Chapter 18
The cinnamon rolls were excellent. As far as Amy was concerned, baking was the Bossy Posse’s only saving grace.
She’d only made it through half of one as Harrison started his second.
He was talking, laughing with the Posse, and seemingly truly enjoying the company of these septuagenarian women.
Amazing. It wasn’t that Amy didn’t enjoy them, because she did.
But in certain settings and for shorter periods of time.
Not like this, not after they’d invaded her creative space.
Her mother especially, who was a giant symptom of the problem in Amy’s life: that her entire family took her for granted.
She wondered why she hadn’t taken it more seriously before now.
And then Melissa had the nerve to suggest that Amy put up her brush and join them in the pool for the day. “Come on, one day can’t set you back that far. It’s only three paintings, right? Didn’t you tell me only three, Barb?”
Only three. It was amazing to Amy how people with no experience in something could offer an opinion on how much work it required.
“Yes, only three paintings,” Amy said, trying gamely not to sound annoyed.
“But I’d like them to be good. So, thank you for the cinnamon rolls, but I’m going back to work now. ”
“You have to have a little fun, Amy,” Carol said. “All work and no play and all that.”
“I’m having fun!” Amy insisted rather violently as she went out the door. But the way her shoulders were inching up around her ears suggested otherwise.
She was frustrated, but also had a healthy fear of missing out on something fun.
Which made her furious, because while she was upset that her mother and her friends had pulled this, she also really enjoyed spending time with her family.
Surprisingly, that understanding suddenly stirred up all sorts of doubt in her.
She wanted to paint, but she didn’t know what to paint.
She wanted to work, but she was dying of curiosity at all the laughter.
She loved her mom’s mimosas, but she couldn’t be tipsy and paint.
She wanted to be an artist, but quite possibly didn’t have the talent to be one.
She was crushing on a man for the first time since what felt like the dawn of time, but he was probably in it for the sex. So many things to be upset about!
She tried to work on her painting, but felt herself growing more dissatisfied with the scene, not understanding her own point of view.
She listened to the first splashes of the women entering the pool as she wiped half of what she’d painted clean.
What did she find appealing about Christmas that didn’t seem right off the shelf?
Why was she painting a scene you could find at any home store?
Did she even have a unique point of view?
Why was she trying to be so commercial about this?
Had she even thought this thing through?
This hurrying to create art for a contest that didn’t really reflect her aesthetic suddenly felt asinine.
But then again, there was the five thousand dollars she could use.
And if she didn’t do it now, when would she?
A giant splash caused Duchess to hop off her bed and go in search of the fun.
Amy stood up and went to the little window.
The entire Posse was in the water, floating about in colorful rings, wearing identical red sun hats with giant brims that obscured their faces.
Amy inched the window up. Harrison was on the far side of the pool with the band again, in a jacket, stretching his leg long, then bending it.
She watched as Carol held up a Stanley coffee tumbler.
“Yoo-hoo! Hey, H!” she said, waving a hand high overhead as if he wouldn’t be able to pick her out in a crowd.
As if he hadn’t noticed four women floating around just feet from him. “Would you mind giving us a refill?”
Harrison paused his exercise. “You’re drinking coffee in the pool?”
“No! We’re drinking mimosas. You don’t have glassware in the pool. Everyone knows that.”
So the industrious Posse had substituted twenty-four-ounce tumblers for an eight-ounce glass flute. That was some creative math.
“The pitcher is on the deck,” Melissa said and pointed in the direction of the patio table, where Amy could see the tops of three plastic pitchers.
To Amy’s great surprise, Harrison very agreeably collected the Stanley cups and walked to the table and began to fill the tumblers. She could practically hear the glug glug glug.
He hadn’t finished pouring when the patio door slid open and Hillary walked out with her massage table anchored to one shoulder, a beach bag on the other. Hillary was part of the Posse now, too?
“Hillary, doll, how are you?” Amy’s mother asked.
“Not great. I drank too much,” Hillary said. “I have the worst headache.”
And yet, she looked amazingly perfect, whereas Amy had been alarmed by the dark circles under her eyes this morning.
“You did not drink too much,” said Amy’s mother. “You drank the perfect amount. You are so good at karaoke! They should have contests for that, because you’d win. We need to find you more songs to sing. You’re swimming, right? The water is glorious—a perfect ninety degrees.”
Jesus, that heating bill was going to sting. Amy thought briefly about giving Julie a heads-up, but then decided against it. Julie certainly hadn’t given her a heads-up and let her know the Bossy Posse was riding into town.
“Get some hair of the dog, Hill,” June said. “Nothing will fix you up quite as fast.”
“H, get her a drink,” Amy’s mom said like an overlord.
Hillary looked warily at the pitchers. “What is today’s hair of the dog?” she asked curiously.
“Mimosas! I made them,” Melissa said. “I put orange bitters in it for a real kick.”
“Okay,” Hillary said, brightening. “After I work on him, I’ll try that.”
Everyone turned to watch Harrison as he made his way back to the pool, two Stanley cups in each hand.
“Golfer, is that what I heard?” Carol asked, sounding suspicious as she took hers.
“Golfer,” he confirmed.
“One of the best,” Hillary said as she opened her massage table.
“Really? As good as Tony?” Carol asked.
Who was Tony? Amy wondered.
“Well, not as good as Tony,” Hillary said with a little laugh.
“Wait just a minute there.” Harrison sounded a little less chipper about the whole golf thing suddenly. “I’m at least as good as Tony. I beat him at Chapel Hill.”
“But he beat you at Maui. Tougher course, tougher conditions.”
Harrison stared at Hillary, looking slightly wounded.
“Sounds like a rivalry,” June observed.
“Nope, not a rivalry. Tony is a good guy, and honestly, in golf, you play against yourself,” Harrison said.
“Not what I hear,” Carol said, and took a sip from her Stanley cup as she waggled her brows at Hillary. “About Tony, I mean. I haven’t the slightest idea about golf.”
Okay, that was enough. Amy was clearly the only one who had no idea about Tony, and not only was she missing out, but they had also forgotten her.
Fine. That’s what she wanted. She went back to her canvas and sat, staring at a half-painted-over canvas.
She picked up a brush, dipped it in some red, and painted a circle. She had an idea.
But then the Posse started whistling and making catcalls. “Yeah, baby, get on the table.”
“That’s it,” Amy muttered. She put down her paintbrush, wiped her hands on her painter’s apron, and walked outside to the main pool deck.
Harrison and Hillary had moved to the covered patio with the heat lamp, and he was on the table without his shirt, which, having seen his body up close and personal, Amy knew was the cause of the catcalls.
Hillary was on top of him, her elbow digging into his back as Harrison made some whimpering sounds.
“So let me ask you something, H,” said June, oblivious to his whimpering. “Where is your wife or girlfriend? Why is a man like you out here by himself?”
“Why is it that everyone wants to know about my love life?” he groused. “There is a lot more to me than a significant other.”
“I’ll say,” said Melissa, and she and June giggled.
“Because you’re a cutie patootie,” said Amy’s mom. “Don’t you make a lot of money playing golf?”
Amy gasped, drawing attention to herself and thereby announcing her presence, which had gone unnoticed until now.
“Amy! You startled me,” her mother said. “What are you grunting about?”
“You know better than to ask a personal question like that,” Amy said.
“I didn’t ask how much. I’m just saying, a good-looking man with a lot of money would be a huge draw.”
“Oh my God,” Amy muttered.
“But then he’s running around out here by himself,” Carol continued, which confirmed the Posse had discussed him. “It doesn’t make sense. I think maybe he’s broke. Are you broke, H?”
“I am not broke,” he said calmly.
“Get in the pool, Amy!” Melissa said. “It’s warm and it’s great!” She made a move to splash some water in Amy’s direction and almost fell off her ring. Tipsy before noon.
“Well, I think he’s here for Hillary,” Amy’s mother said.
“Wait, what?” Hillary frowned with confusion. “But I’m with Tony.”
“No offense, but I’m not here for you, Hillary,” Harrison said. “Can I get up now?”
Hillary slid off his back.
Harrison sat up, wincing as he moved his shoulder around. “You were hired by my manager, remember? Sent to surprise me? Which reminds me, I need to give him a call and thank him for the treat.” He pulled on a long-sleeve shirt, then a jacket over that.
“But why did Barb say that?” Hillary asked, still looking very confused.
“Because she is meddling,” Amy said. “Pay no attention to her. Or them.”
“That’s just mean, Ames.” June sniffed.
“Okay,” Hillary said, but she was looking with suspicion at Harrison. “Umm…let’s hit a few balls.”