Julia's Chocolates (34 page)

“Is something wrong? Is that why you’re calling? How’s Lydia?” I heard the instant concern in his voice.

“Oh, she’s doing well. Tires more easily, but she’s fine. She told Mrs. Taylor at the bank yesterday that she had always thought the woman was too much of a priss and needed to liven up a bit before she died. Then she dragged her out to Mike’s Saloon, and they both got sloshed. Mrs. Taylor had a great time. She even tried the karaoke machine and sang a love song while Aunt Lydia danced. Apparently Mrs. Taylor got a standing ovation from the other people in the bar.”

“They didn’t drive, did they?”

“Oh no. Mike took Aunt Lydia’s keys from her. She didn’t notice. Then he called Stash. Stash came with Dave and Scrambler and Katie, and pretty soon they were all trying out the karaoke machine. And then other people in town heard what was happening, and pretty soon Mike’s is hopping and it’s only about four o’clock in the afternoon. Mike invited them to come back the next day, too.”

I could hear Dean laughing in the background. “That certainly sounds like a better day than what I’m having here.”

“What’s going on there?”

He paused, then told me. He was involved in a trial, the defense attorney was a dick, the media had got wind of it and wouldn’t stop calling him, he couldn’t wait to see the defendant in jail….

“So, sweet Julia, I know you’ve called for a reason and not just to chat, although I will say right now you are always welcome to call me anytime you want. In fact, if you want to call me again soon and breathe over the phone, I would appreciate that, too, as then I would know you think of me, if only a little, when I’m not in Golden.”

“No, I…well, I will…What I mean is that I’m not going to call you to breathe over the phone, but maybe we can chat tomorrow…well, not tomorrow.”
Oh, I am an idiot. Please stop blabbering
, I told myself. I felt sick, scared to death, my throat tightening as if a metal vise were squishing it. I told him about Aunt Lydia’s surprise birthday party. “And, well, we don’t have to…I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes…and you probably would rather bring someone else…but, well, I was wondering…if you wanted to…” I was dying.

“Oh, just say it, Julia.” I could almost see him smiling.

I took this huge, mongo-sized breath. “Dean…” another breath before my lungs completely collapsed in fear. “Dean, would you go with me to Lydia’s birthday party?”

I heard nothing but silence.

“Dean? Are you there still?”

He sighed. “I’m savoring the moment, darling, just savoring the moment.”

“What?”

“I’m imprinting this moment in my head forever.”

“This moment?”

“Yes. This moment. I want to remember every little detail about it. Where I’m sitting, what I’m doing, what you said, how you said it.”

“Why do you have to remember this?” I took a trembling breath. Simply thinking about Dean Garrett made me quiver.

“Well, I want to get it exactly right.”

I sighed, then laughed. Felt myself blush. Why the torture?

“Are you going to say yes or no? Surely you have better things to do than this? You know, people to sue, papers to file, depositions to run, other attorneys to yell at…”

“When our grandchildren ask, I want to tell them exactly what happened when their grandma asked me out. Down to the littlest, sweetest detail.”

Our grandchildren. That would imply children first. Children with Dean Garrett. Now, life wouldn’t get sweeter than that.

But I couldn’t imagine that could ever happen. I’d have to get rid of the Dread Disease. I’d have to learn how to breathe like a normal person. I’d have to make sure my ex-fiancé didn’t fling
me
into a tree like a dead white wedding dress and leave me to die.

“They’ll love the story,” Dean continued. “I know it.”

I
would love the story. “But what about the party?”

“What about it?”

I took a deep breath, the smile I could never control around Dean finally reaching my lips. “You want me to ask you again, don’t you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

I took another deep breath, but this time I laughed. “Dean Garrett, do you want to go with me to Lydia’s birthday party? Please?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good,” I said, very little breath in my body left, but I was so happy I was tingling. “Very good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And, Julia? I do, also.”

“You do?” The man confused me often. In fact, I could often barely think around him.

“Yes. I do.” He paused. “I’m practicing ahead of time.”

My ex-white wedding dress fluttered into my mind like a ghost, but I banished it quickly. If I ever did get married again—
if
—I would wear red. Bright, happy, freeing, bold red.

It was almost impossible to think that so many people could keep Aunt Lydia’s surprise birthday party a surprise. But miracles do happen, and the town of Golden experienced one that week. Aunt Lydia was clueless about the surprise party.

Everyone else was in a tizzy, especially about what to give Lydia for a present. Although Stash, Dave, Marie, Scrambler, Katie, Caroline, and I had made it a point to call everyone and invite them, and ask them to bring a side dish to share, we had specified that people were not to bring gifts.

No one listened to that part.

When Stash and Dave went to the liquor store to talk to Pat Haines about the beer for the party, they could barely leave. Pat is tall and thin and wears glasses without any rims. He runs a book club here in Golden. The women love him because he acts just like one of them. Although he sells beer and hard liquor, he’s a major wine connoisseur, and he had decided a special bottle of wine for Lydia would make the perfect gift.

“I’ve got a Riesling in the back, at least ten years old, and I’ll be bringing that to Lydia as my gift.” Pat then put a hand over his heart, Dave told me later, and said, “No, I’ve changed my mind. Not that one.” His face scrunched in concentration, his glasses lifting a bit off his nose. “I have a pinot noir that’s twelve years old. That one would be much better—the grapes were perfect that year. No! I’ve changed my mind. Not that one.” His face scrunched up again. “I will give her the Riesling from nineteen seventy-two. A splendid wine, the very best. No! That one won’t do, it simply won’t do.” Face scrunched again, he put a hand to the bridge of his nose. “It will be the chardonnay…. No! I have a better one than that, how could I forget?” He moaned.

Stash told me he and Dave left Pat in an absolute tizzy, anguishing over which wine would be absolutely the best for the best damn poker player in the west.

When I went to town the next day, I was accosted.

“Do you think she would like my jams?” asked Becky Pines, a tall, thin woman with three degrees from a top notch university who had decided she preferred farm life to corporate life. “You do? Then what kind? I have strawberry and blueberry and raspberry. Does she have a preference? Two cases of each, then? Three?”

I told her it wasn’t necessary to bring a gift.

“Of
course
it’s necessary!” Becky looked at me as if I’d told her I would be needing her left arm for about three years. “That woman is one of my best friends. So, back to my jams. I thought I’d put them all in a basket with a giant ribbon. Or do you think a silver bucket would be better? More in keeping with the farm theme of the party?”

I told her I liked the bucket idea to make things easy.

“I need a word, lickety split with you, Julia!” Geoff Miles interrupted. Becky walked off muttering to herself. Geoff was an expert wood carver. He could make absolutely anything. He could also sing, often bursting into song in the middle of the town’s square. He had a deep baritone, had even spent time on the stage in his younger years, so he always drew a crowd. “I need to talk to you about Lydia’s gift. I was thinking that I would make her a new bench for her porch in the shape of a giant pink pig? What do you think?”

I thought it was a fabulous idea, I told him, but he didn’t need to bring a gift….

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. I would never come to a birthday party for Lydia without a gift. I love her. So, now, all is wonderful! You like the idea of a giant pink pig bench? I thought I’d paint an apron over the pink pig, just like the one that she wears, you know the red one with the chickens on it? At night her and Stash can sit out there and look at the stars and argue in peace…. Now, my girlfriend, Sarah—you do know Sarah?”

I nodded. Sarah was tall and willowy, an ex-stockbroker who had had a nervous breakdown and was now a happy seamstress. She made beautiful pillows and tablecloths and curtains and sold them in the pharmacy.

“Well! Sarah’s making a blanket that will match the bench. Stash and Lydia can put the blanket over their legs when they’re sitting out on the porch. What do you think of that?” He clapped his hands, smiled gleefully.

I thought that was wonderful, so I hugged him, gave him a kiss for Sarah.

Corinne Mathers caught up to me in the aisle of the pharmacy. I was holding a tube of vaginal irritation cream in my hand. “Julia, dear, tell me. I’m going to embroider a pillow for Aunt Lydia and I don’t know what she would like better. I could embroider a rooster, chickens, a barn. Or all three. I could even take a snapshot of her home and embroider that, I am just a wreck. I can’t decide!”

Corinne had seven daughters. Her husband, Gavin, had been the financial officer of a local factory and lost his job when it closed. He was now doing whatever odd jobs he could find. I knew that Stash had had him look at his own books at the farm. Gavin worked hard, he was honest, he was kind. He was simply a victim of the economy.

But back to the seven daughters. I could not imagine how Corinne would have time to embroider a pillow. “Corinne, people really aren’t supposed to bring gifts—”

“Nonsense. Everyone is bringing a gift. But what do you think of my pillow idea?”

I smiled at her, I couldn’t help it. She was so sweet and so eager. “Whatever you do will be lovely, but I don’t want you to have to work all night. Embroidering a pillow takes so much time….”

“Nonsense again! My girls are sewing the pillow as we speak. I’ll make the design, and then we’re embroidering in shifts. A wonderful project!”

“Well…” I said and thought for a few seconds. “Maybe the house design?”

“Perfect! We’re on it right now, Julia. And, dear, this type”—she reached behind my head and chose a different vaginal irritation medicine—“this type works much better. Trust me and my daughters. We know our vagina medicine. See you Friday!”

Friday arrived with the people of Golden almost dancing with excitement, and Aunt Lydia in happy ignorance.

On that same Friday a dead cat also arrived at our home in a box for me, and I promptly ran to the bathroom, threw up, then endured another episode of the Dread Disease. When I was lying flat on the floor, my freezing-cold face pressed to the cold tile and could actually move again, I did so, crawling out to the front room, where I had dropped the box, grateful that Shawn and Carrie Lynn were in school.

I put the lid on the box, but it tumbled from my hands twice more as I cried for the poor cat. With eyes so blurry with tears I could barely see, I took the box to the very edge of Lydia’s property, along with a shovel, and buried it.

The cat’s neck had been slit with a wire.

Inside the box was another white envelope, but this time inside there was a note.

It said, “Missing you.”

I had run my paper route, then hurried back to the barns, where I met Stash. He had insisted that Aunt Lydia stay in bed for the morning to celebrate her birthday, and then he would be taking her out on a “hot date” in a neighboring town. I had taken the day off from the library and was glad of it. Ms. Cutter was closing early so she could come to the party, too. She had, of course, bought Aunt Lydia a whole new stack of classics—along with a bookbag with her name sewn on it.

Stash would bring Aunt Lydia to the barn later that evening with the excuse that he had a present there for her.

“She’ll probably think I’ve bought her a tractor,” he muttered, shaking his head, as he and I moved through the barns, the morning sun shining through the cracks. The ladies clucked at us as we took their eggs.

“I hope not,” I said. “Johnny Cain is already bringing her one of his, complete with a giant red ribbon wrapped around the whole thing. He says she needs it for her back field.”

Stash shook his head. “I take care of her back field. You know what I got that woman for her birthday?”

I shook my head.

“This.” He placed the basket of eggs he held on the ground, then reached into the upper pocket of his overalls. I caught my breath.

The diamond on that ring was huge.

After a quick shower, I told Aunt Lydia I was going to see Dean, who was arriving this evening to be my date for the party. It was the first lie I had ever told to Aunt Lydia, but I couldn’t think of any other excuse that she wouldn’t see through. She would think that the reason I looked uncomfortable was because she believed, and rightly so, that Dean had taken control of my feminine hormones and estrogen-plagued brain cells.