Gourdfellas (9 page)

“Overload,” she said. I could practically see her ticking off each item on her fingers. “Everything doesn’t have to be a major big deal to count as a source of stress, you know. Scrambling to juggle your freelance work and never knowing when you’ll get paid. Sitting in a mediation room every week with people who want to kill each other. And now you have to fix that leak in your roof, too. Let’s see—is that it, or do I have to start on my toes?”

I might as well complete the list, even though one item affected Nora directly. “I keep getting up at four in the morning with my mind racing and I can’t get back to sleep. And this casino thing—I hate how it’s turned the poker group into warring camps. Have you spoken to Susan? She needs her friends now, and instead—”

“Whoa. Yes, I’ve seen her. And so has Melissa. She’s doing better. Just that scar and a little shakiness. Her classes have sent her funny cards and flowers and she’s going back to work on Monday.”

Heat rose to my face. I should have known that these women wouldn’t let one of their own suffer through a trauma without offering support. But the omission of one name nearly deafened me in the silence.

“And Elizabeth?” I listened for a response, and when it didn’t come my anger spilled over. “I don’t get it. How can she do that? That’s like not talking to your sister because of some stupid argument and ten years later you can’t remember the argument but you still won’t make a move to fix things. She’s conveniently forgotten how everyone—including Susan—tried to understand when she represented that cement plant that would have polluted four counties on either side of the river.”

“Eight years. Elizabeth hasn’t spoken to her sister in eight years.” Nora sighed again. “She phoned Susan yesterday, so that’s something, even if it wasn’t face to face. You know the tolerance you’re demanding of Elizabeth? Maybe you should think about extending it to her as well.”

Sometimes, I do need to have another person point out the obvious. But I didn’t much like being forced to think that way when what I really wanted was to be bothered by Elizabeth’s apparent lack of compassion. I reached for an almond and crunched noisily.

“Melissa’s so confused about the Susan situation. She’s been upset and only half-present, even at work.” Nora sounded like the one who was upset. “I’m the new partner at the Taconic Inn, so it’s been delicate, figuring out how to tell Melissa that the business is going to suffer unless she finds a way to come back to her real self. The casino and Susan are only part of what’s bothering her. She hasn’t been right since her Aunt Bernice died. Bernie was almost like a mother to her.”

It had been devastating for Melissa to watch her aunt die. She’d talked frequently about Bernie, who had Parkinson’s for years, about how she gave herself shots whenever things got bad. And they’d helped. Until a month ago. I knew too well how it was with that illness. My father’s good days gave us hope, and the bad ones left us watching and waiting to make sure his medicine was working. Melissa must have been as grateful as I was that modern medicine had come up with a drug that shortened the bad episodes.

“You know what the trouble is? I can see both sides. Both sides of the casino issue, and both sides of the Susan thing. Sometimes I wish I could keep things much, much simpler. But then I’d be someone else.”

“Someone I wouldn’t like half as much. Enough of this stuff. Scooter wants to know how your brother is. I mean, I do too, we all do, but you know sixteen-year-olds—everything’s either the worst or the best. Neil’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

I filled Nora in on my brother’s condition and on my call to Trisha Stern, who assured me that she could help him. She let me ramble for a while, and then her voice lit up with that I-know-a-secret sound.

“You know how you hate it when people say everything happens for a reason? You know, your house burns to the ground for a reason. Your husband is murdered for a reason.” Her voice caught as she said the words that some well-meaning person had probably delivered to her last fall, thinking they would be a comfort. “You got grounded by Michele Castro so that your brother would have an excuse to say he’d come up and stay with you.”

“Grounded—that didn’t happen. I went to that gallery opening. I told her that if she wanted to send somebody to tag along behind me, that was skin off her behind, not mine.” My inner adolescent, never far from the surface, was enjoying this brief excursion into the daylight.

Nora laughed. “I never thought I’d hear a thirty-four-year-old white woman sound like my sixteen-year-old African-American son. Anyway, you just keep that in mind—that Neil feels good that he can provide you with some company while you’re going through your own ordeal. That lets him feel he’s doing something for you, instead of being a burden.”

“Lemonade,” I said as I heard Neil stirring in the living room. “You really do know how to make lemonade.”

The sounds of laughter that accompanied the footsteps on my back porch were a welcome break from thinking about Marjorie Mellon, Michele Castro, and the murder that had gotten a little too close to home. And from the four-hour stint I’d just put in working on a brochure for Boite Blanc, a small, white cave of a restaurant about to open on a side street of Great Barrington, Massachusetts. My friends tumbled into the kitchen clutching their sides and looking at Elizabeth, who took her time as she played out the moment for its dramatic value.

Susan wasn’t with them.

Elizabeth set her purse on the counter, unbuttoned her lavender suede jacket, and waited until all eyes were on her before she said, “And the pirate answered, ‘Aargh, it’s driving me nuts!’”

Everyone dissolved again into laughter that left them holding onto the butcher block or each other for support. Convulsed with belly laughs that reduced them to helplessness, they were irresistible. Despite my worry about Susan, I laughed with them. Neil laughed too. The sound was so infectious I was afraid they would keep going until they collapsed in a puddle on the floor.

Finally, everyone resumed normal breathing. I looked around the circle of women gathered at the kitchen island and said, “Don’t even tell me the start of that joke. Bad enough that I have a Bob Marley song stuck in my head for days. You know my brother Neil is staying with me for a while.”

I made introductions all around, and Neil asked each of my friends a question that told them he was really interested in their lives. This was one of the skills he’d learned from Mom, who used it to her advantage in her job as event planner for the office of the mayor of New York City. Neil simply used it to make everyone love him—or at least, to feel comfortable in his presence.

He’d saved Melissa for last. “Lili tells me you’re expanding your business. That sounds so exciting. When will you open the second place?”

“With Nora’s help I’ll be ready to cut the ribbon on the bed-and-breakfast in about a month,” Melissa said, smoothing her already perfect brown bob. Whenever she talked about the inn or the new B&B, she glowed, but a little extra shimmer surrounded her now. “We’ve picked out wallpaper and linens for upstairs. Now all we have to do is make sure the contractors, three brothers from Chatham, show up on time. Our ads should start running in the
Wall Street Journal
and
New York Magazine
next week.”

I didn’t bother to suppress my sigh of relief that Melissa wasn’t using Tony Caterra to do her renovation. If she told me that she’d hired him, I’d really be stuck. As a mediator, I couldn’t warn her away. All the facts weren’t in yet, but I still couldn’t say whether or not he’d turn out to be a crook who pocketed money that should have gone into paying workmen who knew what they were doing and to materials that actually could do what they were meant to do. As her friend, I wouldn’t be able to remain quiet. A little creative information delivery—I’d have figured out a way.

“You’re covering lots of bases at once. Sounds like you’re ready to hit a great double,” Neil said. He shook his head. “Sorry about the baseball thing.”

Melissa smiled, holding out her hand as if to stop his apology. “Well, if I didn’t cover all those bases, my business would strike out before the first inning. I’d hate to be thrown out of the game before I even got on deck.”

The rest of us groaned, but Neil said, “Now I understand why Lili’s so happy here. Beautiful scenery, clean air, a chance to do the work she loves. Plus, she’s surrounded by smart people. Well, great to meet you all. Good luck, everyone.”

“In poker, unlike in life, somebody’s got to lose,” I said. “Are we going to stand around chatting up my brother or are we going to play cards? And where’s Susan?”

I added that last question as casually as I could. Neil offered a salute and then swung forward on his crutches and disappeared down the hall. I carried the tray of cut vegetables to the living room, placed it on the low bookcase that doubled as a buffet, and waited for my friends to settle in to their seats. Nobody jumped to answer me.

“Well? Is she coming? Did anyone talk to her?”

Melissa pushed her hair behind her pretty ears and then reached for her wineglass. Elizabeth’s mouth opened and then fell shut.

“I spoke to her earlier. She wasn’t sure if she could—” A smile of relief melted Nora’s frown. “That must be Susan now,” she said, nodding toward the headlights that had appeared in my driveway.

Elizabeth sat straighter in her chair. An uncomfortable evening lay ahead of us, unless someone could figure out a way to change the mood.

I went to the kitchen and pulled the door open. Susan shrugged off her down vest and pushed her red curls off her shoulders, a half-smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

I hugged her, hard and quick, and then stood back. “Great! We couldn’t start without you. Everyone’s inside.”

A tiny twitch appeared at the outer corner of her eye, just below the bright scar, her badge of honor. “I almost didn’t come,” she said softly.

“I’m glad you did.” I waited for her to lead, and then followed into the living room, where everyone smiled and said hello and pushed chairs around to make room.

I sat down, fanned a deck of cards, and said, “Okay, everybody, pick a card to see who’s dealer.”

Melissa reached for a card in the middle of the deck and slapped it on the table. “Ace of spades. Contest’s over.”

Instead of the groans and good-natured banter I expected, Melissa’s shoulders straightened, Nora’s lips pressed together, and Elizabeth slouched in her chair, legs stretched out in front of her. Susan and I looked at each other and waited to find out what the joke was.

“What?” I said finally.

Glances were exchanged around the table, and finally Melissa said, “We need to talk before we play. About what’s going on with you.”

“You’re in trouble.” Elizabeth wasn’t asking a question, she was making a very direct statement, and her tone and her expression made my stomach do a flip. “B. H. Hovanian filled me in on what’s been happening.”

“You’re cutting yourself off, Lili, and that’s not good. When you cut yourself off from your friends, we don’t have the chance to share our collective wisdom. And you don’t get the benefit of knowing that you have the support of people who care about what happens to you.” Melissa sounded as though she’d rehearsed this speech.

Without my permission, a lone tear trickled down my face. The stone that had been pressing on my chest levitated a few inches and I started to breathe more easily.

But my brain did not engage, and I found myself speechless. My first impulse, to defend myself and say that I was overwhelmed by a sea of details that I had to juggle until the list became more manageable, would only make me look even more foolish. I did the only thing I could think of—the simplest thing.

“Thank you,” I said. “I just came to that conclusion myself, sort of. Okay, so one of the things that’s bothering me is how the casino debate is affecting this group. There’s a huge undercurrent of . . . I don’t know, tension for sure. But something else.”

“Hostility? Is that what you’re having such a hard time saying?” Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “You seem to think that people can just turn off their feelings so that they can sit down to a nice, friendly game of cards. Well, it doesn’t work that way.”

Susan pushed her chair away from the table, stood and leaned over in Elizabeth’s direction. “Why not? Why can’t we leave our political differences out of this? It’s not like I’m advocating ritual human sacrifice. I really don’t get it, this cold shoulder. As though all these years hadn’t even happened. And that goes for you, too.” She turned to face Nora. “And you,” she said, swiveling to confront Melissa.

Each woman broke eye contact before Susan did. Her green eyes flashed with anger, and I resisted the impulse to jump in and try to fix things. That wouldn’t have worked—even if I had any idea how to do that. Finally, Nora rose and stood in front of Susan.

“You’re right. I’m sorry for shutting you out.” She pulled Susan into a hug and then stood back. “I don’t want this to go one second longer.”

“Me too.” Melissa reached for Susan’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Susan nodded, squeezed Melissa’s hand, and then looked over at Elizabeth.

Each tick of the kitchen clock echoed through the house.

My heart did a double-time accompaniment as I studied the table. It was the only way I could avoid staring at Elizabeth.

Finally, she took a swig from her water glass and said, “I’m angry, Susan. You refuse to admit what a tragic impact that casino will have on our town. I still love you but I hate what you say and what you do about this. I don’t know if I can—”

“Your choice. You can accept that we think differently about this and not let the differences erase thirty years of friendship. Or you can decide that the only people who can be your friends are people who agree with you.” Susan sat down again, her eyes still fixed on Elizabeth.