Seasons of Her Life (53 page)

Dixie looked around Ruby's neat kitchen. Nothing had changed over the years in this house. Ruby had replaced the furniture she'd sold off, but that was the extent of her personal spending. Nothing had changed in her own house, either. Life had become easier, resting on a velvet cushion of money, but neither of them had gone out and bought fancy cars or mink coats. On Silas Ridgely's advice, Ruby had invested heavily in real estate. She had bought two condos and a house in Hawaii, which she rented out. She'd also invested in a ski resort in Vail, Colorado. She had a fortune tied up in stocks and bonds and funds, with a total yield of twenty-four percent. She doubted if Ruby had any idea how rich she really was.

She, on the other hand, had been ultra conservative, putting all her money into certificates of deposit, which Silas rolled over when they came due. She wasn't diversified. She had turned down flat the offer to invest in a Dallas shopping center. She'd also turned down one that was being built in Pennsylvania. Ruby had simply nodded and told Silas to “do it.” She'd also jumped in with both feet when the proposal came through to buy into a Mercedes-Benz distributorship. The only time Dixie had ever really felt a twinge of envy was when she turned down an offer to buy two office buildings on Madison Avenue in New York. Ruby had been angry with her that time. “What if Mrs. Sugar goes down the tubes one of these days, Dixie? You have to be diversified.” But she wouldn't be budged. She had, however, followed Ruby's advice and taken out a monstrous insurance policy on her husband six years before. Ruby had taken one out on Andrew, too, but with his approval. She'd had to pay through the nose so Hugo wouldn't have to take a physical. Now she felt like a ghoul. Five million dollars was a lot of money. She wondered what she would do with it when Hugo died. And he was going to die. Life expectancy with liver cancer was short. If the gods smiled on Hugo, he had a year, the doctor said. If they didn't, less than a year. The news had overwhelmed her. It affected everything she did. She had even decided to postpone hip surgery at the Mayo Clinic, because she felt guilty about getting better when Hugo never would.

Dixie's fingers drummed on Ruby's kitchen table.

She looked at the kitchen clock. It was eight-thirty. She had to go home and talk to Hugo.

Ruby was up with the sun the following morning. She fixed and
ate an enormous breakfast and, for the first time in her life, left the dishes in the sink. Today she was taking the company limo into New York, where she was going to shop till her feet fell off.

She thought about Dixie. Her friend was so withdrawn these days.

Things just weren't the same anymore, Ruby thought sadly, because Dixie wasn't the same. That made all the difference. She herself had taken the call from the Mayo Clinic and spoken to the orthopedic surgeon who had scheduled Dixie for a hip socket replacement. He'd called because Dixie hadn't shown up for her preliminary tests. Ruby had promised to give Dixie the message, but she'd had one of the office girls write it out and swear not to tell Dixie who had actually taken the call. That was the first she knew that Dixie's deformity could be corrected, and it had hurt that Dixie hadn't confided in her. Neither had Dixie confided in her about Hugo's illness. Ruby had seen Hugo only once in recent weeks, but he was obviously sick. His skin had turned a deep yellow, and he'd lost so much weight, his face looked skeletal. Only once before had she seen anyone with that particular look: an employee who had died of a liver tumor.

Ruby sighed as she pulled up the zipper of her gray flannel skirt. Maybe she would give Dixie a call when she got home tonight. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. For God's sake, I look like a Brownie leader, she thought in disgust. She made an instant pact with herself not to buy a thing that was beige or gray. Color—bold and beautiful. Colors with zip. First chance she got she was trading in her gray Oldsmobile for something that would turn people's heads. Clearly it was time to move out of the shadows and into the sunshine.

 

That night, Ruby returned with an enormous pile of packages from Bergdorf Goodman, Saks, B. Altman, and Bloomingdale's. She tried to call Dixie—she'd been missing her all day—but there was no answer, so all alone, she tore into the bags and boxes, yanking out the clothing and throwing the bags and boxes out the door into the hallway. She was panting when her bed was finally loaded with her purchases. All about her were colorful scarves, designer handbags, soft leather gloves, dresses in every color of the rainbow. Thirteen pairs of shoes were scattered all over the floor. Boots so soft they felt like velvet were on the chair. How, she wondered, had she gotten through her life without all these gorgeous things? She pulled out a turquoise wool dress from the pile and held it against her, twirling round and round in front of the mirror. It was so perfect, the lines so stunning, she blinked. It was almost as though it were meant for her. It had been a perfect fit and worth every outrageous cent.

Ruby looked at the label inside the dress. Nq LTD. Ruby's eyes widened. It couldn't be! Yet, they were such odd initials. Nq had to be Nola Quantrell.

In a frenzy Ruby pawed through all the clothes she'd purchased. Time and again she'd gone back to the same racks looking for skirts and blouses with the same clean, stark lines. Her hands were feverish as she flipped back collars, pulled down zippers to look at the seams where some of the labels were sewn. All of the garments bore the same label, Nq LTD. Ruby dialed New York information. Seconds later she scribbled a number on the pad by the phone. She placed her call, holding her breath. A nasal-sounding operator much like the one back in Barstow said, “Nq Limited, how may I help you?”

“I'd like to speak with Nola Quantrell,” Ruby blurted out.

“You and half the fashion world,” the operator quipped. “Would you care to leave your name and number?” Ruby's mind raced. Answering services protected their clients from the kind of call she was making. And it was after hours. If she said she was Ruby Blue, the operator would write down her name and she would get lost in the shuffle. “This is very important, ma'am,” Ruby said briskly. “Please tell Miss Quantrell that Mrs. Sugar of Mrs. Sugar's Cookies called and needs to speak with her immediately. Tell her Ruby Blue wants to deliver a dozen to her personally. This is my number, where I can be reached all evening.” She rattled off her number in a daze.

“Are you really that cookie lady?” the operator demanded.

“I really am.” To tell her she was only half of the famous lady might stall the call. “Nola knows me, so please tell her I'm waiting.”

“You better be on the up-and-up,” the operator fretted. “She gave strict orders I wasn't to put through any calls. I could get fired. Nq Limited is a big account for my boss.”

Damn. “Operator, Mrs. Sugar isn't too shabby, either. If you find yourself out of a job, call me and I'll hire you on the spot. You have my home phone number. Is it a deal?”

The operator giggled. “Okay, Mrs. Sugar. If she's gone for the day, I'll call you back myself. It is late, but she usually stays till nine or so.”

“I really appreciate it, thank you.”

Mrs. Quantrell hadn't said anything about Nola's business in her yearly Christmas card, but there had been
something
peculiar about that card, now that she thought about it, something that brought a smile to her face. She laughed aloud when a vision of the card materialized behind her closed lids. It had been signed in red crayon with a lot of Xs and Os. It was the first year Mrs. Quantrell hadn't added a personal message. She'd stopped sending thank-you notes years earlier for the weekly batch of cookies that was shipped to the Michigan farmhouse, but she'd always managed to scribble a message of sorts. She should have called Nola's mother more often.

When the phone shrilled to life moments later, Ruby smiled from ear to ear.

“Don't tell me
you're
the famous Mrs. Sugar,” Nola trilled. “For God's sake, Ruby, is it really you?”

“It's me all right. Nola, I can't believe ... yes, I do. I always knew you'd be rich and famous. And today I made you richer. I think I bought one of everything you've made. Your own label. How wonderful for you. Tell me everything, but not until you tell me why you never got in touch with me. How's your son and Alex?”

“Alex and I went kaput right after we got to Europe. I married him only because of Mom and Dad. They didn't want to see me live in sin for the baby's sake. But he's fine. In fact, he's my partner. He handles the selling end. I do the designing. It wasn't easy at first. I was all mixed up. I had to work and leave my son with sitters. Alex wasn't father material. Mom was on my back in a nice kind of way, but she was still on my back. Dad was, well, he was acting like a father. I got a little huffy and thought I knew more than they did. For a long time I didn't stay in touch with them. I worked for Dior for a while, but that was a nowhere job. The pay was lousy. Then I met some people who offered to front me and I made it. Can you believe I'm on the stock exchange? NASDAQ.”

“Well, I can top that, old friend. On Monday Mrs. Sugar made the Fortune 500.” Ruby pretended not to hear the note of envy when Nola congratulated her. “I'm planning on going worldwide. I almost have the Asian market tied up. My God, I'm proud of you, but I won't forgive you for not keeping in touch. Your mother, how is she?”

“Fine, I guess,” Nola said airily. “She has a housekeeper now. I made sure of that. She still has the orphans, at least I think she does. She gets a new batch every other year. I got a card signed with a crayon this year. I haven't been back there in, oh, probably five or six years.”

“You call, don't you?” She didn't want to hear this, didn't like the way the conversation was going.

“Time gets away from me. Hey, what is this, the third degree? Do you call your folks and go visit them? As I recall, you didn't put yourself out very much. Did you ever pay off that stupid debt?”

“My situation was a lot different, Nola. And, yes, I paid off that stupid debt.” Her voice was curious when she asked, “I bet all those orphans have designer clothes now, huh?”

“Well, not exactly. I don't do kids' clothes.”

“You send material and stuff like that, don't you?”

“No, I don't. You sound like you're accusing me of not caring about my mother and father and all those pissy rejects they have living with them.”

Ruby's heart thudded in her chest. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. “I thought you loved all those little guys. What's happened to you, Nola?”

“I grew up, for God's sake. I don't owe them my life. I send money.”

“No, you don't. Last year your mother said she hadn't heard from you. And I bet you five dollars that if I'd called as Ruby Blue, you wouldn't have bothered to return my call. Mrs. Sugar made a difference, didn't it? It was nice talking to you, Nola. Good-bye.” She hung up.

“Another chapter of my life over and at rest,” Ruby said sadly as she started to fold the clothing on the bed. Tomorrow she would call Goodwill to come and get it. Not for all the money in the world would she wear Nola Quantrell's designs.

“Grew up, my ass,” Ruby snarled as she tossed the pile of clothing into a plastic garment bag.

Ruby cried then, great racking sobs shaking her shoulders. She cried for the wonderful friendship she'd treasured all these years. “It must be me.” She sobbed. “I expect too much from people.” She cried herself to sleep.

Ruby spent the night before her departure to Washington,D.C.,
prowling her house on Ribbonmaker Lane. She'd gone to bed after the eleven o'clock news, but sleep eluded her. She had tried calling Dixie several times, but there was still no answer. Twelve o'clock found her in the kitchen making black rum tea and a fried egg sandwich. The tea tasted like dishwater, the sandwich like fried rubber. She tried smearing ketchup over the egg, but it didn't help. She tossed both the tea and sandwich out and opted for a bottle of Coca-Cola. For two hours she smoked, a bad habit she'd developed to help her get through some of her more stressful times. When her soft drink was finished, she popped another bottle. She continued to smoke as she paced the rooms, creating circles in the pile carpet.

Tomorrow, today actually, was a turning point in her life, her meeting with Calvin. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to book a room at either the Holiday Inn or the Guest Quarters. Frustrated with her inability to secure a room anywhere close to the Pentagon, she'd finally resorted to trading on her company name and booked a room at the Twin Bridges Marriott in the name of Mrs. Sugar.

Shortly before the sun came up, Ruby made a pot of coffee and ate some toast. Her hands trembled so badly, she could hardly hold the cup. The toast tasted as awful as her egg sandwich. Her eyes kept going to the kitchen clock and then to the framed five-dollar bill over the stove. She felt herself frown. It looked askew. In all the years since she'd hung the bill, it had never shifted, not once, mainly because she'd fashioned Silly Putty on the corners of the frame. She reached up to straighten the memento, but the frame refused to right itself. Annoyed, she tugged and yanked it off the wall. She could have sworn that Abraham Lincoln's somber face had been staring back at her all these years. Now she was looking at the Lincoln Memorial. It wasn't possible. Or was it? When was the last time she'd actually looked, really looked, at the bill? Just a few days ago when the New York attorneys were sitting in her kitchen. Silas had commented on it. She wasn't imagining things. An uneasy feeling settled between her shoulder blades. Someone had been in her kitchen, and that someone, whoever it was, had tampered with the five dollars. The Silly Putty was still stuck to two of the corners of the frame. “Damn,” she muttered. Well, she couldn't worry about this now. She had to shower and be ready when Anthony arrived to drive her to the airport.

Today was her day, and nothing was going to spoil it. She looked down at her packed bag and smiled. She was going to see Calvin. They were going to sit across from one another and talk and talk. They would stare into each other's eyes and possibly touch hands over the table. Old friends meeting after a long separation. She
wouldn't
allow the conversation to drift to “you should have, I'm sorry I didn't, why did you do what you did.” It was all behind them. As far as she was concerned, today was the first day of her new friendship with Calvin. She was older and wiser now. She was sure she could handle it.

Ruby dithered and fretted as she applied her makeup. What would Calvin think of her? How much had she changed? How old did she look? She wasn't a young girl anymore, but Calvin wasn't a young man, either. The word
seasoned
flitted through her mind. Her hand slipped as she applied lipstick to her puckered mouth. She wiped the red streak with a tissue. Her heart beat faster as she tried to imagine the look on Calvin's face when he saw her in just a few hours. He would approve of the neat gray suit with the pearl pin on the lapel. The soft yellow silk blouse with the small black tie at the throat made her look like the CEO she was. The streaks of gray at her temples showed maturity, she told herself, as did the fine wrinkles around her eyes. She'd always had good skin. There wasn't a pimple or blemish to be seen. “Thank God,” she muttered. She smelled good, too. She loved the scent of Nocturne, a perfume she'd purchased in St. Croix several years ago when she'd forced herself to take a vacation. It was the same bottle and almost empty now. Later, right before she was due to meet Calvin in the lobby of the hotel, she would dab some more behind her ears so he would have something to remember her by. He'd always said he liked the way she smelled of vanilla. She giggled. Lord, what was the name of that shitty perfume that sold by the gallon? Another memory.

She was ready. Her plane ticket was in her purse. Her best clothes were neatly packed. If Calvin suggested dinner, she had a black dress that was suitable for any occasion, as long as she dressed it up with jewelry or a scarf. She wondered how Calvin would look in his general's uniform.

“In just a few hours you'll know,” Ruby told herself.

Nothing to do now but twiddle her thumbs until Anthony arrived, unless she wanted to use the time to dial Dixie again. Her arm reached out for the phone at the same minute the front doorbell rang.

Ruby opened the front door. It was the limousine driver. “I'll just be a minute. I have to make a call.”

She dialed Dixie's number. The line was busy. Home at last! She broke the connection and dialed again, and again and again. Who in the world was Dixie talking to so early in the morning? Maybe the phone was off the hook. Or maybe something was wrong. Ruby dialed the operator, her eyes still on the clock. They'd hit rush hour traffic on the turnpike. God, what if she missed the plane? Telling Anthony to drive like a bat out of hell would be like telling a turtle to pick up speed. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Nothing was more important than Dixie, not even Calvin. She dialed the operator and asked her to check Dixie's line to see if it was out of order. The operator came back on the line and said there was conversation on the wire and the phone was in working order.

I'll call her from Washington, Ruby decided as she slipped into her coat. As soon as she reached the hotel.

 

Calvin wasn't in the lobby when she arrived at the hotel. She'd asked at the desk if she'd had any calls. The answer had been no. Relieved, Ruby used the bathroom and fixed her makeup. She dabbed with the perfume stopper. She was ready now. All good things come to those who wait, she thought giddily. She was almost out the door when she remembered the call she wanted to make to Dixie. She closed the door, read the instructions on the phone, and called the desk to place the call. Her foot drummed impatiently. Her eye twitched. Her nose itched. Her ears felt red and hot.

“That number is busy, ma'am,” the operator said briskly.

“Thank you, I'll try it later.”

Now. Now it was time to go out to the lobby and meet Calvin. She was forty-five minutes late. Please let him be there, she said over and over as she walked down the long, carpeted hallway. Her heart stopped when the only person she saw was a bellboy. She told herself Calvin was late, just the way she was late.

With nothing better to do than wait, Ruby headed for the hotel gift store. As she walked around and idly examined the tacky merchandise, she had a clear view of the lobby. She'd just paid for a clear plastic cube filled with coins and was reading the verses on a rack of greeting cards when she noticed in the lobby a tall figure in a dark brown overcoat and Russian fur hat. Calvin? Was this man Calvin? Where was his uniform? She felt disappointed, cheated somehow. If he would just turn, she'd know for sure.

He was turning, so slowly Ruby wanted to scream. His eyes stared past her for a moment and then came back to the rack where she was partially hidden. She stepped forward and raised her hand slightly as their eyes met. She saw him take a deep breath. She did the same. She smiled then, a wide smile of pure delight. His own smile was just as wide, echoing her delight. She moved, he moved. They met in the doorway.

“Hi, I'm Ruby Blue,” Ruby said softly.

“I would have known you anywhere, Ruby,” Calvin said gently. “I don't think you've changed at all.”

Ruby moved, her eyes hooked greedily on his. He seemed nervous and fidgety. She wanted to tell him he'd changed and not for the better. This Calvin was gray, almost bald, and he looked thin, too thin. The smile on his face wasn't in his eyes. He was supposed to be delirious with joy. It was so hard to read Calvin.

They were walking, side by side, down the hall to the coffee shop.

In the red leather booth sitting across from each other under the bright fluorescent lighting that was giving Calvin a ghostly pallor, Ruby felt her heart flutter.

“It's good to see you, Ruby.”

How sweet his smile is, Ruby thought. But he's staring at me so intently, almost as though he's trying to memorize my features.

She felt a sudden rush of fear. “I never thought I would see you again. I've thought of you so often, Calvin.” She leaned across the table. “Are you okay?”

He laughed, at least Ruby thought the sound escaping his lips was laughter. “I'm all right now. The day you called, I ... I'd just gotten back to work. I was in the hospital. Do you believe a bleeding ulcer? Me with a bleeding ulcer.” His eyes widened as though he himself couldn't believe what he'd just said. “The review board meets in March. I don't think I'll make it. It pays to have a clear health record.”

“Do I understand this right?” Ruby asked, feeling a second rush of fear, “You're concerned you won't be promoted because you've been ill? I know you, Calvin. You ... you probably had this problem before, maybe for a long time and you didn't get treated. Or if you did, you went to a doctor on the outside so it wouldn't show up on your military record. Am I right?” Damn, what kind of reunion was this? She wanted smiles, handholding, and yearning looks.

Calvin nodded. “I collapsed in the office one day and was rushed to Walter Reed Hospital. They say I need an operation. But I didn't come here to talk about my health, Ruby. Tell me, how have you been?”

“I'm fine. Well, sort of ... actually, I am fine. And yes, you do want to talk about your health and the Air Force because you know you can trust me and you have not confided this to anyone. You need to talk. I'll listen, Calvin. Let's get it out of the way. And all that other stuff, too, so we can just be Calvin and Ruby again, even if it's just for a little while, okay?”

Calvin threw back his head and laughed. This time the smile reached his eyes at the same moment he reached across the table to take her hands in his own.

“I don't understand,” Ruby said at four-thirty when the shift of waiters changed, “why you didn't get out? The military has given you ulcers, your wife hates the Air Force, your kids want no part of it, and still you stayed in. Was becoming a general that important, Calvin?” Ruby asked gently.

“To me it was. I knew I made a mistake marrying Eve. All I could do was channel my energies into work. It was the only life I had, Ruby.”

“And now the military is going to turn on you. You said yourself you won't make major general, that you're their token minority general and that's all they owe you. You must believe it, or you wouldn't have told Nangi the same thing.”

“I could be wrong,” Calvin said in a faraway voice.

Ruby squeezed his hand. “But you're realistic enough to know you aren't wrong. Get out, Calvin, before they can tell you that you aren't good enough. You can make it in the corporate world. You should do it. But you won't, will you?” Ruby said sadly.

“Probably not. I guess I need to have my nose rubbed in it before I'll understand. I thought, I believed I could go all the way. How'd you get so smart?” he asked playfully.

“From baking cookies. It's kind of a dumb-witted job. You can actually think while you're doing it. I've had a lot of years to do that, Calvin.”

Calvin's voice was suddenly shy. “Did you think of me?”

“More than I should have. Especially when things weren't going right. My God, Calvin, I tried so hard. And when that wasn't good enough, I tried harder. Nangi said you were thinking of getting a divorce. Actually, he said you mentioned the possibility. Is that true?”

“I brought it up once when things were really bad. I felt like I couldn't take it another day. Eve ... converted to Catholicism, and she takes our religion seriously. I suppose that's good. What she didn't take seriously was our marriage. She hated it from the beginning. She hated sex; she hated sharing a bed with me; she hated doing my laundry, and she hated cooking the foods I liked; she particularly hates the military life. Some years ago she said that if I didn't put in for a job at the Pentagon, she'd take the children and leave. You know how the military feels about divorce. She never helped me, not once. All she did was bitch and moan and grumble and then she'd bitch and groan and grumble some more. From morning till night.”

Ruby thought she'd never heard such bitterness in a human voice before. “So you endured, but by your own choice.” She felt a sudden empathy for the faceless Eve.

“It's been a piss-assed existence. I traveled a lot just to be away. I hate going home at night, especially in the winter. The house is dark and cold and there's no dinner. Eve is always out with her friends, going to some opera or ballet. She has her own life, her friends, and she keeps her money separate. She's a good mother,” he finished lamely. “I cook for myself, do my own laundry, and sleep in a rollout bed in part of the basement I converted into an office.”

Ruby's eyes grew moist. “How awful for you, Calvin,” she whispered. “I wish one of us had had the nerve to call the other, to try and keep our ... our ... we could have talked, bolstered the other ... you know what I'm trying to say.”

Calvin pulled his wallet from his pocket. “See this?” he said, pulling out a creased, yellowish piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully. The paper, Ruby thought, looked as though it had been handled a lot. “These are all your different phone numbers over the years. Nangi gave them to me. I just didn't have the guts to call. I wanted to, a hundred times, a thousand times. Sometimes I even placed the call and cut it off before the operator could make a connection. I was too ashamed.” Calvin cleared his throat. “One time,” he said hoarsely, “I sat outside your house in Pensacola all night. I saw you have an argument with your husband on the carport. At least it sounded like one. You took off, rubber squealing. It was pouring rain. I tried to follow you, but somehow I lost you in traffic. I went back to your house to wait, but you didn't come home that night. I left Pensacola to go back home, and a day later you called from Nangi's house. I never did figure that out,” he said ruefully.