Janice Macdonald - Return To Little Hills

“Earth to Edie,” Viv was saying now. “She’s in a foxhole,” she said with a wink at Beth. “Shoulder to shoulder to a hunky marine.”

“Right,” Edie said, rallying. “And I haven’t showered for a week and neither has he.” She drained the margarita, tasting the gritty strawberry seeds, the sweet, fruity ice. “So, Beth,” she said. “How come you haven’t joined the married-with-children club?”

Beth smiled sadly. “I don’t know, really. One minute it seemed as though I had all the time in the world, and I just knew I’d have children and a husband, the whole thing. And then I woke up and I was forty and there was no one even on the horizon.”

Vivian gave a small, conspiratorial smile and leaned slightly toward Beth. “Except for Peter,” she whispered.

“Oh, Peter.” Beth’s expression turned dreamy. “Be still my heart. Today, he told me about his little girl’s dance recital. Delphina, the quiet one he always calls her. I’ve met them all. Delphina’s this solemn little thing with huge dark eyes. The twins, Kate and Abbie, are adorable blond angels, and Natalie is an absolute sweetheart. She’s the little mother.”

Vivian arched an eyebrow at Edie. “Kind of sounds like Beth might be more in love with the girls than she is with Peter, doesn’t it?”

“I just love children,” Beth said. “And Peter’s so sweet when he talks about them. He came in this morning with this big stain on his shirt pocket where Natalie had put a sandwich. Some men would have been embarrassed to walk around all day like that. He’s the principal, after all. But Peter’s much more focused on the idea that his little girl made him lunch.” Her face colored. “I just think he’s really a sweet, sweet man… I just want good things to happen for him.”

“You’d be a good thing,” Vivian said.

Beth smiled. “Edie, if you haven’t noticed, your sister is trying to set me up with Peter. She thinks we’d be perfect together. And your sister, in case you haven’t noticed that, either, happens to be very determined when she sets her mind to anything.”

Viv hooted. “Me, determined? You don’t know determined until you know Edie. Once she makes her mind up on something, nothing’s going to change it.”

“A family trait,” Edie said, thinking of Maude. “So, are you interested in Peter?” she asked Beth. “Personally.”

“Of course she is,” Viv said. “How could she not be?”

Edie looked at Beth, waiting for her to answer. With her nondescript brown hair pulled into a straggling ponytail, no makeup and an unflattering orange knit sweater, Beth looked like the before picture of a makeover candidate. Not without potential, but at the moment, clearly untapped.

An assessment Beth confirmed a moment later. “I don’t think I’m exactly Peter’s type,” she said. “A few weeks ago I was in administration and this tall gorgeous woman came in. Everyone was looking at her. The security guard’s jaw just about dropped. She asked for Peter, and Betty Jean let her into his office. Apparently, she’s this actress he was dating.”

“But he’s not dating her now,” Viv said. “Ray heard Peter telling her not to bother him anymore.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Beth said. “Clearly, that’s the type of woman he’s interested in.”

“Beth.” Elbows on the table, Viv looked at her friend. “He needs a mother for those children. Betty Jean told Ray. He’s not looking to marry an actress. You just need to work at it, let him see you’re interested.”

“But I don’t know if I am,” Beth said. “I think I might feel…inadequate.”

“No, no.” Viv shook her head. “You and Peter would be perfect together. Men are just sometimes slower to catch up. Although,” she said with a little smile, “sometimes you do get that gut feeling. I remember with Ray. Everyone said, ‘Oh he’s still in love with Edie, he’s just marrying you on the rebound,’ but I knew.”

Edie clasped her hands. A pain that had started at the top of her scalp was gathering strength. “The thing is,” she said. “It’s sometimes difficult to know what guys are thinking. You know how you can kind of read things into situations? See what you want to see?” Edie really wanted to go home and stick her head under the covers. “All I’m saying is, Beth, a friend of mine told me years later that she really wished someone had told her right from the start that this guy was never in love with her. It was just a difficult call, though.”

“Excuse me,” Beth said as she hurried from the room.

“What the hell is with you?” Vivian glared at Edie. “Beth has been glowing all evening and it’s like you just poured a bucket of cold water over her. Why don’t you keep your damn cynical opinions to yourself and quit spoiling things for everyone else?”

“I honestly didn’t mean to rain on her parade,” Edie said. “I was just telling her—”

“Next time, try telling yourself to butt out,” Viv snapped.

Edie returned home to find a message from Maude scrawled on a note under the phone.

Gone to bed. A man called I told him he had the wrong number but he kept calling back and asking for Fred so I wrote down his number just to get some peace and quiet you better call him we need more toilet paper and don’t get that thin stuff again my fingers go right through it. Love Mom.

WITH A SMILE, Edie folded the note and put it in her pocket. The infrequent letters Maude sent her were written the same way; long, garbled, stream-of-consciousness missives without a hint of punctuation. She dialed the number she knew by heart and reached a colleague and friend she’d known since their days in the Times London bureau. A grizzled bearlike man approaching retirement, Fred Mazare had probably reported from every country in the world during his forty-odd years in journalism. A gold mine of information on anything from overseas press clubs—he knew them all—to public transport in Bangkok—he recommended tuk tuks—Fred was mentor, father figure, confidant and friend all rolled into one untidy, overweight, cigar-smoking curmudgeon. He picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, “And who was that old bat who answered the phone?”

“Out with the girls,” she said, grinning because it felt so damn good to hear his voice. “And watch how you talk about my mother.”

“How’re things going?”

“Oh…” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m home. Does that tell you anything?”

“Yep. It tells me you’re about as out of place as a nun in a brothel.”

She laughed. “Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one.” Her back against the wall, the phone cord wrapped around her wrist, she slid down to the floor. “Why do I feel so…weird whenever I come home, Fred?”

“One, you don’t belong there anymore. Two, you’re trying to convince yourself into believing that you do.”

“I am?”

“Sure you are. Probably hooked up with an old boyfriend and he’s trying to talk you into settling down—”

“Wrong.”

“Okay. Your biological clock’s ticking.”

She groaned. “Oh please, if you can’t come up with something more original…”

“Okay, Edie. Tell Uncle Freddy the problem as you see it.”

“I just…have this empty feeling inside.”

“You going soft on me?”

“No.” She swiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Maybe I’ve had my fill of moving around. Maybe I need to settle, put down some roots.” She swallowed. “Maybe you’re not really so far off the mark about the biological clock.”

“Highly possible,” he agreed.

“But I’d hate to settle down in a place like Little Hills.” She thought of Viv and her off-white leather couches and her endless chattering about Ray and the boys. She thought of Peter with his little girls. Beth all shiny-eyed as she’d called them angels. “I have nothing in common with these people.”