“It’s beautiful,” Sharon said, walking over to the window. “It must be magical to wake up to that view.”
Last year, Elizabeth had injured her shoulder, and that was how she felt now, as if some muscle in her body was tearing away from the bone. She smiled—too brightly perhaps, but Sharon couldn’t know that. “Yes, it was. Well, I’ll let you alone for a while. I told you all the terms on the phone, and I have your credit application filled out. I’ll be downstairs if you have any questions.”
“Thanks.”
Elizabeth went downstairs. She was in the living room, trying to remember if she’d packed the aspirin, when the doorbell rang. Before she’d even reached the door, it swung open.
Meghann stood there, grinning, holding a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I sensed your cry for help and brought the preferred tranquilizer for the suburban housewife set.”
Elizabeth had never been so happy to see a friend. “I love you, Meg.”
Footsteps pattered down the stairs.
“Potential renter,” Elizabeth said, turning just as Sharon came into the room.
Sharon smiled nervously. “I’d like my husband to see it, if that’s all right. He really wanted to buy something, but we can’t afford much. I’d rather rent a wonderful place like this than own a dump.”
“Certainly. I’ll be here for two more days. Give me a call and we’ll set up a time for him to do a walk-through.”
“I wouldn’t want to lose it, but I know he’ll want to see it for himself.”
Elizabeth understood perfectly; it was exactly the kind of thing she would have said. She had a sudden urge to warn Sharon, to let her know how easy it was to get lost in marriage. It started simply, too, in a decision that couldn’t be made alone. “Don’t worry. I haven’t gotten a ton of calls. There aren’t a lot of people who want to live this far out of the way.”
Sharon moved forward. “It must be difficult to leave this home. You’ve obviously loved it.”
Elizabeth’s composure wavered. “Thank you for coming by. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” She led Sharon to the door and said good-bye.
“My God,” Meg said when she was gone, “she’s a child. Is that what’s happening out there now—children are renting oceanfront houses?”
“Careful—you sound like a senior citizen. Now, open that wine before I scream.”
“That’s why I’m here, Birdie. So you can scream.”
“Open the wine.”
Meghann went into the kitchen, grabbed two glasses, and poured the wine. She handed a glass to Elizabeth. “Did you and Jack ever have that talk?”
Elizabeth sat down cross-legged on the hardwood floor in front of the cold fireplace. Scooting backward, she leaned against a packing box. She didn’t see the point in talking about this, but that was the problem with confession. Once you shared a problem with a friend, you had to keep talking about it forever. And if your best friend was a lawyer, well, in the immortal words of Tony Soprano, fuggedaboudit. She nodded. “In our way.”
“He’s unhappy, too?”
“Not since he got this job. He’s like a parolee with money in his pocket. Supposedly, this job—and New York—will change everything for us.”
“Maybe it will.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Meg stared at Elizabeth over the rim of her glass. “Did the support group help?”
“They think I should try painting again.”
“I’ve been saying the same thing for years.”
Elizabeth sighed. She really didn’t want to have this conversation now, with boxes all around them and the move looming overhead. “It’s not like riding a bike, Meg. You can’t just jump on and ride away. Art needs … fire, and I’m cold.”
Meghann studied her. “Maybe Jack is right. Maybe New York is a good answer. You’re sure as hell stuck in a mud-rut here.”
“Let’s talk about something fun. Tell me about your life. Who’s the new guy?”
“What makes you think there’s a new one?”
“Every year you make a New Year’s resolution to quit dating children, so for a few months, you date men without hair.”
Meghann laughed. “Jesus, that’s pathetic. But as it happens, I’m dating a very nice accountant. It can’t last, of course. You know I never date a successful man for long. It jeopardizes my professional standing as a loser magnet.”
“I hate it when you talk about yourself that way.”
“We’re a fine pair, aren’t we? One has no guts; the other has no hope. No wonder we’re best friends.” Meghann lifted her glass in a silent toast. “I’m going to miss you, Birdie.”
“I guess we’ll have to go back to the Thursday night phone call. We did that for a lot of years.”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be fine. We’ll still talk all the time.”
But they both knew it wouldn’t be the same.
ELEVEN