Читать книгу Three Sisters - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 12

Chapter Seven

ANDI CHANGED HER clothes and went back downstairs to more closely inspect her naked house. The sun was still several hours from setting, and the air was stuffy. She opened the few windows that hadn’t been boarded shut, then went out front and sat on the porch.

From her newly favorite spot to quietly think, she couldn’t see the demolition. Instead she could imagine what it would be like when it was finished. The whole place painted, the yard restored... Both her neighbors had beautiful yards. She wasn’t looking to compete, but she needed her place to not be an embarrassment to the tiny neighborhood.

She’d nearly summoned the energy to start doing some research when a very large cat came out from around the side of her house and strolled toward her.

“Hello,” she said as the cat approached. “Who are you?”

The cat walked up the stairs and sat next to Andi, his or her expression expectant. The cat had on a collar. She reached for the tag.

“Pickles,” she said as she read the single word. “Not exactly a clear statement of gender. Hello, Pickles.”

She let the cat sniff her fingers, then stroked the animal’s face. Pickles leaned into her touch for a few seconds, then collapsed on the porch, as if settling in for a long petting session.

“Obviously you’re not afraid of people, are you?”

“That’s our cat.”

Andi glanced up and saw a girl standing by the stairs. She was probably nine or ten, with long blond hair and glasses framing her big blue eyes.

“Pickles?” Andi smiled. “That’s a fun name.”

“Madison named him, but she was just a baby. Mom says I was born then, but I don’t remember. I’m Lucy.”

“Hi, Lucy. I’m Andi Gordon. It’s nice to meet you.”

Lucy gave her a tentative smile as she eased forward. Andi shifted on the stairs to make room.

Andi remembered what she’d heard about Lucy’s mother at lunch. No one seemed especially fond of Deanna, which made Andi uncomfortable. She didn’t want to make assumptions about someone she’d never met. Maybe Deanna was just one of those prickly people with a good heart.

“I’m having a lot of work done on my house,” Andi said, then wrinkled her nose. “I hope it’s not too loud.”

“I don’t think so. My mom hasn’t said anything.” The girl glanced up at her. “I’m glad you bought the house. It’s been lonely all by itself.”

“That’s what I thought, too. And the other houses are so pretty.”

“It’s hard to be in the middle.”

“Are you in the middle in your family?”

Lucy nodded, keeping her attention on the cat. “I have four sisters. I’m the second oldest. The youngest two are twins.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of girls. Twins can be a handful.”

“That’s what Mom says.” Lucy looked up again. “Mom wanted a boy, but we got Sydney and Savannah instead. I don’t think Daddy cared. He says he has the best girls.”

Andi smiled. “I’m sure he does. Who wouldn’t want a family like that?”

Lucy sighed. “My best friend moved away over spring break. Her dad got a job in Texas. She wants me to come visit this summer. Mom thinks I’m too young to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Andi told her. “It’s hard to lose a friend.” Especially in the middle of the school year, when all the social groups were already established. She wanted to say that Lucy would have an easier time in the fall, but to a girl her age, September must be a lifetime away.

Lucy nodded. She pushed up her glasses. “My mom’s been crying a lot,” she said in a low voice. “In her room, so we’re not supposed to know.”

Andi winced. “That must be difficult.”

“It is. Madison says Daddy should leave her and take us with him, but I don’t want that. I want to stay here. Like it is.” She hesitated. “Maybe a little better.”

Andi wanted to pull the girl close and hug her. Lucy was obviously going through a lot. But they didn’t know each other, and she wasn’t sure the show of support would be welcome.

“It’s hard when moms cry,” she said instead. “When my mom cried, I always felt anxious inside. Like my tummy wasn’t right.”

Lucy stared at her. “I know. It’s almost like I want to throw up.”

“Sometimes parents can work things out.”

“I hope so.” Lucy looked at her house. “It’s going to be dinner soon and I can’t be late.” She scooped up Pickles and stood.

“Thanks for coming by,” Andi told her. “Come over anytime.”

Lucy flashed a smile that shifted her face from ordinary to luminous. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Andi watched her go. When the girl disappeared around the corner, she turned her attention to the beautiful house. Every family had secrets, she thought. Some were scarier than others. She hoped that whatever Deanna and her husband had going on, they got it resolved before the situation put more stress on their girls.

* * *

Boston watched Lucy scamper back to her house, Pickles draped over her shoulder. That cat deserved a special reward in kitty heaven, she thought as she crossed the lumpy weed-filled lawn toward Andi’s house. Not only did he let the girls drag him around like a rag doll, but he submitted to being dressed in ridiculous outfits. Hats, even.

“Hi,” she called as she approached.

Andi turned and saw her. “Hi yourself.”

Boston raised the basket she carried. “I heard the entire crew was in your house today, basically destroying it. I thought you might be traumatized.”

Andi stood and walked down the stairs. “I am. Honestly, I’m a little afraid to go back inside.”

Boston handed her the basket. “Comfort food. Mac and cheese, a green salad and a bottle of nice chardonnay.” She grinned. “Personally, I’d start with the wine.”

Andi glanced at the basket she held. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you. It’s so nice.”

“You’re welcome. I’m excited to have a neighbor.” Technically she and Deanna were neighbors, but they’d never been close. Or friendly. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why. They’d lived on the same street for years.

She supposed part of the problem was that Deanna made it clear she disapproved of Boston in nearly every way possible. For her part, Boston would admit to a little smugness where Deanna was concerned.

“I’ve lived through construction,” Boston continued. “It’s not fun. Just try to remember that it’s worth it in the end.”

“I will.” Andi motioned to the porch. “I don’t have much in the way of furniture. Want to have a seat here for a second or do you have to get back?”

“I’ll join you for a bit. Zeke will be home soon and he always loves it when I make mac and cheese.” She settled on a stair.

Andi did the same. “I was thinking about the yard,” she said. “I’ve never been much of a gardener, but I guess I have to start soon.”

“It’s prime growing season,” Boston told her. “There’s a nursery in town. I can get you the name of a woman who works there. She does landscaping on the side.”

“You and my other neighbor have set a pretty high standard,” Andi said with a grin. “I don’t want to let the neighborhood down.”

“You won’t.”

Boston studied the other woman. Light and shadow played across her face, highlighting her bone structure. She was pretty, Boston thought, more interested in shapes and forms than what the world considered attractive. Andi’s hair, a tumbling mass of curls, would be difficult to capture on canvas. But her eyes—a brilliant green—would draw people in.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a reasonably priced decorator, would you?” Andi asked. “I’m going to need some help pulling together the office. I want bright colors and a welcoming space. Going to the doctor can be scary for kids. I want them to feel comfortable when they come to see me.”

Boston thought about the floor plan of Andi’s house and the plans Zeke had shown her for the remodeling. “A mural,” she said automatically, seeing a jungle scene on the wall. “Bright colors that can flow through to the other rooms. Blues and greens with pops of reds and yellows. A jungle. Birds. Big parrots. Maybe fish in a river and large cats with eyes that glow.”

She paused. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“Don’t be sorry, I love it. I’m great with the medical end of things. I’ve ordered the equipment. What I don’t know how to do is the waiting area and the front office. Also, there’s going to be a long hallway.”

“You could do a different animal on every door,” Boston said, feeling a surge of creative enthusiasm. “Pick a flooring with a green tone to carry through the jungle theme. If you want to go that way.”

Zeke’s truck pulled into the driveway next door. Andi glanced at it, then back at her.

“I would love to talk about this some more, another time. Would you be open to that?”

“Sure. It would be a fun project. I can give you some ideas, maybe draw a few sketches.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in giving me a price for a mural?” Andi asked. “I’ve seen your work in your house and it’s beautiful.”

Boston hesitated. She hadn’t done much more than a few textile projects in months. Her days were spent in other ways. Designing and then painting a mural would be a challenge. Zeke would tell her it would be good for her to get out of her rut. To let the project take her away.

“Let me think about it,” Boston murmured, coming to her feet. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”

A complete lie, but it offered her a safe retreat if the idea of the mural overwhelmed her. She knew if she accepted the job, she would have to see it through. That would be pressure, and these days she still felt breakable. That’s what loss had done to her—left her as fragile as spun glass.

“Either way, I’m happy to talk about the color scheme for your office,” she said.

“That would be great.” Andi stood. “Thank you. And thanks for dinner.”

“Enjoy.” Boston went down the stairs and started for home.

Zeke stood by his truck, waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her.

“Making nice with the new neighbor?”

“I took her some dinner.”

His brown eyes brightened with anticipation. “Mac and cheese?”

“Yes. It’s in the oven.”

He swept her into his arms and pulled her close. “This is why I stay married to you. For the pasta.”

She let herself sink into him, into the familiar combination of strength and heat. In that moment, all was well and she could breathe. Could almost forget that she might shatter at any moment.

Then they would fight, because they fought often these days. Anger was Zeke’s way of trying to get through to her. She wouldn’t engage and he would leave. After he left, she would paint and eventually he made his way home. Their life had become uneven. Like a wagon with one square wheel. She was aware of the cycle, but unsure how to break it without destroying the only thing that held them together.

* * *

Deanna scanned the small paintbrush and then jabbed the quantity into the computer. The Wednesday shipment had been bigger than usual, with several special orders and an entire display of yarn for Christmas.

It was May, she thought as she picked up the second brush and scanned it. Did people really need to be thinking about Christmas now?

She knew the answer. Crafters started early and anyone looking to knit a sweater or scarf or whatever for the holidays would, in fact, be working on it over the summer. She usually liked how the inventory of Cozy Crafts heralded the coming seasons. In truth today, everything was getting on her nerves.

She hated Colin. That was the real problem. She’d spent most of the past two nights lying awake, mentally calling him names. She’d also made detailed lists of everything she’d ever done for him. Everything he never noticed or appreciated.

Like her weight. She weighed exactly what she had on the day they’d gotten married. Four pregnancies, five babies and not an ounce different. Unlike Boston, who’d put on thirty pounds over her pregnancy and had never bothered to take it off.

Deanna kept up on current events. She understood the oil crisis, could speak intelligently on current issues and attended local school board meetings. She was well read. She took excellent care of her house and her family. She baked bread, shopped organic and made nearly every damn bite of food they put in their mouths.

And her thanks for that? Rejection. Dismissal. Threats.

She finished adding the new delivery to inventory and set out the brushes. She sorted the yarn and quickly started a holiday display.

Cozy Crafts was on the west side of the island, next to Island Chic, a clothing store. The clientele consisted of both tourists and locals. Deanna taught scrapbooking, basic quilting and basic knitting. She coordinated the other instructors. She’d been the one to convince Boston to give an introductory painting class two years ago. The class that had led to an article in a national travel magazine. But did any of that matter to Colin?

She glanced toward the windows at the front of the store and thought briefly about tossing a chair through the glass. Not that the action would help her current situation, but she had to do something. Every part of her hurt. She was frustrated and scared and angry.

Divorce. The very thought of it made her whole body clench. She didn’t want to be divorced. She didn’t want the stigma, the struggle. She didn’t want the pity or the gloating.

Without wanting to, she remembered her mother standing in the middle of the horrible little kitchen of their disgusting, dirty house.

“Make sure when you marry a man, you keep him,” the other woman had said. “Ain’t nothing worse than being without a man.”