The Avalon Ladies Scrapbooking Society Part 35

"You know how you were always telling me to go out and meet new people? Well, I have a new friend, Yvonne. She's a plumber here in town. Really nice, very pretty, great teeth, gums to die for." Isabel smiles. It was a standing joke between her and Bill-while most men judged women by their bodies, Isabel would tease him that the first thing he looked at was their teeth. "Work is going okay, too. I keep thinking I'm going to leave, but I just heard from my boss that I'm going to get a raise. Did you know I haven't used a single vacation day since you died? I guess I should have taken one earlier-I seem to make more money that way." She shakes her head, gives a small smile.

"So I guess if you hadn't died you'd probably be married to Ava by now, maybe even have another kid." Isabel is silent for a while. "Max is cute, Bill. He looks like you. I gave him some things of yours that I found in the attic. Well, gave them to Ava. She's been hanging around a lot, but you probably knew that, too. It looks like they'll be moving. It's probably a good thing-the place they lived in was a dump, and Randall was a jerk to her so she can't get another job as a dental a.s.sistant. She does these bottle-cap things-necklaces and rings-they're pretty good but it's not enough. When you died all our money was tied up with the dental practice, and you know how that went. Randall bought out your share of the business, but it was such a paltry sum based on your partners.h.i.+p agreement. The lawyer explained it to me like you tried to a million times. Wish I'd listened better but I was too mad at the time.

"Ava's all right. Not that you're asking me for my approval or anything. I mean, I suppose if you're going to leave me for someone, you could have done worse than her. Lately it seems like I'm the one who's married to her. Did you see what she did when she put my name on her emergency call list? I had to go pick up Max from school! We had a fun time, though. I do wish he was at a better place. Ava and I kind of got into a fight about it. Not that it's any of my business."

Isabel picks up one of the pictures. Their first Thanksgiving as a married couple, gathered round the large oak dining table at Bill's parents' house. Everything was too big-the table, the turkey, the amount of food. Edward and Lillian had teased them, saying that they were waiting for grandchildren to fill the table.

"Anyway . . ." She gestures to the things on the table. "I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but it's nice to have it. I threw out a lot of things when you left, I was pretty angry. But I'm not angry anymore, and I'm glad to have them. So thanks." She glances up at the ceiling, unsure if she should say anything else. "And um, take care."

Isabel is gathering everything together when Mrs. Snyder pokes her head in. "Everything all right?" she asks, eyebrows knit in confusion. Her eyes look around the room. "I thought I heard you talking to someone in here."

"It's just me," Isabel says. She stands up. "I'm finished here. Thanks for all of your help." Her arms are full but she suddenly feels lighter.

"That's what we're here for," Mrs. Snyder says, still looking around the room. She gives Isabel one more perplexed look. "Are you sure there wasn't anyone here with you?"

Isabel pauses for a moment, feels a s.h.i.+mmer of electricity that tickles her arm. "No," she says honestly, but before Mrs. Snyder can ask any more questions Isabel steers them out the door. "You know, I think I'll take some of that Amish Friends.h.i.+p Bread after all."

"Connie, there's someone here to see you!" Madeline calls from the bottom of the stairs. A familiar bleat fills the tea salon followed by the sound of running footsteps. "Serena, goodness, give that back!"

Serena? Connie quickly finishes tr.i.m.m.i.n.g a photo with her new paper cutter and hurries to the door. She throws it open and runs down the stairs, her face bursting into joy when she sees Serena run past, a dishtowel in her mouth, her nails skittering on the hardwood floor. Connie lets out a whistle and Serena skids to a stop, the dishtowel falling out of her mouth as she does an about face and trots toward Connie.

Connie already has her arms around Serena's neck when Madeline appears behind her, slightly out of breath.

"I swear, that goat knows this house better than me," Madeline says. "She had us going every which way."

"Us?" Connie says. She looks up and sees Eli Ballard hurry into the room, a relieved look on his face. She almost doesn't recognize him without his white lab coat.

"What are you doing here?" Connie asks, not sure if she's referring to Eli or Serena.

"Supervised visitation," Eli says with a wink. "Jay Doherty came into town to run some errands and brought her with him. Asked if I could babysit Serena for a couple of hours so I thought I'd bring her by."

At the mention of Jay Doherty's name, Connie smiles. Connie's grandparents had all died when she was young, and Connie thinks that was one reason why her father's death was so hard on her mother. Connie doesn't have a memory of them at all, but if it were up to her, she'd have a grandfather like Jay Doherty.

"Don't you have patients to attend to?" Connie asks, straightening up. Serena leans hard against her legs, happy, and Connie scratches her under her chin.

"This is technically my lunch hour and I am allowed to eat," he says. "But why is the CLOSED sign up?"

Madeline smiles. "It's just for the week," she says. "We're closed for inventory." She exchanges a smile with Connie. They've both been working on their sc.r.a.pbooks, getting some much needed rest, and enjoying their quiet days together. It's also given them a chance to talk about the tea salon, about setting some new goals for the next year. Connie still wants Madeline to think about selling her tea blends online. Another stream of revenue might mean that they won't have to feel as much pressure about the tea salon doing well all the time. This time off is giving them a chance to talk about all that, and they both agree that closing the salon more often is a good idea. The tea salon is Madeline's labor of love, but it's no fun if they're laboring all of the time.

Eli looks disappointed. "Just my luck. The one day I choose not to bring in a sandwich . . ."

"We still have to eat," Connie says quickly. "And I've got to feed this girl, too, don't I, Serena? I got a nice green salad waiting for you!" Connie sits down on the bottom step and wraps her arms around Serena, giving her a big hug.

"Okay, then," Eli says. "Then I'll have what she's having." He turns beet red when both Connie and Madeline turn to look at him with their eyebrows raised. "I meant the salad."

"Oh dear, I think that's the phone," Madeline says suddenly, disappearing even though Connie didn't hear the phone ring.

"Thanks for bringing her over," Connie says. With Madeline out of sight, she lets go of the leash and lets Serena sniff and wander.

"Boy, it's like you're asking for trouble," Eli says. He goes to pull the two side parlor doors closed. "This place is like one big playground for her. Goats like to get into everything."

"Serena's a good girl," Connie says loyally. "She listens to me."

Eli nods but continues to grunt as he works the heavy pocket doors. "Someone needs to add oil to these rollers," he says.

"That someone has heard you and will add that to her list," Connie says with a grin.

"It's just the two of you?" Eli asks. He manages to get the doors closed and, satisfied that Serena won't be running amuck, flops onto an overstuffed Victorian parlor armchair.

Serena looks up the stairs, curious, and Connie shakes her head. "Don't even think about it," she tells the goat. She turns back to Eli. "Yes, but we have a lot of friends around." Connie likes how that sounds.

"I mean, is there a boyfriend, fiance, husband? Anyone available to help you out? For, um, either one of you?"

Connie hides a smile and decides to be direct. "Eli, are you interested in asking me out, or Madeline?"

Serena wanders over to Eli and gives him a sniff.

"You," he says, his ears turning red.

"I'd love to," she says honestly. "But are you sure you want to go out with a girl who hangs with goats?"

"Connie," he says, arching an eyebrow. "You seem to be forgetting that I'm a vet."

"Good point." She rescues the new supply of business cards from Serena's mouth and Eli takes them from her, replacing them onto the table. They grin at each other, and Connie feels b.u.t.terflies in her stomach, suddenly self-conscious. "So I guess we're on then."

"I hope so."

Serena is looking restless so Connie stands up. "I know that look. I'd better get her outside before I end up having to scrub out the rug."

Eli stands up, too. "I'll go with you." He reaches the door before Connie and holds it open, and Serena is the first to exit. If Connie didn't know better, she was sure she saw Serena wink at her as she pa.s.sed by.

Frances sorts through the remaining squares on Mei Ling's One Hundred Good Wishes quilt. She'd love to have it done before they go, but if not, it won't be the end of the world. After watching the pandemonium that erupted after Peter Linde admitted to the goat-napping, Frances realized that all she wants is for her family to be together, to learn how to help each other out.

She'd watched as Sandra stared at Peter in disbelief, and then anger. His brother Jamie was livid; Hannah was horrified, since Connie was a friend. Frances had held her breath, scared for Peter while wanting to shake him at the same time.

Then Sandra got on the phone with her husband and they agreed to go to the police station. As Frances watched them pile into the car, grim but together, she realized that she didn't care about all of the things she'd bought for Mei Ling or whether or not Nick was going to let her sew him a Halloween costume. She didn't care about the size of their house or whether or not they had enough money for a family vacation. As long as they're together, be it through good times or bad, is all that matters to Frances.

She went home with a renewed sense of clarity. Some clever rearranging of furniture, a purging of things they no longer needed, and suddenly there was enough room for everyone.

Now she lays a few squares next to each other, thinking, when the doorbell rings. When she answers, she's surprised to see it's Bettie Shelton.

"Bettie!" she exclaims.

"I only have a few minutes," Bettie announces. "Got my babysitter waiting in the car outside." She turns and gives Isabel Kidd a wave.

"Would you like to come in?" Frances asks.

Bettie shakes her head. "I'm paying a visit to all Society members, to let them know that I'm okay. Of course, things get spotty for me sometimes but I'm still me and I'm available to help you with any of your projects, at least while I can."

"Thank you," Frances says gratefully. "I think I'm hooked for life. I've already made several alb.u.ms for my boys and I just mailed another small alb.u.m to Mei Ling in China. I want her memories of us to start now-she's already a big part of our life, and she's not even here yet. It's a huge comfort to me to know that she has these pictures of us, these images of our family and our home in Avalon. Her family, her home."

"Yes," Bettie says. "She's a lucky girl."

"We're the lucky ones," Frances says, and she means it.

Bettie stands on the porch for a moment longer, lingering. "October is one of my favorite months," she tells Frances. "I love the smells, you know? The end of autumn, the onset of winter. Leaves, crackling fires. Of course, I hadn't expected I'd be getting a lungful of smoke with the fire at my house. I meant the kind that's contained in a fireplace, but what can you do."

"I was so sorry to hear about your house," Frances says gently.

"Everything is gone," Bettie says with a look of amazement on her face, as if she were recounting someone else's bad news. "My life went up in smoke, literally. Except for a few things in a safe-deposit box at the bank. I'd completely forgotten about it. We got the manager to open the box, and it turns out I was smarter than I realized. Had copies of all my important doc.u.ments and a few other important things in there." Her eyes seem to be misting and she blinks rapidly.

Frances nods, making a note to talk to Reed. They don't have a safe-deposit box but she definitely wants to get one now.

Bettie pulls a small square of pink felted wool from her pocket. "I wanted to give you my square for your quilt," she says quietly. "It's from a baby blanket I've had for a long time. It's very special to me and it makes me feel good knowing that it'll be with a baby girl who'll be in a family who loves her."

Frances takes the square from her. It's soft and thick, and she presses it against her cheek. "It's lovely, Bettie. Thank you."

Bettie doesn't answer right away, suddenly squinting as if the sun's too bright. "Well, I should go," she finally says. "I'm working my way through the members.h.i.+p list and I want to finish up before dinner."

Frances nods. "Of course." She waves as Bettie makes her way down the walk and climbs into the waiting car.

She closes the door, pressing the square against her chest, can picture Mei Ling running her fingers along the different textures of her quilt, lingering on this simple, pale piece. Frances imagines Mei Ling tucked in with the quilt at night, a reminder of all the people who love her and who waited for her arrival.

"Mom." Brady suddenly appears at her side, clutching a toy pilot in one hand and a toy stewardess in the other. "Play with me."

"Not now, Brady," Frances says, wanting to get back to Mei Ling's quilt.

"Now," Brady intones, a hint of whining in his voice. It's a new thing still, the two of them in the house during the day, though in a month that'll all change again. Frances reluctantly puts the new quilt square on top of the others and lets Brady drag her into the hallway. "Look!"

He's pointing to the dollhouse in Mei Ling's room. Frances sees that he's brought in all his cars and trucks, his trains and mini people, the wooden trees and animals. In fact, it seems as if he's dumped his entire toy box onto the floor.

"Brady!" Frances scolds, dropping to one knee so she can start picking things up. "This is Mei Ling's room-you can play in your room."

"Play here," Brady insists, patting the play carpet. He puts the airplane pilot into the living room of the doll house. The stewardess follows. Within minutes the house is crammed with little toy people and animals.

"No, Brady," Frances begins, about to pluck everything out, when she realizes that Brady is playing with the doll house. Not just playing, but creating scenes-people watching pretend television, their faces pointed to the screen. People gathered around the dining room table, eating a meal. Three ponies are hanging out in the attic. A fireman is lying in the master bed, an astronaut is standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Lego people are playing outside with a small rubber ball between them and a giraffe is standing next to a girl holding a balloon. "Oh, Brady, this is wonderful!"

Brady stops for a moment to beam. "I know! Thanks, Mom!"

Frances sweeps the stray pieces aside and settles down on the carpet. In the small nursery a stewardess stands over a crib with a panda bear inside.

Her breath catches. "Brady," she says gently. "Did you know that pandas are from China? See your panda in the crib? It reminds me of Mei Ling."

Brady stops for a moment to study the panda in the crib. He frowns. "No, Mom," he says with a shake of the head.

"No, what?"

"Mei Ling isn't a panda. She's a girl!" he crows.

Frances smiles. "You're right about that, Brady."

Nick and Noah appear in the doorway. "We're home," Nick announces, dropping his backpack on the floor. "Can we get a snack? Hey, what're you doing?"

Frances beams. "Brady's playing with the dollhouse."

Brady is lining up cars in a row in front of the house. "Look, car was.h.!.+" he says.

Noah sits down next to him and reaches for a handful of airplanes. "Gotta wash these, too," he says.

"Yeah!"

Nick peers into the house. "That's cool, Brady."

Brady nods to the nursery. "That's a panda," he says. "From Chiner. Like Mei Ling. Except she's not a panda. She's a girl."

"And our sister," Nick adds. He picks up a few stray items that have fallen to the wayside and sets them up in the house, then begins to rearrange the fake trees and hedges.

"Sister," Noah agrees as he brings a helicopter in for a landing.

"Sister," Brady repeats, then pretends to wash the vehicles. "Pssshaw!"

Frances leans back against a dresser, watches her three boys playing together, a smile on her lips. It's a small thing, this new word that will soon become a part of their everyday vocabulary, and for all the months it's taken her to get her family to this point, it suddenly feels moot. Brady's acknowledgement of a sister, of whether or not they'll be able to handle the challenges ahead, or even if they're challenges at all. Being in her mind these past few months hasn't done her much good, just created more anxiety and doubt if anything. But being in her heart is something else altogether.

Frances feels the same heightened awareness as she did when she was expecting each of her boys, the rush of adrenaline that comes as the "delivery date" grows nearer. It's the difference between thinking something and knowing it. And right now she knows it's all perfect-her, sitting on the floor of Mei Ling's room, and her children talking and playing around her. She doesn't have to think about it-she knows it feels good. It is good. If she stops the chatter in her mind and lets herself feel, this is exactly where she wants to be. Period.

She knows this is a moment like any other, one that can change in a second if Nick gets a phone call from a friend or if Brady has to go to the bathroom. It's a snapshot in time, just one of many, and Frances knows there are still many more to come.

Frances gets that she doesn't have to have it all figured out. That she doesn't need to try and predict the future, which is impossible anyway. She needs to be here, present and observing, partic.i.p.ating if she wants to but above all, appreciating what she has.

Chapter 22.

Ava's short hair is tucked into a tie-dyed bandanna as she drags a box full of junk to the landing from their apartment. She's acc.u.mulated several boxes and trash bags already, feeling lighter each time she dumps a new load by the railing. Ava can see her neighbors peeking out from behind their ragged curtains, ready to pick through her discards once she turns her back. Well, more power to them.

The good thing about not owning a lot is that it makes packing and moving all the easier. A few of Max's favorite things, that's all they'll need. Wherever they end up they'll be able to get more, but for now everything has to fit into the Jeep.

The interim plan for all intents and purposes was the plan of last resort. Ava had finally broken down and called her parents, who didn't seem surprised to hear from her but didn't exactly sound excited, either. It was a humbling call, one Ava had hoped never to make, but she's trying to tell herself that it's not all that bad. It'll be good for Max to see her parents, to get to know her family though she's praying they treat him with kindness. Praying because she knows it would be just like them to make a jab at Ava or even Bill, to cut her down in front of her own son in a misguided attempt to make them face the "realities" of life. But maybe things are different now. Maybe enough time has pa.s.sed that they'll be different, too.

Ava notices Max's Shrinky d.i.n.ks mobile hanging by the doorway and carefully begins to take it down. The string is tangled and dirty, the bright colors having faded to a bland monotone. She tries to untangle it but everything is knotted and worn, the mobile having taken a beating outdoors. She finally gives up and yanks the whole thing down before tossing it into the trash. There'll be other Shrinky d.i.n.ks in their life, she tries to console herself, but even she's not so sure she believes it anymore.

Who is Ava kidding? As much as she'd like to think otherwise, people don't really change. Her parents, Dr. Strombauer, Isabel Kidd. Maybe that's been Ava's problem all along-she's been holding out for the impossible, for things to be different, for people to be different. Was she being hopeful or just naive? Neither, she decides. She was just plain stupid.