10. Maureen
Chapter ten
Maureen
I closed out of YouTube so I could focus on wedding stuff with my sister. The dogs retreated to their blanket underneath the Christmas tree when it became apparent we would not be sharing our nachos.
Marley and I perused a stack of vintage bridal magazines given to her by Mrs. Allen—she of the midi skirts and turtlenecks. We’d been looking at dresses all week. I opened my browser to wedding websites, in case I needed to steer Marley away from the ’80s puff sleeves dominating the ancient copy of Bride she had open in her lap.
“Do you think you’ll bring a date to the wedding?” Marley pretended to ask casually. She’d been low-key harping on my lack of love life since I’d come home.
“This again? C’mon, Marls. The wedding is in June. Pretty sure I can scrounge someone up if you insist on me bringing a plus-one. But I don’t think we need to worry about it six months in advance.”
Thinking about dates reminded me of the best one I’d ever been on, which led to thinking about a certain someone I’d been trying very hard not to think about.
Marley made a face as she thumbed all the way past some 1987 advice on How to Satisfy Your Man on the Wedding Night .
“I’m not trying to start anything, Maureen. All I’m saying is you could put yourself out there more. If you wanted to.”
I stared at her. “I’m fine taking a break from the dating scene. Besides, who am I gonna go out with in Coleman Creek? Coach Hurley still single?” I laughed, picturing the gym teacher at Marley’s school, a sweet guy notorious for his football coach shorts and too-tight ringer tees.
“How about Kasen? You guys have been getting along better lately.”
“What!? Eww, gross.” I made a gagging motion at the mention of Marley’s ex-boyfriend. “That’s basically incest, since you guys were together so long. Are you that desperate to pair me up?”
“Exaggerate much?” She huffed. “We broke up a lifetime ago and I’d like to see him smile. He always looks so sad these days.”
Marley and Kasen had had a terrible breakup shortly after college. They didn’t speak for years afterward, but since he moved back to Coleman Creek last December, they’d formed a solid friendship. I marveled at how she’d opened herself up to love with James, even after Kasen hurt her. Marley was a romantic, like our mom had been—our mom who spent two decades mourning her husband.
“Well, I’m sorry Kasen’s sad, but that doesn’t mean I want to date him. I’m okay being single. My priority is figuring out my next career move. And a living situation. Unless you want me crashing at your place indefinitely?”
Marley studied me intently. “Sometimes it sounds like you’re considering not going back to Seattle.”
Her statement was more of a question, but not one I had an answer to yet.
“Haha,” I replied lamely.
She sighed. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. And, as far as dating goes, I guess I’m just so happy with James, I want that happiness for you, too. It was you who convinced me to take a chance and give him a real shot. And you were right.”
“That’s because it was obvious James is completely in love with you. The only thing I’ve ever looked at that way is a really good burrito.”
She laughed but kept a one-track mind. “What about Oliver? He can’t make it to the party because of work, but he’ll be at the wedding.”
“James’s friend Oliver? The one who owns the bar?”
“Uh-huh.”
I huffed. “We had dinner with him the last time you guys visited Seattle. There was absolutely no chemistry. Nothing there.”
“Fine.” She paused. “Leo?”
“James’s brother? Jesus. Again with the incest. Hard pass. Besides, Miranda would probably kill me since they’re besties.”
Marley nodded. “They are pretty tight these days. But honestly, you’re so stubborn.” Popping a loose jalapeno in her mouth, she tried again. “Well, then, what about Will? He’ll be here for the party.”
She’d directed her eyes down at a magazine and missed me tensing up at Will’s name. I’d worked so hard this past year to play it cool, not to act weird when anyone mentioned him. I was trying to ignore the fact we would be in the same room tomorrow.
“Will and I don’t really click either.” I kept my voice even. “Seriously…Please. No more. I don’t need a matchmaker.” Before Marley could open her mouth to argue, I changed the subject. “How about you let me worry about my relationship status and you worry about deciding what kind of dress you want to get married in. We have to figure out if you’re going to order something online and have it tailored or if we need to go into Seattle for a shopping trip.” I angled my computer to show her an online retailer specializing in gently used vintage wedding dresses.
We continued looking through the magazines and websites while my head remained filled with unwanted thoughts about Will. As my own harsher edges had dulled over the past year, so had some of my animosity toward him. I could no longer pretend he was an asshole or a narcissist who’d gotten off on hurting me. James and Marley had shown me too much evidence to the contrary.
Part of me wanted to let him give his full explanation—the same part that wanted to find out why he’d never gotten married.
But another side of me resented his continued presence in my life. That side felt like shutting him down gave me the upper hand.
Because even though some of my anger had faded, there was no getting around the fact Will had devastated me. He had no idea how severely.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad if it had ended with him ignoring me after our night together. I’d had other dates ghost me before and since, never after a night as amazing as that one, but still. It would have hurt, and I’d have been pissed, but I would have gotten over it eventually.
Except it hadn’t ended that way.
It had ended in the hotel lobby, weeks later. That feeling of being blindsided remained in my subconscious. It sometimes popped into my brain for no reason, or sat in the pit of my stomach, as life’s worst moments had a nasty habit of doing. Sure, there had been sadder days in my life—my dad dying, and the first time my mom’s illness was so bad she didn’t recognize me. There had been other embarrassing moments—ripping my pants open during gym class in fifth grade, or Toby Kindman asking me to prom and then taking back the offer in front of the cafeteria when Greta Thornson said she’d go with him.
But that moment of finding out Billy had a fiancée felt like a lead pipe being thrust against my back, brutal in a way nothing else ever had been. That kind of moment lived with you. Lived in you.
I’d watched my mom become a shell of herself after my dad died. Held Bren’s hand when she’d miscarried the baby of a boyfriend who couldn’t get to the hospital because he was busy fucking some other girl. Listened to Marley cry over Kasen when she thought no one could hear her. I knew better than to let myself get tripped up by infatuation.
The realization I’d let it happen anyway had been a gut punch I wasn’t prepared to handle. To say I’d managed it poorly would be a colossal understatement.
That day, I never picked up the order from Starbucks. Never went back to work. Never said a word to anyone as I turned and walked out of the hotel on autopilot.
The lead pipe to the back feeling had intensified as the minutes passed, Billy’s betrayal an assault. My ears rang with Rosalyn’s declaration she was his fiancée.
Somehow, I made it home. The first thing I saw was the bottle of champagne my mom sent me when I got the job at Kolya’s. I started drinking. I rarely drank, but that day I could easily justify it, since getting the shit kicked out of me by a man was also unprecedented. After the champagne, I took care of all the beer we had in the fridge. Then the liquor stash Bren kept above the sink. I hadn’t intentionally tried to harm myself—at least I didn’t think so—I’d only been trying to go numb and get out of my head somehow. I had no memory of throwing an empty bottle against the living room wall and smashing it, of getting three huge gashes in my calf. No recollection of blacking out.
I’d woken up the following morning in the hospital, recovering from alcohol poisoning, with six stitches in my right leg. The first thing I saw was Bren hunched in a chair next to me. I was too embarrassed to come clean about Billy. I gave her a bullshit story about new job jitters and not knowing my limit. It was only by the grace of my very kind supervisor I didn’t lose my position at Kolya’s and my fashion career didn’t get snuffed out in its first month.
I’d felt disgusted with myself for how I allowed a man to get under my skin. Having control of the situation now meant everything.
Will might think he had a way to explain his actions to me, but I had better reasons not to let him try. I’d built my defenses back up. No one had come close to me since then. I might be a little softer than I was a year ago, but I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t about to let him in again.
A short while later , Katy Baumbeck came over to help set up for the engagement party, brushing some sort of orangey powder off her shirt as she shuffled through the door.
“Sorry,” she said. “Braxton got into a gross ancient bronzer my ex-mother-in-law gave me. I didn’t notice until I drove halfway here that I hadn’t wiped it all off.”
“No worries. Although I would have guessed Doritos,” Marley teased, reaching out to swipe across Katy’s shoulder. “Lucky for you, I’ve relaxed the formal dress code for tonight.”
I got up to take Katy’s coat and give her a quick hug. We’d all grown up with her since she’d been in Miranda’s year in school. Now she worked as a server at The Landslide, Coleman Creek’s best pub, and she and Marley were close friends. They’d become even tighter since last year, when Katy’s husband, Mike, suddenly left her and their two children. I didn’t have all the details. I only knew he’d been gone for months prior to their split, helping his parents. He’d come home last Christmas and asked Katy for a divorce, saying he’d fallen in love with a nurse in Phoenix.
The town had immediately rallied around her, helping with meals, babysitting, and anything else she needed. Her ex paid enough child support and alimony that Katy didn’t have to worry about losing their home or starving. But even with support, it wasn’t easy. Every time I’d seen her recently, she looked exhausted. Yet another instance of how someone’s love of their life turned out to be a total nightmare.
Katy sat with us as we perused the magazines, tittering over the outdated styles. It quickly became clear why she and Marley were BFFs. Even with all the setbacks life had thrown at her, Katy still brimmed with genuine happiness for my sister and James.
“Maureen, you have such amazing style.” Katy sighed as she watched me get up to grab more treats for Oscar and Bambi.
Among Kolya’s crowd, I might have wondered if that statement was passive aggressive. But I knew Katy was sincere as she complimented my wide-legged evergreen pants, fitted and high-waisted around my middle with sailor-style button detailing, and boat-necked cashmere sweater in a green so deep it appeared almost black.
“It’s sweet of you to say that. You’re looking pretty stellar yourself.” She blushed at my words, but I wasn’t just being polite. Katy absolutely rocked the plaid flannel and beat-up Wranglers look. With her glossy dark ponytail, all she needed was a cowboy hat and a few hours to sleep off the fatigue in her eyes, and she’d be ready to shoot a country music album cover or star in a truck commercial. Anytime I’d attempted a version of the denim and plaid combo, I’d come across looking like a defeated scarecrow.
I also couldn’t have pulled off Marley’s outfit. She had on a Rudolph sweater with holly leaf print leggings. I never felt comfortable wearing anything kitschy, but my sister looked adorable and completely at ease in her own skin—exactly the way everyone should feel in their clothes.
That’s why I’d started making my videos. They helped me feel creative, but I also wanted to give viewers permission to have fun, be themselves, and understand fashion didn’t need to be planned or defined to count as “style.”
“Hey Katy, did Marley ever tell you I have a YouTube channel?”
She laughed. “Of course! Like she’d keep that a secret when she could brag about her big sister instead. I’ve seen all of Francesca’s videos. Cool stuff. I especially liked the one about the ‘No-Pants Trend.’”
Marley winked at me. I felt my cheeks flush, pleased she liked my videos enough to force her friends to watch them.
“‘No-Pants’ is a classic,” I agreed, giggling when Katy mouthed lady sandwich . “Anyway, I’m thinking of going back to it while I’m in Coleman Creek. Maybe you’d be willing to do a piece with me?”
Katy ran an arm across her brow. “Like you want to interview me for your channel?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But why? I don’t really have a style.”
“First, everyone has a style. Even if it’s by default. Second, I bet we could find some looks in your closet folks could draw inspiration from. Or you can just tell me about your approach to getting dressed as a single working mom. Or even how your style has changed. Or what your favorite trend is. I’m pretty flexible with topics. I’m just looking to interview some Coleman Creek folks. Give my channel a little hometown spice.”
“Well, I don’t think I’m particularly spicy, but I guess doing a video might be fun. I’ve seen enough of them to know you never embarrass people.”
“Maureen—I mean Francesca—would never let you down,” Marley chimed in. “I’m glad I did the one last year with my mom’s sweaters. It’s like having a little time capsule.”
“I think viewers would be into it,” I said to Katy. “You’re basically the epitome of small town mom chic.”
She huffed good-naturedly, leaning back against the couch. “Is that a thing?”
“It should be,” Marley said. “Because Maureen is right. You always look great, which is pretty darn special considering all the hours you put in at The Landslide, plus taking care of two rambunctious kiddos.”
“Pretty sure you mispronounced ‘demons.’” Katy joked. “Braxton spilled his milk on my laptop yesterday, and that was after Rosie decided to poop in the sink instead of the toilet.”
I cackled, but Marley’s eyes went dreamy. “I can’t wait until I’m a mom.”
“Really?” Katy raised an eyebrow. “Horror stories make you want kids? Well, if that’s the case, just wait until I loan you my handwritten copies of The Vomit Diaries or Inappropriate Things My Toddler Said in Public. ”
“Did you just make those up?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“Nice.” I reached over to give Katy a fist bump.
Marley snorted. “It’s fine. Make all the jokes. Nothing will scare me off. I’ve been imagining me and James with our babies since the minute we got together.”
I put my arm around my sister’s shoulder. “We’re just teasing, Marls. Real talk—I’m excited to be Auntie Maureen.” I kissed the top of her head as I remembered the reason for Katy’s visit. “I guess we should put down these magazines and start doing some actual prep for this party.”
“Just put me to work,” Katy said.
The house was already completely decked out for the season, but we still needed to hang a banner above the back door slider and fifty strands of twinkle lights around the patio and backyard.
While we worked, Marley and Katy threw out ideas for videos I could do in Coleman Creek.
“Karaoke Night at The Landslide would be great for funny content,” Katy said. “Especially this time of year when it’s all holiday songs.”
“Maybe you could talk to the kids at the high school if their parents are okay with it,” Marley offered. “Interview them about how determined they seem about bringing back the ’90s.”
Katy nodded her head before suggesting, “You could shoot at the carnival next weekend.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s a great idea. I can’t believe it wasn’t my first thought,” Marley enthused. “Everyone will be out having fun, and it’s so festive. Although the fashion will probably be limited to heavy coats and beanies.”
I hadn’t been to the Coleman Creek Holiday Hoopla in a decade, but it had been a big part of my childhood, a tradition for most residents. Put on by the city and the local Rotary Club, there were dozens of booths for crafts, food, and carnival games. There was a Ferris wheel and a merry-go-round. The wooden structures holding up the tents were always decorated for the season, in a wide range of themes celebrating Christmas, Hannukah, the Solstice, the town’s Scandinavian heritage, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, and New Year’s, along with more vague themes like snowflakes and fireplaces. And while my sister was correct that most carnival-goers would be bundled up, maybe that just meant it was time to have a peacoat vs. puffer coat debate in one of my videos.
“I think the carnival would be a great place to film,” I said enthusiastically.
The rental company arrived a minute later, dropping off ten enormous outdoor space heaters.
It took all three of us to lug them into position in the backyard. We also prepped as much food as we could, knowing many of the guests would bring dishes of their own, even though the party hadn’t been labeled as a potluck.
We laughed a lot. Gossiped about our friends and neighbors. And in the end, Marley’s house looked beautiful, her indoor trees and garland picture-perfect, the backyard a winter fairyland of lights. Even with my nerves about tomorrow— I’d been doing so good all day not thinking about him— and my career uncertainty, having creative energy again brought joy.
I hadn’t thought of myself as creative or joyful in five years. It was scary, the prospect of softening, but there was no way to stop it. Not in Coleman Creek, and definitely not at Christmastime.
I just needed to make sure I stayed tough enough to face Will tomorrow.