The Friends We Keep(19)

Evvie had barely been able to say a word since she arrived. Topher’s mother had sat at the kitchen table, her full-length fur flung over the back of a chair, huge diamonds glittering in her ears, peppering them all with questions. Maggie seemed to have fallen madly in love, and was chattering away, but Evvie was mesmerized, like a deer caught in headlights.

It wasn’t just that Mrs. Winthrop—“Call me Joan. Please”—truly was the most glamorous woman imaginable. It was that she had a confidence that Evvie assumed could only come with money. She walked in just over an hour ago, having checked in at the Dinham Arms, her Fendi mink coat sashaying around her hips. She wore perfectly cut flannel trousers and expensive loafers, a cashmere sweater knotted around her shoulders on top of a silk shirt, and her hair was a mix of copper and blond highlights. (“My mom is a good old Irish redhead,” Topher had explained before she arrived, “but she hides it expertly with blond streaks.”)

But most of all, she was tiny. Evvie’s mother had been slim when she was young, but since menopause she had lost her trim waistline and flat stomach. Mrs. Winthrop looked like she was twenty-five. Evvie didn’t even know it was possible for women to look like that at her age.

She looked like the wealthy, philanthropically minded housewife she was, devoted to spending fortunes on herself. She was completely self-assured, and from a world that Evvie recognized distantly from her father’s stories about his family, but a world she didn’t know. Suddenly she felt inadequate, wishing she felt better about herself, wishing she hadn’t isolated herself to study, taking sugar breaks every hour or so. All that cake may have numbed her feelings at the time, but it always led to the same self-loathing, and she was back to lying in bed every night vowing to start a diet the next day, a diet that would inevitably be broken, catastrophically, sometime midafternoon.

“You are so not what I expected,” Evvie said at one point, shaking her head, breaking her gaze. “I just have to stop and say I can’t believe how young and gorgeous you are. Topher never said.”

“You mean, he doesn’t have pictures of his family all over his bedroom?” Topher’s mother waved a finger at him. “Shame on you, Topher. Why did I send those silver photo frames over?”

“I had to replace all the family pictures with photos of my friends,” said Topher. “I know you’ll forgive me. Especially because I even clean my own room. Can you imagine?”

Joan shook her head. “We spoiled you having Diana,” she said. “You should have always cleaned your room at home. I did when I was growing up.”

Evvie looked from one to the other. “Diana?”

“Our live-in housekeeper,” explained Topher as Evvie shook her head.

“I should have known.”

Since as far back as she could remember, Evvie had done household chores, and heaven forbid she should ever question a parent. “I’m about to give you some licks,” her mother would say before a series of smacks. Evvie adored her mother, and her mother adored her, but she was clearly the opposite of the indulgent mother who was sitting before her that day. Evvie’s mother was the head of the household, even when married to her father. She was tough and opinionated, said exactly what was on her mind, and demanded respect. Many was the time Evvie heard, “Don’t back answer me. I will put your teeth down your throat.”

Evvie had no experience of being accepted unconditionally, of having a mother who might gaze at her with absolute adoration, in the way Joan Winthrop was gazing at Topher. Seeing it filled her with a sense of loss. She loved her mother, but how nice, how much easier it would have been to have a mother like this. She pictured her own mother looking her up and down, judgment in her eyes as she sucked her teeth.

“You never mentioned a housekeeper before,” said Maggie. “We had a daily, but a live-in? That’s very posh. You never told us you were so fancy.”

“Now that you’ve met my mother, you know everything.”

“I wish I’d worn jeans and sneakers,” said Joan, looking down at her beautiful clothes. “I didn’t realize West Country would be quite so casual.”

“Mom, do you even own jeans and sneakers?”

“Of course. What do you think I work out in?” Joan grinned.

“You’re so slim,” breathed Evvie, mustering the courage to speak to her. “How do you do it? How do you stay looking so fantastic?”

“Aerobics classes three times a week,” said Joan, giving Evvie a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sure they have them here. They’re so much fun. You girls should try it.”

Evvie flushed, convinced that was a comment on her weight.

“Not that either of you need to do anything,” Joan said quickly, seeing Evvie flush. “You have youth and beauty on your side. You’re perfect.”

Evvie mentally exhaled. “I’m not perfect,” she said, grabbing her thighs. “Look. I’ve gained almost twenty pounds this term. It’s awful.”

“It’s baby fat,” said Joan. “It’s easy to get rid of at your age. When you get to my age it’s much harder.”

“I need to stay away from the sugar. All the cakes and cookies are terrible for me. Either that, or I need someone to break my heart again.”

“That’s the best diet ever,” agreed Joan.