Chapter 27 Deidre
Deirdre Moore was a bad friend.
She first had inklings of this back in elementary school when she changed an answer on Eloise’s math test after it was submitted
to keep Eloise from receiving a perfect score yet again. She didn’t want Eloise to fail, but she wasn’t thrilled about her
success either. Having her somewhere in the middle with Deirdre would be nice.
She sensed she was a bad friend again when Eloise told her she was dating Gus and Deirdre responded as if Eloise had been
carrying on an affair with her husband. On an intellectual level, Deirdre knew she didn’t have any claim over Gus Jenkins,
but she’d been in love with him for so long. And he’d given so many signs that he was interested in her too—that eye contact,
how it lingered! Ultimately he must have realized that Deirdre would put him in his place too much. He wanted someone who
would let him reign and wander. That was Eloise.
When Gus walked out on the marriage, Deirdre felt one terrible jab of satisfaction. Gus had chosen Eloise over Deirdre, and
she’d had to watch them together for so many years. She’d had to stand up at their wedding as maid of honor, see the births
of their beautiful girls (it was deeply triggering for Deirdre; she’d always wanted a girl but found herself raising boys
instead). When Gus left, Deirdre felt redeemed. She hadn’t missed out on the most magnificent man ever to grace the shores
of Mackinac. She had dodged a bullet.
She had also been a bad friend in how she kept Eloise holding on to hope that Gus might come back.
At first, Deirdre had told Eloise that Gus was gone for good, that Eloise needed to move on.
But Eloise had taken it so badly that Deirdre figured it was kinder to help her keep the faith alive.
There was no such thing as false hope, after all.
Fred was always saying that to his patients.
And it wasn’t like Deirdre was lying to Eloise.
She did know that Gus would come back. She just also knew he wouldn’t stay.
Deirdre felt for Eloise and her... predicament, as she supposed it could be called. Though it did thrill her how she was
the only person Eloise confided in. Deirdre hoped the secret never came out. She didn’t want to have to share it.
There was one secret about herself that she wished she could share with Eloise. It pertained to why Deirdre had been so bad
at keeping in touch when she went off to college and Eloise stayed on the island to get married. It wasn’t just jealousy that
had made her go dark. But whenever Deirdre came close to confessing, something stopped her. She wasn’t scared of Eloise’s
judgment. She just knew Eloise wouldn’t be able to fix anything.
Then there was the secret Deirdre was holding about Eloise’s parents. One night many years ago over a bottle of brandy, her
uncle Liam told Deirdre about his affair with Alice Jenkins, formerly Klein, back in the autumn of 1982. Liam made Deirdre
swear on the Bible not to tell anyone. Deirdre had upheld the oath to this day. To tell Eloise the truth would be to shatter
the way she viewed her parents, the way she viewed the world. There was no need for such disillusionment, not at this stage,
with David gone and Alice getting on in years. Still, Deirdre felt like a bad friend for withholding the truth.
The worst thing about being a bad friend was that Eloise thought Deirdre a very good friend. She had a way of making Deirdre
feel as if she were in contention for sainthood.
Deirdre never confessed her sins to anyone, except God, who wouldn’t tattle, and Fred, who wouldn’t listen.
After being married so long, she often felt invisible around Fred, like she was no more exciting than the toaster.
Deirdre often felt Fred still didn’t know her as much as he should after three decades together.
Though she supposed she was to blame there, given the big piece of information she had kept from him all these years.
She and Fred got along well enough, but the romance was dead.
Though wasn’t that inevitable? It happened to everyone.
Except Eloise. Gus had left before the boring stage of marriage kicked in, and now Eloise was getting a second chance at love
with Clyde. It felt like Eloise was being rewarded for her marriage having failed—which was completely unfair as far as Deirdre
was concerned.
This was the latest reason she was a bad friend. She was jealous.
Vickie at the florist shop told Deirdre that Clyde sent Eloise two dozen gladiolus. Gladiolus were Deirdre’s favorite. They
were Eloise’s favorite too, but only because Eloise tended to copy Deirdre. Take Gus, for example.
***
Deirdre strode down Trillium Drive toward Thistle Dew. She wanted to fact-check the news about the gladiolus. She let herself
in, no need to knock. Eloise was in the kitchen, tending to a trumpet vase. The gladiolus were even more stunning than Deirdre
had feared.
Fred used to buy Deirdre flowers. Mostly carnations or already-wilting roses. He had the funds for nicer things but thought
it a waste of money. “I’d rather be frugal and then take a fancy trip to Europe,” he always said.
But they never went to Europe.
“Look at those,” Deirdre said to Eloise. “Did Gigi buy them as a thank-you for hosting her?”
“That would be the day,” Eloise said. “They’re from Clyde. He had a bouquet delivered for Georgiana too. She took them up
to her room and said it was the first time a man had ever given her flowers. She didn’t even sound sarcastic.” Eloise looked
quite overcome.
Deirdre feigned surprise. “So you’re giving him another chance?” They had looked good together on the dance floor. Part of Deirdre, the decent part, was rooting for them.
“I might have been a little hasty in cutting things off, that’s all,” Eloise said. “There’s no harm in getting to know each
other. It’s not like...” She trailed of, trimming the stems so they fit better in the vase.
“It’s not like Gus is around?” Deirdre finished.
Eloise took a whiff of the gladiolus. “I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s okay if you did. We never really get over our first love, do we?” Deirdre let the question hang there. “Point is, you
deserve to be happy.” Deirdre felt that she, too, deserved to be happy, and though she was content , that wasn’t quite the same, was it? “Gus isn’t here and Clyde is. It’s not a difficult equation to solve. Though of course
there’s still the fact that you and Gus—”
“—I’m playing golf with Clyde tomorrow,” Eloise cut in. “A safe daytime activity.”
“You don’t play golf,” Deirdre said.
“He’s going to teach me.”
Eloise was not one to learn new things. She liked her routines, her habits.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Eloise said. “It’s not like I’m caving to pickleball and polluting the island with those obnoxiously
loud balls.”
“What about the balls?” Deirdre said, enjoying the effect she was having.
“Deirdre Moore!”
“I’m just jealous,” Deirdre said with a wink. This was the only way she was able to admit the truth, under the guise of a
joke. “Fred and I don’t have exciting dates anymore.”
“Well, you have loyalty. Stability. Trust. Those things are worth their weight in gold.”
“I suppose so,” Deirdre said, though she couldn’t help but think about the one thing they would never have. The reason Deirdre
still needed to take melatonin every night even after all these years.
Eloise changed the topic. “Georgiana is going to see Ronny again.”
Deirdre thumbed the gladiolus petals. “What gives you that idea?”
“She was smiling while texting someone today,” Eloise said. “And she washed her hair, even blow-dried it.”
“Oh dear,” Deirdre said. “Not good.”
“Of all people she could go for. Ronny .”
“It’s like she’s trying to take years off your life expectancy,” Deirdre said.
“Feels that way sometimes,” Eloise said, exasperated. “I know you always used to wish for girls, Deirdre, but let me say,
I think God may have protected you by giving you sons. Daughters can cause so much hurt.”
Deirdre knew Eloise didn’t really mean that. She was just saying it because she felt guilty that she’d gotten so many things
Deirdre wanted. But the words still throbbed.
“Mmm,” Deirdre said, plucking one of the gladiolus from the bouquet to take home for herself. “I can only imagine.”