Cracks in the Sidewalk(4)

“Is it my fault,” he complained, “that the women of this town have no eye for fashion?”

Determined that his strategy would pay off, he sat behind the counter day after day and watched as the ladies of Westfield marched past his store in their wool slacks and parkas. After several months, he began chewing his fingernails down to the nub. In early March he told Charlie he’d been eyeing a high-end line of costume jewelry.

“I need something like that to bring new customers into the store,” he said. “Thing is, I’m gonna have to borrow at least ten thousand to finance it.”

“Another ten thousand?” Charlie grunted. “In addition to the twenty-five thousand you already got?”

“It takes money to make money,” JT snapped.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, shaking his head dubiously. “I’m gonna have to think it over.” In the past two years, he’d given his son-in-law four sizeable loans, none of which Jeffrey had repaid. This, it seemed, was throwing good money after bad.

That evening Jeffrey brought Elizabeth a bouquet of pink roses and offered an apology for his sour disposition.

“Once your dad gives me this loan,” he said, “I can get Caruthers Couture back on track, and things will be better for us. I promise.”

They made love that night and then while they lay side by side in the dark, he suggested she ask Claire to talk to Charlie.

“Ask Mom?” Elizabeth said. “Why?”

“Because I need the money. Your dad will give me the loan if she tells him to.”

~

The next morning when Claire arrived, the coffee was brewing and both children were already dressed. Elizabeth looked better than she had in days and smiled happily as JT breezed by with a quick kiss. “Don’t forget,” he whispered, then left.

Claire lifted an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Elizabeth poured some coffee and sat down at the table. “JT’s planning to make some changes at the store,” she said. “Changes to help the business.”

“Like what?”

“He’s gonna specialize in jewelry and more elegant evening wear. He thinks that stuff will attract customers with money to spend, and it’s got a better profit margin.”

Elizabeth spoke for a while longer, and then explained how JT needed additional financing.

“Mom, please tell Daddy he ought to help out,” she said. “JT really needs the money, and he promised to pay Daddy back as soon as this new line gets going.”

Claire didn’t for one minute buy into the idea that the trouser-wearing ladies of Westfield would suddenly switch to party dresses, but despite these doubts she did insist Charlie give JT the money.

“Good or bad businessman,” she argued, “it doesn’t matter. He’s our daughter’s husband!”

So JT got the loan he wanted, and he filled an entire display case with evening bags, thinly-plated gold bangles, and sparkling rhinestones. When the new merchandise did nothing to improve business and sat there gathering dust, his moods grew blacker. In April he stopped talking about how the store would make millions and before long began saying it generally took years for a business to turn around. He finally settled into eating dinner alone, watching television, and trotting off to bed without a word to anyone.

Elizabeth, trying to cope with her explosive weight gain and burning thirst, paid little attention as she downed glass after glass of water. She felt ready to burst out of her skin. By mid-April she appeared to be on the verge of delivery.

Her forgetfulness seemed to get worse. In the second week of April, Elizabeth discovered three whole days missing from her memory. She woke on Thursday, believing it was Sunday, and insisted she had no recollection of having gone to the library on Tuesday or the dentist on Wednesday.

“Surely you remember, dear,” Claire prompted. “Tuesday I made that delicious macaroni casserole for lunch, and Wednesday David skinned his knee on the front walkway. You remember that, don’t you?”

“David skinned his knee? On our walkway? Where was I?”

“Sitting on the porch in the rocking chair. You put the Band-Aid on David’s knee after I cleaned it, remember?”

Elizabeth’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “It must be because I’ve had this terrible headache.”

~

Two weeks later Elizabeth went for her second prenatal check.

“Good grief,” Doctor Watkins gasped. “You’ve gained forty pounds! That’s way too much.” He glanced at the scale a second time. “What have you been eating?”

“Some ice cream,” she said. “Very little of anything else. With my stomach so bloated, the thought of sitting down to a meal nauseates me. I’m not the least bit hungry, but I’m thirsty all the time. I can drink a gallon of water and still be thirsty.”

“Water? You’re gaining weight on water?” Doctor Watkins asked incredulously. “No salty foods? Pretzels, maybe? Potato chips? Peanuts?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

Doctor Watkins grimaced. “These headaches you’re having, did you experience that with either of your previous pregnancies?”

“Not at all,” Elizabeth answered.

“What about the lack of energy? Thirst? Forgetfulness?”