Mrs. Perfect

At least in this case.

I don’t mention my conversation with Ray to Mom when I return to the house to continue packing. And although Mom and I tackle the kitchen together, we don’t say much to each other. It’s hard to erase a lifetime of hurts in one day, but I appreciate her help and I’m glad she’s here. I’m also grateful to Nathan for thinking to call her when he realized I’d be alone trying to get us moved.

Nathan’s trying, I think.

We’re all trying.

In the kitchen, we empty the refrigerator and freezer into boxes, and while I drive the cold things to the rental house to transfer into the fridge and freezer there, Mom starts in on the cupboards and pantry.

Dinner isn’t fancy. As I transfer all the perishables and unload the kitchen foodstuffs, Ray and Mom hit Kentucky Fried Chicken for a big fast family dinner.

We sit on the floor of the rental house, Mom and Ray, the girls and me, eating our bucket of Original Recipe KFC, sides of biscuits, coleslaw, and mashed potatoes, and I realize I’m lucky. Lots of people have no one. I’ve got my kids. And whether I want to admit it or not, Ray and my mom.

Chapter Twenty-One

Saturday late afternoon, I’m unpacking towels and sheets into the rental house’s tiny hall closet when my cell phone rings. I can hear it ringing in the kitchen but can’t find it beneath the mounds of paper from the glassware Mom’s been unwrapping.

Mom’s the one who uncovers it. She digs through the paper, finds the phone, and hands it to me.

It’s Lucy on the other end of the line. “Taylor, where are you?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the sound of voices and music.

I push a wave of hair off my face. “I’m home unpacking. Why? Where are you?”

“Patti and Don’s good-bye party.”

My stomach falls. “What party?”

“Their good-bye party. The invite was sent weeks ago. I’m sure you got one—”

“I didn’t!”

“Well, come anyway. Come now.”

I tip my head to hold the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I grab an armful of paper to carry out to recycling. “I can’t leave everybody here,” I protest.

“But you can’t miss saying good-bye, either,” she answers.

Ray sees me coming with my arms full of paper, and he opens the front door for me. I scoot past him and dump the paper outside in the carport’s recycling bin.

“Just come,” Lucy insists. “I know how close you are with Patti.”

“Where is the party?”

“The Belosis’. It was a surprise party for Patti and Don. But you should come over and say good-bye. Patti and the kids leave early in the morning.”

I glance at my watch. Five forty-five. “What time does the party end?”

“Six. It started at two. It was an open house. But come now. I’m still here, and so is Patti. I’ll wait for you.”

After disconnecting, I go into the house and head straight to the kitchen. Mom’s still unwrapping dishes and putting them on my freshly painted cupboard shelves. “Mom, can I—” I break off, thinking how weird that sounded. Mother, may I?

She looks at me, startled, too, and then we both laugh. “I haven’t said that in a long time, have I?” I say.

She smiles wryly. “No.”

“One of my best friends is moving tomorrow. Today was the going-away party and it’s almost over. I don’t know why I didn’t know about it, but would you be all right here with the girls if I dashed over to the party for a bit? I won’t be long. A half hour or so at the most.”

“Go. We’re fine with the girls.”

I rummage in the wardrobe boxes that fill my new bedroom, pulling out a long-sleeved peasant-style blouse in a gorgeous blue gray satin. I pair the blouse with dark skinny jeans, a black belt, black boots, and good hoop earrings. With some lipstick and mascara, I look almost presentable, and I do it all—clothes, hair, and makeup—in less than ten minutes.

The Belosis’ house is in Clyde Hill, facing Seattle with unobstructed views of the Olympic Mountains, the Seattle skyline, and Lake Washington. Their property is so big that it qualifies as an estate. It’s a Mediterranean-style home with a high wrought-iron fence.

There are only a few cars in the circular driveway when I pull up, so I park on the right-hand side between a silver Mercedes SUV and a white Hummer.

I hurry into the house and discover Lucy hovering in the marble foyer, waiting for me. “They’ve just left,” she says, hugging me.

I’ve been trying so hard lately and fighting the good fight, but all of a sudden there’s no more fight left in me. “How could they leave? Didn’t they know I was coming?”

“Kate and Bill were taking them out to dinner. They had a six-fifteen reservation at Canlis and couldn’t wait.” Lucy sees my expression, and she gives me another hug. “It wasn’t you, Taylor, it wasn’t. They had plans they couldn’t change.”

I take a frustrated step back. “But why didn’t I know about the party? Why wasn’t I told?”

Lucy shakes her head. “It was an oversight, I’m sure.”

“Is everything going to be an oversight now?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “But let’s go. We’ll get coffee now, and you know you’ll see Patti before she goes. There’s no way she’d leave without seeing you.”

“But what must she think? I didn’t even show up at her party!”

“She knows you’re moving. She knows you’re under tremendous pressure. So stop beating yourself up. Okay?”

We agree to meet at the Tully’s on Main Street. It’s farther away than the Tully’s on Points Drive or the various Starbucks downtown, but it’s small and private, and parking is easy since you don’t have to deal with the congestion on 8th and Bellevue Way.

As I park it starts to rain, and by the time I’m inside, it’s coming down hard. I stand next to the front doors, trying not to feel overdressed, when I spot Monica at a table in the corner with a man who isn’t Doug.

I watch as Monica and the man lean in close as they talk. Their heads are very near, and their hands are also on the table, ostensibly holding coffee cups, and yet their fingers are almost touching.

It isn’t until the man shifts that I recognize him. It’s that new dad, the one who moved with his surgeon wife from the East Coast.

Maybe they’re having a committee meeting. Monica did say she’d gotten him to agree to co-chair Fun Day with her. But their body language doesn’t say school business. Their body language says personal. Intimate. But not sex. At least not yet.

The front door opens and Lucy dashes inside, chin tucked down against the rain. She’s wearing just a black blouse and black slacks without a coat, and she’s shivering as she pushes her damp blond hair back from her face

. “Sorry I’m late. I shouldn’t have taken Bellevue Way. I don’t know why I did that. Traffic is horrible around the mall, especially this weekend with everyone out shopping.”

“How was your Thanksgiving?” I ask after we’ve finished ordering.

“As good as one can be. I had the kids this year. Next year I won’t.”

“Next year you come to my house for Thanksgiving, then,” I answer, reaching over to give her a hug. I’m surprised at how thin she is. You can feel the vertebrae in her back.

“Are you eating?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I’m just not hungry.”

“Just make sure you take care of yourself.”

Coffees in hand, we go in search of a seat. Lucy freezes just in front of me. “Monica’s here,” she whispers.

“I saw.”

“Who is she with?”

I glance at Monica and the dad. Their hands are so close, they’re practically touching now.

“He’s a Points Elementary dad. I think he’s co-chairing Fun Day with her.”

Lucy watches them a moment, than shakes her head. “She should be careful.”

We find two big armchairs on the opposite side of the café.

“That’s how it starts,” she adds, sitting in the leather chair and curling her legs up beneath her. “You talk, and he listens. The guy . . . the one I ruined my life over . . . he hooked me by listening.”

She makes a soft sound of disgust. “I didn’t realize how badly I wanted someone to talk to me, to listen. Pete stopped listening years ago, and I guess I got lonely. I didn’t even know how lonely I was until this other man paid me attention. He really looked at me when I talked, he really listened to what I said, and it made me feel so good. More beautiful than all the nips and tucks in the world. That’s what love does. It makes you feel beautiful from the inside out.”

Now Lucy darts a glance in Monica’s direction. “Do you think she’s having an affair?”

“I don’t know, nor do I want to know.” I deliberately turn my body so that I can’t see Monica or her table. “Between book club and my house, she’s not on my popular list right now.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was at the gym yesterday when I had an idea. Let’s start our own book club—”