Fourteen #2
By now, they had reached the gazebo, and Edie could turn the subject.
“What do you think?” she asked, gesturing to the structure.
She’d decorated it for the fall season. There were arrangements of pumpkins around the perimeter, and wreaths hanging from the columns that held up the roof.
Inside, she’d had Chuck bring up bales of hay, covered with horse blankets for sitting, and had directed him to arrange them on a thick rug around the tabletop fire pit.
There were clusters of mums in all the brightest autumn hues of purple and orange, an old pie safe she’d found at a garage sale where she kept picnic supplies.
Edie’s hope that someone in her family would take interest in all the work she put into this garden was eternal.
But in the meantime, she liked to come here to meditate or read, or, if she was being honest, have a couple of drinks and decompress.
“It’s beautiful, Nana.”
Edie smiled. “Thank you.”
They stepped up through one of the two entrances into the open-air gazebo.
Edie took a seat on one of the hay bales and put her hands on her knees.
“All right, love, we’re here. Lay it on me.
What is it that we needed to come all the way to the gazebo to speak about? Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
Marcy bit her lower lip. “Just promise me you won’t be mad.”
There was no chance she was promising that, but she’d do her best. “Mad about what?”
“Just … just hold on,” Marcy said, holding her hand out, to indicate Edie should not move, and stepped out of the gazebo.
“You better not be bringing in a puppy for me to take care of!” Edie shouted after her. That had happened more than once in her life. Edie loved dogs, but she liked to plan for them. “I don’t like surprises!”
“Neither do I, so apologies for this one.”
That familiar voice came from the backside of the gazebo. Edie scrambled to her feet and whipped around.
Frances stood at the back opening, holding on to a post. “Don’t hit me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Edie shot back. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying to talk to you. Obviously.” She took a step into the gazebo and glanced around. “Cute,” she said, nodding. “Very autumn-y. Did you do it?”
“Of course I did it. Don’t try and distract me with praise, Frances Delafield.
It doesn’t work like it used to. Look, you clearly don’t understand—Simon has not changed his ways, and he is still very much a threat, okay?
At least once a year he threatens to turn me in and make me, in his words, ‘sing.’ If he found you here, he would call the cops immediately. ”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a second,” Frances said agreeably. “I very clearly remember the last time. Sort of seared right here,” she said, tapping her forehead. “But I have to say I’m encouraged that you didn’t call the cops.”
“Me!” Edie was insulted. “I would never.”
“Really? How was I supposed to know that?” Frances asked. “At the time, you didn’t exactly explain things. For all I knew, you were the one behind it all.”
Edie gasped. Surely Frances didn’t believe that. “How dare you. For the record, you never gave me a moment to explain. You were too busy hurling insults at me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the names you called me.”
“I’m sorry, but you were being a bitch, and back then, I had not learned the art of sugarcoating. Are you going to say hello, or what? I’ve really missed you, asshole.”
Edie glared at her. She had missed Frances, too. So much. So much that she walked right into her arms and hugged her. “You’re ridiculous coming here, and my God, you’re thin,” she said into Frances’s hair. “Jesus, is everyone on Ozempic?”
“Just clean living for me.” Frances pulled back and smiled at her. “It is so good to see you, Edie. Even though I still hate you.”
“Same.” Edie’s vision, she noticed, was a bit blurry with some new, unshed tears.
That pissed her off—she was very proud of her ability to keep tears in check.
But she really had missed this woman. There had been so many times she’d needed her, this sister she’d never had.
The mother, friend, coach, teacher—all of it.
“I think the most annoying thing of all is that you’re still so beautiful,” Frances said. “It’s not fair.”
“I know.” Edie sighed. “Spending his money is one of the true joys of my life.”
Frances laughed softly.
“What about you? Did you ever marry? Anyone I would know?”
“God, no one you would know. I couldn’t risk that. And besides, I was on the run for two years after you turned us in.”
“I didn’t turn you in.”
“Anyway, I’m the Widow Frances Deluca now. My husband died of ALS a few years ago.”
“Oh my God,” Edie said softly. “I’m so very sorry.”
Frances shrugged and looked down.
“Were you happy?”
“You know?” Frances lifted her gaze, smiling softly. “Unreasonably so. We had a son. Aaron. He’s married now with kids of his own. And he wants me to move to Omaha so he can put me in a senior living home.”
“Oof,” Edie said. “Aren’t you worried about STDs?”
Frances gaped at her. “How does everyone know about that but me? Anyway, I’m not going. What about you? Did you have kids?”
“Oh, lots. Four in all. Six grandkids and another one on the way.”
Frances smiled, obviously delighted by the news. “That makes me so happy. I know how important it was to you. I always hoped that you were rotting in prison, but if you weren’t, I hoped you had the family you always wanted.”
“That’s so sweet,” Edie said, and meant it.
“Are you guys going to continue with the lovefest? How long do we have to wait?”
Edie turned to the opening to see Irene and Joan standing just below. “What the hell? Do none of you take instruction?”
“Girl, did we ever?” Joan asked, and stepped up first. She was tall and slender and had a sleek bob, which was quite different from yesterday’s Godiva hair. “Ah, Joan,” Edie said, and pulled her into a hug. “You look amazing! What’s with the hair?”
“Options,” Joan said. “It’s hard to rock an Afro at this age.”
“Hi, Edie.”
Edie looked around Joan. Irene was standing behind her, wearing her usual sour look. It had taken Edie a very long time to learn her permanent resting bitch face was not indicative of how she felt about anything. “Well, well, if it’s not Mean Irene.”
“And if it’s not Pretty Shitty Edie,” Irene said.
They both laughed, and Edie pulled her in for a hug, too.
Then, Edie stood back and looked at her friends.
These three women who had meant everything to her once upon a time.
They had been each other’s support, an ear, a jury of peers when men (or women, in Joan’s case) treated them ill. The three most important people to her.
“So … yesterday was a bit much,” Irene said.
“Ya think?” Edie looked around at the three of them. The three of them gazed back with expectation, like they deserved an answer. “What is the matter with you? Simon was right upstairs. Don’t you remember how dangerous he is?”
“I remember,” Joan said. “But you know … we have less to lose now, I guess.”
Something about the truth in that statement slapped at Edie’s thoughts. “He would take away your freedom in a minute. How did you even get here? How did you get involved with my granddaughter?” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “You’re not scamming her, are you? You’re not part of that Rocco—”
“Nana.”
Edie turned around. The number of appearances in this round gazebo was making her dizzy. Now Marcy had appeared carrying a soft-sided cooler with a strap over her shoulder. She put it on the table next to the firepit and unzipped it, then pulled out champagne glasses.
Edie stared at her in shock, uncertain what was happening. “Marcy, what in heaven’s name are you doing? This is not a party.”
Marcy pulled out a bottle of champagne. “I have never known you to have this many friends over and not offer them some libation. I ran into them in town this morning and we had a chat.”
Edie instantly cast wild, accusing looks at her friends. Frances held her hands up, as if she had nothing to do with it. Very doubtful.
“And yesterday was weird,” Marcy continued. “I thought maybe you’d want to apologize for your behavior.”
It was beginning to feel a bit overwhelming having the unexpected blast from her past mixing with her granddaughter.
Two worlds carefully kept apart. “I beg your pardon, but these three showed up without invitation. I would say the faux pas is on them.” She took the champagne from Marcy’s hands and set it on the table.
“This is not a reunion. I mean, obviously it is, but not the sort you think. We,” she said, gesturing to the four of them, “have unfinished business that I would very much like to finish. Now, I know you have a lot of questions, and I promise to answer them as well as I can. But later. Let me take care of this first. Go back to the house.”
Marcy didn’t move. “Nana, listen. I know—”
“You know nothing,” Edie said sternly. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, but it’s probably not true.”
“That’s hurtful,” said Irene.
Edie ignored her. “I don’t want you anywhere near them, Marcy. They are a terrible influence.”
“Hey!” Frances said. She’d taken a seat on the hay bale as if she meant to stay awhile.
Marcy, meanwhile, looked crushed by Edie’s admonishment. “I just thought—”
“I know what you thought, but this isn’t the time,” Edie said, trying, unsuccessfully, to take the edge out of her voice. “I’ll tell you more later. I swear it, sweetie. Please, just go.”
Marcy pressed her lips together. She looked at them all, then slowly, reluctantly, turned and walked out of the gazebo.
Edie followed her to the entrance, watched her walk down the path, and when she couldn’t see her anymore, she turned back to her friends.
“It’s not her fault,” Frances said.
“Look what you’ve done!” Edie said, gesturing wildly in the direction her granddaughter had gone. “You’ve come here and messed up my life without warning, and hers. This is a huge problem for me, and that’s not fair.”