Janice Macdonald - Return To Little Hills

“Clean living,” Edie said.

“Yeah, sure.” Vivian eyed her for a moment. “Frankly though, and please don’t take this wrong, I think having a little fat actually makes a woman look younger. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be too skinny. It gives you this drawn, dried-up look.”

Edie smiled politely. “You think so?”

“Ray thinks so too. Scrawny chickens, he calls them.” She reached for a napkin and dabbed at a spot of dip on the glass coffee table. “I mean in general, of course.”

“Of course,” Edie said. “What little sore?”

“Little sore?” Vivian looked momentarily confused. “Oh, Mom’s little sore. She’s always got one up her nose. I swear to God, the minute I sit down to breakfast, the phone rings and it’s Mom going on about how the little sore bleeds every time she blows her nose. I can’t even look at strawberry jam these days.”

Edie laughed. Despite everything, she wanted, suddenly, to embrace her sister. The perfunctory little hug at the airport had been disappointing. On some level, she realized now, she’d been looking to Viv for the same thing she sought in Maude. Love me, need me. Tell me not to leave again. Ironic, this need, when she would battle to the death anyone who tried to wrest away her shield of independence and self-sufficiency. Odd, too, that the need only seemed to trouble her when she returned home.

“You know what?” Vivian said. “I am going to have some wine. How often does my little sister honor us with her presence? Be right back.”

When she returned a moment later, she had two glasses and a bottle of wine. Blush, Edie observed with a surreptitious glance at the label. Snob, she scolded herself. Ben had once used a UN transport plane to ship two cases of Italian wine to Sarajevo. “Nearly broke my back carrying it to the car,” he’d said as he’d poured her a glass. “But it beats the hell out of the local plonk.”

Edie watched Viv fill two balloon-shaped glasses with pale pink wine. “So,” she said. “Shall we make a toast?”

Vivian hooted. “Shall we make a toast? Shall? Jeez, Edie, when did you start using words like shall? You sound like Peter Darling. That’s one of the things Ray hates about him, one of many things. Apart from the fact he’s younger than Ray and gorgeous.” She downed half her wine and refilled the glass. “Talk like everyone else, for God’s sake. This is Little Hills not Buckingham Palace.” She paused for a moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get started, it’s just that I hear enough about Peter Darling from Ray.” She touched her glass to Edie’s. “To my little sister with her hoity-toity voice being home again. Joking, Eed.” She patted Edie’s knee. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s great to have you here. Really.”

“It’s great to be here,” Edie said, averting her eyes.

Vivian glanced over her shoulder and moved fractionally closer. “I’m in a quandary, Edie. A real quandary. Remember Beth Herman?”

Edie thought. “Beth Herman from high school?”

Viv nodded. “She works at Luther now. Peter Darling hired her to run this new teen mother program—which Ray says is a complete waste of money. All it does is encourage kids to have sex, but anyway, she’s in love with him.”

“Ray?”

Viv smacked Edie’s knee. “Peter Darling, doofus. I mean, she’s gaga over him and she keeps coming to me for advice. I’m happy for her, of course—I mean, Beth’s such a sweet girl, she deserves to find someone—but I’m torn. I hear Ray going on about what an idiot the guy is and Beth telling me how he’s so wonderful and I don’t know whether I should be encouraging her or what.”

“Hmm.” Edie took a carrot stick and tried to think of something to say. “Well, he seems very nice,” she said neutrally. “Interesting. Attractive.”

“Attractive.” Viv hooted. “Did you see him? He’s gorgeous. I mean, drop-dead gorgeous. He’s like a cross between Ralph Fiennes, Daniel Day-Lewis and…who was that poet I had to study in high school? Myron, or something?”

“Byron?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know what Byron looks like, but that’s what Beth says. I tell you…” She sighed loudly. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Any idea what I should do?”

“Well, Viv, it’s not really your problem, is it? Peter and Beth are adults.” A thought occurred to her. “Is it mutual?”

“Who knows? Beth isn’t sure, but she’s so sweet and nice and they’re both in education. How could it not be? And she’d be a wonderful mother to his little girls. I mean, how many women would want to take on four kids?”

“Certainly not me,” Edie said. Although, having met Peter Darling, she felt quite sure he’d have no shortage of candidates. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Well, you’ve never had the maternal streak.” Viv poured more wine. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m worried about Ray. Here he’s been knocking himself out for years, nothing he wouldn’t do for those kids. And everyone just knew he was a shoe-in for principal once Frank Brown retired, but then what happens? The school board brings in this Peter Darling, who’s probably five years younger than Ray—which, trust me, doesn’t help things—and so damn pie-in-the-sky you wouldn’t believe it.”

Edie stifled a yawn. Except for the Beth Herman element, they’d been over essentially the same ground on the ride home from the airport. She hadn’t been particularly interested then and, despite the new principal’s considerable appeal, time hadn’t increased her thirst to know more. What she wanted to do was collect Maude, drive back to her mother’s house and then sink into oblivion. Selfish, selfish, Maude’s voice scolded deep in her brain. You’ve always been selfish, Edith. She drank some wine and tried not to grimace at the flowery sweet taste.

“What exactly do you mean by pie-in-the sky?” she asked in a tone that made her think she should have a pen in one hand and a notebook on her knee.

“Oh…” Viv reached for the wine again. “You know what? The hell with this rabbit food, I need salt and fat.” She jumped up again and returned a moment later. “Actually, it’s some sort of artificial fat,” she said as she dumped a bag of chips into a yellow bowl. “Don’t ask me how, but they say your body doesn’t recognize it, so it passes right through you. God, that sounds gross, huh? Come on—don’t make me feel like a pig. Try one. Have some more wine.” She reached to refill Edie’s glass, and then the front door slammed.

“Shh.” Viv flashed Edie a warning look and drained the last of her wine. “Here’s Ray. Don’t mention Peter Darling’s name or the whole evening will be ruined.”

“Hey, Edith,” Ray said with a glance at the wine bottle. “Been leading my wife astray? Nothing changes, huh?”

“Now, Ray, be nice.” Vivian gathered up the wine and glasses. “Poor Edie’s been with Mom all day, she needed a little drinky. She was just telling me about her job. God, you’d better be glad you’ve got me. Listen, babe, you stay and talk to Edie while I go into the living room and make Mom pretty. Her hair needs a trim,” she said to Edie, “And, naturally, she won’t let anyone but me work on it.” She winked at Edie. “Now, be good, you two. I’ll be back in a jiff to finish dinner.”

“Let me give you a hand.” Edie extracted herself from the billowing contours of the couch. “What can I do?”

Ray hooted. “You mean you’ve learned to cook, Edith? What you going to feed us, stewed yak or something?”

“Ray.” Viv who had disappeared into the kitchen, reappeared in the doorway, grinning widely as she shook her head at her husband. “I told you to be nice. Ignore him, sweetie,” she told Edie. “He’s just showing off. Could you maybe make a salad?”