Friendship Bread (24 page)

“It was a struggle. I tried hard in the beginning—offering to help him with homework, offering to chaperone class field trips, taking his side in arguments with Steven. The more I did, the worse it got. Or so it seemed. Thinking back now, there are small things I didn’t pay attention to, like how he would stay home on the weekend instead of going out with friends. How he always seemed to be underfoot, his things everywhere. He seemed to be deliberately trying to get in my way. I would be so fed up that I’d have to go to my room to cool off, not realizing that Ben
wanted
my attention. I was too dense to see it at the time, to understand what his behavior really meant. He was a child who simply wanted love, like all children do, but didn’t know how to ask for it.” She sees Julia dab at her eyes, and feels her own eyes get wet. But it’s been a long time since Madeline has cried about this. “I didn’t get then that it was my job to figure that out, not his.

“When Ben went off to college, I have to admit that I was relieved. Out of sight, out of mind. Things were seemingly peaceful for a while, though there was the occasional Ben hiccup—academic probation, a DUI, that sort of thing. And then Steven died.”

Madeline casts her eyes to the ceiling. “Steven’s shoe company had been in his family for five generations. It was always his hope that Ben would somehow clean up his act and take over the business, so it wasn’t a surprise that Steven left the company to his son. We had talked about it, and it was what Steven wanted to do. I wanted him
to do it even though we hadn’t seen Ben in years. It just seemed like the right thing to do, to keep this business in the family.

“Ben sold the company the minute he assumed possession of it. I couldn’t believe it. He may as well have taken a stake and driven it right through my heart. I suspected he was an alcoholic even though he was still a young man at the time. Later I heard there were drugs, too. He was a drifter, unmarried and unmoored. I was actually relieved that Steven was dead so he wouldn’t have to see what Ben had done.” Her voice shakes. Madeline’s talked about this before—many times, in fact—but it never fails to upset her as if it were yesterday.

“It’s not your fault,” Julia says quietly. “How could you control what he was going to do? You can’t blame yourself for that.” There’s a startled look on her face and Madeline sees that the words echo in Julia’s own heart.

“For that, no,” Madeline says. She takes a deep breath and exhales, suddenly deflated. “But I was so angry, not just for what he’d done, but for
everything
he’d done—to Steven, to me, even to himself. Our little family saga had attracted a flurry of interest from the business media, and I was asked to do an interview. I accepted and then proceeded to blast Ben. Publicly. I don’t even remember what I said exactly, but I was horrified when I read it in the paper—it just looked so ugly in black-and-white. I struggled with how best to apologize, but Ben hired an expensive lawyer and they were trying to get back the house that Steven had left me, the house that I was living in. It was a modest thing, nothing fancy, and with all the money Ben had, he could easily have bought himself several homes in high-end neighborhoods. I took it very personally that he was coming after me.

“The press was eating this up, and I was asked to do another interview—I declined. I decided that I wouldn’t do anything anymore, just lay low and mind my own business, and let things die down so that life could return to normal.”

Madeline looks miserable as she tells the rest of the story. They had the attention of the big papers now, and Ben was quoted in the
Wall Street Journal
as saying that Madeline had been a gold digger, a
home wrecker, an alcoholic herself. It was all so ludicrous it was almost comical.

She remembers how quickly she found herself shunned by people she had considered friends. She received tight-lipped smiles from tellers at the bank, her neighbors offering no more than a short, curt nod when she went out to get her morning paper. After all these years, didn’t these people know her well enough to see through Ben’s lies? Apparently not.

“So I did the only thing I could think of. I donated the house to a foundation so that Ben could never buy it. I sold everything, not wanting to be burdened with more than was absolutely necessary. I took the proceeds, donated them to charity, and left town. California beckoned, so I went.”

“Why did Ben want your house?” Hannah wonders.

Madeline dabs at her eyes. “Because, Hannah, while I was a grieving widow, he was a grieving son. He lost both his parents too soon, and the only thing he had was the house he grew up in. It really had nothing to do with me. I see that now. But I think, too, that he was doing the one thing that he knew would turn me against him, because he wanted to see what I would do.”

“What do you mean?” Julia asks.

“He wanted to see if I would choose him over the house, over the shoe company. I obviously didn’t, though I wish I had, more than anything. Now I have none of those things—the house, the shoe company, Ben. If I could do it again, I would have chosen differently. Would have acted differently.” These last words linger in the air around them.

“So that’s why you’re back?” Hannah asks. “To make amends?

Madeline gives a smile, a small nod. “I needed to be closer—the west coast seemed so far away, another world almost. Chicago was my home for a long time—Ben’s, too—and I foolishly thought that somehow we might both find our way back here.

“He could be anywhere, of course. The last address I have for him is in Pennsylvania, this one here.” Madeline taps the envelope. She
had used that Google function on the computer to see if she could find him but had been overwhelmed by the number of results—more than two million hits for Benjamin Malcolm Dunn, with every possible combination of his name. Madeline had clicked on link after link then eventually gave up. In the end, she decided to rely on the last known address given to her by her lawyer. Even if Ben’s no longer there, the letter still might find him. “But I’m not so sure anymore that I should send it. It might just reopen old wounds.” She sighs heavily. “It took me three months to write that letter. It’ll probably take me just as long to mail it.”

“I can mail it for you if you’d like,” Hannah offers gently.

Madeline shakes her head and quickly reaches for the envelope as if she’s afraid that Hannah might mail it right away. “No, no. I’ll do it.” She slides the envelope into her lap and covers it with a napkin. She takes a deep breath. “I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

Bernice Privott stands safely behind the locked screen door, arms crossed, an apologetic but firm look on her face. She was rinsing her breakfast dishes when she spotted Helen Welch exit her house with several bags of the now-familiar creamy starter. Bernice had managed to dry her hands and hurry to the screen door, slipping the lock into place just as Helen came up the sidewalk.

Helen is smiling sweetly now. “Bernice, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t an emergency.” She cradles the bags in her arms.

Bernice shakes her head, refusing to be swayed. “Helen, I’ve gone through three cycles already. I have a bag of my own and as it is I haven’t a clue as to what I’m going to do with it.”

Helen clucks sympathetically, edging closer. “But I’m not
giving
them to you, Bernice—I just need you to babysit. Henry wants to visit his mother in Grand Detour and we won’t be back until Friday at the
earliest. Just give them a feed tomorrow on Day Six, and then I’ll be back to take over again.”

“No.” The word comes easily to Bernice, who has been the head librarian at the Avalon Public Library for over thirty years.

Helen reaches into the front pocket of her dress and pulls out an index card. “Did I tell you that I found the most amazing recipe for a pumpkin cranberry bread using the starter? It’s the best one by far. And doesn’t Mr. Takahashi have a thing for pumpkin?” Helen’s eyes narrow knowingly.

Koji Takahashi is the new library technician. He’s a few years older than Bernice, a recent transplant from Ann Arbor, Michigan. He’d been instrumental in turning around the Ann Arbor District Library system, which has more than 500,000 books, magazines, audio books, DVDs, and the like. They have nothing like that in their cozy 2,000-square-foot town library, but Koji said it didn’t matter. When Helen continued to insist that their needs were much smaller, he simply said that his were, too, and so she gave him the job.

Helen taps the card enticingly against the mesh of the screen door.

Bernice hesitates, but only for a second. She flips open the lock and pushes the screen door open. Helen jumps back just in time.

“Fine,” Bernice says. “You’re back on Friday?”

Helen nods and smiles broadly as she fills Bernice’s arms, then hands her the index card. She heads back to her house, calling over her shoulder, “Oh, and in the event that I get caught up and don’t make it back—you know how heavy the rains have been lately—do be a dear and make sure they don’t go to waste. Thank you!”

Bernice knows now she’s been duped. “Helen!”

But Helen is already hurrying home without a backward glance, her arms free, her kitchen free, with Bernice muttering under her breath as she wonders how many loaves of pumpkin cranberry bread it will take to win Koji Takahashi’s heart.

Livvy is buzzing with nervous energy. She’s cleaned the house, washed the sheets, and cooked an amazing meal with the help of some heat-and-serve dishes from Kroger’s. She found the perfect box for the pregnancy test and wrapped the whole thing in tissue paper the color of daffodils.

The second guest room is Livvy’s choice for the nursery. It’s the furthest away from the stairs (she’s thinking ahead to when the baby will start crawling), gets plenty of sun, and has more than enough room for a crib, changing station, dresser, rocking chair, bookshelves. The closets are spacious and they can add a second rack since the baby’s clothes will be so small. That’s one of the things Livvy can’t wait to do—shop for a layette. Maybe she and Edie can do this together. Maybe they can get a discount on furniture and things if they buy them at the same time.

The door slams and Livvy realizes that Tom is home. She hurries to greet him, a cold beer in hand.

“Hi, Liv.” Tom gives his wife a kiss as he loosens his tie. He accepts the beer with a smile. “Wow. Nice. Thanks, honey.”

He’s had a good day. This couldn’t be more perfect.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s ready.” Livvy’s anxious to get him into the dining room.

“I’m starving. Let me just change and I’ll be right down.” He tosses his briefcase to the side and climbs up the stairs.

Livvy hurries back to the kitchen to make sure everything’s warm. She has his favorites: strip steak with mashed potatoes and carrots, soft dinner rolls, green beans. More beer for him, sparkling apple cider for her. A cheesecake for dessert.

She brings everything to the table except the cheesecake and sits down. She puts the napkin in her lap and waits, her heart pounding.

Ten minutes later, she’s still waiting.

When a total of fifteen minutes has passed, Livvy throws her napkin onto the plate and marches upstairs. There, in their bedroom, she finds Tom lying on the bed watching golf, wearing boxer shorts, socks, and the shirt he wore to work. The empty bottle of beer is on the nightstand.

“Tom!”

He shushes her, his eyes on the television. “Liv, one more minute. They’re doing a recap of the Players Championship …”

“Tom, I made dinner and it’s downstairs getting cold!”

“Can we eat it up here?”

Livvy marches to the TV and snaps it off. “No!”

Tom swears. “Goddamn it, Livvy.” He tosses the remote to the side and gets up. “Fine. Let’s go eat.”

She stares at him. “Aren’t you going to finish changing?”

“I don’t care. Let’s just eat.” He’s the first to walk out of the room.

She follows him down the stairs, calming herself. With each step, her anger dissipates and she grows excited again, knowing how good this will be, knowing how this will change things.

At the table, Tom stops short of his seat. “What’s this?” He picks up the box wrapped in yellow paper.

“It’s a present,” she says. Instead of sitting back down in her chair, she hovers by his.

He definitely looks surprised, and a little ashamed. He leans over to give her a kiss. “So that’s what all the fuss is about. Thanks, Liv.” He sits down and tears off the paper. “Is it a watch?”

She shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t want to say another word until he sees what it is.

“What the …” Tom’s face clearly registers shock as he reads the note and then holds up the pregnancy stick. “The plus means you’re pregnant? You’re pregnant?”

Livvy can’t hold back. “I’m pregnant!” she gushes. “Can you believe it? I didn’t have any idea, I was just being a friend to Edie and took the test to support her and …” She points to the window with the pink plus. “It’s positive. We’re going to have a baby, honey.” She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. “We’re going to be parents!”