You Knew Me When (5 page)

“A little mess never hurt anyone.” Luella took the napkin. “I mean it. About the swimming. You're welcome anytime, Kitty. I need you kids frolicking about to keep me young, and I like the company.”

“Oh, okay.” I nodded politely, wondering why she lived all alone, especially in such a big house, but I didn't ask.

“HELLO! LUELLA? KITTY?”

“That'll be Laney, letting herself right in the front door like she owns the place.” Luella frowned a little. “Let's you and I get together for tea later this week. Shall we? Just the two of us.”

“Sure.” I nodded. I've never had so many people interested in me all at once.

“You've started without me!” Laney appeared, putting on an injured face. “I'll have to catch up!” She sat down and helped herself to a biscuit, practically swallowing it whole. “So, what have you been talking about? Sorry to be late. Mom was crazy about losing her keys again. Grant found them in the living-room plant.” She giggled. Her hair wasn't wet from the pool like yesterday, and I'd never seen anything like it. Layers upon layers of wild blond curls everywhere.

“Well, I was just getting to know Kitty here.”

“Isn't it absolutely fabulous? A new best friend and neighbor all in one! When Mom told me, I nearly freaked out!” Laney ate another biscuit, talking all the while. “Don't you think, Kitty? I mean, moving here and meeting me! Lucky, huh?” I had to agree.

“I'd say you're both very fortunate to have a friend your age so close by.” Luella pulled another glass from the cabinet and filled it. “Iced tea, dear?”

“Thanks.” Laney gulped it down. “Have you had any?” She eyed my untouched glass. “Luella makes it with fresh mint from her vegetable garden. She's got tomatoes and lettuce and cucumbers and corn too. Oh, and peppers. Lots of peppers. My mom says Luella is the reason we eat beautiful salads every night in the summer. It's my favorite time of year. What about you?”

“I think I like fall best.” The more clothing, the better for me.

“Me too.” Luella agreed. “Not too hot, not too cold.”

“My mom likes fall too. She sweats a lot in the hot weather. And she doesn't know how to swim. Can you believe that? I mean I love my mom, but . . .” Laney looked at me suddenly. “Sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” I sipped my tea.

“I keep talking about my mom. And, I mean, I know . . .” Laney shifted in her seat. It was the first time I'd seen her even a little uncomfortable. It was kind of a relief.

“It's no big deal.”

“Who wants to go for a swim?” Luella interrupted. I knew she was trying to help by changing the subject.

“It's really okay,” I mumbled, but I don't think either of them heard me.

“I DO!” Laney lifted her shirt over her head. She was wearing a pink ruffled bikini top.

“I didn't bring my suit.”

“Run back home and get it!” Laney insisted. “Go on. I'll meet you out there.” She jumped up, leaving her mess behind.

“I'll just help you clean up here.” I stacked my plate on top of Laney's and carried them to the counter.

“Don't be silly. Go on home like Laney said and get your suit. Only a few hours left of sunshine.”

“Are you sure? My dad said it's rude to eat and run.”

“Well, your dad is right, under normal circumstances.” Luella put the dishes in the sink. “But I'm letting you off the hook.” She winked.

“Okay.” I smiled. “Thank you again, Luella, for the tea and biscuits.”

“It's my pleasure, dear. I hope you'll come often.” She walked me to the front door. “It'll be open when you come back. Don't be shy; just let yourself in.”

“Thank you.” I started down the path until she called out to me, and I stopped to turn and face her.

“You know, Kitty, you remind me of another young girl I once knew.”

“Oh, really?” It seemed like a strange time to bring it up, but people in this town are strangely friendly and open.

“A girl I knew very well.”

“Who was she?”

Luella stared off into the distance, like she'd suddenly forgotten. And then it came back to her. “Me.” She looked in my direction again. “You most certainly remind me of me.”

“I
'm going home to visit family and friends.” That's what she'd told the overtly intrusive man behind the rental-car counter. It seemed to be the most normal answer, sort of like, “I'm going to grab a burger and fries.” Neither of which she'd done in over a decade. The man had gone on to ask whom she was visiting, specifically, where she was going, and how long she'd be staying. “Not really sure” had been all she could manage without biting his head off. Katherine was not looking forward to the four-hour ride. For one, driving wasn't really her forte. Nobody drove in New York City. The price of a parking garage was tantamount to a month's rent for a one-bedroom apartment. Well, not any apartment Katherine would live in, but still. There were so many more enticing ways to spend your money. Like on taxicabs and shoes.

More than that, four hours in the car meant four hours of idleness. Four hours she would not be able to return e-mails or check marketing copy, or even talk on the phone. There was nothing Katherine could do but sit behind the wheel, her mind buzzing feverishly, as she set out on her tedious journey from present to past.

When she'd told Jane Sachs that she needed a few days off, Jane had furrowed her brow. “This is unexpected,” she'd said, narrowing her eyes. “What's going on?” Katherine had told her about Luella, who'd been an old friend of Jane's back in the day. “Well, I'm very sorry to hear about Luella, of course. It's just that I was hoping you were actually taking a vacation. I can't even remember the last time you took a sick day.” That was because she never had. Katherine didn't get sick. And she definitely didn't “get” sick days. What could be worse than lying around like a sloth, feeling sorry for yourself when there was so much to be done? She'd never said as much, but it always irritated her when one of her staff called in sick. As far as she was concerned, a runny nose and sore throat were not reasons enough to evade responsibility.

Jane had urged her to take a little extra time, since it was the week before Thanksgiving. “You can't go all the way to Vermont and then turn around and come back right before the holiday, Katherine.” Sometimes Jane spoke to her more like a mother than a boss. And when she said her name at the end of a sentence like that, she meant business. Katherine had conceded, momentarily considering whether or not she really had to stay in Vermont for the entirety of the time she'd promised Jane. But, ultimately, she knew Jane was right. And anyway, what would she do at home in her apartment with no work? The mere thought of it was preposterous.

Katherine hadn't seen her father in at least three years. Every so often he'd trek into the “BIG city,” as he called it, to visit her for a weekend. He'd bring Hazel, his longtime girlfriend, who would ooh and aah over every last thing. She was enchanted by all of it—from the tall buildings to the glitzy shops and the street vendors. Katherine liked Hazel well enough. She was pleasant-looking, with cropped ashy blond hair and egg-shaped brown eyes. All of her features were soft and simple, like her personality. Hazel had met her father outside the Vermont Country Store the same year Katherine had gone off to college, a fortunate coincidence. Hazel had been selling raffle tickets for an American Heart Association auction, her husband having died from a heart attack two years earlier. Katherine's dad had bought a ticket, they'd gotten to talking, and she'd moved in two months later. Was their relationship erupting with passion? Unlikely. But they filled a very important void in each other's lives: companionship. And, if Katherine was being honest, Hazel had made it that much easier for her to stay away for so long. She acted as a buffer of sorts, even if unintentionally.

Hazel and her dad had invited her to stay with them, but Katherine had politely declined. She didn't like being anyone's houseguest, even if it was, in theory, her house. Or at least it had been at one time. Still, she couldn't very well stay in her old bedroom. She was a grown-up now, for God's sake.

•   •   •

Katherine
arrived at the Equinox, a historic boutique resort just outside Manchester central, with two Louis Vuitton bags and one speeding ticket. It wasn't so much the expense of the ticket that agitated her; it was the fact that she'd been unable to negotiate her way out of it. Cops could be so gallingly unreasonable.

The rooms at the Equinox were nice enough—country charm married to modern elegance, with two fireplaces, one in the living area and one in the bedroom. Katherine surveyed the contents of her luggage and laughed. What had she been thinking? Actually, she hadn't been. She'd been so preoccupied with the circumstances surrounding the visit home that packing Gucci slacks and Manolo Blahnik four-inch heels had somehow seemed the rational course of action. Her father and Hazel were expecting her sooner rather than later, but there were priorities. Katherine sat down on the sofa and dialed her own number.

“Katherine Hill's office; please hold.” The phone clicked before she could say anything. Brooke was probably frantic in her absence. Who could blame her? No doubt she was being harassed by everyone and anyone who'd been unable to reach Katherine for the better part of the day. “Hello. This is Brooke,” she came back on the line, panting.

“Hi. It's me.” Katherine put her feet up on the coffee table, fleetingly relieved not to be in the office.

“Oh, Katherine, hi,” she puffed.

“Everything okay?”

“Um, well, not exactly.” Katherine could hear the crackle of rustling papers. “Alan's assistant, Regina, quit this morning, so he's been giving me all his stuff and . . . Wait. Where is that . . .” she trailed off.

“Brooke?”

“Yup, I'm here. Sorry, there's just a lot . . . it's really amazing how . . .”

“Breathe. It's okay.” Katherine bit into a crisp red apple she'd lifted from the lobby. It was the first thing she'd eaten all day.

“Right, absolutely. Don't worry. I'm on top of it all. If I could just . . .”

“Listen, Brooke, I've got to run, but here's what I want you to do. Send me one e-mail with any issues I can deal with when I get back to my hotel this evening. And call my cell with anything that needs my immediate attention in the meantime. Okay? Remember, I'm on
location
, not
vacation
.” It was Jane's line, but Katherine had used it more than once over the years.

“Okay, will do,” Brooke stammered, while three other lines chimed in the background.

“And I'll call Alan and tell him to give his crap to someone else's assistant. If he tries to pawn anything else off on you, let me know.”

“Thanks.” Brooke sounded at least somewhat comforted.

Katherine finished unpacking, organizing everything just the way she liked it. She took her own advice and inhaled deeply, and dialed the vaguely familiar number for the first time in too long.

“Hi, Hazel. It's Katherine. I'll be over in ten minutes.” She exhaled. “Yes, I'm looking forward to seeing you too.”

•   •   •

“Kitty
Kat!” Katherine's father answered the door with outstretched arms. She couldn't help but cringe at the designation, and then feel immediately remorseful. Why was it that within seconds of being home, all of the guilt she'd so conveniently kept at bay for twelve years came charging back like a stampede of bulls?

“Hi, Dad.” She let him fold her into his embrace, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne. He looked different, older. A constellation of deep lines splayed from the corners of his eyes, and his salt-and-pepper hair had lost its pepper. Was that a slight limp?

Katherine had almost driven by the house. She hadn't remembered it being quite so small. After living in New York for over a decade, even Luella's mansion appeared somewhat quaint—at least that's what Realtors in Westchester would call it. The same way they called graveyards peaceful and teardowns “projects.” But yet there it stood. The same white facade, the same black shutters, the same cherry-red door. She was pleased her father hadn't changed that. Walking inside, she couldn't help but fixate on every little thing. The kitchen was still painted the same robin's-egg blue, and the cabinets still boasted the same maple finish. The identical yellow porcelain napkin holder with hand-painted pink flowers still sat on the same round glass table. Same red shag carpet in the living room. And on and on. She half expected to find her old pink raincoat hanging on the same rusted hook in the mudroom.

“Kitty!” Hazel rushed down the stairs, wearing a bright purple apron, the one thing that did appear to be new. “Oh, my. Look how skinny you are! Look how skinny she is, Joe. Not one inch to pinch.”

“She looks perfect to me.” Katherine's dad patted her back affectionately and began pulling her jacket off. “Let's get you something to eat.” She felt a little awkward being fawned over. But there was no getting around it. As far as they were concerned, she was the pope. Or Barbra Streisand. Her dad had always had a thing for
Funny Girl
.

“Oh, I'm not hungry, thanks. I ate something at the hotel.” Not a lie altogether, but it was unlikely that they'd view half an apple as a suitable meal.

“Nonsense. I've made mini quiches and pigs in a blanket, and some of my special ginger cookies for dessert.” Hazel smiled nervously. Katherine knew Hazel wasn't sure what to make of her. Unlike Hazel's own daughters, Katherine didn't visit. She didn't have a husband or a family. She didn't cook or own an apron. And she most certainly didn't clean or vacuum. But, more than that, Hazel knew that Katherine was important—even without a husband or a family—she just didn't know exactly why. Sure, there was some kind of high-powered job, but to Hazel that meant little more than the paycheck it resulted in.

“I'll just take a glass of water for now.” Katherine felt herself acting polite, as if her very presence might somehow insult them. Did most people have to try this hard around family? She wasn't sure. There'd been a time when Katherine and her dad had a natural, easy relationship, but over the years there'd been a shift. It had probably started when she was a teenager. There were so many things she couldn't discuss with her dad or hadn't wanted to, and it had created a division between them so broad that it had never been mended. A division that had once been filled with the unconditional adoration between a daughter and her father. And then there'd been the real distance. College. A new job. Life.

“Here you go, darling. Come sit down.” Hazel ushered her to the kitchen table, placing a glass of water and a plate of quiches and pigs in a blanket in front of her. “They're homemade.”

“Thank you. That was really very sweet of you to go to all this trouble.” Katherine watched Hazel flutter around the kitchen like a newborn butterfly who'd just grown her wings. Hazel, for her part, did not look a day older than the last time Katherine had seen her or the time before that. It was remarkable, really. She'd certainly never had any Botox. And Katherine was fairly certain Hazel wasn't slathering Crème de la Mer on her face—more likely whatever crappy drugstore brand she could get the best bargain on. But yet her skin was luminescent, one might say flawless, especially for a woman in her early seventies. Her cheeks blushed naturally; almost the exact color of Blend's Really Rosy cheek stain, and her ashy blond hair hadn't even gone completely gray. If only Hazel knew what lengths Katherine went to—both the effort and expense—to maintain her “ageless” beauty.

“Well, it's not every day we have such a special guest.” Katherine's dad beamed. There was that guilt again. She couldn't imagine what it had been like for him all these years. In the beginning he'd called every other day to check in on her. “How's the BIG city?” He'd always open with that. Then the calls became weekly, then monthly, until they'd stopped altogether, save for holidays and birthdays. She could hardly blame him. Would you continue to call someone who never had more than a harried thirty seconds to run through the latest life was dishing out? It was awful to say, but it had just seemed easier to gloss over most of it than to start from scratch, explaining the ins and outs of a world he'd neither get nor ever be a part of.

Katherine's cell phone hissed. She glanced at the number. Brooke. “I'll just be a minute,” she said, and held up her index finger, excusing herself into the living room, which radiated the same subtle musty aroma it always had. “Hi, Brooke. What's going on?” She sunk into the brown velour couch. “Uh-huh. Okay. I see. What an asshole. Don't worry, I'll deal with it.”

•   •   •

Six
phone calls later, Katherine returned to the table, where her father and Hazel were waiting patiently. “I'm so sorry. Things are a little frantic at work in my absence.”

“Of course, Kitty Kat.” Her dad nodded knowingly, even though he didn't understand.

“So, you're here for Luella's will reading.” Hazel nudged the plate of quiches and franks toward Katherine. “Such a sweet lady.”

“Yes, she was.” Katherine pinched the inner corners of her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She really didn't want to cry again. “I just can't believe she named me.”

“You were like the daughter she never had.” Her father picked a quiche off the plate and ate it in one bite. “I think it makes a lot of sense, actually.”

He was right, and Katherine knew it. Luella had been like a surrogate mother to her, even though she'd also been somewhat of an enigma. Growing up, Katherine hadn't thought much about it. After all, there's a certain level of self-absorption inherent in childhood; people are supposed to focus on you, not you on them—especially adults. And Luella had just sort of been there, like this constant fixture—both she and her home were always open for swimming, tea, a game of gin rummy, or whatever. But, beyond that, Luella was an unfalteringly reliable confidante to Katherine, offering advice when needed and lending a sympathetic ear when there was nothing to be said. She had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when to keep her mouth shut and when not to. Still, it was hard for Katherine to feel like she ever really knew Luella the woman, despite how close they'd been. She was a widow; that everyone was well aware of. She had no kids of her own, though she never spoke of why. She had lavish parties with throngs of guests, but very few close friends, if any. She was gorgeous, kind, and relentlessly generous, but also painstakingly private. That Katherine could relate to, then and now.