Читать книгу The Best Of Both Worlds - Elissa Ambrose - Страница 12

“I knew you were coming,” Starr said, clapping her hands together like an excited child. “I dreamed you came with the wind and appeared on my doorstep. You told me that you had brought the winter and that you were seeking shelter. And here you are, just like in my dream.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a believer in dreams.” This could be a mistake, Becky thought warily. She noted the disappointment on Starr’s face and quickly added, “But I have an open mind.”

“Of course you do.” Starr scooted from the kitchen’s floor-to-ceiling cabinets to the industrial-size refrigerator and then back to the cabinets, pulling out cups and saucers, honey and milk, spoons and napkins. Her long flowered skirt whooshed with each abrupt movement, her flowing sleeves flapping like wings. She sat down next to Becky at the table. “You might be logical and analytical, but you’re also adaptable and versatile. An interesting combination, I must say. Gemini is the sign of the Twins for good reason.”

Becky’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know I was a Gemini?”

Starr’s eyes shone with amusement. “Relax. I can read cards and tea leaves, and I can see auras, but I can’t read minds. I saw your birth date on your driver’s license. I’m sorry I had to ask you for identification, but a person can’t be too careful, even a seer like me. When someone materializes like Mary Poppins at your front door, you have to wonder. Not that I was worried, just cautious.” She smiled warmly. “Did you know that Gemini is an air sign? It’s as if I conjured you up, right out of the air. I wanted a cook, and here you are.”

Though not a follower of astrology, Becky was familiar with the traits of her sign, and one of those traits was flightiness. Her family called her scatterbrained, and she had to admit, at times it aptly described her. When she used to help out at home and her mind would be somewhere else, Gertie would say, “Don’t go off fartootst.” When Becky left home to get married, it was the same thing. She’d darted from interest to interest, from one job to another, like a butterfly fluttering from flower to flower.

Was it her fault she had a curious nature and couldn’t stay focused on any one thing? Starr must know this, Becky surmised, glancing at a framed chart of the zodiac on the kitchen wall. Apparently, though, her new employer wasn’t concerned. In fact, she’d hardly asked any questions about Becky’s previous experience. “I base all my decisions on intuition,” she’d explained. When Becky told her that she was a vegetarian, Starr had hired her on the spot, convinced that destiny was at work.

“Who will I be reporting to?” Becky asked, remembering the sign in the window. It had advertised for an assistant.

“‘Reporting to’? This isn’t an office, Becky. It’s just you and me. Technically you’ll be my assistant, but I’d like to think of us as kindred spirits. We’ll be working together, planning and making the meals. For the time being all we do is breakfast, but I’m expecting a group of vegetarians over the holidays and we’ll be serving dinner. Where else can people go in this town for fine vegetarian dining? I’m also thinking about opening the dining room to the public on Saturdays.” A frown crossed her brow. “Maybe I shouldn’t have used the word assistant. Maybe I should have used the word slave. I’m afraid I can’t pay you much, but as I already mentioned, room and board are provided.”

“The money is no problem,” Becky said, crossing her fingers behind her back. “Without my having to worry about food or rent, I can save almost every cent I earn.” Until the baby comes, she thought. Diapers and food and clothing would add up pretty fast, never mind the doctor bills. Which was another thing. What about prenatal care? What about the hospital? And, of course, there was the loan from her parents. She made a quick calculation. With what she’d be earning, she could probably pay off the loan in two hundred years.

Maybe working here wasn’t such a good idea. The pay was meager. Her options, however, were limited. No one else seemed to be clamoring for her services, and she was tired of running home to Mommy and Daddy whenever the going got rough.

Starr picked up the teapot and began to pour. “Oh dear, where are my manners? I didn’t even ask if you liked herbal.”

“Herbal is fine,” Becky answered, noticing the cracks in the china. Starr was turning out to be more of an enigma than Becky had imagined. Despite a clutter of statuettes and dolls, the living room was charming, furnished in French provincial with embroidered sofas and cherrywood tables. Charming and expensive, Becky thought. Yet here in the kitchen was a chipped tea service. “I don’t use caffeine,” she said, picking up her cup.

Starr nodded approvingly. “We have so much in common, we could be soul sisters. I still can’t believe my luck—I wanted a vegetarian cook, and here you are.” She lowered her voice as though she were sharing a secret. “I should warn you. There are still vegetarians out there who aren’t as enlightened as we are. Unfortunately, we’ll have to provide coffee. But what can I do? I tell myself I shouldn’t be so narrow-minded, but I can’t help it. Not only do we have a commitment to the earth not to consume its life force, I believe we have a commitment to ourselves not to poison our bodies. After all, we’re part of the earth. That’s how I see it, anyway. What about you? Why did you give up meat and caffeine?”

Gertie had once accused Becky of becoming a vegetarian just so she wouldn’t have to keep two sets of dishes, one for dairy and the other for meat, according to kosher law. As for Jordan, he hadn’t cared one way or the other. He’d rarely eaten at home—when not at school or the hospital, he’d been out cavorting with the redhead.

“Uh, it was because of the earth,” Becky answered. Truth was, until now she’d never even considered the environment. Compared to the global dilemma, her reasons now seemed frivolous. She’d given up meat simply because she didn’t like the taste and because the thought of the slaughter made her squeamish. Why kill an animal when she could eat a stick of broccoli? As for giving up caffeine, she’d made this choice only that morning, after learning she was pregnant.

Over the rim of her cup she studied Starr surreptitiously. The woman was as complex as she was strange. She was also one of those women who looked ageless. She could have been forty or sixty, but Becky’s guess was somewhere in the middle. Although Starr’s skin was smooth and youthful, her long dark hair was streaked with gray. Worn straight and parted down the center, it made her appear otherworldly. But it was her eyes that Becky found so unnerving. Large and green, they shone with an unnatural luminescence.

Above the kitchen doorway were strings of red-and-blue beads, and on the ceiling bright silver stars. But it wasn’t the beads or stars that gave Becky an uneasy feeling. Everywhere she looked were dolls—on the counter, on the floor, on the shelves, even on the walls: miniature dolls, baby dolls, porcelain dolls and fashion dolls, some handcrafted, others store-bought. One in particular, suspended on a gold hook on the wall next to the refrigerator, held her attention. Made of straw and about a foot long, it was clothed in a long white gown, the hem of the skirt hoisted up and draped across one shoulder. Becky shivered, trying to eradicate thoughts of voodoo from her mind.

“Don’t worry, it’s not black magic,” Starr said as though she was, indeed, psychic. “That’s Hestia, my favorite doll, Greek goddess of the hearth. I found her in Barbados, of all places. She reminds me of the Statue of Liberty, except that instead of a torch, she’s carrying a ladle. It’s the straw that throws people. Not exactly typical of a Greek goddess.” Her eyes suddenly twinkled, making them appear even more unearthly. “Speaking of Greek goddesses, I have the perfect thing for you to sleep in. It’s a nightshirt I bought last year at a craft fair. You’ll see what I mean by perfect when I show it to you.”

Becky hesitated. “I don’t know, Starr. I should go home. I walked out angry, and I know my parents will be worried. I’ll call my father. He’ll pick me up.”

“Nonsense. The storm is worse, and the roads won’t be cleared until morning. No one in his right mind would attempt to plow through this mess. Tomorrow I’ll drive you to your parents’ house, and you can collect your things. Why don’t you call your mother? There’s a phone in your room, if you want privacy. Each room has its own extension. Come, and bring your tea with you. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

Becky followed Starr down a long hallway and up a narrow staircase. “The house was built back in the late nineteenth century,” Starr said as they climbed to the third floor. “It’s been in the family for generations. My great-great-grandfather built it after he came over from Holland…there I go again, jabbering about my ancestry. I hope I’m not boring you. I have to keep reminding myself that family history is interesting only to the family involved.”

It must be nice to be able to trace your ancestry that far back, Becky thought with a touch of bitterness. Must be nice to feel so connected. Most of Becky’s ancestors had perished in World War II, leaving no records behind. Bubbe was her only living grandparent, and she hardly ever talked about the past. The memories, Becky knew, were too painful.

“I’m not bored,” Becky told Starr. In truth, she’d always been fascinated with family history, as though someone else’s lineage could make up for the lack she felt inside. “Please go on.”

“How about if I bore you with details of the neighbors instead?” Without waiting for Becky to reply, Starr continued, “The house on the left belongs to the Davidsons. You won’t be seeing much of them. They’re both lawyers, and they commute to New York. The Logans live in the house on the right. Such a sweet girl, that Laura. Has the cutest two-year-old named Caroline, and a baby on the way.” She handed the key to Becky. “Here we are. Go on, you open it. The room’s yours now.”

Becky opened the door and switched on the light. What she saw filled her with delight. She’d been expecting more of what she’d seen in the kitchen, but to her relief the motif here matched the casual yet elegant style of the living room—without the dolls. The wallpaper was of a textured jacquard with a subtle floral pattern. The dresser against the far wall was French country with a rich cherry finish, and above the chest of drawers hung an antique mirror. A queen-size canopy bed, its four posts intricately carved, was draped with exquisite white lace.

“This room is fit for royalty,” Becky said in awe. “Are all the rooms like this?”

“Glad you like it. And yes, all the rooms are done in this style. Believe it or not, I don’t subject everyone who stays here to my hocus-pocus.” She smiled wryly. “And this is the reason I can’t pay you more. I went overboard with the renovations, and now money is tight. I confess I’m not much of a businesswoman. Next time I plan to consult a crystal ball before making changes—oh, I know what you’re thinking, but let me tell you, a crystal ball is far more reliable than the economy. But enough of this financial mumbo-jumbo. On with the tour! Bathroom to the right. In fact, all the rooms have private baths.” She motioned across the room. “Look over there. That alcove will make a wonderful nursery.”

Once again Becky’s mouth dropped open. “You couldn’t have gotten that from my driver’s license. How did you know? Did you see it in my aura?”

Starr laughed. “No special magic. It was the way you were sitting. There’s something about the way a pregnant woman sits, as if her whole center is off balance.”

Now that’s an understatement, Becky thought. In these past few months her whole universe had shifted. “My pregnancy won’t be a problem, will it?” she asked uneasily. “I can work until the last moment, and I’ll only take off a day or two after the delivery.”

“Work until the last minute? Start cooking right after the baby pops out? I don’t think so! I was only kidding about that slavery business—this isn’t ancient Greece, for heaven’s sake. But to answer your question, no, the pregnancy isn’t a problem. On the contrary, it’ll be good karma having a baby in the house. New life means rejuvenation. Now, why don’t you make that phone call while I get the nightshirt?”

Becky waited for Starr to leave, then kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed. She knew she had to call her mother, but her courage had melted faster than an ice cube in a bowl of hot chicken soup. Why did her mother always make her feel this way? After Jordan walked out, Becky had waited until she was nearly flat broke before breaking the news and returning to Middlewood. When she’d received the final divorce papers, she’d kept that a secret, as well. She hadn’t wanted to be a cloud over David’s wedding, she’d rationalized. Then, when she first suspected she was pregnant, she’d gone about her life as if in a trance, hoping that she would wake up.

And now she was afraid to tell her mother that she was planning to live at Starr’s bed and breakfast. Compared to what Becky had previously kept hidden, this bit of news seemed trivial, but nevertheless she remained rooted to the bed, unwilling to pick up the phone. She could almost hear Gertie’s high-pitched, nasal retort. Imagined her saying, “Not only is that woman not Jewish, she’s meshugeh. You want to live with that crazy?”

Starr returned in a few moments and handed the nightshirt to Becky. On the front was an illustration of a woman in a long, loose gown, and underneath that, Demeter Saves the Earth. “I told you it was perfect. Demeter was the goddess of the harvest, and just like you did in my dream, she brought the winter.”

“Demeter agreed to let her daughter spend half the year with Hades,” Becky said. “When Persephone was away in the underworld, Demeter allowed nothing on the earth to flourish, and that’s how winter and summer came to be.”

Starr let out a gleeful laugh. “I can’t believe you know this! We’re definitely soul sisters. I prayed for someone like you and here you are. We’re going to have a lot of fun, Becky. Just like real sisters.”

At least someone finds me amusing, Becky thought. After Starr left, Becky reached for the phone on the night-stand. Demeter was also known as the goddess of fertility. Gertie just might get a kick out of that.

Right. And the forecast in the underworld was calling for snow.

Carter raised his racquet and delivered a fast, hard serve. David immediately reacted with a low forehand, blasting the ball into the ceiling. Cocking back his racquet like a baseball bat, Carter stepped into the ball after it had bounced, then swung with full force, his well-practiced forehand slamming the ball against the front wall.

“That’s game,” he said when David failed to return the shot. “Looks like married life has sapped the life right out of you, bud.”

“Or maybe I had too much of my grandmother’s cooking last night,” David said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “As for married life, maybe you should think about trying again. Might make you more human.”

Carter picked up the ball and followed David into the locker room. “And maybe you should forget about racquetball and take up croquet. Looks like you’ve lost your edge.”

“Here’s an edge you won’t forget,” David said, pulling a towel from the bin and snapping it against the back of Carter’s knees. “Did you say ‘croquet’? Is that what you do on your dates? Play lawn games? Lost your edge, buddy?”

“You wish. No, I take that back. You’d better hope I don’t lose the old edge—how would you live vicariously?”

Joking amiably, they headed for the showers. Carter turned on the water in his stall and allowed himself to give in to the pain. Every muscle in his body ached as he stood under the biting, hot spray. But it wasn’t the game that had him feeling so sore. He always felt like this the day after flying, and today was no exception. Even though he’d flown first class, his six-foot frame had felt crowded in the seat, his long legs cramped in the tight space.

To top it off, he was exhausted, but like his aching body, his fatigue wasn’t because of the game. Last night he’d lain awake for hours, Becky on his mind. Even though three months had passed since they’d made love, he could still picture her lying in his bed, her long, dark hair spilling down her neck, fanning across her breasts. He forced the memory aside.

After changing back into street clothes, Carter waited in the lobby for David. He thought back to the conversation they’d had earlier that afternoon when he’d called his friend, asking him to meet him on the courts. It had been tough convincing him to come out for a game. Saturday was the Jewish day of rest, but Carter knew that David’s reluctance had nothing to do with religion. He knew it was because of Hannah. Marriage did that, he recalled. It changed a man.

Five minutes later David emerged from the locker room. “Still here, Pres? No date?”

Carter laughed. “It’s still early. I’ve still got time.”

“Translated, that means no date. What was it you said about losing the edge? As for me, I don’t even remember having one. It’s been a while since I played the dating game.”

Carter flung his sports bag over his shoulder and followed his friend out the front door. “You don’t remember it because it never existed. You and Hannah have been together forever.” He looked at David questioningly. “Kidding aside, Roth, do you ever regret not playing the field?”

David hesitated. “There was this one time, after Hannah and I had an argument. I went to a bar. The woman was a stranger, no more to me than a face in a crowd. She was a nurse, I think. Worked at Danbury Hospital.”

Carter looked at his friend with surprise, not just because of what David had said, but because he’d never mentioned it. Then again, Carter wasn’t exactly an open book himself. Some things he preferred not to talk about; others were best left unsaid. Like the events surrounding his divorce. Or what happened between him and Becky.

Although he was reluctant to probe, curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t want to believe that David could cheat on Hannah. “What happened?” he asked, hoping the answer would be what he wanted to hear.

“Nothing. We had a few drinks, and that was all. But sometimes I find myself wondering about that night, about how things might have changed if something had happened. But nothing did, and I never saw her again. Do I regret not playing around? No, I can honestly say I don’t.”

Carter felt a moment of envy. One guy in a thousand had what David had. In this day and age, David and Hannah went against all the odds. Not that Carter was looking for something permanent. He wasn’t a man who bet against the odds.

Suddenly he didn’t feel like going home. “You feel like a beer? We can talk about the old days—I’ll fill you in on everything you’re missing.”

“Sorry, Pres, I have to get back. I promised Hannah I’d paint the back room.”

Carter shook his head. “You really are married.” Without warning, the emptiness he felt whenever he returned from a business trip hit him like a punch in the stomach. As much as he hated to admit it, these days he and emptiness were becoming old pals.

“Like I told you,” David said, “you should try it sometime. Again, that is.”

“No thanks. I’m not looking to become a half couple. Two’s a crowd.”

“You’ve got that wrong. Three’s a crowd. Not that I’m complaining.” David broke into a wide grin. “I’m talking about a family, Pres. Hannah’s pregnant.”

Carter stopped walking and grabbed David’s arm. “That’s great,” he said, giving his hand a hearty shake. “Congratulations. So when do I get my cigar?”

“Not for another six months. A half year away, and already she’s preparing for the arrival. This week it’s the nursery, next week she wants to shop for baby clothes—soon she’ll have me going with her to one of those breathing schools. Did you ever hear of anything so bizarre? There are classes that teach you how to breathe.”

“Admit it, you love this whole baby thing. You were made for it.”

David began walking again, and Carter followed, waiting for David to make a snappy comeback. When he didn’t, Carter asked, “What is it? Hannah’s okay, isn’t she?”

“She’s fine.”

But Carter could tell that something was wrong. When they reached David’s car, David turned around and said, “I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’d rather you hear it from me than from any of this town’s wagging tongues, and trust me, they’ll be wagging like signal flags. It seems that Hannah’s not the only one about to increase Middlewood’s measly population. Looks like I’m going to become an uncle.”

Carter’s whole body stiffened. “Run that by me again.”

“You heard me the first time. Becky’s pregnant.”

Carter knew he looked ridiculous standing there in the middle of the parking lot, his mouth wide open. Pregnant. As in baby. A baby that couldn’t be his—she would have told him if he were the father. Looks like little Goody Two-Shoes Becky wasn’t so Goody Two-Shoes, after all. Here he’d been feeling sorry for the way he’d treated her, when all the while she’d been running around. Apparently, she’d used the old “I’m so depressed, why don’t you console me” on someone else, as well. He had to hand it to her, it was usually the man who played the role of fisherman, casting out lines with smoothness and skill.

Immediately Carter chided himself. With his past, who was he to judge her? And then anger set in, surprising him. Why should he care that after being with him she had run straight into the arms of someone else?

Maybe it was pride. Or maybe he was just a little bit hurt.

He dismissed both possibilities from his mind. “I’ll bet your mother is beside herself,” he said, redirecting his focus. He could just imagine Gertie’s reaction. In many ways Becky’s mother was just like his. Both women were more concerned about what other people thought than about the happiness of their children. Yet they both gave the old “What will the neighbors say?” a new slant, since neither one of them even spoke to their neighbors.

“That’s putting it mildly,” David answered. “She called me this morning, demanding that I come right over. The way she sounded on the phone, I was sure something had happened to my grandmother. When I got there, she sent me upstairs to talk to Becky, but then Becky came down the stairs with Starr DeVries—she’s that space cookie who owns the B and B on the corner of Elm and Old Mill. Becky, so it seems, is going to live there, of all places. My mother got hysterical and tried to stop them from leaving. She kept repeating, ‘A girl needs her mother in times like these.’ She stood in the doorway, blocking the exit, but Becky pushed past her.”