The Secret Lives of Housewives (8 page)

“I'm with C & B. That's an advertising agency.”

“I know. Conroy and Bates. One of the biggies. Account exec?”

Surprised that he hadn't assumed she was a secretary, she nodded. Well, secretaries couldn't afford town houses in this development without family money, so she guessed his was a logical assumption. Still, she was reluctant to admit how high up in the food chain she was. “Lots of pressure.”

Dan sat up and reached down to the concrete beside him. “I brought a pitcher of lemonade and an extra glass. Can I offer you some?”

Over a few glasses of lemonade they talked about everything from sports, about which Monica knew very little, to politics, about which they both knew a lot.

At one point a boy of around seven ran ahead of his mother through the gate, into the pool area. “Hey, Dan, where's Trevor?” the boy asked with a bright smile.

“He and his sisters are off on vacation.” Dan reached out and ruffled the boy's hair. To Monica he said, “My sister's kids. Trevor's seven, Marly is nine, and Alexa is ten.”

The boy's face dropped. “Oh yeah. He told me last week.” Then he brightened. “Will you come in and play with me? I brought my beach ball. We could play volleyball in the big pool.”

Dan turned to Monica. “We bat the ball around sometimes.” His gaze returned to the boy. “Sorry, sport. I'm talking to this nice lady.” Dan raised his eyebrow at the boy, who turned to her with sparkling blue eyes. “Hi. I'm Cameron.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Cameron. I'm Monica.” They shook.

A man of about thirty in a red Speedo came through the gate leading a boy of about three, followed by a woman wearing a terry robe over a demure one-piece black swim suit, pushing a stroller. “Hi, Dan,” the woman said. “Don't let Cameron bother you.”

“He's not. Monica, these are the Pascoes, Rob and his wife Serena. They're close friends of my sister and her husband.”

“This is Brad,” she said, indicating the three-year-old, “and this is Mark.”

“He's still a baby,” Cameron said, “and so far he's okay.”

“How is their vacation going?” Rob asked.

“Since I haven't heard from them, I assume it's going fine. If everything goes as planned, they'll be back on Saturday.”

“Say hi if you hear from them before we do.” The man turned to his son. “Come on, Cameron, and don't bother Mr. Crosby.”

“He's not Mr. Crosby,” Cameron said triumphantly. “He said last time I could call him Dan.”

Rob and Serena laughed and Rob headed for the kiddy pool with Brad. “Say good-bye to Dan,” Serena said. “Nice to meet you, Monica.”

“'Bye, Dan. See ya.”

“See ya, Cam.”

Another stereotype shot to hell, Monica thought. He was obviously good with kids. “Your nieces and nephews are just a bit younger than my older sister's kids,” she said when Serena was gone. “Bonnie's are thirteen, eleven, and nine, spaced almost exactly two years apart, and all have birthdays in May. I guess the August heat gets to Jake.”

“I guess so,” Dan said with a laugh. “Nieces and nephews. Another thing we have in common.” When she looked puzzled, he continued, “In addition to yoga, of course. How did you happen to take this course?”

Monica told Dan about her conversation with her doctor, surprised at how easy it was to be open with him. “So I decided that I have to do something to relax. I saw the ad in the Pennysaver and considered it an omen.”

“Your doctor's right. My job's probably as stressful as yours. I am Mr. Troubleshooter. When something goes wrong with the network anywhere in the U.S., I get sent to God knows where, God knows when. So I quickly decided that, if I'm going to work hard, I play hard.”

“What do you do when you ‘play hard'?” Monica made quoting motions in the air.

“I do whatever appeals to me at the time. I bowl a pretty good game, I play a little tennis—badly I will admit—I love computer games, but I guess that's sort of like a busman's holiday. How about you?” Dan asked. “What do you do to play?”

There was nothing overtly suggestive in the comment so Monica gave it serious thought. She couldn't think of a thing she did just for fun. She saw plays in the city, but those were usually with clients, as were her dinners out. On the weekends she worked. Until her visit with her sister the previous Saturday she hadn't gone out just for the hell of it for months.

“Gotcha,” he said. “Work hard, play hard. Give me time, I'll convert you.”

Give him time? Did she want to? The conversation was lively, and it was another hour before she noticed that the Pascoes had left, the sun had set, and the lights in the pool house were on. Mosquitoes were out in force and she'd reflexively slapped at a few. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was after nine. “Listen, it's getting buggy and I've still got work to do.” She grabbed her tote and stood.

He stood as well. “This has been nice. Maybe we could do it again sometime. Over dinner?”

“I don't know. I'm really busy in the city most evenings.”

“Me, too. Maybe we could meet there or do something one Saturday, after yoga? I love to walk so maybe we could just wander one afternoon. Blue Mountain Reservation is just beautiful this time of year. I'll give you a call.”

Startled at his knowledge, she said, “Where did you get my number?”

“Okay,” he said with a boyish grin he probably practiced in front of a mirror. “I'll 'fess up. I looked you up in the phone book while I changed into my trunks. Can I call? It's not often I find someone so good to talk to.”

“Me, too,” she said before she censored her words. “I don't usually let guys pick me up.”

“Is that what I did? I thought we had lots in common: the house here, the dogs, the yoga class. We're hardly strangers.”

He was so outrageously charming she had to laugh. “Right,” she said, but her voice had no edge to it.

“Come on, Monica, don't be such a stickler. Let's see whether this thing we've got has any legs.”

“Thing we've got?” He was difficult—no, impossible—to resist. “Okay, sure.” She pulled a small card from her tote and scribbled on it. “Here's my cell number. I'm easier to reach this way.”

“I'm pretty busy this week so if I don't speak to you before, I'll see you next Saturday. At class.”

“Right. See you.” She walked down the sidewalk toward her house with a light step. Why not? she wondered. Why was she so reluctant to attempt a lightweight relationship with him? She sighed. It was just that business dating seemed so much easier. Everyone knew the rules.
With Dan I'm not sure there are rules.
That feeling made her extremely uncomfortable.

Although he seemed really nice and genuine, in her experience most men were rotten to the core. She regularly went to bed with guys who were cheating on their wives, and that merely reinforced her negative ideas about the male of the species. She didn't need entanglements, and as she walked back to her house she thought that Dan might become a definite entanglement.

T
he Hudsonview Diner had been built in 1968, and remodeled several times since to make it appear lighter and airier. Instead of the tiny railroad-diner-style windows and deep burgundy ersatz leather upholstery that kept the interior dark, now the windows were wide and tall, covered only with vertical blinds. The benches in the booths and the chairs in the dining room were smooth tan vinyl and the tables pale cream. Although the wait staff's slacks were always black, the top part of their uniforms changed yearly, first formal white tuxedo-type shirts with black vests and bow ties, then burgundy or forest green polos, now pink denim-looking short-sleeved oxfords for the women and all black for the men.

The following Saturday, the four women sat in the same booth on one side of the large dining area gazing at menus, with the mid-August sun blazing through the window beside them. “As always, I'm hungry and trying not to think about it.” Cait slapped her menu onto the table and used her long fingers to tuck her hair behind her ear. She'd slipped on a pair of lightweight sweatpants over her leotard.

“I've stopped worrying,” Eve said, gazing at the list of sandwiches, her cell phone on the table beside her. She was still wearing the cotton knit shorts and well-washed T-shirt she'd worn to yoga.

“Yeah, me too. I took this yoga class to help me control my diet,” Cait moaned. “It's not working.”

Angie frowned. “Yoga isn't meant to help with your weight, just relax you.” Today her T-shirt said, ‘Ask me about my twins.'

“Yeah,” Cait said, shaking her head, “relax me so much I won't care how much I weigh.”

“Don't talk about weight with me around,” Eve said softly, looking down at her chubby arms.

“No coffee this week,” Monica said, quickly changing the subject. Eve seemed so unhappy about herself and it was a shame. She wasn't a bad-looking woman, but she seemed to take no pride in her looks, did nothing to improve herself. She wore no makeup, her hairstyle was seriously unbecoming and although Monica had only seen her workout clothing, she didn't have particularly good taste in that either. “It took me days to recover from the cup I had last week.” Actually it hadn't but it was something she could say that would unite the women, and that had become important to her.

A tall waitress with fluffy brown hair and a bit too much lipstick came over, pad in hand. “What can I get for you, ladies?” She looked at Cait, who sat on the inside, her back to the door.

“Tuna on white toast and a Diet Coke.” Cait turned to the others. “I have it on good authority that if you have a sandwich and a diet soda they cancel each other out, calorie-wise.”

Monica, who sat across from her, was amazed at how so much seemed to revolve around diets. Cait couldn't have been a pound over her ideal weight, with a perfect figure, long legs, and a slender waist.

The waitress looked at Monica expectantly and she decided to indulge herself also. “Give me a grilled cheese and an order of fries, very well done.”

“Don't let me have any of those fries,” Cait said.

“And to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Just water will be fine.”

Angie, who sat beside Monica, ordered only a diet soda while Eve, seated on the outside, beside Cait, asked for a small salad and a club soda. “I try to watch my weight,” Eve lamented, then added with a small smile, “and it's so easy to watch since there's so much of it.”

The others laughed and some of the sadness left Eve's eyes.

“I saw you talking to the hunk after class,” Angie said to Monica. “I guess we should really call him Dan.”

“Really?” Cait said, her head swiveling to stare at Monica. “Got something going on with Mr. Stud?”

Suddenly Monica was embarrassed. Why, she couldn't fathom, but the idea of the others knowing about her talking to Dan made her uncomfortable. It was out of character.

To the three women sitting with her she said, “We met during the week walking dogs and just said hello this morning. It's nothing more than that.” Actually, it had been more than that. He'd asked her to dinner that evening. She hadn't given him an answer, rather suggested that he call her at home later.

“Mr. Hunk, uh, Dan, is quite something,” Angie said. “I've never been a leg kinda girl before, but he's got great ones. Must play a lot of tennis or run or something.”

“Actually,” Cait added, with a twinkle, “I'm a big fan of his behind. He's got the most squeezable buns I've ever seen. You could do a lot worse than sharing a bed with those glutes.”

“Okay, ladies, enough,” Monica said, staring at her napkin. “I'm not going to share a bed with his glutes, or any other part of him. Let's change the subject.” She turned to Angie. “How are the babies?” Monica relaxed as the conversation turned to Angie's twins. Why did talking about Dan make her so uncomfortable? Why did Dan make her so uncomfortable? He was just a nice man who'd asked her to dinner. He probably had a girlfriend who was out of town for the weekend. Men. She shook off the storm cloud and turned back to the other women.

By the time their orders arrived they had seen the latest pictures of the twins and heard about their efforts to walk. “It's called cruising and they're just about ready for it.”

“Cruising?”

“That's the new term for walking around still holding on. I think Brandon will be first to strike out on his own,” Angie said, as the waitress placed dishes and glasses on the table. “MaryLee seems to be content to crawl around and play with her toys. And his.”

“A typical woman, and it sounds like a good life to me,” Cait said, picking up her sandwich. “Angie, time to make more babies?”

“Bite your tongue. I always wanted a big family, but not all at once. I'd like to wait at least two years before we stop using condoms.”

“Condoms? How quaint. Aren't you on the pill?”

“I tried them when Tony and I were first married. I gained twenty pounds and I was nauseous all the time so I stopped.” She looked sheepish. “I never learned to put the diaphragm the doctor suggested in right and we think that's where the twins came from. Now, we both take responsibility so it's condoms for us.” She hesitated and ducked her head. “I can't believe that I'm talking about birth control with all of you. It's pretty private.”

“Funny,” Cait said. “We do seem to have gotten beyond private very quickly.”

While they ate, they chatted about a juicy piece of society gossip and the persistent drought throughout lower New York State. Sadly, the sporadic summer rains weren't having much effect on the rapidly depleting reservoirs. “If I hear one more politician tell me to shut off my water while I brush my teeth I'll scream,” Monica said.

“Short showers and no car washing or lawn watering,” Angie said. “Like I have time to wash my car or water my lawn. I think my grass is going to dry up and blow away.”

“Like I have any effect on my condo association's sprinklers,” Monica said.

After Monica related an incident from work and Eve talked about the following year's shoe styles, Angie said, “Did you hear that the lottery is up to almost two hundred million?” Angie said. “I'm tempted to buy a few tickets.”

“Do you know what the odds are against winning it?” Monica said.

“I know, I know,” Angie said, chewing quietly, “but I love to think about it.”

“It's really not that much money,” Monica continued. “If you take a lump sum it's only about one hundred, and after Uncle Sam takes his cut, you only get to keep fifty.”

“Fifty million. Mere pocket change,” Eve said dryly.

“What would you do with all that cash?” Cait asked Angie.

Angie gazed off into space, contemplating. “What wouldn't I do? I'd get a van with lots of room for the kids, and a bigger house. Tony could stop commuting to the Bronx and stay around here. I'd put a lot of it away for college for the twins, and then I'd get day care for them and go back to college myself.”

“Why college?”

“I've always envied people like you, Cait, educated, poised, able to handle everything. I wanted to go after I graduated from high school, but there wasn't enough money so I went to work.”

“You envy me,” Cait said with a sigh. “I'd love to have your life, kids and all.”

“Don't envy my twins. They're wonderful and I love them dearly but they're an incredible amount of work.”

“I know that, but I'd love to have them.”

“See me some afternoon and I'll give them to you.”

“What about you, Eve? What would you do with all that money?”

“I don't know. I'd love to travel but without anyone to travel with, I don't know.”

“Would you quit your job?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly, then snapped her mouth shut. After a slight pause, she asked, “What about you, Cait? What would you do with the money? You seem to have a lot as it is.”

“As you've all gathered, I'd love a baby. Maybe Logan and I could adopt—nah, he'd never go for it. I don't know what more money would change for me. Monica?”

“You know, this seems really silly but I'd love to buy one of those huge RVs and travel around the country. You know, stop where you want, stay where you want, move on when you want. No worries, no responsibilities. That would be my idea of heaven.”

“I've always wanted to travel,” Eve said, looking dreamy. “For me, it's trains. I've always wanted to go to Europe, get a Eurail pass and go everywhere. I even want to eat and sleep on one. Like the Orient Express.”

“No people?” Cait asked.

“Probably not. Just me.”

“Speaking of Mr. Hunk,” Cait said when there was a lull in the conversation. “Has he asked you out?”

“Were we speaking of Dan?” Should she admit that he'd asked her out? Monica wondered. Somehow this group was becoming important to her, even with all the teasing. She allowed herself to smile. “Yeah. For dinner tonight.”

“Fabulous. You're going, of course,” Cait said.

“I don't know.”

“God, if I weren't married, I'd jump at the chance. Actually, I think I'd jump him.”

“What's he like?” Angie asked, sipping her soda.

Monica related all she knew about him, sticking to the facts.

“So he's not married, bright, charming, and as we've all agreed, beautiful,” Cait said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “What's the hang-up?”

“I don't know. All the guys I date are work types. Just short-term flings. Nothing important. This feels different, and I don't think I want it.”

Eve adjusted her glasses, then reached for Monica's fries. Angie slapped her hand, so, with a grin, she withdrew her fingers. “Feels different how?” Eve asked.

“I don't know. I like things easy, light, where everyone knows that nothing's going to get serious.”
And nobody's going to let you down.

“It's just a dinner, Monica,” Cait said, wiping her fingers on her napkin. “He didn't ask to marry you.”

“I know, and it sounds silly when I say it but I don't think I'm going to go. Too many possible problems.”

“If that's the way you feel, just say no,” Eve said. “Call him up and tell him you're not interested.”

“Yeah. I guess that's best.”

They talked while they finished their food, the conversation often getting back to whether Monica should date Dan or not. Eventually Angie reached beneath her feet for her tote bag. “Much as I'm enjoying this, I think I'd better get going.”

“Relax, Angie,” Cait said. “Tony can watch the babies for a little while longer. We're just getting started here.”

“Started giving Monica a hard time about Dan,” Angie said, finding her wallet and putting some money on the table. Then she sighed and rested her elbows on the table. “Anyway, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to meet with you guys like this.”

Eve looked crestfallen. “Why? I really enjoy these girls' days out.”

“Me too, but weekends are going to become really hectic once school starts.”

“School? How come?” Cait asked.

“Tony's been working with his brothers all summer. They're in construction and Tony's been earning some really good money.”

“Okay,” Cait said. “So?”

“Either Frank or Paul has been able to pick him up so I can have the car during the day. It's hectic getting the babies out, but I can get most of my errands done while he's at work. Once he's back commuting to the Bronx, I'll be carless all week, and there are just so many things to do that I'll need both days to catch up.”

“He drives to the South Bronx?” Eve said.

“There's no good public transportation and the neighborhood's not good to walk in. They have a gated parking lot for the teachers so he takes the Ford.”