Always the Last to Know(61)

If Juliet told her the truth, Mom would worry. She had enough on her plate these days. Plus, Barb hated when she couldn’t help, and there was no helping here. She’d be distressed to hear that Juliet was aging out, that there was that tremor in the Force that had become a constant rumble, that someone else was now the favorite child. She’d given everything to Juliet, and it would distress her no end to hear her daughter was struggling.

And so she said, “Kathy wecommended it, and she wooked gweat, so I gave it a shot.”

“Well, Kathy needs it, hon. You can tell she was a sun worshipper. Skin like leather. You don’t need anything. Okay. Let’s take a look at these silly lashes.” She smiled. “You girls. So beautiful, and always trying new things when you don’t need to. Hold still and I’ll trim these a little.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

Yes. Forty-three years old and still calling her mother mama. Sometimes, Juliet thought her mom was the only person with whom she could be one hundred percent herself.

It was such a relief.

An hour later, the redness had faded. Her lips were less numb (though hardly at all fuller). Her lashes looked thick but not fake. “Looks like you had a little allergic reaction,” Mom said, and there it was, the perfect lie, the thing she could tell her husband and children.

“I love you, Mom.” Looked like she had her l’s back.

“I love you, too, sweetheart. So much. Oh! I’m having a little dinner party this weekend. You and Oliver are invited, of course. I’m inviting the event planner who’s helping with the town’s anniversary, she’s just been wonderful. And she’s single, and Sadie’s bringing her single teacher friend from New York. And you know, Sadie has no friends here, so I figured I’d get a little business done and help Sadie, too. Caro and Ted are coming, and I thought maybe it would do your father some good, having folks around. Can you make it? Friday night around seven.”

“I’ll call Riley and see if she can babysit,” Juliet said. “Thanks, Mom. Let me know what I can bring.”

“I have to get back to work now,” she said. “You just take a nap, all right? The girls will be home in an hour, so you just rest, honey. Everyone needs a break once in a while.”

Mom kissed her on the forehead, smoothed back her hair, and before she’d even left, Juliet was asleep.





CHAPTER NINETEEN





Barb


Two days after Juliet needed me (the thought still gave me a warm feeling), Caro and I walked into a little café in Middle Haddam, which was far enough from Stoningham that we weren’t likely to run into anyone we knew.

We were meeting WORK.

“Cute place,” Caro said. “And clearly she’s not here yet. Let me get us something. You want a tea, I already know. Any cake or cookies?”

“I’m good, Caro. Thanks.” I wasn’t good. I was nervous. And still angry. And sad. And humiliated. And gosh-darn tired, too. I got up every night at three a.m. to give John his medication, and I wasn’t a young woman anymore. It often took me an hour or more to fall back asleep.

John had been home now for weeks. LeVon had become a fixture in our house, and that was a real blessing, I’ll tell you.

Sometimes, it felt like he was the son I’d never had. That first pregnancy of mine . . . I’d always thought the baby was a boy, and . . . well, sometimes I liked to picture what life would be like if that baby had lived. He’d be about LeVon’s age—late forties. Maybe John and I wouldn’t have grown apart if I hadn’t struggled with infertility. Maybe Juliet would have relaxed a little more with a big brother to tease her, and Sadie would look up to him and be a little more responsible with him as a role model.

Most days, LeVon stayed a little late, joining me in a cup of tea before he left. It felt so comforting. Like he was protecting me, in some inexplicable way. He said he’d be with us until John’s recovery was mostly done, and gosh, that was a relief. I’d adopt him if I could, but he had a wife and three kids, and his parents lived next door to him, so I guess that was out.

“Okay,” Caro said, sitting down. “Any idea what she looks like?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“So they didn’t text pictures.”

“No. Thank God they didn’t do that, you know? I’d hate to have to see a dick pic.”

“The first selectman of Stoningham just said ‘dick pic’!” Caro said.

It wasn’t funny. It was awful. But it felt so good to laugh.

We settled down. I sipped my tea. Caro had already put in the sugar. She was drinking some monstrous thing with whipped cream. She also had a slab of coconut cake. “Go on, take a bite,” she said, sliding into the booth next to me. “You know you’re going to.”

I did. Oh, it was good. I needed to bake a cake. Maybe LeVon could bring half of it home to his family. Maybe John would like it, since his swallowing had improved and he could eat almost anything now.

“Is John getting any better, do they think?” Caro asked. “Mentally?”

“In little ways. He seems more alert from time to time. His walking is better, but he still needs help getting in and out of bed. He makes some sounds, but talking isn’t going so well. LeVon gave him a pen and paper, but he didn’t seem to know what to do with it.”