Hadley & Grace(7)

She looks at the photo on the counter of her and her grandmother taken six months before her grandmother passed away. In that moment, they were smiling, nearly twins for how much they looked alike, though her grandmother was near seventy and Grace only fourteen—same copper curls and hazel-green eyes. How disappointed she would be. People don’t change, Spud, and only a fool believes they do.

The tears she’s been holding back leak from her eyes, and she blots them away. Her grandmother was right. Grace is a fool. Look what believing in people got her—a snake-in-the-grass boss like Frank, and a sweet-talking loser husband like Jimmy.

Another thought strikes, and she looks down at Miles, then at the cabinets that hold no food, and a shiver runs down her spine. Come Tuesday, she is going to be out of a job. Sure as the sun will rise, Frank is going to fire her. All her life she’s dealt with men like Frank Torelli, and men like him don’t keep people like her around. He’ll blame it on something other than Jerry’s contract, but it won’t change the fact that that’s the reason, the reflection he sees when he looks at her discomfiting and creating an undertow of distrust.

Her hollow stomach growls.

No money. And come Tuesday, no job.

She feels her grandmother watching. Only person you can count on, Spud, is you.

She looks again at her son, still wailing, then juts her jaw out, hoists the diaper bag from the floor to her shoulder, slides the photo of her and her grandmother into it, and pivots for the door.





7





HADLEY


Hadley stands in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom frowning. Gone are her comfortable skirt, soft cotton tank, and ballet flats. In their place: linen slacks, a silk blouse, and beige Jimmy Choos. Beneath it all, her pair of thigh-to-waist Spanx digs into her flesh.

Even with the added four inches from the shoes and the supergirdle, she looks fat. She smooths the pooch of her belly and sucks it in, then, with a resigned sigh, releases it and turns from the mirror to brush out her hair. She pins it into a loose chignon at the base of her neck with a gold clip, a style Frank likes because he thinks it makes her look like Sophia Loren, a comparison Hadley finds flattering, though she herself has never seen the resemblance.

First off, Sophia is Italian, while Hadley is French and German. Sophia has soft chocolate eyes set over a long nose and plump lips, whereas Hadley’s most defining feature is her green eyes, and her nose is small and her lips wide, like Julia Roberts.

But, Hadley supposes, if you only compare her and Sophia from the chin down, the heights and curves are similar. Of course, Sophia was young in a time when curves were appreciated, while Hadley lives in the era of Jillian Michaels and Heidi Klum.

She glances at the clock, and her irritation grows along with her hunger. Having dinner as a family is one of Frank’s rules, a sentiment she used to believe was sweet, naively thinking it showed Frank’s commitment to the family spending time together. But over the years, she’s learned to see it for what it is: another way for him to control them, making them wait to eat and rarely showing the consideration of telling them when he’ll be home.

She looks forlornly at her bedside table, where she keeps a stash of peanut M&M’S and, stomach growling, chooses the less caloric option of sneaking a cigarette on the balcony instead.

Lighting up, she takes a deep drag and closes her eyes as the heady buzz of nicotine seeps into her blood. She ignores the niggle of guilt that accompanies it. Frank hates when she smokes, and she gave it up for the sixth time four weeks ago. But she supposes today is a day for breaking promises.

The breeze is light and warm, a hint of summer in its breath, and she watches as it carries the smoke away and thinks about tomorrow. Frank has planned their trip to her sister’s down to the smallest detail. It will take them three days to get to Wichita, three days to get Skipper settled, and three days to drive back. The hotels are reserved, and he’s listed all the places along the way where they can stop for meals and gas.

Everything is all set.

Or it was.

Until three days ago, when Vanessa called wanting to know if Hadley could bring Skipper to Tom’s hometown of Omaha instead of Wichita so she and Tom could extend their honeymoon in Belize. Tom wanted to get scuba certified, and that required them staying a few extra days.

Hadley never told Frank about the call, and her heart has been beating out of rhythm ever since, the smallest window of opportunity opening at the exact moment she most desperately needed it.

Her phone rings, causing her to jump.

“Yoda-lay-ee-hoo,” her sister says when Hadley answers.

“That’s how you greet people?” Hadley says, returning to the role of well-adjusted wife and mother, an act perfected for everyone except Mattie, Skipper, and Frank.

“Sometimes,” Vanessa says.

“What if I was someone important?”

“You’re not. You’re you.”

Hadley nods and, despite the current state of her life, smiles at her sister. Though Vanessa is twenty-six, it’s hard for Hadley to imagine her older than six, the age she was when she and Hadley last lived together.

“You were supposed to call yesterday,” Hadley says.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Tom and I got distracted.” Giggle. “If you know what I mean.” Hee, hee, hee.

Wisely, Hadley didn’t tell Skipper about his mom’s promise to call. This isn’t the first time Vanessa hasn’t followed through on a promised call, promised gift, or promised visit. “Ness, when Skipper is living with you, you can’t get distracted.”