Authors: Holly Chamberlin

Summer Friends (16 page)

BOOK: Summer Friends

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Delphine sighed and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. The afternoon was hot, not one on which she would ordinarily choose to mow a lawn, but she had made a promise to Jemima. Jim was away for a week on a job for his company up in the Greenville area, and Jemima's arthritis was acting up something fierce. While she could probably get the mowing accomplished, she would be the worse for it for days. Delphine was strong. Besides, it was what neighbors and friends did for each other, helped out in small but meaningful ways. It was just that it was really, really hot....

When she had finished the job, Delphine, her bandana soaked with sweat and her arms aching, joined Jemima in her kitchen for a tall glass of iced tea.

“So,” Jemima asked, handing a glass to Delphine, “is your rich friend still in town?”

“If you mean Maggie,” Delphine said after taking a gulp, “then yes, she is.” Then she wondered. For all she knew, Maggie might have gone back to Massachusetts. The thought disturbed her, but only slightly.

“I don't know how you can be friends with someone like that,” Jemima said, transferring a large lump of dough from a stainless-steel bowl onto a flowered wood board.

Delphine drained her glass before asking, “What do you mean, âsomeone like that'? Someone like what?”

Jemima hesitated, seemingly at a loss for the right words. Then, she said, “Someone who takes a vacation without her husband. Who ever heard of a husband and wife taking separate vacations?”

“It doesn't seem so odd to me,” Delphine argued. “Come to think of it, I seem to remember Maggie telling me that her mother went off on her own sometimes.”

“And that car!” Jemima punched the dough with more force than necessary. “Who spends all that money on a car? If it gets you from point A to point B it should suffice.”

“I bet in her business an expensive car is sort of a job requirement. You can't show up for a meeting with corporate presidents or important clients in a beater. Or in a truck like mine, for that matter.”

“There's nothing wrong with your truck,” Jemima said. “People put too much stock in appearances.”

“Well, be that as it may . . .”

“And she wouldn't even eat a whole corn muffin! One little muffin!”

Now Delphine laughed. “Not everyone likes corn muffins, Jemima. Come on. And she did say she was watching her carbs.”

“Watching her carbs! Ridiculous. She strikes me as one of those women obsessed with their looks, always on some fad diet. There are more important things in life, you know, than being skinny and shooting your face full of rat poison or whatever ridiculous thing it is those women do to look younger.”

“Of course I know,” Delphine said patiently. “And Maggie's not really like that. She's not shallow; she's just always been careful of her appearance. She's a very loyal person. She's very intelligent. You're just seeing one part of her.”

The part you want to see,
Delphine thought.
The part you need to see.
Maybe she, too, had been judging Maggie harshly, too quick to find habits and opinions she could condemn as different and so less valuable than her own. She thought about what had happened with Dave Jr. What had Maggie really offered but access to professional help? There was nothing objectionable in that, unless you chose to be offended for your own muddled reasons, like a distorted sense of pride. Even the large tip Maggie had left at the diner. While going through the day's receipts, Delphine had discovered that Maggie's was missing. She asked Sue, the waitress who had served Maggie, about the receipt. Sue told her that Mr. Crandall hadn't charged Maggie for her lunch and that Maggie had left a twenty-dollar tip. Delphine had immediately seen the money as offensive, as an insult. Now, she thought that it was more likely to have been an offering of thanks and appreciation.

“More iced tea?” Jemima asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and rousing Delphine from her brief reverie.

“Oh, no,” she replied, “thanks. I should get going. I promised I'd help Jackie with some harvesting.” She put her empty glass in the sink, said good-bye to Jemima, and let herself out the front door.
Maybe,
she thought as she walked to her truck,
I've been selling Maggie a bit short. Maybe.

It was about five o'clock on Friday afternoon and Maggie was standing with ten or so other sweaty visitors to Ogunquit, waiting for a trolley to take her back to Gorges Grant. She had woken earlier from her mid-morning nap feeling disoriented and restless. She called Gregory and had an aborted conversation, as he was running off to a meeting. She sent a text to Kim and one to Caitlin. Neither girl responded. She left a voice mail for a woman back in Lexington, someone she had met on the tennis court, suggesting they get together for a game when she got back. She didn't really like Angela all that much, but you couldn't play a good game of tennis alone and Angela's skill level was on par with her own. Her company was, for lack of a better word, convenient.

And then, she had washed her face, reapplied sunscreen and makeup, changed into a lighter outfit, and headed into town. Ogunquit was a vacation destination. There was plenty to do, plenty to occupy the long, empty hours that stretched ahead.

First, she went to the Barn Gallery. There was an exhibit of local artists, and though many of the paintings and photographs and mixed media pieces were interesting and some even beautiful, Maggie was hardly moved. She considered seeing a movie at the Leavitt Theatre, a place she had fond memories of, but decided she wouldn't be able to focus on a story line. She walked on to Perkins Cove. In a store called Swamp John's she bought a gold charm in the shape of a starfish. Kim liked starfish. She would give her the charm for her next birthday. She walked over to Barnacle Billy's for lunch in the shady garden. She ordered a lobster salad and a glass of wine, forgoing the infamous rum punch she had heard about back at her hotel. The food was fine, but Maggie ate without enthusiasm. The view of the boats docked in the cove was charming, but Maggie barely noticed.

When her meal was cleared away, she ordered a second glass of wine. Again, she considered cutting this visit to Ogunquit short and going back home to Lexington. But for what would she be returning home? And for whom? There was always her job. She could bury herself in work; there was a comfortable couch in her office, so she needn't bother to go home to an empty house at the end of the day. She could shower at her gym. Stash a change of clothes in her locker.

Maggie frowned. It was ridiculous, to be thinking about hiding from an empty house. It was her home. She had a right to be there and to feel welcomed, even if she was the only inhabitant. For God's sake, she owned the house. Suddenly, she'd had enough of feeling sorry for herself. What would her father say if he could hear her whining, self-pitying thoughts? And what would her her mother say? Maggie could almost see her frown of disapproval and disappointment.

She would not run home. She had come back to Ogunquit for a reason. She had lost Delphine onceâmaybe she hadn't fought hard enough for herâbut she would not lose her again, especially not over something as ridiculous as a juvenile delinquent and a lost tooth. And she didn't really believe, not deep down, that Delphine wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn't afford to believe that, not yet, not until she found another home in which to place her trust and friendship, not until she found another source of emotional intimacy and strength. Maggie made her decision. She would approach Delphine one more time, and maybe one more time after that. The result would be up to Delphine and her willingnessâher abilityâto receive Maggie's friendship. But at least she would have tried.

After having finished the second glass of wine Maggie paid the bill and walked to the nearest trolley stop. Now, finally, a trolley was in sight. Once back at her hotel she would take a shower, put on clean clothes, and go someplace air-conditioned to get a drink. She had a very strong feeling that getting a little drunk was in order.

1982

Maggie sat at her desk in the dorm room she shared with Delphine. It was a Saturday night. She had no particular plans, other than flipping through the fashion magazine in front of her. Delphine would, of course, be seeing that graduate student, Robert Evans.

She had been dating him for almost a month. They were near to inseparable. If not for the demands of their professorsâand both were on scholarships, so those demands were taken seriouslyâMaggie thought they would spend all of their time together, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes. It was enough to make Maggie sick. The fact that she felt bad about feeling so . . . jealous only made her feel sicker.

It wasn't right to be jealous of your friend's good fortune, even if that good fortune meant you got to spend less time with her and the time you did get to spend with her was largely taken up with talking about the good fortune. In this case, the good fortune was Robert Evans. You were supposed to be happy for your friend's happiness and she was, really. It was just that . . . It was just that she felt a little bitâjust a little bitâabandoned. Left out. Ignored. Left behind.

Delphine came back from the bathroom down the hall. She was dressed in a pair of Levi 501 button fly jeans, black cowboy boots (they weren't real leather, so they had been affordable), and a white blouse, tucked in, and the sleeves rolled up almost to her elbows. Maggie noticed that she had actually managed to tame her hair into a ponytail. Delphine didn't like the big teased and lacquered hair so many of her classmates wore. Generally, Maggie thought Delphine looked like a throwback to the sixties, her hair long and messy and parted in the middle.

“Do you want to wear my leather jacket?” Maggie offered. “It's really warm. I heard on the news that this has been the coldest November in Boston since some time in the 1950s. I forget the exact year.”

“Sure,” Delphine said. “Thanks. I promise to keep it clean.” And then, her tone suddenly anxious, she said, “You are happy for me, aren't you?”

“Of course I am,” Maggie said firmly. “Now go, have a great time. I promise not to wait up for you.”

“I'll tell you everything tomorrow, I swear.”

“Okay. Wait,” Maggie called, as Delphine was at the door. “You're going to a club out in Winchester, right?”

“Yeah. Some place called Space Bar.”

“Is Robert driving?”

“I think so,” Delphine said. “Why?”

“Don't get in the car if he drinks, okay? I know you really like this guy, but don't do anything stupid for him. Promise me.”

Delphine put out her arms. Maggie got up from her chair and the girls hugged. “I would never do anything to risk our friendship, Maggie,” she said. “Believe me.”

“Best friends always.”

“Pinky swear?”

Maggie laughed. “You are so silly. Okay, pinky swear.”

When Delphine had goneâshe had practically run from their room in her eagerness to be with RobertâMaggie lay down on her bed and stared up at the patched ceiling. It would be a long night if she stayed in. She could catch a movie.
The Blues Brothers
was playing in a revival theatre somewhere. People in her French class had been talking about it. She had never seen it and it was already a kind of cult classic. Or she could see
Gandhi.
That would keep her occupied for a few hours. And some girls she knew from her advanced statistics class were planning to hang out at Timmy O'Shea's, an authentic Irish pub on Boylston Street. The girls were okay. She could join them, even for one beer, maybe order some boxty wedges. She loved boxty wedges, even though her mother repeatedly warned her about the caloric dangers of anything made from potatoes.

Maggie sighed. She couldn't make herself decide on going out or staying in. She began to feel a bit pathetic. She wondered if she was too invested in Delphine, too reliant upon her for a social life. She had always considered them inseparable. Even when they were kids and she had gone back to Massachusetts for the school year, she had spent an awful lot of time writing to and calling Delphine and not so much time hanging out with the girls from her class. And what had Delphine done for friends all those years? Maggie realized that she didn't know. Delphine had neverâor rarelyâmentioned any other friend. Maybe she had been entirely invested in Maggie. Until Robert Evans had come along.

Maggie had liked certain guys, and some of them had liked her back. But she had never been in love, like Delphine was so obviously. Love meant the separation of friends. Love was going to divide her from Delphine. It wasn't fair. It shouldn't be that way, but Maggie had a bad feeling that it was that way.

She got up from the bed and took a step toward her closet. She intended to get dressed. She intended to go to that Irish pub. And then, she turned back and lay down on the bed again.

Maggie turned the Lexus into the Crandalls' front drive Saturday morning. Maybe she was being stupid or naive coming out to the farm again, trying one more time to make a connection with someone who didn't seem to want a connection at all.
But what the hell,
she thought.
I have nothing to lose except, maybe, my ignorance.

She found Delphine at her desk, as she thought that she might. She knocked on the door frame and Delphine looked up. Maggie was relieved to see that she didn't look angry or even annoyed.

“I came to apologize,” she said.

A very small smile appeared on Delphine's face. “Okay.”

“I shouldn't have interfered with the Dave Junior situation. It's just that I didn't see it as interfering. I'm used to people coming to me for advice. I get paid for it. Still, I shouldn't have tried to tell you how to handle family business. I'm sorry.”

Delphine's smile grew. “That's okay,” she said. “I probably got too worked up about it. I'm pretty used to handling stuff on my own.”

“Yes. I imagine you are. So, apology accepted?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Maggie said. “That's a big relief.”

Delphine hesitated, and then she said, “And, well, Maggie, I am glad that you're here. Really. I guess I'm just still a bit . . . stunned that you are. Here. After all this time. In a way it seems unreal. I feel like . . . I feel like I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say.”

“You're not âsupposed' to do anything,” Maggie said. “And just say what you want to say. It's me.”

It's me.
Delphine wondered if Maggie had the right to assume that familiarity, that intimacy.
But maybe,
she thought,
I'm being too . . . pricklyâagain. Maybe I'm overthinking. And maybe taking on the responsibility of Maggie's friendship wasn't entirely a bad thing at this point. Besides, in a few short weeks Maggie would be going home and life could get back to normal.

“Hey,” Maggie was saying, “are you okay? Looks like you went away for a while.”

Delphine shook her head. “Sorry. Look, I really do have to get back to work now, but maybe we could get together later?”

Maggie nodded. “Okay. I'll call you this afternoon and we'll figure something out.” With a little wave and a spring in her step, she was gone.

BOOK: Summer Friends

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