Well Behaved Wives(11)

Lillian dreaded reliving her past, but she’d have welcomed the point of connection with Ruth. “How can you say that? Neither of us had mothers.”

“You seem to forget one difference,” Shirley said. “Your mother is still alive.”





Chapter 5


RUTH

From the living room, Ruth could make out her mother-in-law’s voice in the kitchen. Ruth shuddered. Shirley was there?

Surrounding Ruth, the other girls chatted away, their social demeanors calm and unchanged. They didn’t hear the tone and tenor of Shirley’s voice, or feel the vibrations of her cadence.

Her thoughts raced to find the perfect way to express the details of their first training to her mother-in-law. No use denying it, Ruth wanted Shirley to feel satisfied, even proud.

“My mother-in-law is here,” Ruth whispered. “I’m guessing to check up on me.”

The banter stopped.

“How do you know it’s her?” Irene asked. “I can barely hear any talking.”

Carrie leaned toward the kitchen and shushed the others with a finger to her lips. “I hear something.”

Ruth had grown up in an apartment building, listening to sounds and voices through open windows and air shafts. Now, like back then, she had only to close her eyes and blank out all other sounds to transform the vague and muffled voices into clear, full-bodied language. “Trust me,” she said. “I can tell.”

“So what?” asked Harriet.

“How would you feel if someone checked up on you?” Irene asked.

Harriet shrugged.

“I wouldn’t like it,” Irene said.

“Maybe she wants to make sure you’re okay,” Carrie said.

Ruth shook her head. “She wants to make sure I don’t embarrass her.”

“Embarrass her?” Irene asked. “You’ve got more class and chutzpah in your little finger . . .”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Harriet said.

“I don’t understand what there is to check up on.” Carrie tapped an index finger on her chin three times.

“Everything, I guess,” Ruth said. “To make sure I’m doing and saying the right things.”

Irene patted Ruth’s back as if to stop her from choking. “Well, we’ll see to that.”

Lillian and Shirley parked themselves under the living room arch. Was it meant to be a surprise . . . or an ambush?

“This is Mrs. Appelbaum, girls,” Lillian said. “Ruth’s mother-in-law.”

The girls turned toward the announcement.

“Shirley was my etiquette teacher,” Lillian said. “She encouraged me to start teaching these lessons about five years ago, and she just popped in to say hello.”

Lillian and Shirley drifted into the room. Shirley smoothed her outfit, starting with her maroon sweater set, with its gold leaf-shaped pin fastened beneath her left shoulder, and ending with her tan-and-brown skirt. Hopefully she approved of Ruth choosing the same color for her purse and shoes today—that would mean Ruth had gotten one thing right.

“I’d like to do more than pop in,” Shirley said. “But it seems I’m not needed.”

“It’s not that, Shirl,” Lillian said.

“I’m sure Mrs. Appelbaum just wants to prove how well you’ve started the lessons,” Irene said. “And that she can trust you to do a good job.”

The unexpected support took Ruth aback, Irene’s brio instantly endearing. Did the double meaning skip over Shirley’s head—or land on it with a splat?

“Of course I trust Lillian,” Shirley said while looking at Ruth. “I only wanted to help.”

Splat.

“We’ve been having a lovely time,” Lillian said. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Shirley said, her face not betraying whether this was true or not.

Ruth was surprised at the cutting tone of Shirley’s voice. She had thought it was a voice reserved exclusively for her.

“We’ve already been practicing our gracious greetings,” Carrie said. “Ruth’s a natural.”

Shirley smiled with thin lips. “Is she?”

Why was that so hard to believe?

“Lucky girl. I guess she had some early lessons,” Irene said.

“Thank you, Irene,” Ruth said.

Harriet stayed quiet, remaining firmly on the fence.

“Well, then,” Shirley said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

They’d done it! She was leaving. The mother-in-law spy had been deactivated.

“You’re always welcome to pop in,” Lillian said.

Though perspiration gathered at her hairline, Ruth walked over to Shirley and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad you stopped by,” she fibbed. She’d have preferred to navigate this day alone, the way she had when her father had dropped her off at a new school, giving Ruth only a kiss on the forehead, as if anointing her, and a thumbs-up demonstrating his confidence in her success. Although, without Shirley’s doubt and intrusion today, Ruth wouldn’t have experienced the staunch support of her new friends. Their expression of solidarity had warmed Ruth—and surprised her.

Shirley grabbed Ruth’s hands. “I just want you to be happy, dear.”