Summer Friends (21 page)
Authors: Holly Chamberlin
35
“Coffee is almost ready,” Delphine called from the kitchen.
Maggie smiled to herself. The way the Crandalls made their coffee, she would be sure to add plenty of milk. “Okay,” she called back.
Delphine hadn't had the time to see Maggie on Wednesday, as Jackie had been home sick with a twenty-four-hour bug, which put Delphine on double duty. And late in the afternoon Harry had called to say that his son and one of Bob's buddies were in town and were coming to Delphine's house with him for dinner. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have minded hosting Bob and a friend, even on such short notice, but this time it annoyed her, Harry's easy assumption that she was available to cook for and clean up after three people, one of them a stranger, after a long, hard day of work. She could have said no to Harry. She should have said no, especially after the way he had treated Maggie in the hardware store, whatever the cause of his rudeness. But force of habit had been too great for her to resist. “Sure,” she had said. “No problem.”
And now, this Thursday evening, she could have enjoyed a typical evening alone at home, with her knitting and her books and Melchior, but instead, almost unthinkingly, she had picked up the phone and invited Maggie to come over after dinner for coffee.
It had been raining on and off all day, and the air felt heavy and wet. In deference to Maggie, Delphine had turned on the air conditioner, but the dampness still pervaded the house.
“Too bad it's raining,” Maggie said as Delphine came into the living room. “We could have sat on the porch. Gregory and I have a back porch. Well, it's more of a deck, really. It surrounds the pool and overlooks the yard. It's very nice, but there's something so charming about a front porch.”
“You could add one to the house,” Delphine suggested, placing a tray on the coffee table. The tray contained cups, a creamer, a sugar bowl, spoons, and a plate of homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. Maggie knew the cookies would wreak havoc on her diet. She also knew that she would be eating at least one.
Maggie shook her head and sat at one end of the couch. Melchior was snoozing in a ball on an armchair across the room. “I don't live in the kind of neighborhood where people porch sit of an evening,” she said.
“That's their loss,” Delphine said. “Anyway, we need the rain. A lot more of it, too. The crops are suffering.”
“I can't imagine my life being so directly affected by the weather. I don't understand how people can choose to live, say, on a major earthquake fault line. I would be anxious all the time. And those poor people who have no choice but to live in a flood zone. Do you remember what happened in Pakistan last year? There's no control over Mother Nature, only the possibility of a smart or a timely reaction.”
Delphine smiled. “Welcome to the world of the farmer. We're very good at anticipating disasters.”
“Yes. You're not at all insulated, are you? I mean, from the big things, the âacts of God.' ”
“We're right out there on the front line of life in a lot of ways.” Delphine sat on the other end of the couch. “Those earrings are amazing,” she said. “I'm sorry I didn't notice them before.”
Maggie touched her right ear. “Thanks. Gregory gave them to me. They're rose gold and the drop is a pink tourmaline.”
“Tourmaline is Maine's state stone. Were they a birthday present?”
“Our last anniversary, actually. Gregory is very good about giving gifts.”
Delphine laughed. “Harry doesn't âdo' gifts. Of course, he'll accept gifts. He just doesn't give gifts.”
Maggie didn't find anything about Harry's lack of gift-giving skills funny. She had not been able to stop thinking about Harryâmore precisely, about Harry and Delphineâsince the encounter at the hardware store. She knew as well as she knew her own name that Delphine should not be with Harry Stringfellow. Maybe he would be fine for another womanâor notâbut he was not fine or good or healthy for Delphine. She deserved so much better.
“What did Harry do before driving a truck?” Maggie asked, taking a sip of milky coffee and eyeing the cookies.
“Lots of things. Some carpentry, some house painting. He still does odd jobs for friends. He and Joey are working on a small building project for Joey's business accountant. Lots of people around here have more than one occupation going at a time. Like Jemima's husband and his foraging. You have to make ends meet in whatever way you can.”
“Yes.” Maggie paused. “Did you ever meet Harry's wife?” she said then. “I mean, before the accident?”
Delphine shook her head. “No. I'd never met either of them, which is kind of odd given life in a small town. And I certainly have no reason to meet Ellen now. She might not even know that I was in the room. And the last thing I would want to do is upset her.”
“Yes,” Maggie said, “I suppose there would be no point in going to see her. But what do you know about Ellen? Does Harry talk a lot about her? I mean, about what she was like before the accident.”
“She was, he says, a perfect wife, a perfect mother, and a perfect person. He's never said anything more specificâor less hyperbolicâthan that. And he's never said anything remotely critical of her.”
Maggie frowned. “How nice of him.”
“It is nice of him. He respects her.”
They sipped their coffee in silence for a moment or two.
“I'll be right back,” Delphine said then. “I want to show you something.” She loped up the stairs to her bedroom. When she came back down she handed Maggie a three-by-five white-bordered photograph.
“This is Ellen,” she said. “It was taken shortly after they got married or started dating, I don't know which. I guess she was about nineteen.”
Maggie looked up from the photo. “How did you get this? I can't imagine Harry giving it to you.”
“No.” Delphine sighed. “I can't believe I'm telling you this. I took it from his house. It's a copy. He has one in a frame, in his bedroom. This was loose in an old family album. I don't know why I took it. It's not like I look at it all the time or anything. It's just . . .”
“Go on,” Maggie said gently.
“I guess in some ways I have to remind myself that she's real. That there's a reason why Harry isn't . . . available and it doesn't have anything to do with me beingâbeing not worth it or deficient in some way.”
“I think I understand.” Maggie looked back down at the picture. She did understand, sort of, but she found the situation so awfully bizarre that she felt almost physically ill. “What do your parents think about the situation with Harry?” she asked after a moment. “And what does Jackie think?”
Delphine reached out for the photo and slipped it into her shirt pocket. “My parents don't seem to care either way. I mean, they like Harry. I think they like the fact that I have a man around when I need him. They've never said a word to me about Harry being married. Honestly, I don't know if they're aware that he refuses to get a divorce. Who would have told them that, if not me? Certainly not Harry.”
Maggie felt the anger creep up into her cheeks. The Crandalls might be nice people, but they didn't want half enough for their daughter. As far as Maggie could tell, they just wanted Delphine's free labor. They didn't care if she was happy or fulfilled as long as she could sling hash and bail their grandson out of trouble and keep the books for that stupid old farm.
“And Jackie?” she asked again, trying to keep her tone even. “And Jemima? What do they think?”
“Jemima believes that everyone has a right to make her own decisions. She doesn't question my choices. She just accepts them.”
“That doesn't mean she doesn't have an opinion.”
“Well,” Delphine said with a shrug, “if she has one she's keeping it to herself.”
“Let's get back to Jackie. She was the only one of your family who liked Robert. Am I remembering correctly? I can't imagine she thinks you're getting a fair deal in this Harry situation.”
“I made my choice. And please stop calling it âthis Harry situation.' ”
“You say it, too. âThe Harry Situation.' Anyway, choices can be reversed. You can un-choose, you can make a different choice.”
“Did I say I wanted to do that?” Delphine said. “I don't want to leave Harry. There's no real reason for me to leave him.”
“Okay,” Maggie said, though she didn't really believe Delphine and she could easily come up with several very good reasons for her to leave Harry. “But you still haven't answered my question. What does Jackie say about this . . . situation?”
Delphine smiled in spite of herself. She remembered Maggie's badgering her about all sorts of things when they were young, from combing her hair to not spending every waking hour outside of class with her head in a book. Maggie was tenacious when she cared; that much hadn't changed.
“You really don't give up, do you?” she said.
“No. Not when it's something important.”
“Jackie thinks I deserve someone who can be fully devoted to me. She likes Harry, mostly, but she doesn't like his divided loyalties.”
“His loyalties aren't divided, Delphine. His loyalties are to Ellen, his legal wife.”
“And to me,” Delphine argued. “He's loyal to me in his way.”
In his way. It was one of the oldest excuses in the book,
Maggie thought.
I love you in my way. My way happens to include a nightly slap across the face, but hey, at least I'm being true to myself.
Maggie thought.
I love you in my way. My way happens to include a nightly slap across the face, but hey, at least I'm being true to myself.
“What do his children have to say about their father's relationship?” she asked.
“They've both urged him to get a divorce,” Delphine admitted. “They like me. They love their father. They feel he could be happier.”
“But still he clings to his marriage. In other circumstances that would be admirable. If he wasn't having sex with you, for example.”
Delphine felt stung by the truth of that remark. “You don't have to be so brutal about it,” she said.
“I'm sorry.” But Maggie thought,
I'm not sorry I said that.
I'm not sorry I said that.
“I think,” Delphine said after a moment of thought, “that Harry is afraid to move on. He's already lost so much. If his marriage to Ellen is officially gone, another huge part of his life will be gone. So, he stays married to her.”
Maggie made a noise like a harrumph. “The marriage would be gone but not forgotten,” she pointed out. “He'd get over it. And he'd get over her. But he'll never get over anything this way, not by clinging to something that's defunct. He's behaving like a coward, Delphine.”
“Don't say that about him.”
“I'm sorry. Again. But can't you see that it's true?”
“No,” Delphine said firmly. “I can't. Harry's just making the best of a bad situation. Like we all have to do.”
Maggie didn't know how to reply. Delphine sounded so resigned. Had no one taught her how to stand up for herself, how to fight for her needs, her wants? Patrice and Charlie had been conscientious parents, certainly. Their children hadn't lacked for the basics, for food and for shelter. But at least with their youngest child they seemed to have dropped the ball when it came to teaching a respect of self.
Maggie sipped her coffee. When they were little and then all through college she had looked up to Delphine as the stronger, the more adventurous, of the two and maybe she had been strong and adventurous when they were young, but something had changed. Somewhere along the line of her life Delphine seemed to have lost sight of her own worth. If one of Maggie's daughters ever got involved in a situation like the one between Delphine and Harry, she'd be furious. Well, they never would make such a masochistic choice in the first place. She had taught them self-esteem; she had taught them the value of holding out for what was best. She had taught them, but had they heeded the lessons? Strong, intelligent women were not immune to making disastrous mistakes when it came to men. She doubted that would ever change.
“Could I have another cup of coffee before I head back to the hotel?” Maggie asked. She felt unable, too disturbed, to continue with the conversation about Harry and Delphine and Ellen and their weird, unhealthy ménage à trois.
“Sure.” Delphine practically leapt from the couch and headed for the kitchen. Maggie reached for a cookie and guessed that Delphine, too, was done with the topic for the night.
36
“Where's Harry tonight?” Maggie asked when she arrived at Delphine's house Friday evening after a solitary but pleasant dinner at the hotel. She brought with her a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates from Harbor Candy Shop. They were dark chocolates, supposed to be good for you, something about antioxidants. She would allow herself one, maybe two, and leave the box with Delphine, not because she doubted her own willpower but because she was pretty sure no one else ever brought Delphine a box of good candy.
“Working,” Delphine said. “He gets off at midnight and he'll go straight home.”
At least,
Maggie thought,
he doesn't insult Delphine with a midnight booty call.
That showed a little class. Class, or middle-aged exhaustion.
Maggie thought,
he doesn't insult Delphine with a midnight booty call.
That showed a little class. Class, or middle-aged exhaustion.
The women were together to watch Robert Evans as a guest on a popular evening talk show. Maggie had seen the listing online and suggested she and Delphine watch the show together. Delphine, too, had seen the listing, but she had planned to watch the show alone, as was her habit. But Maggie had insisted, even suggesting they watch in her hotel room, on the large wall-mounted high-definition television. Delphine won a small battleâthey would watch at her houseâbut she lost the war.
They settled on two inherited easy chairs in front of the television, a nine-year-old twenty-two-inch Panasonic set Delphine had bought from Jemima's neighbor who was upgrading to a flat screen. Melchior watched them from the exact center of the couch.
Delphine turned on the television. A commercial for an insurance company was playing; for some reason she couldn't immediately fathom, the actors in the ad were riding on a merry-go-round.
Maggie laughed. “This commercial reminds me of that time the three of us, you, me, and Robert, went to that county fair in Topsham. Remember, we got sausage and peppers and funnel cakes and ice cream and we were all sick as dogs the next day. I think it was the sausages. Ugh. I'd totally forgotten about that fair until this commercial. Robert won you a hideous green bear.”
“Yes,” Delphine said. She did remember that day. For a while, the three of them had been close, a trio of comrades, loyal friends. And when Delphine had left Robert, the friendship between Robert and Maggie had not been able to survive.
Every act has a consequence,
Delphine thought.
I didn't seem to understand that for a long time. It would be wise not to forget that hard-won lesson.
Every act has a consequence,
Delphine thought.
I didn't seem to understand that for a long time. It would be wise not to forget that hard-won lesson.
The show began. After a brief survey of Robert's career, the interviewer, a man in his forties with the requisite perfectly groomed hair and unobtrusive suit, said, “Your work as a political journalist, a social analyst, and as a whistleblower of sorts has been enormously important.”
Robert Evans, his own hair artfully messy, dressed in an open-necked shirt and no tie, smiled graciously. “Thank you,” he said. “At the risk of sounding pompous, I must agree with you. I consider my work an important civilian duty.”
“Though it's a duty that has put your life in danger on more than one occasion.”
“That's true,” Robert acknowledged. “But let me quote President Theodore Roosevelt: âFar and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.' Let's just say I've learned to duck when a gun makes its appearance.”
The interviewer chuckled politely. Maggie smiled and glanced at Delphine. Delphine was looking straight ahead at the television.
“I can't say,” Robert went on, “that I don't take issue with people who don't make âthe big sacrifices' in their life's work. Of course, not everyone has the opportunity to make a big difference, even if he or she wants to. And there are plenty of people who work at whatever pays them enough money to make ends meet, people who simply can't afford to take risks. But there are plenty of people out there perfectly equipped to sacrifice some of their time and resources for others but who are simply too lazy or self-involved to do it.”
Delphine wondered what Robert would think of the work she did every day, of the sacrifices she had made and continued to make. She wondered if he would find them lacking. She wondered if he would judge her to be too lazy or, if not self-involved, then cowardly. Well, she would never know.
The show went to commercial and Delphine lowered the volume.
“He's right,” Maggie said. “The work he does is so incredibly important. It must require so much sacrifice. You can't have a normal life when you're always on the road, going off to dangerous places.” Maggie paused before adding: “Though he is a tad self-inflated.”
Delphine nodded. “Oh, he's definitely self-inflated. Maybe you were right; maybe he always was vain. But I guess to be a celebrity you pretty much have to have an ego strong enough to stand up to criticism.”
“Oh, of course. And for all the good, humanitarian work he does, he is also a celebrity.”
“Do you think your work is important?” Delphine asked.
Maggie considered before answering. “I don't know. I suppose it is important to my clients. And my salary certainly helps my family. But it helps in what feels like such an indirect, impersonal way. A check comes in and another goes out. I guess it's fair to say that my work has become minimally and only occasionally satisfying.”
“That's too bad.”
“It could be worse,” Maggie said. “I could be out of a job like millions of Americans. But what about you? Well, I don't even have to ask, do I? Of course you consider your work important.”
Delphine nodded. “I do. I mean, even when my work on the farm or in the diner isn't personally fulfilling, it still has meaning because through it I'm helping my family. And the work is direct. It's not at all impersonal. That matters to me.”
The women sat quietly for the duration of the commercial break. Delphine was recalling a quote she had read about Dorothea, the heroine of
Middlemarch
by George Eliot. The quote was from a biography titled
George Eliot: The Last Victorian,
by Kathryn Hughes. She had copied out the quote in the notebook she kept by her bed. She had read it so often she knew it by heart. “. . . in the tiny âunhistoric acts' of goodness which she performs within her limited circle a ripple of influence has been set in motion which may eventually lap the edge of the world.”
Middlemarch
by George Eliot. The quote was from a biography titled
George Eliot: The Last Victorian,
by Kathryn Hughes. She had copied out the quote in the notebook she kept by her bed. She had read it so often she knew it by heart. “. . . in the tiny âunhistoric acts' of goodness which she performs within her limited circle a ripple of influence has been set in motion which may eventually lap the edge of the world.”
She liked to think that in her own life she was like Dorothea, devoted to the work of the here and the now. She believed that a person didn't need to perform her life in an arena. A small theatre would do, even a plywood stage on a backyard lawn with no sound system but that produced by her own vocal cords.
Or, she wondered now, as a commercial for yet another oddly named drug with thousands of negative side effects was ending, was that all just an excuse for cowardice?
“The show's back,” Maggie said, and Delphine raised the volume.
The interviewer led off. “So many people,” he said, “and let's say Americans in particular, consider work as merely a means to money, fame, material goods. What is your take on the contemporary culture of mindless acquisition and what even in this depressed economy can be seen as foolish spending?”
Robert seemed to consider his answer for a moment before speaking. Both Maggie and Delphine assumed the hesitation was for show. Robert was a practiced speaker. “I think,” Robert finally said, “that we all, as moral individuals and as citizens of the world, not only our country, have the responsibility of debating the important questions about our purpose on this planet, our responsibilities toward ourselves and toward others. We need to ask ourselves questions like: Who determines if the work is worth doing? What are the criteria for worthwhileness and value? Personal satisfaction or public purpose or both? Does the person doing the work determine its value or does the person benefiting from the work do the determining?”
Robert paused and the interviewer nodded, his face set in a studied frown of interest.
“And,” Robert went on, “we need to ask ourselves: What's more important, the process of our work or the results the work brings? And again, who has the right to make such a determination? We each need to grapple with these questions and to come to a strong, moral position. I mean, what's wrong with our culture when a devoted teacher in an inner-city school makes so much less money than a reality TV starlet? Our value system regarding work and reward is sadly distorted.”
Robert Evans went on in this vein for some moments more. And then the interviewer thanked him for being a guest on the show and announced the segment to come. Delphine turned the television off.
“Well, that was interesting,” Maggie said. “Not very informative, but interesting.”
“It was a self-promotion piece, that's all. I'm not sure he actually answered the interviewer's questions. Though I do agree with him about the need for a reevaluation ofâwell, of value in American culture.”
“Yes. I suppose I haven't given enough thought to . . . Well, too much of anything, lately.”
“Daily concerns can easily get in the way of larger issues,” Delphine said. “It's hard to balance priorities.”
Maggie smiled. “You're nice to let me off the hook for lazy thinking. So, what did you feel this time, listening to Robert pontificate?”
Delphine considered before replying. “Well, I know for certain that I'm not in love with him anymore. I can still see why I was drawn to him, certainly, though the animal attraction, the gut level feelings just aren't there anymore. Those feelings haven't been there for a long time. Which is good or my life would be pretty pathetic. It would be a waste.”
“Yes,” Maggie said.
“Sometimes when I watch him,” Delphine continued, “I feel as if the person on-screen isn't really Robert. I feel like I'm watching an actor play the role of Robert Evans. It's hard to explain. And then,” Delphine added with a smile, “there are those times when I think about that little mole on his shoulder. . . .”
Maggie smiled back. “He's probably had it removed by now, in case a paparazzi catches him without his shirt.”
“You're probably right.” Delphine got up and fetched the box of dark chocolates from the coffee table. “But right now all I'm interested in are these.” She sat back in her chair, took a chocolate, and passed the box to Maggie.
Maggie bit into a piece. “This is fantastic,” she said. “Wow.”
“Harbor makes their candy on-site. The smell alone makes me swoon. Not that I buy much from them, but at Halloween I go in to get some treats for Kitty.”
“Hey,” Maggie said, “I don't know why I didn't suggest this earlier, but maybe you'd like to come use one of the pools at my hotel. You could bring Kitty, too.”
“Oh, no thanks. Kitty doesn't really like the water much, and I haven't gone swimming sinceâwell, since I came back to Ogunquit after college.”
“But you loved to swim! You were great in the water, a proverbial fish. You weren't even afraid of big waves, while I was cowering back on the sand.”
“Yeah,” Delphine said, “but things just got really busy for me, so . . . I don't know. I just . . . stopped.”
“Do you miss swimming?”
Delphine considered for a moment. “I haven't really thought about it. But yes, I think that sometimes I do.”
“Really, Delphine,” Maggie said, “why does the notion of recreation cause you such concern?”
“I wouldn't say it causes me concern, exactly. Anyway, it doesn't matter because I don't even own a bathing suit.”
“You could borrow one of mine.”
Delphine eyed her friend. Maggie was longer all over, as she always had been, and now also at least fifteen pounds lighter than Delphine. “Thanks,” she said, selecting a third chocolate, “but I'm not sure that would work out.”
“Oh. Sorry. But if you won't come swimming with me, then promise you'll take a day trip with me soon, okay? Even a half a day, if you can't handle the idea of eight hours away from work.”
“It's not that I can't handle the idea of being away,” Delphine argued. “It's the reality, the consequences of being away that worry me.”
“You don't run the farm alone; you told me that. Other people can pick up your slack or deal with an emergency. You have a cell phone. You won't be going across the globe, only maybe to, I don't know, Kennebunkport. We could go someplace nice for lunch.”
Delphine paused. She couldn't deny that the thought of getting out of town, of having lunch somewhere other than her desk, was tempting. “When?” she asked.
“Whenever you want,” Maggie replied. “Look, I'm sure even the saintly Mr. Evans takes a vacation now and then.”
Delphine smiled. “I'd have to look at the calendar, check with Jackie about things. I'd need to make sure that Lori can cover for me and that Dad has a backup if he needs someone at the diner. Maybe Dave Junior could help out, too.”
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