Good Intentions (33 page)

There was a nervous giggle on the other end of the line. “I said maybe she’s hiding under
your
bed.”

The line went dead. “Now what the hell was that all about?” Renee replaced the receiver and stared across her desk at where Lynn Schuster had been sitting earlier, thoughts of her “awesome” victory all but gone. What was Debbie talking about? And why this sudden decision on Kathryn’s part to return to New York? What was going on? She buzzed her secretary. “Marilyn, I’m going home now.”

“You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Cancel it.”

Renee walked through her apartment door and headed straight for the kitchen. “Kathryn?” she called out, opening the refrigerator and reaching for the plastic bag of miniature 3 Musketeers chocolate bars at the back.

“She’s not home yet,” Debbie told her, coming up behind her stepmother and startling her. “Having a little snack, are we?”

“I am.” Renee turned around and displayed two small chocolate bars in her open palm. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. Dad’s taking me to dinner before the concert, and I don’t want to ruin my appetite. He’s taking me to the Troubadour. You remember the Troubadour, don’t you, Renée? We went there for lunch.”

Renee shut the fridge door, saying nothing.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Renee, you sure know how to eat.”

Renee ate the first of the two bars, then started on the second.

“How can you eat that stuff? My mother always says that sugar rots your brain.”

Renee smiled, and finished the second bar, knowing Debbie was trying to get a rise out of her and getting perverse enjoyment from the fact that she was spoiling the young girl’s fun by not snapping up the bait.

“How come you’re home so early?” Debbie asked.

“I missed you.”

“You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” she said. “I’m the only fun you have around here.”

It was Renee’s turn to laugh. “I’ll try to cope.”

“How? By eating yourself into oblivion?”

Renee felt her cheeks grow red, as if someone had slapped them. She walked out of the kitchen into the living room and sat down on the white sofa, staring out toward the ocean. She pictured herself in a boat, drifting farther and farther away from shore.

“My dad says you didn’t always have a weight
problem,” Debbie said, joining Renee, uninvited, in the living room. “That’s how he puts it, a ‘weight problem.’ He says you were actually quite slim when he met you. Of course, I don’t really remember that far back. I was just a kid.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Renee laughed out loud. “You were never a kid.” It was strange that people in so much pain could still laugh, she thought, wishing she had another chocolate bar. She debated getting up and getting one, before deciding against it. Why give Debbie more ammunition? Philip was taking her out to dinner soon—she’d be gone by the weekend, hooray! hooray!—and what was the point in getting into a shouting match at this late date? What is your objective, after all? she asked herself, deciding on a different approach. “So, have you enjoyed your summer?”

“Not bad.”

“You made some new friends.”

Debbie shrugged. “I guess. You remember Alicia Henderson, don’t you?”

Renee felt her body tense, her throat constrict. “Yes, of course.”

“She took me out to lunch one afternoon. Did you know that?”

“Yes, I think she mentioned it.”

“I wonder why she did that. It was really nice of her, don’t you think?”

Renee forced a smile in her stepdaughter’s direction. Debbie was standing beside the Clarence Maesele painting, which hung on the north wall. “Very nice.”

“Is this a conversation?” Debbie asked playfully. “Are we actually having a conversation?”

“Let’s try not to get too excited.”

Debbie walked to the window, Renee following her with her eyes. “No, we wouldn’t want to do that. Not with all those extra pounds you’re carrying around. It could put too much of a strain on your heart.”

Renee got quickly to her feet. Enough was enough. “That’s it for me.”

“Wait,” Debbie called out, and Renee felt her feet stop, though she knew she should keep walking. “I’m sorry,” Debbie mumbled. “It was just a joke. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive. Come on, Renée, sit down. Where’s your sense of humor?”

Renee smiled. Debbie apologized the same way her father did. They both said they were sorry while making sure you realized it was all your fault. She was too sensitive; she had no sense of humor. Renee sat back down. She couldn’t win. Where did she think she was going?

“My name is Renee, rhymes with beanie,” she said for what felt like the thousandth time. And perhaps it was.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” There was a touch of ingenuousness to Debbie’s voice that surprised Renee. Could there really be any doubt?

Renee wondered how to best answer the question. “No,” she said finally, opting for the truth.

“Why not?”

“Come on, Debbie,” Renee told her, throwing the girl’s earlier remarks on the telephone back at her. “You’re supposed to be so smart. You figure it out.”

Debbie shrugged, turning her profile to Renee, staring at the wide expanse of ocean. “So, Kathryn didn’t tell you she was planning to leave?”

“No, she didn’t.” What was the point in hedging?

“That’s strange, don’t you think? I mean, I thought you were supposed to be so close.”

“I guess it was something she decided on the spur of the moment. She’s probably concerned she’s overstayed her welcome, and when she found out you were leaving, I guess it seemed like the right time for her to go too.”

“Are you going to try to talk her out of it?”

“If I can.”

“Why?”

Renee was caught off guard by the question. “Why?”

“If she wants to go, why don’t you just let her go?”

“I don’t think Kathryn is really functioning all that well right now. I’m not sure she’s equipped to make any major decisions.”

“She seemed to be doing fine for a while.”

“Yes, I know, but …”

“What do you suppose happened that made her change?”

“I think she’s just tired,” Renee said, her tone indicating her desire not to continue with this topic. It was a question she had asked herself repeatedly over the last couple of weeks, and one she had no wish to discuss with Debbie. “I think
I’m
tired. I think I’ll lie down for a while.”

“Maybe my father should talk to her.”

“What?”

“I said that maybe my father should talk to her. I bet he could get her to change her mind. Persuade her to stay.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe not.”

Renee felt as if she were taking part in a conversation in which all the important pieces of information were being
withheld. She was losing patience, losing control. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

“What would I be trying to tell you?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Renee said, underlying the profanity and heading for her bedroom.

“You still haven’t told me why you don’t like me,” Debbie continued before Renee could get very far.

“Come on, Debbie, I don’t see the point of this.”

“I’m leaving in a couple of days. You may never see me again. Now’s your chance to set the record straight.”

Renee told herself to keep walking, to say nothing and simply make a dignified exit while she still could. Instead, she stopped at the entrance to the living room and turned slowly around. Stop now, her mind shouted. Don’t say anything. But it was already too late. “I’ve tried to like you, Debbie. I really have.”

“But …?”

“But you don’t give a person much of a chance.”

“How’s that?”

“I think you know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Renee stared across the room at her husband’s daughter. Was this the girl’s peculiar way of trying to make amends? Was she attempting to wipe the slate clean so that they could begin again fresh next summer? Had Philip talked to her, warned her she’d better change her ways? Was the girl actually reaching out to her? Would this mess of a conversation actually conclude with a tearful, heartfelt embrace? “I’ve tried to get close to you, Debbie,” Renee began. “I’ve tried to be your friend. I know that I’m not around as often as I should be, but I’ve suggested that we set time aside to do things together. You
always decline my invitations. You always make me feel that you don’t want very much to do with me.”

“Maybe that’s your own paranoia.”

“Maybe. Am I wrong?”

Debbie said nothing. She puffed her cheeks full of air and then released them with a thin, popping sound. “What else?”

“Well, since I’ve said this much, I might as well go all the way,” Renee continued, coming back into the room, approaching her stepdaughter.

“Might as well,” Debbie concurred.

“I think that …”

“Feel,” Debbie corrected.

“What?”

“You should say ‘feel.’ The word ‘think’ can be inflammatory. That’s what Dad always says anyway.”

“Oh.” Renee heard a warning bell sound somewhere in the distance, but ignored it. “Okay, then, I
feel,”
she stressed, “that you resent me, the fact that I’m married to your father, and that you do everything you can during your visits to cause friction between us. Am I wrong?”

Debbie brought her lips together in a wiggly line that admitted nothing but the possibility Renee might be correct. It was the visual equivalent of “I don’t know.”

“Debbie, nothing would make me happier than for us to be friends. I’ve always wanted a daughter …”

“Why didn’t you have one?”

“I don’t know. It just didn’t work out. Your dad didn’t think the timing was right, so …”

“So you thought you’d be
my
mother. I already have a mother.”

“I know that. It was never my intention to try to take her place.”

“You never could. You could try as hard as you want.”

“I don’t want to take her place.” Renee threw her hands in the air. “Look, this discussion was your idea. If it’s going to create even more problems, why don’t we drop the whole thing right now before we end up saying things we’ll both be sorry for later.”

“That’s the way you deal with everything, isn’t it, Renée? If you don’t want to deal with something, you just pretend the problem doesn’t exist.”

“This is getting us nowhere.”

“Just ignore the problems and they’ll go away,” Debbie persisted. “Ignore me long enough and maybe I’ll leave. Ignore the women and maybe they’ll go away.”

Renee stood very still. “What are you talking about? What women?”

“You know what women,” Debbie said, then enunciated slowly and carefully, “Philip’s women.”

“Excuse me. I’m going to my room to lie down …”

“Alicia Henderson, for one,” Debbie taunted, following her stepmother around the living room.

“Shut up, Debbie,” Renee said, not stopping, not turning around, racing to get away from her husband’s child.

“Your sister, for another.”

Renee stopped as abruptly as if she had just run into a brick wall. She reeled with the impact, feeling her head start to spin. “What are you talking about?”

“About my father and your sister,” Debbie said simply, her voice a shrug, as Renee slowly turned around. “They’ve been sleeping together when you weren’t around. Right here, in this apartment. Oh, come on,” she
continued, forcing a laugh. “Don’t look so stunned. You had to know …”

Renee saw her husband standing in the doorway to her sister’s bedroom, a towel wrapped carelessly around his hips. “What say we go out and grab an ice-cream cone?” he said. No!

“You’re lying.”

“I saw them together.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“They were in Kathryn’s room. I came home earlier than I planned one afternoon. They didn’t even hear me. They were really busy.”

“I’m getting out of here.”

“I bet they’ve been doing it at the office too. That might even be where she is now. Yeah, that’s probably where she is—on that nice comfortable couch, screwing my father!”

Renee’s hand reached out and slapped Debbie hard across the face. The girl gasped, large tears immediately springing to her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Renee felt her whole body vibrate, like a tuning fork, and then go numb.

“Can you blame him?” the girl screamed. “Look at you! I’m amazed he can even bear the sight of you. No wonder he turns to other women. No wonder he stays out late and has cozy little lunches with women like Alicia Henderson.”

Renee listened in silence, too stunned by her action to stop the angry torrent of words her hand had unleashed.

“I can understand my father,” Debbie continued, unable at this point to stop. “The person I can’t
understand is you. You’re supposed to be so damn smart! How can you let my father do this to you? Don’t you have any self-respect? How can you let him have affairs with one woman after another? Don’t you know you’re the laughingstock of this whole town? The famous divorce lawyer whose own husband cheats on her left, right, and center! Why do you put up with it? What are you hanging around for? My father slept with your sister! And you’ve known about it all along, haven’t you? As much as you tried to pretend it wasn’t true. You knew!”

Renee saw her sister sitting up in bed, pulling the white sheet around her neck, hiding her nakedness, turning her face away from Renee’s concern. She saw Philip in the doorway, fresh out of the shower, nude except for a towel. “What say we go out and grab an ice-cream cone?” he asked. “Hi, Kathryn. I didn’t know you were home.” And something in the air, a slight musky odor that disappeared on command. The subtle scent of recent lovemaking she had refused to acknowledge, the smell Debbie was rubbing her face in now.

She thought she heard the sound of a door opening and closing, but it sounded so far away, and Debbie’s voice was so near and so relentless.

“How much more are you going to stand for?” Debbie was yelling as a figure emerged from the front hallway. “Why don’t you just tell him to go to hell?” She paused, sucking in a deep breath of air as the figure moved closer. “Why don’t you tell me to go to hell?”

Kathryn stepped out of the shadow.