The All You Can Dream Buffet (35 page)

She showered luxuriously, washing her hair, shaving everything. Afterward, she lovingly spread lotion from one end of her body to the other, making sure to get the back of her thighs
and her bottom, her rib cage and breasts. For a moment she looked at herself in the mirror, with her hands on her smallish breasts, which were covered with freckles. Would he find them beautiful? It wasn’t as if there’d been a lot there to get saggy, but she was edging hard toward fifty. Things slipped.

She thought of him, what little she knew, and wondered if this was crazy. If she was a bad woman.

But her internal barometer said no. This was right. For tonight, anyway. She wasn’t leaving home to find some other man to rule her life. She’d left to find herself, and that self wanted sex—hot, fierce, sloppy, vigorous, tender, scratching, luscious sex—
in the worst way.

She dried her hair and piled it on top of her head, put on her prettiest underwear, and then donned the peach dress, so delicately colored. The bodice was tight and she had to pull her breasts into position, swelling very nicely above it but not in any kind of slutty way.

On her feet she put peach-colored flip-flops—well, technically they were orange. The sandals had been a gift from Ruby to each of them to match the colors of their dresses, so that they could get to the platform without hurting their feet. Lavender’s were silver, Val’s white, Hannah’s red, and Ruby’s blue.

When she was getting ready to head out the door, her phone rang. She stared at it for a moment, almost certain something bad was happening at the end of that line, something she didn’t want to hear. If it was Christie or Jack, she would pick up. If not, she wouldn’t.

The call was from Kansas but not from a number she recognized. As she held the phone, it clicked over to voice mail, and Ginny waited for the tone that signaled the message was ready to be heard.

She waited.

And waited.

And decided she wasn’t about to take this call or any other. She was going to be herself tonight, without obligations to anyone. Leaving the phone on the table, she slipped outside in her tutu and flip-flops, her dog in her wake. Faintly, she heard the
ding
of the voice-mail messenger.

Ginny and Willow ran across the fields, dashing toward the lights strung up around the wooden platform. It would be a long time until sunset, but a band had begun to play some bluegrass, Lavender’s favorite, and the cheery sound danced on its own amid the lights and the tree branches.

Ruby was the first on the platform, swaying happily in her new dress, her tummy seeming to grow every day all of a sudden. She was so pretty, so dazzlingly illuminated, that Ginny leapt up and gave her a giant hug from behind. “I’m so glad we’re all here!”

Ruby grabbed her hands and leaned backward, resting her head on Ginny’s shoulder. “Will you be my baby’s grandma? I mean, I know you’re technically too young and all that—”

Ginny squeezed her around the shoulders. “Of course, of course, of course! We all will be!”

Ruby turned. “No, I mean specifically you, like a real grandma. My mom is”—she shook her head—“selfish and far away, and she’ll never even care that I have this baby. You’ll take it seriously. Take her and me seriously.”

“I promise,” Ginny said, putting her hand on her heart. “I promise to be your baby’s actual grandmother, for real, no questions asked.”

“Good.”

Looking over Ruby’s shoulder, Ginny said, “Holy cow. Look at Noah. Hannah is going to keel over.”

Ruby spun around, and her hand on Ginny’s arm tightened.
“He is stupidly beautiful.
Ridiculously
beautiful.
Absurdly
beautiful! It’s not even fair.”

Ginny laughed, watching Noah stroll through the long grass. He wore a crisp, long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans, and an embroidered red vest with a bolo tie.

“Deliciously beautiful,” Ginny said. Noah’s hair had been brushed back from his elegantly boned face and curled at his neck like that of a Spanish count.

“You know what I like best?” Ruby said, leaning close. “When he grins, all the angles go off, and it makes all that perfect perfectness just so normal.”

Ginny looked at her friend. “What’s up with you two?”

Ruby swayed. “Something.” She swished her hands through her net skirt, inclining her head to shoot a coquettish look at him. “Nothing. And something.”

He leapt up on the platform as easily as a cat and came toward them. “ ’Evening, ladies. You both look beautiful.”

“I’m not going to tell you that you look beautiful, because you already know it,” Ruby said, still swaying back and forth. Her shoulders, smooth and clear, caught the light in swoops and swirls, and Ginny saw how Noah’s eyes lingered across all that pretty skin.

“I’m going to see how things are in the house,” Ginny said. “See you in a little while.”

Tables had been set up all around the freshly mowed grass circling the big willow tree, and now Ginny set out plates, a big mix of colors and styles, from pottery to china, along with cloth napkins and silver in the same mishmash. The tables were rented, covered with pretty tablecloths. Valerie came along
behind Ginny with candles in hurricane lamps, and Hannah, burning bright in her red dress, lit each one with a long match.

People started to filter in, a few at a time, driving pickup trucks and sedans and a handful of sporty little cars in various styles. It wasn’t a huge crowd—Lavender estimated it would be about twenty or twenty-five above their own core group.

Among them were the nephews, whom Ginny was interested to meet. When Lavender introduced them, Ginny was surprised to find they were ordinary middle-aged businessmen, putting on good faces but a little bored. Their wives were well-tended Portlanders, with healthy natural good looks and unfussy clothing. One wore a beautiful white scarf and gave Lavender a big armful of white roses. “You said no gifts,” the woman said, “but I couldn’t bear to come empty-handed.”

“They’re beautiful,” Lavender said, and kissed her cheek. She held the roses in front of her tutu and said, “Now, don’t I look like a ballerina?”

Ginny, never without her camera, shot the moment and dozens of others, feeling slightly antsy as the time crept closer to seven and there was no sign of Jack.

At seven, they gathered around the tables and held up champagne glasses filled with Bellinis, Lavender’s favorite. Ruby stood, holding a nonalcoholic version, and said, “I only hope to live half so well and shine a quarter as brightly as you do, Lavender. Thanks for inviting all of us!”

Lavender, looking fit and elegant in the silvery dress, held up her own glass. “This is one of the best nights of my life, and I thank you all for coming. Right now let’s sit down and eat!”

Ginny glanced over her shoulder one more time, but still no Jack. She shook it off and sat down next to Ruby. The Foodie Four sat on one side of the table, opposite Lavender’s nephews
and their wives. Ginny saw Hannah snare a seat farther down the table, next to Noah, and smiled to herself as the girl sent a cat-with-the-canary glance over to Ruby, who lifted her glass in a toast to Hannah.

The evening was still and warm. Ginny sipped her Bellini and picked at the watermelon salad, nibbled a little roll, but she was deflated. It would be unkind to show it, so she made a point of laughing at the jokes. When Lavender told one of her stories about the glory days of the airlines, she tuned in, intrigued as ever by the spirit of those bygone times.

Ginny found herself chewing on her thumbnail. Maybe she should get her phone. He might have been delayed for some perfectly legitimate reason.

But if she got the phone, she’d have to listen to the message from Kansas, likely Matthew calling from some secondary phone to leave messages. Or her mother, telling her how she was ruining her life.

Hadn’t she just resolved to face her life the way it was instead of ducking things she didn’t want to see or deal with? She sighed. Where was the difference between facing things and setting boundaries? She didn’t really know.

Unable to sit there one more moment, she jumped up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she whispered to Ruby.

Ruby slapped a hand over hers. “Wait. Do you know that truck pulling in to the lot?”

Ginny heard it then, the enormous horsepower of a gigantic engine, and she turned to see Jack’s rig making the turn into the lot. It was designed to handle big trucks, though maybe not one as big as this, and he navigated into place, parked, and leapt down gracefully.

Willow barked a welcome and ran toward the man. Ginny followed behind more demurely, forgetting her flip-flops so
that she was walking barefoot through damp grass, her eyes fixed on his lean, loose-limbed form. He’d dressed up a little, with a tie and a blue-striped shirt she liked very much and his usual jeans. He carried a black cowboy hat with a turquoise-studded band.

The first thing he said was, “Sorry. I borrowed a car and it had a flat and there wasn’t time to get it fixed, so I had to drive the rig. Kinda foolish, but I didn’t want to miss—”

Ginny rushed the last few feet and flew up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I am so glad you’re here,” she said, and took his hand. “Come meet my friends.”

They’d already rearranged things at the head table, making room for him. Ruby had slid around to sit next to Noah, making Hannah glower a bit and Noah sit straighter. Still holding tight to Jack’s hand, Ginny said, “Everybody, this is Jack Gains, my friend from Colorado.”

He raised a hand. “How’re you all doing?” He pulled Ginny around the table with him as he greeted her friends individually, starting with Lavender. “Happy birthday, young lady,” he said, and offered the perfect white daisy he held in his hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”

Lavender tilted her head appraisingly, and the jewels in her crown sparkled. “You, too, son. We sure appreciated your care of Ginny when she was sick.”

“I was glad to be there.”

He paused before Ruby and bowed. “You have to be Ruby of ‘The Flavor of a Blue Moon.’ You look exactly like I pictured you.”

“You’ve read my blog?”

“Some of it. I liked your cherries post.” With a wicked glance at her pregnant belly, he added, “Looks like you swallowed a few of them.”

Laughing, Ruby put her hands on her tummy. “Maybe so.”

As they took their seats at the table, Ginny was aware of her bare feet against the grass, and Jack’s tight grip on her fingers, and the fragrance of him, which was enhanced by some kind of shaving lotion or cologne that she liked, slighty musky and oriental. She was aware, too, that her ears were hot with the speculation of the others, with the stark wickedness of her actions, and with the secret thrill she got from that.

But mostly what she felt as she sat next to him was starvation, a hunger for him, for his company and the sound of his voice as he talked to Ruby on one side and to the nephews who had seen his truck and asked about it. She ate watermelon that suddenly tasted a hundred times sweeter than it had five minutes ago, and she memorized the angle of his nose and the shape of his jaw. She noticed his fingernails and his hands. He didn’t eat very much. He kept taking her hand below the table, touching her thigh, crinkling the tulle beneath his fingers. With his other hand, he fed Willow tidbits of chicken. The dog loyally sat behind his chair, guarding him from all comers. Or something.

As the meal wound down, Lavender stood up, her glass in hand. Her color was high from the alcohol, her cheeks bright red, making her eyes beneath the white hair especially bright. “Hey, everybody, in a minute we’ll start dancing. There’s plenty more to eat, so don’t be shy, and we have plenty of sodas and microbrews and wine, and you’re free to sleep in the pasture with the chickens if you need to.”

A smattering of laughter danced from table to table.

“Now, I’m eighty-five today and I reckon I’ve earned the right to ramble a little bit, so bear with me.”

“We love listening!” Ruby cried, raising her empty glass.

“Thanks, sweetheart. All of you should meet Ruby Zarlingo,
who writes an earthy blog called ‘The Flavor of a Blue Moon.’ She’s a vegan, but we forgive her because her writing is so terrific and because she’s a pretty spectacular cook.”

Ruby shone, standing to do a little bow, like the ballerina on a jewelry box.

“That brings me to the fact that this is a rare and magical day,” Lavender said, more seriously. “It’s the blue moon, a time when you can have second chances, and new hopes, and new starts.”

Ginny looked up at Jack at the very instant he looked at her. They shared a long moment, hands touching palm to palm beneath the table. Blue sparks shone between their hands, slipping out like tiny fireflies.

“Think about that, friends. What would you do, if you could do anything? Where would you go? What life would you live?” Like a goddess, Lavender shimmered in her silver dress, the rhinestones on her birthday crown sparkling. “That’s really something to think about, isn’t it?”

A wife looked at a husband. A mother glanced at her son. Hannah leaned forward intently. Next to Hannah, Valerie listened without betraying what she felt.

“I’ve had a lot of lives in eighty-five years. Some of you have lived a lifetime in one or two years, I know. Noah, my manager, is one of them. He served in the Army for four tours, and that’ll mark you. You see how the land has given him new life.”

Ginny looked at Noah, wondering if he minded, but he only nodded.

“Valerie and Hannah there: They have a chance to strike out and become whoever they want, and they’re traveling across the country to a new life away from the tragedy they survived.”

Valerie reached for her daughter’s hand.

“I’ve been a stewardess, an adventuress and a secretary, an
accountant and an organic farmer and a perfumer. There are just times you know that a new life is calling. If you don’t listen, that’s when you get in trouble. If you’re brave and listen to that siren call”—she smiled at Ginny—“you might find something brand new.”

Ginny was glad that was all Lavender said. The words brought back some of her conflict over the situation. Jack’s hand landed on her shoulder, his fingers brushing along her neck, and she shivered ever so slightly.