Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (17 page)

“No, you know what?” Mindy said. “I’m sorry. You’ve obviously been through hell, and I’m going on about something that happened a long time ago. Let’s just go in, get breakfast, and try to figure out a way to find your car.”

“I don’t know.” Beth checked the vanity mirror. “I look like crap.”

“So do I.” Mindy grabbed her bag. “But it never stopped me from eating.”

“Tempting,” she quipped, “but I won’t go there . . . and don’t you have to get to work?”

“Actually, it turned out this lady Christine was happy to switch with me. She’s got kids in college and likes the extra hours.”

“And your father-in- law wasn’t mad?”

“No, he was, but he’s dealing with his own problems right now. He can’t spend the whole day thinking about how much I disappoint him anymore.”

The visit to the ladies room was a welcome relief. Difference being that when Mindy returned she looked the same as when she went in, unlike Beth who came back looking polished and beautiful, her hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail, light makeup perfectly applied. And, oh yes, there were her signature jewels, glistening like icicles from her neck, wrists, and fingers as if her marriage had actually been an ascent to the throne, her new title, Beth, Queen of Diamonds.

Mindy looked down at her imitation bling watch from the flea market and her modest engagement ring, which she remembered Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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thinking was so spectacular when Artie proposed. Years later he promised her an upgrade, but three kids, a mortgage, several bad business decisions, and the need to pay for camp, braces, and bat mitzvahs later, her original diamond remained fused to her finger, testimony not to her wealth but her rich history with a man who loved her with all his heart.

How little she had in common with Beth, right down to their views on sating physical hunger.

Though Beth was starving, she was hardwired to count calories, ordering egg whites with a side of tomatoes, whereas Mindy couldn’t imagine denying herself. Yet if she placed the order for her usual spread, Beth would surely carry on about fat people who made bad choices. Better to choose an egg-white omelet and pretend she was weight conscious, too. And thank God for the donuts she’d tucked away in her car.

“Oh my God, I hate this text messaging.” Mindy picked up her cell. “Stacie doesn’t leave me alone.”

94 on my math test, mr beller loves me . . . justin says he might still
invite me to his bar mitz. I HATE my lunch . . . no more gross 2matos . . .

“Does Jess do this to you, too?”

“No.”

“Really? She doesn’t bug you all day long?”

“She hates me. Why would she?”

“I doubt that.” Mindy typed away.

“Doesn’t matter.” Beth yawned. “I hate text messaging. I hate all electronic gadgets. . . .”

“But I never see you without that BlackBerry thing. Isn’t that how you kept up-to-the-minute track of our car pool?”
Oops.

Strike that from the record.
“Miss, more coffee, please?”

Beth sipped her tea instead of breaking the cease-fire. “I don’t know how I got here.”

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“I drove.”

“I mean how I got to this point in my life.”

“I ask myself that every day.”

“Nothing makes sense . . . nothing makes me happy . . . everything I do turns out wrong, the people who supposedly love me are too self-absorbed to care what I want. You’re probably thinking I deserve it.”

“Maybe a little, but to be honest, sometimes I feel the same way. Artie and I are killing ourselves to give our kids this incredible life, but the harder we work, the less we seem to have. ”

“At least you have a nice family.” Beth fiddled with her fork. “I always see you guys outside doing things together . . . and you’re lucky. Artie holds your hand and makes you laugh.”

“Okay, never in a million years did I think you’d be jealous of me.”

“Go figure.” Beth shrugged. “I think when you’re miserable, everyone’s life looks better.”

“I hear ya.” Mindy nodded. Maybe they did have some common ground, though it was like finding eggshells in the mix-ture. Easy to spot, just too slippery to handle.

“I know this is none of my business,” Mindy started, “but do you feel like talking about what happened?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Although I suppose that since I dragged you into this, I do owe you an explanation.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like we’re friends—”

“The truth is, at this point I don’t even know what to tell myself. Warren turned out to be a total psycho. He could have really hurt me. The whole thing was insane.”

“Well thank God you’re okay. But it’s funny. On the way here I was thinking about my dad . . . the things he would say to me when I was confused and angry . . . he was one of those big be-Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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lievers in everything happening for a reason . . . bad things being good things in disguise. I bet he would have said that you got this out of your system and now you and Richard can start over.”

“Doubt it. We’ve been on a downhill slide for a while . . . He won’t even answer my calls.”

Mindy looked at her watch. “He should have landed by now.

Maybe you could try again.”

“Landed where?”

“Oh my God. That’s right,” Mindy replied. “You don’t know.

He f lew to Portland this morning for some big Nike thing. And then remember I told you that Artie had to go to Portland for Aaron?”

“Wait. Richard’s not at work?”

“No. There was some kind of mix-up and Richard found out he had to fly there. Anyway, they both got picked up around four this morning. And strike me dead for repeating this, but he mentioned to Artie that he was going to talk to Nike about taking a job out there.”

“Richard did not say that! He knows I would never leave New York.”

“Well, I’m sure it was just venting.”

“And I’m sure there was no mix-up. He just never pays attention to details. God, he’s insane. Move to Portland, Oregon? I dare him to even utter those words to me!”

“
Um,
then I don’t suppose you want to hear the rest?”

“There’s more? I’m gone for two freakin’ days.”

“Oh, it’s been busy. Marina quit.”

“Quit? Are you serious? Why?”

“Come on. You guys were hardly Alice and Mrs. Brady. She said she found a family who was willing to pay her more; she left a few hours ago.”

“Oh my God,” Beth gasped.

“Yeah.” Mindy sighed. “And things don’t look promising on 146

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the contest front either. You know the scholarship thing? We were both picked, which was very cool, but I spoke to this lady Olivia who is one of the people running it, and it looks like she’s on the take.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Me either, but she actually told me she could make me the winner, as long as I split the prize money with her, so obviously the whole thing is a crock.”

Just then the waitress brought their order and put Mindy’s plate in front of Beth.

“Wait. That’s mine,” Mindy said as she watched Beth dig in.

“Don’t you want what you ordered?”

“Hell, no!” Beth inhaled the buttered toast. “Miss, can I have extra hash browns?”

Mindy stared at her. “The chocolate cream pie looked pretty good, too.”

“Fine.” Beth gobbled up the bacon. “Order it.”

“A piece?”

“No. The pie.”

Thirteen

If you live long enough, you see everything. So said the late Arthur Baumann. But one thing Mindy never thought she’d live to see was Beth eat anything other than nonfat, lo-carb tree bark.

Thus it was quite a show watching her polish off every morsel on her plate, digging in to a chocolate cream pie, then grabbing the complimentary cookies on the way out.

“I remember seeing a Dunkin’ Donuts down the block,”

Mindy teased.

“God no. I think I’m going to puke. I don’t know why, but lately I’m so hungry.”

“Join the club. New members always welcome.”

“How about returning members? I was a blimp in high school.

In fact this whole place reminds me of high school. It’s like being in the cast of
Grease.
Can we please leave before someone starts teasing my hair?”

For an hour they drove down Sunrise Highway, stopping at stations in Amityville, Copiague, Lindenhurst, and two they couldn’t identify. But alas there was no blue rental car. Mindy 148

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wondered if maybe the car had been stolen, to which Beth said,

“You’ve obviously never driven it.”

They were about to call the rental company to report it missing when Mindy remembered that Christine from her office, was married to an engineer for the Long Island Rail Road. Patrick might know which stations were located opposite a Starbucks.

“All of them,” he said. “What else you got?”

Fortunately, he did think to mention that the Babylon stop had several huge lots adjacent to it, and people often forgot where they parked. He also suggested that they check the numbered stalls, as those were the ones designated for nonresidents.

Sure enough, Mindy drove around and there in a back lot in a numbered stall was the car.

“I don’t believe it was here all along!” Beth punched the dashboard. “I am so mad!”

“You?” Mindy said. “I had a few other things to do today.”

Beth fumbled for her car keys and started to laugh.

“You think this is funny, Miss Diamond?” Mindy used a stern teacher voice. “Do you want to share it with the class?”

“No. Sorry.” Beth wiped a tear. “I swear I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve just been through something so horrible and degrading and I was scared to death sitting on that bench in Jessica’s little jean skirt thinking any minute I was going to be a rape victim and I must have been out of my mind when I packed because I had nothing better to put on. In fact this whole thing is insane: running away from home, ending up in some lunatic’s house who weighed himself constantly and gave himself Brazil-ian waxes in places you don’t want to know, then getting left at a train station without money, losing my car, having you show up in that ridiculous-looking sweatshirt—every time you wear it I cringe—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mindy looked down at a family photo that Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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had been screen printed on a bright pink sweatshirt. “What’s wrong with it? My kids gave it to me last Mother’s Day.”

“Sorry. You’re right.” She made a face. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“That’s right! God! This is what I can’t stand about you. I took a day off from work to come rescue you and you’re still insulting me. Why are you so mean?”

“I’m not trying to be. I just say what I think.”

“Really? Okay. Let’s see how you like it. I hate your long nails.

They look like fangs.”

“They do not,” Beth said, admiring her French manicure.

“And I’d rather have nails that were beautifully groomed than short stubs that have never been in range of a cuticle scissors.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t have the time and money to be so high maintenance, and furthermore, I cried when my kids gave me this sweatshirt. This picture was taken at Ricky’s birthday party at Adventureland before he got lost. Can you imagine getting lost at your own birthday party? Anyway, the girls thought if this ever happened again, we could just point to the picture and say, hey, have you seen this kid?”

“Fine. It’s lovely. I’m wrong.”

“Yes you are. Plus, I love things with sentimental value. . . . I still have my macaroni necklaces they made in nursery school and the terrariums made out of Sprite bottles.”

“As soon as they weren’t looking, I threw all that stuff out.

Who needs the clutter?”

“Oh, come on. You didn’t love it when your kids did sweet things for you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Beth sighed. “At least yours put some thought into your gifts. Last Mother’s Day the girls had no idea what they were giving me because they couldn’t even be bothered to wrap the box. They told Richard to let Bloomingdale’s do it.”

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“Okay, so your life isn’t as perfect as I thought. You’re still very lucky. You’re so pretty and you look like a teenager, you drive a beautiful car, you get to travel all the time, you don’t have to work, you get to spend your days playing golf and having lunch at the club, and your house is to die for. . . . I love your stone fireplace with the burgundy couches— they remind me of a beautiful ski chalet.”

“That’s your big revelation? That I’m a spoiled brat?”

“No. I’m just saying it’s so weird after all these years to find out that we’ve been jealous of each other. I’d kill to have half of what you have and you wished your family was more like mine.”

“Maybe.”

“And even though this whole situation is really sad, the way you ran off, the way you were treated by this jerk, I’m glad it happened.”

“Oh, and I’m the bitch?”

“It’s selfish, I know, but for the first time I’m seeing you from a different perspective. You’re not this arrogant little snob. I mean you are, but there’s another side to you. You can be sweet.”

“It’s a little known fact, so keep it to yourself.”

“You like being thought of as a rich bitch?”

“Believe me, it has its advantages. Nobody dares to cross me.”

“I can’t imagine ever wanting to have that image.”

“Mindy, if you had all the money in the world, you would still be you.”

“You mean that in a good way, right?”

“Yes. You’re a good person. It’s possible I misjudged you.”

“Possible?”

“Fine. I did . . . and now that I think of it, I’d like to repay you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to.”

“Okay. You have this silver bangle bracelet I love that—”

“Not a chance. That was a birthday gift from my aunt. . . . I Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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have a better idea. I’m taking you to see Nadia and having her clean up those eyebrows. Seriously, they’re worse than my dad’s.

You’ve heard of waxing, right?”

It would have been great had Artie returned Mindy’s calls while she was doing laundry, driving the car pool, picking up dinner, or straightening the house. Instead, while she was getting dressed, putting out refreshments for the pocketbook ladies, and helping Stacie study for a Spanish quiz—that’s when he decided it was a great time to talk.