Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (20 page)

Ruth picks up a bowl sticky with cranberry sauce. “Patty, dear, perhaps that’s what you think, but that’s not what he thinks. I know men. And when it comes to that man, he’s got something more than money on his mind—and that something is
you
.”

My stomach swirls and I grab the table for support. Sam and me? It won’t work. It’s not what I want. Does everyone know? Does Nick know?

“I’m not interested in Sam.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly.

“I’m not,” I insist. “There’s nothing going on between us. Nothing.”

She tilts her head, eyes me for a moment, then shrugs. “If that’s true, it might be a good idea if you let him know that,” she says mildly. “Men are funny about that sort of thing. They like to know if they’re wasting their time.” She starts for the door.

“Ruth, wait…” I make a grab to stop her and Mama’s turkey platter slips from my hands, crashing onto the hardwood floor.

“Ohmigod.” I stare in horror at the shards of china littered around our feet. Hot tears pop behind my eyes. “Priscilla is going to kill me.”

“It was an accident.” Ruth comforts me with a hug. “She’ll understand. I’ll help you clean things up.”

“No, you don’t understand. It was one of the few things we have left that belonged to Mama. Priscilla will be so upset.” My tears drip, wetting the broken china. Priscilla will be more than upset. She’ll be brokenhearted.

“We’ll tell her I broke it,” Ruth suggests. “I’ll say it was my fault.”

“No, I can’t let you do that. It wouldn’t be right.” My hands tremble as we gingerly pick up the pieces and stack them on the one large piece that remains intact. “I might as well tell her the truth. She’s bound to find out anyway. Besides, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just a turkey platter.”

But it’s not. It belonged to Mama and now it’s gone. Just like so many other things in our lives.

It feels like my world is breaking apart, piece by piece.

# # #

I was prepared for screaming, ranting, raving. I deserved it. I’ll take my punishment. But not this. It was bad enough when I admitted what happened and saw the sad, haunted look slip across Priscilla’s face. But nothing prepared me for this horrible silence that’s existed between us for the past six hours. It’s chewing me up inside.

“Patty?”

Finally, she’s talking to me. I flip over from my spot on the couch, see Priscilla hovering in the hallway.

“I’m going to bed.” She turns and starts for the stairs.

“Priscilla, wait.” I haul myself off the couch, start after her. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

She keeps walking. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Priscilla?” She’s nearly at the stairs. I make a fast move and grab her arm. “Priscilla, wait. I’m sorry about Mama’s platter,” I tell her for the umpteenth time.

She stares down at my arm, refusing to meet my eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” She shakes away from my touch. “What’s done is done.”

But it does matter. I wrap my arms around myself, hug myself tight. I wish it was Priscilla I was hugging instead. I hate it when things aren’t right between us. Will she ever forgive me? Even Sam, the last to leave, couldn’t cheer her up with his glowing compliments about the holiday meal when he said his good-byes. She kissed his cheek with the thinnest of smiles, looking pallid and forlorn, wretched and worn out. Black circles smudged her eyes.

Why did I ever let her talk me into agreeing to host a holiday meal? It was too much for her. Mama was right. Priscilla doesn’t know her own limitations. Now she’ll take to her bed and get sick again. It will be all my fault.

Just like Mama’s turkey platter, buried in the garbage can. All my fault.

“Good night,” I call after her as she starts up the stairs. “Sweet dreams.”

Priscilla doesn’t answer, just keeps climbing without a backward glance. She’s never gone to bed mad at me before. We have our tiffs but she’s always the one who ends up the peacemaker. What’s happening to us? Every step she takes moves her further from me. What have I done? Will she ever come back?

I wait below in the foyer until I hear the soft sound of her bedroom door click. Then I turn and head back into the living room, flop down on the couch, tuck my bare feet under my legs. A dull throb—probably the beginning of a hangover— knocks at the back of my head. I rub my neck, stare around the living room. How did everything go so wrong? Just hours ago this room was filled with friendly faces, easy conversation, laughter. Now I’m alone. Just me and my misery, plus this nagging headache.

As God as my witness, I will never drink again. That was the beginning of things going wrong. I made a royal fool of myself today… first with Sam in the kitchen, then showing off in front of everyone by flirting with Nick, and finally breaking a treasured family heirloom.

What else did I break today? Sam’s trust. Nick’s illusions. Priscilla’s love.

Is it any surprise everyone left so fast? Nick was the first to go, slipping out the door with a fleeting goodbye. Ruth and Jack quickly followed. Sam was the only one who braved Priscilla’s wrath, sticking around another half hour to help clean up before he finally said goodbye.

I let everyone down, including myself. No wonder they all left. Who would want to be with me?

Sometimes I don’t even want to be with myself.

The hell with that little black dress. It’s waited this long. It can wait until tomorrow. I slip off the couch and pad barefoot into the dark kitchen. I yank open the refrigerator door and search the shelves. Through good times and bad, loneliness and indifference, there’s one thing that’s always been loyal and seen me through. Food has never failed me in the past and it’s here for me tonight.

Finally I spy the whipped crème tucked behind the sweet potatoes.

Now, to figure out where Priscilla stashed the leftover pumpkin pie.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The doorbell chimes as I totter down the stairs. Nick will just have to wait. My toes are numb in my brand-new, too tight, three-inch heels and I can’t move any faster. It’s a guarantee by midnight I’ll have blisters on my feet. If Cinderella’s glass slippers pinched, I’ll bet her happily-ever-after was worth the pain.

But my Prince Charming has shown up when I didn’t expect him. Did Nick see my disappointment when he mentioned his late afternoon basketball practice today? I agreed to meet him at Amy’s party but now I won’t have to. Obviously he’s changed his mind and plans on driving me to the party after all.

The doorbell chimes once more.

“Coming,” I mutter as I wobble through the foyer. Damn that saleswoman for talking me into buying these shoes because they matched this shimmering cocktail dress… something else I never should have bought. It’s still too tight, even though I’ve lost another two pounds. And I’ve never gone strapless. With my shoulders exposed and my breasts pushed into tight little cups that strain and cut against my flesh, I feel like a plump little sausage about to burst its casing.

If only Priscilla had helped me dress. She’d tell me the truth, if I look decent enough to wear this out in public. And I so much want to look beautiful for Nick. Hopefully he won’t think I look like a model for fat-girls-gone-bad.
Vanity, thy name is Patty
. I don’t dare eat one thing at the party or I’ll pop right out of this dress. I smooth down the froufrou skirt, take a deep breath, and yank open the front door.

“Wow.” Sam stares at me, frozen on the porch.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t just stand there. You’re letting all the cold air in.” As if I need any reminder that I’m nearly naked. I grab his arm and haul him inside, slam the door against the icy December wind. “Heat costs money.”

He struggles out of his overcoat, drapes it on a nearby chair. His face wears a look of awe as he ogles me. “Wow.”

“I believe you already said that.” I pluck his coat off the chair and hang it in the closet, a little miffed that it’s Sam and not Nick at our front door. And what is Sam doing here anyway? I didn’t invite him and the few times we’ve seen each other since Thanksgiving, he’s acted exceeding polite. This tiptoeing around each other is driving me crazy. Bad enough he witnessed me staggering around in a drunken stupor. Sam, always the gentleman. Not once has he mentioned my indiscretion —or the kisses we shared.

He can’t quit staring. “You look…”

“Go ahead and say it. The dress is too tight, right?” I’m sure my face is as red as one of the bulbs on the Christmas tree in our living room. I fight down the urge to yank at the bosom and rearrange myself. What if the boned cups fail and I fall out of this dress during Amy’s party? I can imagine the headlines now.
Teacher exposes herself at Christmas party.
There go my hopes of winning Teacher of the Year.

Sam shakes his head. “You look—”

“Listen, there’s still time for me to change. Tell me the truth, Sam. Should I or shouldn’t I wear this dress tonight?” My heart pounds against my chest at the thought of what he’ll say but I know I can trust him to tell me the truth. Sam’s got an honest streak as thick as his middle. I bite my lower lip, take a deep breath. “Does this dress really look that bad?”

“No, it’s perfect.” He shifts on his feet. “You look beautiful, Patty.”

“Really?” A tiny thrill surges inside me. “You’re not teasing? You really like it?” But I already know he does. The ruddy flush on his face is proof enough.

He nods. “It looks great. Stunning. Like you’re going to a party.”

“Well, that’s good. Because I am.” Suddenly, wearing this dress doesn’t feel that bad. Funny how knowing you have a man’s admiration can change your whole attitude.

“From the look of that dress, I’d say it’s going to be quite the party.”

“I hope so,” I say with a careful smile and let it go at that. I learned my lesson months ago. When it comes to Sam, certain things are better left unsaid… especially things involving Nick. “What brings you out on a night like this?”

He frowns. “It’s Friday. I came for dinner.”

“But I won’t…” I halt, suddenly confused. This isn’t the way things are supposed to work. I assumed Sam comes for dinner on Friday nights because of me. Doesn’t he?

“I’m going to a party,” I finish in a tiny voice. “I won’t be here.”

“I didn’t realize your being here was a prerequisite for my being invited.” His eyes narrow. “And Priscilla never mentioned it.”

Priscilla invited Sam to dinner tonight? She never said boo to me.

Then again, why should that come as a surprise? She’s barely talking to me.

“Well, I’m sure the two of you will enjoy yourselves so much you won’t even miss me.” I toss my head, suddenly glad for the wild curls bouncing across my face, hiding my pinched frown. The thought of the two of them having dinner together alone makes me want to squirm, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him know it. It’s not like I’m jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous about. Priscilla is interested in Dr. Brown. And as for Sam? I thought he was interested in…

I don’t have time to figure it out. I’ve got a party to go to. Nick’s probably already on his way. I dig in the closet and grab my wool coat. Tonight’s forecast calls for snow.

“Who’s throwing this party?” Sam takes my coat, holds it for me as I wrap myself inside. “Anyone I know?”

“I doubt it. Just a few of the teachers from school, having a little get-together.” It’s not exactly a lie. There’ll be other teachers there—I think, though I’m not sure how many. I burrow my face in the coat’s fur collar. I’ve got to be nuts, thinking about going out on a night like this wearing a strapless dress. It’s Northern Michigan. It’s December.

It’s Nick.

“Jack and Ruth going?” he asks casually.

“I’m not sure.” I’m not privy to Amy’s invitation list, but it’s pretty much guaranteed their names aren’t on it.

Or my own name, either, for that matter.

“I’ll probably be home early,” I add breezily. “A bunch of teachers getting together doesn’t make for much excitement.”

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of excitement,” he predicts with a half smile. “The minute you take off your coat and everyone sees that dress.” He eyes me for a moment. “What about that guy? Is he going to be there?”

“What guy?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“Nick?” My chin shoots forward as I pull on my gloves. “Why?”

“Just asking.”

My face reddens. “I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”

Something hardens in his eyes.

“Is that Sam?” Priscilla breezes through the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“Why didn’t you tell him I wouldn’t be here tonight?” I counter.

She shrugs. “Sam always comes over on Friday nights. I don’t see that it makes any difference whether you’re here or not. Unless…” She glances back and forth between the two of us. “You don’t mind, do you, Sam? Having dinner alone with me?”

“Looking forward to it,” he assures her. “You’re great company, Priscilla.”

A wreath of a smile nearly as big as the Christmas wreath adorning our front door spreads across her face. “I hope you like omelets.”

“One of my favorites.”

“Good. I’m chopping the vegetables right now.” She throws me a distant wave as she heads down the hall. “Have fun at your party.”

That’s it? I watch my twin disappear without a backward glance. Priscilla helped me pick out this dress. She pointed out the matching shoes. She was so excited that I’d been invited to Amy’s party, that I’d have a chance to impress the movers and shakers in this town who might be on the voting committee for Teacher of the Year. Priscilla used to be my champion, and now she’s barely speaking to me. What happened?

I broke Mama’s stupid turkey platter. That’s what happened.

Damn plate. How do I end up in these messes, anyway? I cinch the belt of my coat and fish through my purse for car keys.

Sam plants himself in front of me. “Drive carefully. There’s a lot of snow out there and the roads are supposed to get worse.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a good driver.”

“I never said you weren’t.”