You Knew Me When (13 page)

“So soon?” Laney was enjoying this a little too much.

“Yes. I'll be here tomorrow at eight. It was nice to see you, Grant.” Katherine maneuvered around them, slipping out the door and running to her car as quickly as she could.

As soon as she'd driven out of sight, she parked on the side of the road and hunched her torso over the wheel. “Pull it together, Katherine. Pull your fucking self together.”

L
aney woke up as pissed off as she'd gone to bed. She'd arrived home the night before to find an already disappointed Rick. Grant had laid into her after Kitty left and had then, apparently, called her house for a second round, only to get Rick on the other end of the line. “I'd be fucking furious too,” Rick had said as soon as she'd walked through the door, craving his sympathy, not his judgment. This had set Laney off, mainly because—as she'd tried to explain to Grant—she'd asked him to meet her at Luella's house
after
work, when she thought Kitty would be long gone. How was she supposed to know that he'd be able to leave two hours earlier than usual? Fine, so she could have mentioned that Kitty was in town, that she was tied into the whole home-inheritance debacle, but honestly, she had yet to craft a delicate way of bringing it up. And now she was being punished for not just blurting it out like an insensitive sister.

Of course, Rick took Grant's side. Whenever she had a disagreement with Grant, Rick always thought that Grant was the reasonable one and Laney was the drama queen, blowing things out of proportion or manipulating the facts to her benefit. “Whether you meant for it to happen that way or not, Grant said you seemed pretty pleased with yourself,” Rick had admonished. “So sue me!” Laney had retorted, stomping off to their bedroom. She hadn't resurfaced to eat dinner or to watch their usual Saturday-night shows. And when Rick had come to bed around midnight, she'd pretended to be asleep, even when he'd kissed her on her cheek and whispered, “I love you.” They never, ever went to bed angry. She blamed Kitty.

To add insult to injury, she'd received a text message from Tina saying she absolutely needed her to come to work in the morning for a couple of hours. Apparently, there'd been some mix-up with a nail polish order, and Tina was desperate to get it sorted out on a Sunday. In an ideal world, Tina would have Laney working seven days a week, but when Tina bought Oasis, Laney had been firm that she could only work every other Saturday and never on Sunday. Tina had bristled at the notion, but Laney had held strong. That said, she couldn't count the number of Sundays Tina had begged her to come in for at least part of the day. In those cases, Laney had, to her long-term detriment, not held strong. The worst part about having to go in to work was that she'd had to text Kitty saying she couldn't meet her at Luella's until eleven, which probably gave her a rise. But Kitty had written back just one word:
fine
.

Laney wondered if Kitty was mad at her. Not that she cared. Kitty had definitely been ruffled by Grant's impromptu visit. She'd been all fidgety, and the look of sheer humiliation on her face had been priceless. Initially Laney had felt a little bad about it, until she'd taken so much heat from Grant and Rick. They'd both defended Kitty, which she could understand coming from Rick, but Grant? It didn't make sense. If anyone should understand her position, it was Grant. In fact, one might argue he'd been victimized by Kitty even worse than she had.

She hadn't bothered to wake Rick on her way out. He'd been sleeping so peacefully at seven forty-five, which was unheard of for him. Plus she was still annoyed. By eight, Laney was at Oasis, getting everything back in order. One day out of the spa and it was like a tornado had hit. Tornado Tina. By nine, Tina had arrived, and shortly thereafter customers began flowing in. Laney was busy buzzing around the place, making sure everyone was happy and that all was running smoothly. Tina was manning the front desk, the least labor-intensive of all the jobs, and things were humming along. Until
she
walked in.

“Hello. I'm here for my nine thirty massage.”

“Name, please?”

“Katherine Hill.” Laney spun around to witness Tina smiling as politely as she'd ever seen her, appraising Katherine's existence from head to toe.

“Wait. Oh, my God! Are you
the
Katherine Hill? Yes! Yes you are!” Tina was convulsing with excitement, awe, and envy—a veritable kiss-ass cocktail.

“Well, I'm not sure I'm
the
anyone, but I am Katherine Hill.” She nodded modestly.

“Oh don't you be humble! I see you in all the society magazines. You know George Clooney! I saw you in
Vogue
together!” Tina was blushing like a schoolgirl.

“George is a friend.” Katherine smiled demurely, and Laney rolled her eyes. She felt like sticking her finger down her throat, but managed to stifle the impulse.

“And you're the head of that huge cosmetics company!” Laney watched Tina groping through her empty head for the name.

“Blend.” Katherine let her off the hook.

“Yes, Blend!” Tina punched the air with her bony fist.

“Though I don't see any of our products around here.” Katherine craned her neck in either direction, spotting Laney out of the corner of her eye.

“That's because they're too expensive for a small spa like Oasis,” Laney countered defensively, walking over toward the front desk, where Tina was still quaking with admiration. Laney hadn't known that Blend was the big cosmetics company where Katherine worked, but she was quite familiar with their overpriced merchandise.

“Oh no, no, no. I'm sure that's not the case. We'll work something out, Ms. Hill.”

“Actually, I suspect Laney is right,” Katherine acknowledged, and Tina's buglike eyes looked like they were going to launch out of their sockets.

“You two
know
each other?”

“For twenty-three years.”

“How come you never told me you were friends with
Katherine Hill
?” Tina regarded Laney urgently, as if she'd withheld access to the Hope Diamond.

“Because I'm not.” Laney tightened her lips and widened her eyes.

“She's just kidding.” Katherine laughed, and Laney's mouth remained taut. If Tina hadn't been so obviously enamored with Kitty, she'd have engaged in her childish game of back-and-forth.
No, we are not friends.
Maybe she'd have stuck her tongue out for good measure and recited a verse of “I'm Rubber, and You're Glue.”

“Well, any friend of Laney's is a friend of mine.” Tina tittered. “Now let's get you set for that massage. I'll even throw in an extra half hour.”

“Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'm meeting an old friend at eleven.”

“Oh, I see.” Tina was thwarted but not discouraged. “You'll have to come back, then!”

“Absolutely,” Katherine offered graciously, as Tina led her toward the back of the spa. “I'll see you later, Laney.” Katherine waved, and Laney recoiled. She'd never hear the end of it from Tina.

•   •   •

By
the time she got to Luella's house at noon, Katherine's car was already parked in front, and Laney was stewing. Throughout the entirety of Katherine's one-hour massage, Tina had shadowed Laney around Oasis, peppering her with questions about their friendship.
How do you know each other? Are you good friends? Did you ever go to New York City to visit her? Did you ever go to any fancy parties? Or meet George Clooney? Maybe you could take me sometime?
And,
Why, in God's name, have you never mentioned Katherine before?
Laney had answered her litany of queries in as much detail as possible, irritated by the teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy bit of satisfaction it gave her to have something Tina coveted, even if it was the last thing Laney herself wanted—to be associated with Katherine.

Laney had managed to avoid Katherine postmassage, for fear she'd lose her breakfast watching the spectacle of Tina's sycophantic behavior a second time around. Now she had no choice but to face her. She pushed in Luella's front door, making a mental note to ask Rick to fix it, and stalked into the entrance hall.

“Hello?”

“In the living room,” Katherine called out.

“Didn't you finish this room?” Laney stood in the doorway.

“Yup. But I just moved everything we decided to keep from the kitchen into here. I figured if we put it all in the foyer it would make it hard to get in and out. Not to mention we still have to do something with that chandelier. So, this is now our estate-sale room. What next?” Laney was impressed, though didn't indicate as much. She hadn't taken Katherine for much of a physical laborer, but somehow, slight frame and all, she'd managed.

“You did this yourself?” Laney looked around at the kitchen table, chairs, and some other pretty large pieces of furniture surrounding the living room couch, coffee table, end tables, and armoires.

“My dad stopped by to help me. You just missed him.” Katherine's hands were on her hips, and her cheeks were flushed. Laney stared at her old friend's face for a moment. With scarcely a trace of makeup, Katherine was effortlessly graceful, her smooth, creamy, unlined skin radiating an undeniable physical beauty. “There's nothing much in the powder room. So it's just the dining room, and then we can move upstairs to the bedrooms and Luella's den.”

“I can start upstairs if you want to take the dining room.”

“Fine, but leave Luella's bedroom and den for now. I want to go through that stuff too.” Laney noticed she didn't say together. Maybe she'd finally taken the hint.

“Okay.” Laney turned to head upstairs. “Oh, and do me a favor. Don't come to my place of work without letting me know first.” She hated having to call Oasis her place of work when clearly
my spa
would sound so much more impressive and be so much more gratifying. Katherine didn't look up from a box she was taping shut. “
Hello
?”

“I heard you. Let's not talk about letting each other know things ahead of time, okay?” Katherine's face was serious. “We're here to work.”

Three hours passed without a word between them. Predictably, the upstairs wasn't in much better shape than the downstairs, and Laney had her work cut out for her in the first of four guest bedrooms. It was hard to understand why Luella had needed so many extra bedrooms. At one time, she and her husband had lived there, but as long as Laney had known her she'd been a widow in a house fit for a family of at least six. She did like to entertain. Laney remembered countless times when she and Kitty had helped Luella prepare for a lavish dinner party, setting the long, mahogany dining-room table with luxurious silken linens, luminous fine china, crystal stemware, and silverware so heavy you'd break a toe if it dropped on your foot. Still, Laney was pretty sure Luella wasn't one for sleepover guests. She cherished her privacy too much.

Laney could hear Katherine clanking around downstairs, most likely packing all of said china, stemware, and silverware into boxes so that they could sell it off to people who wouldn't love it the way Luella had. There was no one who delighted in aesthetic beauty the way she had—both people and things. On any old Saturday in the summer, Luella could be found with a full face of makeup, expertly applied, and an ensemble so artfully coordinated she looked as if she'd stepped off the pages of a high-fashion magazine. Obviously, it had rubbed off on Kitty.

She sighed, looking around the room at what was left. It had been a long day already and a long evening prior, battling it out with her husband and brother. There was one more drawer to go and then she'd have to carry all the boxes down to the living room, which Katherine had declared home base. She scooted over to the other side of the dresser and tugged at the handle, which fell off in her hand.

“Shit.”
One more thing for Rick to fix.

The drawer was packed mostly with junk, which she dumped into the large black garbage bag she'd been gradually filling. Underneath an empty wooden picture frame, Laney noticed a familiar small, pink linen scrapbook, which she unearthed, pulling the white ribbon bow to open it. The first page read “Happy Birthday Luella” in shimmery gold marker. Kitty had penned it with her impeccable handwriting. Laney flipped to the next page, where there were photos of the two of them with their arms around each other, and one where Laney was kissing Kitty on the cheek, she in a red string bikini and Kitty wearing her shorts and a T-shirt to conceal a plain black bathing suit. Another showed them making stupid faces at the camera. They'd asked Grant to be their personal photographer for a week so they could give Luella the photo album for her birthday. And when they had, Luella had been so visibly honored, they'd sworn they'd seen her eyes well up with tears—a definite first, since Luella's poker face was about as polished as Madonna's voguing.

Laney stared at the photos, trying to find the resemblance between Kitty and Katherine, and even her old self and her grown-up self. The girls in the picture had been fun, lighthearted, unknowing as to what the future would bring. They'd loved each other so purely.

“How's it going?” Katherine came into the room, her formerly pristine white sweater blemished with dirt.

“Look at this.” She motioned to Katherine, who knelt down beside her.

“Oh, my God.” Katherine grimaced. “Those were some serious thighs.”

“Look how happy we were.” Laney continued flipping through the pages. Almost every shot was of them at Luella's pool, swimming, frolicking, or just being silly—whatever it was twelve-year-olds did.

“I know.”

“You were so ridiculous with your shorts and T-shirt in every single photo.” Laney pointed at the album.

“I was a pork chop.”

“You were not!”

“I was. And you were a string bean. We made a lovely meal.”

They both laughed.

“You were always so insecure about how you looked. I never understood it.” Laney shook her head.

“That's because you looked the way you looked.”

“God, it's so crazy to think that was us.” Laney turned the page to a close-up of Katherine. “You were pretty back then too, Kitty. Just different.”