But she drew the line at real shoes and slid her feet into slippers. The fuzz was matted but the padding was thick, providing a soft, quiet step. Before heading downstairs s
he stood straight and pulled back her shoulders. Her back cracked.

  Laney had yanked Evie out of a funk when Richard moved out and was now kicking Evie’s self-image ass once again. “It all starts with looking good,” Laney said. “Then you’ll feel good too. Eventually.” Laney was right three years ago, and Evie wanted her to be right again—right this minute. “I feel better,” Evie said, curtsying.

  “Told you so,” Laney said. “You look like you! And now I’ll get going, and if you’re not going to talk to Scott about your finances, you should call Alan and get this money stuff figured out. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Things have a way of working out.”

  Did they?

  “Oh, and your cell phone rang while you were upstairs.”

  Evie’s heart dropped. Scott. “Don’t go yet.”

  Laney took Evie’s hand and they walked into the kitchen, away from the kids’ ears and interest. Evie pushed the button on the phone to hear the voice mail.

  “Hey, Ev, I got your messages. I was thinking…” Thinking isn’t necessarily good. Thinking is definitely bad. Anytime I think too much there is big trouble. “You’re busy and have a lot to deal with. I’m going to let you settle a bit, you know, get into your new routine. Call me when things get back to normal, okay? I miss you. Really. Talk to you soon.” Click.

  Normal? Scott wanted her to call when things got back to normal! A dead ex-husband, a widow, a baby, grieving twins, and no weekends off. I’ll show you normal, bucko. Plus, “I’m going to let you … go now / get back to work / finish what you’re doing / get back to normal” was the classic emergency-exit strategy. Evie knew because she’d employed that tactic herself with a few of the men she dated: the homely one who talked about how handsome he was; the one who was always looking around the room while he talked to her; the one who had dirty fingernails he cleaned with the tongs of his fork. She’d met nice guys too, but the worst encounters always made the best stories. Until now.