And Then She Remembered, page 3
But today, Bruce was preparing for his first new client in Spring Falls. He stood in his upstairs bedroom and tried not to notice all that needed to be done. Instead, he focused on the view outside his window.
He missed the apple tree that was outside his old office window, but his tiny backyard already showed promise. Instead of an apple tree, a red-bud stood ready to bloom. And when the landscaper that Seth recommended stopped by to access the garden, he told Bruce there were many mature plants there, and it would be easy to turn it into a blooming paradise. Bruce couldn’t wait to get started. Just a few more weeks and the ground would be ready.
Turning to the mirrored closet doors, Bruce straightened his tie, checked to make sure his sandy gray hair was in place and that he had nothing in his teeth, and headed downstairs to the office.
For the time being, Judith’s assistant, Nancy, was also taking his phone calls and setting up appointments for him. Once his practice became busier he’d hire someone, but for now, it worked for both of them. It was easy to re-direct the calls to Nancy. She just had to remember that one line was for Judith and one was for him.
“Why don’t you put your two practices in the same building?” she had asked them when they had asked for her help. Both of them shook their heads no.
“We like it this way,” was Judith’s answer, and Bruce agreed. They didn’t have to spend every minute of the day together to enjoy their new relationship. Both of them were much too independent anyway, and they were negotiating how to be in a relationship and stay that way. “Not like other people,” they would say to each other once in a while.
Sitting in his office chair, Bruce looked over his office. It wasn’t like Judith’s. There were windows that looked out onto the street and heavy curtains he could close at night if he wanted to. He had his desk and chair from his old office, a few comfortable chairs for clients, and not much else. He wanted to live in it for a while before making any major changes.
On his desk was the iPad he used for making notes. Later he’d add the notes to his computer, but talking face to face with clients, he wanted them to feel safe and cared for, and a computer just got in the way.
Estate planning was hard for most people. They were planning for loved ones, knowing that someday they wouldn’t be there for them. Some of them found it a straightforward thing to do. Putting their affairs in order gave them pleasure. Others dreaded it, and he had a box of tissues on his desk always ready for the ones that broke down.
Bruce wondered what this client wanted. He’d never heard of him, and did not know why he had come to him. For a moment, Bruce wondered if this new client would change his life as much as Paul Mann had when he had come to him to plan his estate. Or would it be a simple thing for everyone involved?
But Bruce’s intuition told him it would be the former. Whoever this Harry Harrison was, it was going to be a life changer for someone. Maybe even him.
Seven
“Where is she going?” Cindy asked Judith.
They were together at their favorite coffee shop, holding their regular Monday morning meeting, the one they kept no matter what else was going on. They had started the tradition when they were the only two Ruby Sisters who had stayed in Spring Falls.
Over the years, the coffee shop had changed. The major change happened when a franchise coffee shop opened in Spring Falls. Judith had convinced them it was inevitable other coffee shops would follow. Their choices were to either reinvent themselves, sell, or close the shop.
They chose transformation—to become a unique and cozy destination. They paneled the ceiling, changed the lighting, put in electrical outlets for computers, and painted the walls. Then they changed their focus to specialty coffees, baked some of their own pastries and bought others from local suppliers. They ground their own beans which scented the air, often drawing people in off of the street heading down to the franchise shop.
The changes had made them a popular place to be. There was always a mix of town-folk and college kids in the shop. Although at this time of the morning, on a Monday, it was fairly empty, a few people sitting alone typing away on their computers. Judith thought they either were looking for a quiet space to work, or they loved having people around them as white noise.
Cindy and Judith had their favorite table in the back of the shop where their talking could not be overheard. In the summer, they often sat outside, but it wasn’t warm enough yet. Besides, rain was in the forecast and wind from the northwest was bringing it.
At the moment, Cindy and Judith were sharing an enormous elephant-ear pastry. It was perfect. Flaky, crunchy, with the perfect blend of butter and sugar. A woman who ran a small bakery just outside of town provided them to the coffee shop. Of course, Judith was the baker’s accountant, and made sure that even though it was small, it was profitable and well run.
Licking the crumbs off her fingers, Judith answered Cindy’s question about April. “She doesn’t know. All she told me was that she knew she wasn’t ready to come back here. Yet.”
It was the “yet” that cheered them both. They needed April to come home so they could be part of her healing. And theirs. They all suffered from what Ron had done. But of course, it was April’s life that had been turned upside down.
However, although Judith and Cindy understood why April couldn’t come home yet, it still hurt. Neither one of them had to say it out loud. Especially Judith, Cindy thought. She’d just soldier on, making things work, fixing whatever she could when she could.
Sighing, Cindy ate the last bit of her pastry, savoring it, wanting more, and knowing she’d have to wait until next week. If she stuck to her good habits, maybe she could get rid of her bad ones.
Cindy wanted to be a better friend and fully accept why April couldn’t come home, but she was stuck between that and needing April to return so she could focus on helping her. It would take her mind off her own life.
Sipping her coffee, Cindy tried to be grateful. After all, putting the Ron and April story aside, she was happy. Mostly. The problem was, she wasn’t sure at all about herself anymore. And she used to be sure, or she thought she had been. Now, her sometimes confused state of mind about whether or not she was an artist made her question everything.
Of course, Cindy knew her problems did not compare to a woman finding out her long-time husband was a serial rapist and killer. How do you live with that? Cindy thought. And then sent a silent prayer to April, hoping it helped.
“How did she buy a car? Does she have enough money?”
“Remember when you convinced her to open her own checking account in town?”
Cindy nodded.
“Well. When Ron bought her that house, he paid for it completely, and put it in her name only. He also gave her money to renovate it, and she put that into her new checking account. All of it in her name only. And when she and Marsha decided to work together, she transferred some of it into another account, just for the house, so Marsha would have access to it.
“Plus, get this. Ron told her when he bought the house that he had a savings account that he had been putting money into it for her and the children for years. When he bought the house, he told her about it. So money is not April’s problem.”
“So, I guess Ron loved April?”
“I think he did. Does probably. But maybe all of that money giving made him feel important. You know how much he liked to be admired for how much money he made in his business. That’s shut down, of course. But I am sure he isn’t hurting for money either. If he took care of April that way, he surely did that for himself.”
“It sounds as if he was always preparing for the moment he would have to disappear.”
“It does. Although I doubt he believed he would ever be caught. But it was—well is—his nature to be prepared. Which means it’s doubtful they will ever find him.”
Both of them paused for a moment, wondering if that was a good thing or bad thing for April. Because, for them, April had to come first.
“So she has everything she needs, and she promised to keep in touch?”
“Yes. I have power of attorney over her accounts, in case I need to get extra funds for her. And she promised to keep that app on her phone, that we all have, that tracks where she goes. She also promised to show up on Zoom for our Ruby Sister meetings when she can.”
Cindy sighed, thinking that would have to be good enough. But if April didn’t come home soon, maybe she would go get her the same way she had gone to get Bree when her husband died.
“One more thing,” Judith said. “She asked me if she can divorce Ron even if she can’t find him. And in the meantime, she wants to legally change her name back to her maiden name. Not my specialty, but I have a friend who will help her with that.”
“If she could get a divorce, won’t that make Ron mad at her? Wouldn’t that be dangerous? That love for her could turn into hatred instead and then he might come after her,” Cindy said, thinking about how horrible that would be.
“Possible. Right now though, she is no longer April Page to us. She is as she was when we all met, April May Zane.”
Cindy smiled, and Judith glanced out the window, remembering how she had first met April. They were in line in second grade. The two Z’s at the back of the line. And how their meeting had changed them both forever.
That bond would never fade. She’d make sure of that.
Eight
Bree knew that Cindy and Judith were having their regular Monday morning coffee meeting. Just the two of them. Usually, she didn’t care. After all, she had her morning routine, and it did not include being social in a coffee shop.
But today, she wished she had that excuse to get out of the house. Away from the computer and the writing that wasn’t going well. Well, nothing was going well. A few days earlier, the keys on the computer she used to write were doing strange things, and she had to spend hours figuring out what had gone wrong.
Then yesterday her phone died, forcing her to the local phone store where, despite telling herself she wouldn’t do it, she had upgraded her phone and bought all the accessories necessary at the store, even though she knew they were overpriced.
Although the salespeople at the store were very helpful, and got everything working for her, (they were sales people after all), she still found herself resentful of having to spend all that money when all she wanted was her phone to work.
It took hours out of her day. Despite that, some things on her phone still didn’t work the same. Yes, it was a better phone. Yes, she said to herself, I do like it better. Still, she was caught up in the resentment that she had to change everything and that so many companies still choose profit first.
How rude, she said out loud to herself, as she stood at the glass door in her kitchen that led out into the patio she had Seth lay for her last summer. Well, he actually didn’t. He found someone and supervised it.
The “how rude” statement made her laugh at herself. Bree knew she often said that when things didn’t go exactly her way. She had said the same thing about the problems with the patio’s cost and the effort it took to make it happen. And now she loved it.
If it wasn’t blowing a small gale outside, she’d take her coffee outside and feel sorry for herself out there. Instead, what she was supposed to be doing was sitting at her computer writing the book she had started so many months before.
She had been so sure of the story. Happy to be writing a new book in her own name. It had started out well, then stalled when they discovered what Ron had been doing. And stalled more because she had to tell Mary the truth about Ron being her father. Bree thought Mary took the news better than she handled the telling. But she had worked through that and came back to the writing. It was going fairly well, except now she was halfway through the book and found she hated it.
Of course she did. All the writers she knew hated the book that they were working on halfway through the book. What she had learned to do was to keep writing anyway. Another twenty chapters and the book would resolve itself and the ending would reveal what even she hadn’t thought would happen.
But it had never taken her this long to write a book before. When she wasn’t busy being upset with herself for not getting things done, she understood why. All the adventures, the sadness, the despair, the terror, the telling of her long-held secret, and even the joy of finding her daughter and holding her new grandchild were all stressful and major distractions.
Give yourself a break, Bree said to herself.
What she meant was to stop being so hard on herself, but then she realized that giving herself a break was probably also a good idea. A break, meaning doing something different. Maybe a trip somewhere.
Bree knew that her best ideas happened when she was out walking, or cooking something, when her mind was busy with something else letting the creative muse in. She’d rush to her iPad, or a piece of paper, and write out the idea before it moved on. Claiming it for herself.
She, like many creatives, believed that ideas flowed freely through the universe and when someone didn’t pick it and do something with it, it moved on to the next person. So if she didn’t keep them quickly, and then do something with them, the idea flowed to the next person who would.
Of course, she couldn’t keep all the ideas that came to her. Some just passed through, claiming her attention for a moment. And then, after examining it to see if it fit her, if it didn’t, she’d let it go.
But lately, those ideas had not flowed in. Or if they had, she had not heard them. A trip would open up space for them.
I could go now, Bree thought. Grab a few clothes, get my computer, new phone, and just start driving. Somewhere. Out of town. There was a garden near Philadelphia she had always wanted to see. Not that far away. She’d make it in less than a day.
All she had to do was text her daughter, and all the Ruby Sisters, that she would be gone for a week or so. And then leave before anyone tried to change her mind.
No, she thought. I’ll leave and then text. That way, no one can talk me out of it.
Although she often babysat for granddaughter Rho, when her daughter Mary worked and Seth was busy, she knew all the other Ruby Sisters would gladly step in. Plus, Mary was a capable young woman with friends of her own. Yes. Everyone will be fine without me, Bree thought.
What about Booker, she reminded herself. She had a tentative lunch date scheduled with him on Wednesday. I’ll text him, too, she said to herself. Once I am out of town.
He’d understand. He was often canceling their “dates” due to work. Although at first she was afraid of reestablishing her relationship with him, now she enjoyed it because it had settled into a friendship, but not a romance. And that was more than fine with her.
Paul was her one and only, and she loved being on her own. Because just as she was going to do right now, she made her own life just the way she wanted to. Decided her own schedule. Yes, she loved living on her own. And choosing to go when she wanted to, where she wanted to.
And she loved having her friends that were always there for each other. She had the best of both worlds this way. Friends and freedom.
Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, she told herself she could be out of the house within an hour. Before she left, she needed to put the trash out, make sure that the dishes were clean, and everything was neat and tidy. She’d hate coming back from a trip to find a mess.
Pack and go. Tell people later.
Excitement coursed through her as she raced around, doing all the little things that needed to be done. Yes, this was exactly what she needed.
Nine
The lunch with Judith on Friday had simultaneously helped Marsha and pissed her off. Which, strangely, was also helpful. And Marsha knew that Judith, the supreme mover and shaker, had known and didn’t care.
Because Judith knew that even while Marsha was angry, she understood that Judith’s intent was to help, and sometimes she had to make people angry for that to happen. In that way, Judith and Bree were the same. The need to be liked was not their driving force.
Which also pissed Marsha off. Because when she was telling herself the truth, which she often did even though just as often she ignored it, Marsha knew that being liked was important to her. And no matter how much she didn’t want that to be true, there it was, sticking out like a big sore toe. Every time she thought someone didn’t like her or simply didn’t care about her, she stubbed that toe again.
So now, days later, she was back at the Ruby House, once again sitting on the floor on her yoga mat. But instead of wishing she knew what to do—after her annoying lunch with Judith, and a weekend of thinking about it—she thought she would know. But would she? That remained to be seen.
She needed someone to talk to about it. She could have talked to Cindy because Cindy loved being helpful. Not in a Judith sort of way, but in an I-want-to-be-helpful-because-it feels-so-good-to-me kind of way. So Cindy might be able to help, if she let her.
But she had lived in Cindy’s house for almost a year now, which made her feel guilty thinking what a parasite she had been. So Marsha worried about giving Cindy the opportunity to help. Which is really messed up, Marsha thought.
The person she really needed to talk to was April. April who had abandoned her. Which was a completely selfish thing to think. But there it was, and she was trying to be truthful, at least to herself.
And the truth was, she had to tell April something. Something she should have told her when Ron’s hidden life was uncovered. But, coward that she was, she didn’t. And now Marsha felt even more alone than she ever had, and it was her own fault.
But besides what she had to tell April, she also had to ask her permission to go forward with building the dance-theatre-arts center that would take up the entire first floor of the Ruby House. It had been the plan before the Ron reveal, so Marsha was fairly sure that Judith was right—as always—that April would tell her to go ahead with it.
