In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (27 page)

“The Great Pretender” by The Platters

Friday, 12/07/2012

12:01
PM

I have a habit of driving with my window partially down
for fresh air, no matter what the season, and jumped when a voice nearby replied, “Are you openly into Devil worship these days, Bel?”

“If you only knew!”
I responded while laughing, although I was dismayed to realize while thinking of Luke’s past, I parked right next to Pam’s white Beemer and didn’t even notice my friend standing outside her car.

If I don’t get my head out of the clouds, a certain teacher
was going to be very disappointed with my lack of situational awareness, assuming it doesn’t get me killed first. There’s no iron clad guarantee I have a twenty-four hour window free from another murder attempt. I wondered briefly how Dickie’s investigation was progressing.

Exiting the truck, I locked it
. Thinking it’s better late than never, I swiveled my head to slowly scan the parking lot for threats before joining Pam on the sidewalk. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what to look for, but nobody was sitting in any parked car wearing a clown mask and transmitting malevolence my way.

Grinning as
I approached, Pam did a dance move. Motioning with a waving hand towards my clothes, she called out, “Ooh-wee, love the dress! Good God, you’re hair has grown so long! Don’t we look pretty today?”

“Yes, we do,” I answered, and it’s true. As I
responded to her quick, one armed hug, I was relieved to see my friend looked a hundred percent better than she did last night at Mac’s.

She’s still too skinny, but the dark rings under her
eyes seem diminished in the sunlight. She’s wearing cosmetics and cover up can hide a multitude of sins, but her blue eyes were bright and her mood appeared smilingly upbeat. It crossed my mind that I misread her signals last night and my alarm was misplaced. Perhaps the girl talk Pam said she desperately needs was of the harmless gossipy variation and we’re meeting at our favorite halfway point to have pineapple curry soup and play catch up on our lives.

After ge
tting married two years ago, Pam moved out of Northfield and I don’t see her so often anymore. The newlyweds followed the Ogelbachen family tradition and built a new house on some land within the family farm compound southwest of Faribault. Carter’s the oldest, but his younger two brothers have already married previously, built homes for their brides, and have pounded out three or four babies between them.

Pam confided to me once
before her wedding that her father-in-law, Carter the First, had patriarchal visions of heading up a powerful family dynasty. He strongly encouraged his boys to go forth and multiply from a young age. She was pretty trashed at the time, as we had been sampling assorted different flavors of Mojitos on a girl’s night out, but she felt they were all being unreasonably pressured by Carter’s father to get married and procreate. I don’t know Father Carter other than socially, but according to Pam, he rules the family privately with an iron fist in a publically worn velvet glove.

Walking with her to the door of the restaurant, I notice s
he was also darting erratic glances all over the parking lot. At this odd behavior, the faint hope that I’m getting off easy today drained away.

I ask
ed curiously, “Who are you looking for? Is everything all right?”

Her eyes fasten
ed quickly on me and her face flushed in a guilty fashion. “Oh! I’m not looking for anyone, just jumpy I guess.” Pam’s straight nose scrunched up when she laughed nervously and asked, “Do you honestly think I look okay? I’ve been so stressed and have lost weight, so I’m not…” her voice trailed off uncertainly and her hand motioned again, but down the length of herself this time.

As befits Rice County royalty, Carter has
encouraged Pam to spare no expense dressing in a classic style suited to a country club matron that drives a new BMW every year and bears the name of Mrs. Carter Ogelbachen II. Classic can be beautiful, but Pammie’s playful charm was what makes her so attractive. Think of a Tinkerbelle type and that’s Pam. Muted colors, suit skirts and jackets, and expensively simple jewelry dull her elfin charms and bring to mind a little girl playing dress up, but not happily.

I haven’t seen Pam dress
ed casually chic the way she was today in a long time, even when we’ve met for a burger or she’s stopped in at Bel’s. Ironically, this was the real Pam under the Chanel and the Prada of married life, but she seemed to not be her usual, confident self. Today she’s in brown boots, a brown pencil skirt topped by a chunky leather belt, and a short red sweater. It was tight enough to show off her small, perky breasts and low enough to show off her chunky necklace of polished agates. The earthy colors complemented her golden-brown hair worn straight to her shoulders with a fringe of bangs and her pale, lightly freckled skin.

I paused before opening the door
, answering sincerely and reassuringly, “Pam, I love your outfit and you look positively hot to trot.” I grinned and suggested, “Let’s go inside and order, and then we can talk.”

“Thank
s, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that!” Visibly glowing with pleasure, Pam led the way in as I held the door open. She smiled over her shoulder. “I am so hungry, let’s split some appetizers today, too.”

Following her size two boy hips, I replied, “Since we’re not leaving here until you’ve gained five
pounds, let’s live dangerously and split an entrée while we’re at it.”

Pam laughed
, as the cute hostess led us to a table near the back. The restaurant was only partially full, so nobody was seated near us.

“I can’t gain five pounds or this skirt will split at the seams,” Pam protested, once we were alone.

“Not that I don’t appreciate how tight your clothes are, but is this all for me or do you have a man waiting for some afternoon delight after our lunch?” I bantered teasingly, not really paying attention, as I opened and skimmed the menu.

At the silence, I looked up to see Pam fussing with her silverware and napkin, a red
stain blooming to cover her whole face.

I looked back and forth to make sure we wouldn’t be overhead and laughingly hissed, “Pam, what the
...?”

My words trailed off
while my blushing, grade school friend and I exchanged a long look. My mouth formed a silent O.

She nodded back at me
before dropping her eyes.

Closing my mouth when our server arrived to take our drink order, I hurri
edly verified our selections with Pam and ordered our favorite lunch, as well. We’d be too distracted to make decisions once we got talking.

The server hadn’t walked away more than a few steps before Pam grabbed my right hand and
exclaimed, “What a beautiful ring! Have I seen this before?”

L
etting her change the subject for now, I graciously held my hand out and she turned it from side to side while making admiring noises at the sparkles.

“Thank
you, I was given the ring as an early birthday present last night,” I watched her face carefully when I continued, “so unless you helped my boyfriend pick it out, I don’t think you’ve seen it before.”

Her head pop
ped up to stare at me, and her blue eyes were as open and guileless as a clear, summer’s sky. She gasped, “You have a boyfriend and he gave you this ring?” She shook my hand and repeated, “This ring?”

I nodded
and smiled tenderly at the ring. “Yep.”

“But...I just saw you a few weeks ago and you never mentioned a boyfriend!”
Pam said, floundering to understand.

I
could have brought up that I saw her a few weeks ago and she didn’t mention she was boinking some man on the side, either, but I               didn’t.

“
A few weeks ago he was just a chemical addiction and I hadn’t mentioned him to anybody,” I replied with a shrug. “His name is Luke Drake, do you know him?”

Pam
laughed a little at my explanation, but looked surprised at the question. After a moment’s thought, she shrugged back. “No, should I? Is he from Northfield?” Not waiting for an answer, she leaned forward and her big smile revealed perfect teeth resulting from years of orthodontic care. Pam’s the only kid I know that voluntarily wore her retainer without threats of parental beat downs. “You have a boyfriend!” She glanced around. “I feel like there should be a drum roll when I say those words!”

I laughed and relaxed, positive Pam ha
s never heard of the name Luke Drake. “He’s from Chicago, but inherited a farm over by Reggie’s house on Lake Roberds.” Messing with my phone, I held it up for Pam to see. This was the final, conclusive test. “Here’s a picture of us at Thanksgiving that Anna took.”

Obediently peering closer, Pam whistled and
said decisively, “Beefcake!” I laughed with her at our old code word for a hot guy packing more than average. “Got any nakie pix to share with Pammie? Preferably of his beef stick?”

“Gee, sorry, you’ll have to wait for our Christmas card,” I said with a
lingering smile, sitting back to allow the server to place hot tea on the table. Murmuring my thanks, I waited until she left.

I
was satisfied that whatever’s going on with Pam, it doesn’t have anything to do with her knowing Luke. This doesn’t bring me any closer to understanding why Luke lied, but now I can concentrate on the matters at hand. Blowing gently on my tea, I took a sip. Carefully, I set the cup down on the saucer.

I me
t Pam’s eyes, seeing sadness and confusion under the horsing around. “Tell me.”

She made a helpless gesture and
tears welled.

“Pam, are you sick?” I ask
ed softly, as my heart stopped at this sudden thought.

Quickly, she shook her head no while wiping
the moisture away with a tissue and laughing. The sound of her laughter was slightly manic. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry, but everything is falling apart and I’m okay, but I’m scared, too!”

Pam slumped and balanced her face on her two hands, her face twisted in a grimace.

“I’m in trouble, Bel,” she stated simply. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and my stomach always hurts.”

I quickly reassure
d her, “Don’t worry, Pammie, we’ll figure things out.”

She took a deep, trembling breath and lowered her hand from her eyes. She nodded and said with a tremulous grin, “Okay, I think I’ve got my shit together.”

I smiled encouragingly, but teased, “That will be a first, but if you say so.”

Pam laughed outright
at my joke since she’s notoriously OCD about the important things in her life. Pam’s flighty on the surface, but she was a good wife, a good daughter, and a good Christian. She’s a faithful friend and a dedicated employee. She was punctual, reliable, universally liked, and an all-around people pleaser. I was surprised Pam hadn’t blown a gasket long before now.

I
nodded to her tea. “Try a fortifying sip and then tell me what the heck is going on, okay?”

“
Yes, Mom,” she replied, and took a little sip. Holding the cup in her hands, she kept her eyes focused on the tea and said in a rush, “My marriage is a sham, the Ogelbachen’s are having some kind of huge financial crisis, and,” she glanced up, her voice was a whisper and her eyes were huge, “I’ve met another man and he’s doing things to me with his dick that I never dreamed were possible!”

Oh yes, and Pam
has grown up to be a dirty, filthy Tinkerbelle which makes all those other perfect qualities tolerable in a friend.

However lightly we sp
oke, I was sure Pam cheating on her marriage vows, regardless of the reasons, was the cause for her stomach pain. She’s most likely working up to an ulcer. Admitting she was cheating was the reason her eyes were overflowing with tears again.

“Dreamy dicks are hard to resist, but let’s start from
the top, shall we?” I suggested bracingly. Pam may be flighty as a hummingbird, but she’s not the crying type. She hates to be pitied or babied.

Pam nodded quickly
and wiped under her eyes again.

“Why is
your marriage a sham?”

Her lips
thinned and she looked away a second before turning back to answer. “A few months ago, I overheard Carter and his father,” she enunciated the word father with a sneering twist of her mouth, “discussing the fact that we’ve been married two years and I haven’t conceived.” She laughed shortly and threw her hands up. “Discussing is too nice a word and I’m through pretending. His Father was bitching Carter out for not getting me pregnant!” She shook her head angrily. “His dad belittles Carter and is constantly questioning his manhood. Carter’s never quite good enough, or smart enough, or tough enough.” She looked at me and asked, “Do you remember me telling you how his dad thinks he’s the head of this great Ogelbachen Empire?” I nodded and she continued, “Yes, the family means everything to that man. I used to feel bad for Carter, especially after we were first married and living near all his family. Carter really wants to impress his dad and seeks his approval on everything.”