You Knew Me When (6 page)

Through the years, Jane Sachs had made only a few passing comments about her old friend, all of which Katherine had taken note of. Apparently, Luella's husband had been about a decade older than she and very handsome; the kind of man that other women ogled on the sidewalks of New York City, where—typically—people didn't take time to look more than two feet in front of them. Jane had once remarked that John had been madly in love with Luella—that they'd had a very special and unique connection that was evident to anyone in their general vicinity. She'd said John's eyes followed Luella everywhere she went, like it was the first and last time he would ever see her, even if she was just excusing herself to the ladies' room. Jane had also confided, on the heels of Katherine's prodding, that Luella and John had been desperate to have children—a big family, actually—but they'd tried and tried to no avail. There'd been more than one miscarriage, Jane recalled, and ultimately they'd decided to leave it in God's hands rather than let it rule their lives. The one thing Jane had never touched on was how and when John had died. And what that had been like for Luella. Of course, Katherine had never asked, given her acute sensitivity when it came to people dying prematurely.

“Joe, your cholesterol,” Hazel admonished in her gentle way.

“One quiche won't kill me.” He shooed at her tenderly. “You were very important to Luella, and she wanted you to know that.”

“So, you knew about this?” Her father looked at Hazel, who nodded.

“We did. Luella told us of her plans before she passed. But she asked us not to say anything. She didn't want you to fuss.”

“Do you know what she's left me?” Katherine eyed the mini hot dogs. She wanted to eat one for Hazel's sake alone, but she just couldn't bring herself to. There were so many more tempting things to waste one's calories on. Like chocolate soufflé.

“Not really.” Her father looked at Hazel again.

“Not
really
? Or not at all?” Katherine winced at her inherently demanding tone. It was the tone she used for employees, not for her father.

“We've already said too much. You'll find out everything tomorrow.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner, darling?” Hazel let him off the hook.

“I wish I could.” She could. “But I have so much work to catch up on. I'll probably eat room service in front of my laptop.” Hazel looked horrified. She'd definitely never ordered room service. Or felt tethered to a laptop.

“You're staying for Thanksgiving, though?” Her dad walked her to the door, helping her into her coat. They'd been so thrilled when she'd told them.

“Yes, Dad. I promise.” She kissed his cheek and he pulled her close to him.

“I love you, Kitty Kat.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

•   •   •

Katherine
got back into her rental car, realizing she hadn't even had the decency to ask how Luella had died. She closed her eyes, praying that it had been peaceful and painless. And then she silently scolded herself for being so detached. For being so far removed from all of it—all of them—that she was only entitled to scant details after the fact. How could she have so carelessly abandoned this woman who gave so much to her in so many ways? She was an ingrate, and Luella was repaying her with even more benevolence, because that was Luella's way.

She forced herself to think about the last time she'd spoken to Luella. When had it been? Three, four, five years ago? Luella had come to visit her sporadically during college and after she'd first moved to New York. There had even been a few fancy lunches at Barneys with Jane Sachs, which had made the other entry-levelers both envious and fearful of Katherine early on. But eventually Luella had told Katherine she was too busy to travel—what with her book club, upkeep around the house, and her charitable commitments. In hindsight, Katherine figured Luella's reluctance to leave Vermont had probably meant she wasn't feeling well enough. Eventually, Luella's phone calls had become fewer and farther between as well. And what had Katherine done? She'd simply allowed her to pull away, too consumed by her own self-absorption to notice.

Now, staring at the shabby facade of the most lavish home on Pine Street, once so manicured and pristine, Katherine felt profoundly ashamed. And, of course, there standing next to it was Laney and Grant's house, a place so wrought with memories she felt like her head was going to explode. Katherine hadn't let herself think about Laney.

And she certainly hadn't let herself think about Grant.

“H
e is such a total show-off.” I dropped the baby oil on Kitty's lounge chair. She needed major help tanning those pale-as-a-ghost legs of hers. “You are such a total show off, Grant Drake!” I screamed it real loud so he could hear me from all the way up on the diving board, where he's been doing backflips nonstop. It's not that I can't do them. I just don't feel the need to parade around in front of Luella and Kitty, who cannot. Kitty's a bit of a scaredy-cat when it comes to things like that. And Luella, well, she's seventy-three, so she's not flipping anywhere, anytime.

It's been a superhot summer. I'm not sure what we'd do without Luella's pool. Kitty and I meet here every morning at ten, play gin rummy with Luella in the shade, and then we work on our tans. Though Kitty refuses to use the baby oil and insists on, like, 8,000 sunblock. It's no wonder she looks like Casper.

“I told you I'm not using that stuff.” Kitty handed the oil back to me. “You might as well hold aluminum foil under your chin.” Sometimes she can be a real downer.

“If you want to look all pasty for school, that's fine by me.”

“You're gonna fry yourself to death.” Grant laughed, shaking his wet body all over us.

“Stop it!” I shrieked, and Kitty giggled, as if anything Grant does is funny. “What do you care anyway?”

“I don't. I'm just saying.” He pulled his faded gray Pearl Jam T-shirt over his head. He knows I'm obsessed with that T-shirt and he never lets me wear it. “I hope you're red as a tomato. That'll teach you.”

“No, it won't.” Grant sat on the edge of my lounger, and I kicked at his thigh. “Get off. I'm lying here. And anyway, Kitty and I are talking about personal things. Aren't we, Kitty?”

“Um, I guess.” Kitty squinted and put her hand to her forehead like a soldier saluting her troops. Why she doesn't wear sunglasses is beyond me. She says she couldn't find a pair that looks right on her face.

“I'm sorry. Were you deep in discussion about this week's
90210
? Will Kelly and Brenda fight over a guy
again
? Oh no!” Grant slapped his cheeks with his palms and moved to Kitty's chair. Of course she curled her legs under to make space for him.

“Shut up. Why don't you go find your girlfriend,
Sandy
?” I sneered. “I'm sure she's somewhere pining for you. ‘Oh, Grant, I want you sooooooo badly! I want to kiss those soft lips of yours.'”

“At least I have someone who likes me. Someone who's not flat as a pancake, like you!” He got up and walked toward our house. There's a shortcut through Luella's bushes to our back deck, which makes it superconvenient when we're wet from swimming.

“Loser!” I yelled after him, and he gave me the finger. I'll have to remember to tell my mom later.

“Sandy Parker?” Kitty sat up and turned toward me. Everyone knows Sandy Parker. She makes sure of it. There's also the not-so-minor fact that the whole school saw her making out with Greg Baldwin, who was a senior last year
and
the star of the basketball team. Not that I'm jealous.

“The one and only.”

“Oh.” Kitty scrunched her face up all weird. “What's Grant got to do with her?”

“He ran into her at her dad's hardware store. I guess she was there helping him or something. Then I overheard Grant telling Sam that Sandy told him to call her, so now I use it against him whenever he's annoying me.”

“That's mature.” Kitty tugged at her T-shirt. She won't take it off, even when it's just the two of us. It's not like she's fat or anything. Fine, maybe she could stand to lose, like, five pounds, but she totally sells herself short. If she'd just let me give her a little makeover, she could look really amazing. “Do you think he will?”

“Will what?”

“Call her.”

“I don't know. Who cares?” I rolled over onto my stomach to tan my back. “Can you rub some oil on me?”

“Obviously, I don't
care
. I just don't really see Grant liking Sandy Parker. She's so . . .” Kitty smeared the oil from my shoulders down to the bottom of my legs.

“Lame?” I extended my arms along either side of my body. It's so much more comfortable to fold them under your head, but then they're all white on the underside. Consistent tanning is really an art.

“Well, yeah, she's definitely lame.” Kitty was suddenly all fidgety. “I don't know. She just doesn't seem like Grant's type.”

“How would you know?”

“I wouldn't.” She wiped her hands on her T-shirt. “This stuff is disgusting.”

“What has he told you?” Sometimes Kitty and Grant talk when I'm not around. And here I thought it was all boring stuff. “You better tell me, Kitty Hill. He's my brother. I want to know everything he's said to you about girls. Full. Blown. Details. But leave out anything gross.”

“He hasn't said anything. I swear.” She pulled her heavy black hair off her neck to reveal thick beads of perspiration being absorbed by the collar of her T-shirt.

“You better not be lying to me!”

“I'm not. Can we please drop it?” She let go of her hair. “Do you have an extra ponytail holder? It's a million degrees out here.”

I took the elastic band out of my hair and handed it to her. “Fine. Sandy's not worth it anyway.” Kitty's so strange when it comes to boys. Not that Grant is a boy. Well, not in
that
way. It's like she's scared of them. She hasn't even had her first kiss yet. “Sandy will probably peak in high school and then end up stuck in Manchester for the rest of her life, working at her dad's hardware store.”

“What's wrong with Manchester?” She piled her hair into a high bun. It actually looked good, in a messy-sexy kind of way.

“What's not?” I turned my head to the other side to ensure even side-of-face tanning.

“What do you mean?”

“Duh. It's a total snooze, for starters. It's fine for now, but there's no way I'm living here forever. I'd rather die than end up like my parents.”

“Laney! Don't say that. Your parents have a great life. Plus it's bad luck to talk about yourself dying.”

“Sorry.” I'm always forgetting to be sensitive about the whole death thing around Kitty, what with her mom and all. She never wants to talk about her or the accident.

“I just don't see what you have against Manchester.”

“Don't you want to live someplace exciting? Like New York City?”

“Not really.”

“What!?” I rolled onto my back and sat up straight, facing Kitty, who was red as a clown's nose from the heat. “You wouldn't want to live in the most exciting place in the world?”

“Maybe I don't think it's the most exciting place in the world.” She fanned herself with her hand, which was still glistening from my baby oil.

“Well, you're ruining the master plan.” I slipped my tank top over my bikini. My skin was feeling a bit crispy.

“What master plan?”

“The one where we go to UVM together, so we can save our money, and then move to New York after college, get a fabulous apartment, which we'll decorate ourselves any way we like, and host lots of parties. Naturally, we'll get superglamorous jobs too.”

“I don't think you can just
get
a glamorous job.” Her face turned serious for a minute. “Plus not everyone makes it in New York. Some of them end up bitter in Vermont and married with a kid.”

“Huh?”

“Forget it.”

“Kitty, don't be so pessimistic. You don't want to go through life a slave to some shitty job. Do you?”

“I guess not.” Clearly, Kitty does not have a master plan, which is just as well, since she's part of mine.

“Come
on
. You're my best friend. I can't do it without you.” I pouted for effect.

“Don't you think we should worry about making it through high school first? We're only going to be freshmen.”

“Oh, my God, I know! I can't believe we're going to be freshmen.
Finally!
This is going to be our best year ever.”

“I hope so.”

“Are you kidding? Lisa's brother, Bill, is going to be a senior, and she said he'll get us into all the upperclassmen parties. This is when all the older guys start paying attention to us.”

Lisa and Meg are our two other good friends at school. I've known Lisa since we were in music class together at three years old, and we met Meg when she switched to our elementary school in second grade. Lisa's a bit of a drama queen. In addition to Bill, she has four older sisters, so she'll do pretty much anything to draw attention to herself. Meg's more like Kitty, on the quieter side, but she's also superathletic, unlike Kitty. Meg can be kind of boring sometimes, but she's always willing to tag along with whatever we want to do. She and Kitty hit it off immediately. With Lisa it took a little longer—she thought Kitty was a drag at first. But then she came around. Kind of. I think she's jealous that I'm closer with Kitty than I am with her, especially since we've known each other for, like, ever. The thing is, I could
never
spend as much time with Lisa as I do with Kitty. She gets on my nerves. A lot. Usually, we all do sleepovers on the weekends, but this year is going to be different. This is the year it all starts happening.

“You mean this is when all the older guys start paying attention to
you
.”

“You too, Kitty. You're always so negative about yourself.” I shook my head.

“Well . . .” She ran her hands, palms facing outward, from her head down her body. “Wouldn't you be?”

“No, I wouldn't be. You have to act confident, and people will think you are. You're really pretty, Kitty.”

“You have to say that.” She frowned.

“I do
not
have to say that! Have you ever known me to lie?” She raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Have you ever known me to lie to
you
about something like this?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged.

“Let me give you a makeover!” I must say, I have a special talent with hair and makeup. I could do wonders with Kitty.

“I don't know.”

“Come on!” I tilted my head to the side and gave her my most persuasive grin. “We'll make you a supermodel!”

“I doubt that.” She rolled her eyes in her judgmental Kitty way.

“Trust me.
Please
. I want you to feel good about yourself for once.”

“I'll think about it.”

“That means yes! This is so awesome! I'll do your hair, your makeup, and we'll go through all your clothing and put together supercute outfits. Manchester High won't know what hit them!”

“Fine.” She smiled, even if just barely.

“Woohoo!!” I leaped onto her chair and hugged her. She rolled her eyes again and laughed. “What would you do without me?”

“You know, I ask myself that question at least once a day.”

“Oh, shut up. You know you love me.”

“A little.”

“Enough to move to New York City?”

“Fine, but I want the bigger bedroom.”

“Fat chance, though I like the way you're thinking.”

“How about some iced tea and sandwiches before you skip town?” Kitty and I nearly jumped out of our skin. Luella was hovering in the doorway, her tight silver ballerina bun shimmering in the sunlight. She does that a lot. Sneaks up on us. Sometimes I wonder how long she's been standing there.

“Can we have them out here?”

“Of course, dear.”

“I'll help you, Luella.” Kitty sprang to her feet. Why does she always have to be so damn polite? It makes the rest of us look bad. I guess it's no mystery why Luella favors her.

“Thank you, dear.” Luella nodded and swiveled toward the kitchen, her sparkly orange caftan swishing gracefully.

Once they'd disappeared into the house, I lay back down on my lounge chair, closed my eyes, and smiled. Eight more years of boring Vermont, and then New York City, here we come! Master plan, phase one. Completed.