were sick, Rainy?”
Rainy regarded her steadily for a long moment. “Would it have made any difference to you? You had problems of your own, as I recall. Besides, I knew it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. And there was nothing you could have done anyway.”
Stabbing guilt hit Caroline like a physical punch. Would it have made a difference? Would she have run out of her quiet, ordered life to be with her? She looked down into the dark tea, seeing the reflection of the old glass fixture above the table that had been there ever since she could remember. She knew the answer and it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. It had taken a near-death experience to bring her back here. She doubted anything else would have.
Caroline felt a warm hand on her own and looked up into Rainy’s face, which showed her years of living undisguised by makeup. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Caroline looked down again to blink away the sting in her eyes. She nodded, knowing that Rainy really did understand. She always had.
“Is that why you’re selling the store?”
Rainy shrugged. “Partly. But I guess it’s time. My Bill, before he passed on, tried to get me to retire so we could travel some together. See the Grand Canyon and Old Faithful and the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ve never been farther than Charlotte, you know.” She leaned heavily on the sink while she tugged the dishwasher door open. “So I suppose I should see what’s on the other side of the mountain before Jesus calls me home.”
The kitchen door opened again and Margaret breezed in, impeccable as always, without a strand of hair out of place despite the drizzle outside. She spotted Rainy and walked over to her. “There you are, you old coot. I’ve been gone for three months and now that I’m back you don’t even bother to call or say hello when I stop by to see you.”
Her mother enveloped Rainy in a tight embrace, reflecting their decades-long friendship, then held her at arm’s length, her eyes misty. “Your color’s back. I think you’re beating this thing.” She squeezed Rainy’s shoulders. “I knew you could do it.”
Rainy’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. “Oh, stop. I’m not on my deathbed yet.” She blinked her eyes and stared closely at Margaret’s face. “Your mustache needs bleaching.”
Margaret dropped her hands and dabbed at her eyes with a knuckle. “It’s good to see you, too. And your chin hairs could stand to become better acquainted with a tweezer, dear.”
Jewel had lifted the cloth from her forehead and was staring at the older women in confusion. Caroline took a sip from her mug. “Don’t pay any attention to them, and don’t even try to understand them. I’ve been around them for thirty years and I still don’t get it.”
Jewel smiled and sat up, taking the cloth off her forehead and bunching it in her hands. “You live next door to us on the lake, don’t you?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes. I knew your mom. She was a really great person. I’m sorry she’s gone.” She gave her a slight smile. “You look a lot like her.”
Jewel glanced down at her hands and the wadded cloth, and for a moment Caroline thought it was Shelby sitting in front of her. The flaming red hair was the same, as was the slim, muscular body. But the shape of the face was different: Its high cheekbones and dimpled chin were definitely a legacy of some other limb off the family tree. As she lifted her eyes back to Caroline’s face, she was all Shelby again. Not in the color, but in the way they were shaped and in the light that seemed to shine behind them. Jewel’s dark green eyes, the color of the lake at sunset, were calm and warm and seemed to hold facets of deep knowledge unavailable to most humans.
“Thank you.” Jewel smiled and took a sip from her mug. “You’re the swimmer, right? I saw my dad making the trophy case for you.”
Caroline slid her chair back, scraping the old linoleum checkerboard floor, and watched her
Rainy regarded her steadily for a long moment. “Would it have made any difference to you? You had problems of your own, as I recall. Besides, I knew it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. And there was nothing you could have done anyway.”
Stabbing guilt hit Caroline like a physical punch. Would it have made a difference? Would she have run out of her quiet, ordered life to be with her? She looked down into the dark tea, seeing the reflection of the old glass fixture above the table that had been there ever since she could remember. She knew the answer and it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. It had taken a near-death experience to bring her back here. She doubted anything else would have.
Caroline felt a warm hand on her own and looked up into Rainy’s face, which showed her years of living undisguised by makeup. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Caroline looked down again to blink away the sting in her eyes. She nodded, knowing that Rainy really did understand. She always had.
“Is that why you’re selling the store?”
Rainy shrugged. “Partly. But I guess it’s time. My Bill, before he passed on, tried to get me to retire so we could travel some together. See the Grand Canyon and Old Faithful and the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ve never been farther than Charlotte, you know.” She leaned heavily on the sink while she tugged the dishwasher door open. “So I suppose I should see what’s on the other side of the mountain before Jesus calls me home.”
The kitchen door opened again and Margaret breezed in, impeccable as always, without a strand of hair out of place despite the drizzle outside. She spotted Rainy and walked over to her. “There you are, you old coot. I’ve been gone for three months and now that I’m back you don’t even bother to call or say hello when I stop by to see you.”
Her mother enveloped Rainy in a tight embrace, reflecting their decades-long friendship, then held her at arm’s length, her eyes misty. “Your color’s back. I think you’re beating this thing.” She squeezed Rainy’s shoulders. “I knew you could do it.”
Rainy’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. “Oh, stop. I’m not on my deathbed yet.” She blinked her eyes and stared closely at Margaret’s face. “Your mustache needs bleaching.”
Margaret dropped her hands and dabbed at her eyes with a knuckle. “It’s good to see you, too. And your chin hairs could stand to become better acquainted with a tweezer, dear.”
Jewel had lifted the cloth from her forehead and was staring at the older women in confusion. Caroline took a sip from her mug. “Don’t pay any attention to them, and don’t even try to understand them. I’ve been around them for thirty years and I still don’t get it.”
Jewel smiled and sat up, taking the cloth off her forehead and bunching it in her hands. “You live next door to us on the lake, don’t you?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes. I knew your mom. She was a really great person. I’m sorry she’s gone.” She gave her a slight smile. “You look a lot like her.”
Jewel glanced down at her hands and the wadded cloth, and for a moment Caroline thought it was Shelby sitting in front of her. The flaming red hair was the same, as was the slim, muscular body. But the shape of the face was different: Its high cheekbones and dimpled chin were definitely a legacy of some other limb off the family tree. As she lifted her eyes back to Caroline’s face, she was all Shelby again. Not in the color, but in the way they were shaped and in the light that seemed to shine behind them. Jewel’s dark green eyes, the color of the lake at sunset, were calm and warm and seemed to hold facets of deep knowledge unavailable to most humans.
“Thank you.” Jewel smiled and took a sip from her mug. “You’re the swimmer, right? I saw my dad making the trophy case for you.”
Caroline slid her chair back, scraping the old linoleum checkerboard floor, and watched her
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