This Christmas (5 page)

“I love this!” Jennifer stands by the front desk, waving a press release that Sarah had drafted the other day and placed in Jennifer’s cubby with a note saying that it was just an idea, but if Jennifer wanted some help with PR Sarah would be happy to do it.

“You do?” Sarah looks up from the computer and grins.

“You’re a genius. I loved the idea of starting Girls’ Night In! And then this press release makes it sound even more amazing than it’s going to be. We’re going to have to talk about more PR.” Jennifer perches on the desk, smiling. “I’m always too busy to even think about the PR and marketing, but since you’re so talented, we have to use you.”

Sarah sits up straighter. “Great!”

“Can you come into my office in about”—Jennifer checks her watch—“twenty minutes and we can talk more about other projects? I’d love to have a brainstorming session with you.”

“Absolutely.” Sarah nods efficiently, hugging herself on the inside. She can’t wait to tell Eddie.

The first Girls’ Night In is a huge success. Sarah’s press release had been printed, almost verbatim, in the upcoming events page of the local paper; it had been announced in the spa’s newsletter; and hot-pink flyers, designed and overseen by Sarah, had been dropped off at hairdressers, nail salons, and preschools all over town.

Not to mention the word-of-mouth network. All the women in book club were coming, plus various friends and acquaintances, and the evening was a sellout.

There was a makeup artist giving free makeovers, a clothes consultant who freelanced for
The Today Show
giving consultations on updating your wardrobe and adding five key pieces for a modern look without breaking the bank, and various beauticians from the spa giving massages and manicures.

There were sushi, hors d’oeuvres, and cosmopolitans. The women start off huddling nervously together, clutching their drinks, smiling tight smiles at one another until the alcohol starts to flow through their veins, and as they loosen up they start laughing, all captured by a reporter and photographer from the local paper.

Jennifer and Sarah stand in the doorway as Caroline comes over and gives Sarah a hug.

“What a great idea!” She turns to Jennifer. “I love that you pulled all these women together, and it’s such a treat to get out and feel spoiled. I just had the most amazing massage and I’m waiting for them to call my name for the clothes consultation, although I don’t really know why I’m bothering. I’m not sure my preschoolers would appreciate bootleg pants with a bouclé jacket.”

Sarah starts laughing at her usually fashion-challenged friend. “Since when do you even know what
bouclé
is?”

Caroline raises an eyebrow and smiles. “I happen to not only know what bouclé is, but also that fur shrugs are very in this season. Not, I might add, that I shall be buying one, whatever that
Today Show
clothes consultant might say.”

“I’m impressed.” Jennifer smiles.

“I’m in shock,” Sarah says.

“Okay, okay. I confess. I was at my ob/gyn yesterday and they kept me waiting nearly an hour, and the only thing they had to read was
Vogue
. Happy now?”

Sarah laughs. “I knew it! There had to be an explanation.”

“But if you were to ask me about the benefits of a down vest versus man-made fiber, that I could tell you about.” Caroline smiles. “So how about you, my friend?” She looks at Sarah. “I hope you’re going to get something delicious done tonight.”

Jennifer turns to Sarah. “Absolutely,” she concurs. “You’re not working. You
should
do something.” And before Sarah can protest Jennifer spies someone leaving the makeup artist’s table, and the next thing Sarah knows she’s sitting in front of the mirror looking at the bags under her eyes and the gray streaks in her hair as Jennifer, Caroline, and the makeup artist stand behind her examining her.

“Well, you did say you didn’t recognize the woman who’s been looking back at you in the mirror.” Caroline shrugs with a grin. “Maybe we can turn you back into the woman you once were.”

“Great!” Sarah turns to her. “So I’ll be seeing a plastic surgeon tonight as well?”

“Oh, ha ha.” Caroline gives her a friendly shove and turns to the makeup artist. “We will now leave you to make my friend even more beautiful than she already is.”

“Not a problem,” says the makeup artist, with a smile, and Caroline and Jennifer walk off giggling, as Sarah tries not to look at her tired reflection in the mirror.

Twenty-five minutes later the makeup artist stands back to survey her work.

“You look awesome.” She smiles. “Ready to see?”

“Go for it,” Sarah tells her, as she swivels her chair around so Sarah can see her new face in the mirror.

Caroline is busy talking to Lisa and Nicole when she feels a tap on her shoulder and they all turn around.

There’s a silence as they all look blankly at the woman standing behind them, and then, in unison, all three of them gasp.

“Oh—my—God!” Caroline’s hands fly up to her mouth.

“Sarah?” Lisa whispers.

“Is that you?” Nicole’s mouth drops open, and then she leaves, muttering something about finding the makeup artist.

“Oh, great.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “You’re making me feel like I normally look like Quasimodo.”

“No! But you just look so different,” Caroline says. “I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

“I see that.”

“You look amazing.” Lisa laughs. “Seriously. I can’t believe what you look like. What do you think? Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? I love it. Even though it feels as if I’m wearing about a ton of makeup.”

“But what did she do with your hair?” Caroline frowns.

“You mean, where’s the gray?”

Caroline nods reluctantly.

“She had some colored mousse. Apparently it will come out when I wash my hair, but it temporarily covers the gray.”

“Okay. I’m your best friend,” Caroline says, “so I think I’m allowed to say this.” She takes a deep breath. “You look about ten years younger.”

“That’s it!” Lisa exclaims triumphantly. “I was trying to figure out why you look so completely different but that’s exactly it! You look like a school-kid!”

“I’m not sure that’s the look I was going for.”

“Okay, so I’m exaggerating a bit, but you look so much younger. Eddie’s going to freak out when he sees you!” And then the three of them fall into an embarrassed silence. Lisa didn’t mean to say it, had completely forgotten that Eddie wouldn’t be seeing it tonight, nor any other night.

“I’m sorry.” Lisa is mortified. “I really didn’t mean to say that. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Sarah puts a hand on her arm to soothe her. “It’s fine, and anyway, you’re right. Eddie would freak out if he saw me.” And as she walks off on the pretext of getting everyone more drinks, her shoulders sink. What is the point of doing all this, making all this effort when there’s no one around to appreciate it? Sure, her girlfriends approve, but for the first time since Eddie has gone, it hits Sarah that she is now on her own, and excusing herself from the party she goes into the office, where she allows the loneliness and fear to overcome her, and she lays her head down on the table and weeps quietly before slipping out the back door and going home.

The makeup may have been washed off by the next morning, but Sarah still gets a shock when she looks in the mirror and sees her rich, chestnut-colored hair.

She pulls open an old makeup drawer and rummages around until she finds some eyeshadow, mascara, blusher. Trying to think about how the makeup artist did it last night, she plays around a little, painting the eyeliner on slowly, smudging it like the makeup artist did, sweeping the blusher over the apples of her cheeks.

Not bad. She looks at herself in the mirror. Not, admittedly, nearly as stunning as last night, but with the gray gone in her hair and some makeup on, she has to admit she looks a hell of a lot better.

“Mommy!” Walker and Maggie come running into the bathroom and stop still, staring at her. “Mommy? You look beautiful!” Walker sighs.

“Really?” Sarah’s heart melts. Walker has never said this before in his life, and she gathers him in her arms and kisses him.

“Yes, Mommy,” Maggie says, not wanting to be left out. “You a pretty lady, Mommy.”

“Oh, thank you, darling,” Sarah says, kissing her.

“I put on lipstick too.” Maggie grabs the blusher and puts it on her lips as Sarah laughs.

The doorbell rings and Sarah frowns, pulling her robe tighter around herself. Damn. She hates going to the door when she’s not dressed, but it’s her own fault, she thinks, for messing around with her hair and makeup instead of showering and dressing as she usually does.

“Come on.” She lifts up Maggie and gestures for Walker to run in front of them. “Let’s go and see who’s at the door.”

“Hello?” a man’s voice calls back. “Mrs. Evans? It’s Joe.” Pause. “The contractor? I’m here to look at your wall?”

“Oh, right. Sure.” She’d completely forgotten, and she opens the door to find herself staring into a pair of bright green eyes, and a large dimpled smile.

“Oh,” she says, instantly feeling vulnerable in her robe in the presence of not just any man, but someone who’s actually cute. And then composing herself, she extends her hand and says in her most businesslike tone, “Hi, I’m Sarah Evans. Nice to meet you. Please come in. Will you excuse me just a second while I get dressed?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “Hi!” he says to Maggie, who smiles shyly and buries her head in Sarah’s robe. “You’re a cutie, aren’t you. What’s your name?”

“Maggie?” Sarah says. “Can you say hello?” There’s a shake of her head and Sarah shrugs an apology as Walker comes dashing back into the hall in a Darth Vader mask wielding a light saber.

“Whoa!” says Joe the contractor. “I didn’t know Darth Vader lived here. That’s pretty scary.”

“I’m gonna chop you with my light saber!” Walker says, and Sarah reprimands him.

“Walker, that’s not nice. Say sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” Joe smiles. “How old is he? Five?” Sarah nods. “I have a five-year-old as well. I’m well versed in
Star Wars
. I’ll watch them if you want.”

Sarah thinks for a second, but he looks normal, and he’s a recommendation from another mother at school who had used him to redo her kitchen, so he must be okay. She smiles gratefully. “That would be great.” She shows him into the kitchen and runs upstairs to get changed.
Oh, shit
, she thinks, catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror.
What must he have thought of me, opening the door in full makeup and a bathrobe
?

She pulls on her track pants and a sweatshirt and then pauses by the bedroom door. Not that there’s anything wrong with her track pants, and not, absolutely not, that she’s trying to impress the cute contractor downstairs, who by the way, has a son and is therefore almost certainly married (not that she’s looking), but didn’t the
Today Show
woman talk about showing off your assets rather than hiding them, and doesn’t this make her look rather middle-aged and dull?

Sarah strips them off and puts on some cargo pants with a tight, long-sleeved T-shirt. Thank God for Gap, she offers a silent prayer as she gives herself a cursory glance in the mirror and goes back downstairs.

All the cushions are off the sofa in the family room and Walker, Maggie, and Joe the contractor are huddled under the table.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asks uncertainly, unused to seeing strange men crouching under tables in her family room with her children.

“Mom! Mom! Joe made us a fort!” Walker shouts delightedly. “And look! It has a doorway too. You can come in too!” The pillows from the sofa have been propped up in such a way as to create a doorway, Joe’s jacket draped over the top.

“I don’t think so.” Sarah smiles, ever the grown-up. “And it’s not Joe; it’s Mr. Davito to you.”

“I’m fine with Joe.” He smiles at her from under the table.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says. “They’re great kids.”

“Thank you. They are. You said you had a son. Any other kids?”

“No, just the one. But I’d love a daughter someday.”

“Daughters are great.” Sarah smiles at Maggie, who’s now crawled out from under the table and has wandered into the corner to “make some lunch,” even though it’s nine o’clock in the morning.

“Mom!” Walker whines. “Come under here. Look, there’s space.”

“No, darling,” Sarah says. “Mommy has to talk to Mr. Davito about the wall.”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Joe says, as he crawls out from under the table. “Your mom’s right. We have to talk about the wall, but how about if you make a huge pirate ship for us to sail in when we’re done?”

“Yeah! Cool!” Walker leaps up and down in excitement as he starts to rearrange the pillows, and Sarah leads Joe into the other room, thinking with a pang that Eddie never played with the kids like this.

“You’re a natural with kids,” she says, as they walk into the family room.

“I think it’s because I miss my son,” Joe says. “He lives with his mother and I only get to see him on weekends.”

“Oh,” Sarah says, as a million thoughts go through her head.
So he’s single. Or is he? Why is he telling me this? Does he want me to know he’s single? God, he’s cute. No. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a middle-aged mother of two and he’s totally cute and wouldn’t be interested in you even if you were available. Which you’re not
.

But damn. I wish he’d stop smiling at me like that.

“So”—Sarah, flustered, marches over to the wall—“so this is the wall I was telling you I want knocked down.”

Something happened to Eddie today that hasn’t happened for as long as he can remember.

There he was, dripping with sweat as he pounded on the treadmill at the Reebok Club, when he felt someone looking at him.

Glancing up in the mirror in front of him, he caught the eye of a curvaceous, pretty brunette on the elliptical machine just a few machines away. She held his glance for a few seconds, until Eddie looked away. But Eddie remembered that look. Remembered exactly what that glance, held for just that tiny bit longer than was absolutely necessary, meant. That was the glance he used to give, back in the days when he was young and single. And free.

He looked again to check, because nobody has given Eddie a look like that in a very long time, and, yes, she was still looking. And this time she smiled. Eddie smiled back.

Not that she was his type. And even if she were, Eddie’s not looking. Eddie’s priority these days is work, and filling up the hours he should be with his family by working out and thinking about how he can best get back to being with his family.

Nevertheless, Eddie is not a man immune to the charms of a woman who finds him attractive, and he found himself pulling in the little that’s left of his protruding stomach, and running just that little bit harder, little bit faster until he’d finished his five miles.

“Hi. That looked like a big run.” The brunette was now climbing off the elliptical as he passed.

“Yup.” He smiled, having forgotten quite what to do in the face of flirtatious friendliness, but she extended a hand.

“I’m Jeanette.”

“Oh, hi, Jeanette. I’m Eddie.” And as he shook her hand he saw her look quickly down to the third finger on his left hand, where he still wears his wedding band. He is, after all, still married.

Jeanette saw that he saw her looking, and she gave him an apologetic shrug. “You have to try,” she said, as she walked off with a smile.

Eddie walked home on a cloud. No one had flirted with him in years. No one had wanted to try
anything
for as far back as he could remember. He’s flattered and excited by the attention, but despite his colleagues’ invitations to singles nights and singles bars, Eddie isn’t the least bit excited at the prospect of being single.

He doesn’t want to go on dates. Doesn’t want to start asking women to tell him how someone as beautiful/cute/special as they are could still be single. Doesn’t want to share his history, his stories, what school he went to with anyone other than Sarah.

He doesn’t want to struggle through a relationship with all the ups and downs until he gets comfortable enough to belch in front of a woman, or she gets comfortable enough to use the bathroom while he’s shaving. He only wants that intimacy with Sarah, and with his kids.

And, God, how he misses his kids. He calls them every day, which he suspects is more painful for all of them, but now that they’re gone he misses them far more than he would have thought possible. His office is scattered with photos of them, he happily tells his secretary all the cute and funny things they do and say, and most of all he wants to make up for all the lost opportunities.

For the first time, Eddie sees he could have done things differently. He lies in bed at night and thinks of all the times the kids pulled on his sleeves, danced in front of him begging him to play basketball, or have tea parties, or just hang out with them upstairs.

And all those times he’d say, “In a minute,” or “Not now, Daddy has to work,” or “Daddy’s had a long day at work; Daddy needs to rest.” He wishes he could turn the clock back and redo everything, be there when they needed him, spend all that quality time with them that he missed, but given that’s not possible he’s praying for a second chance.

It’s almost as if he’s come out of the trance he’s been in for years. Cutting out the alcohol, the coffee, and the sugar, taking care of his body and himself for the first time since he’s been married, Eddie feels as if he can see clearly again.

Not that he’s happy, but he knows he could be happy if he were home. He knows, has never doubted, that Sarah is the one for him. All he’s done is blame her for nagging and whining, for being a miserable wife, and yet now he sees his part in the equation. He sees how difficult it must have been with him gone at work for the best part of the day, sees how much it must have hurt for him never to want to spend time with any of them, his relaxation being the television and beer.

Eddie is determined that he will get that second chance. All he’s doing now is biding his time, working out his strategy. Christmas is coming and Eddie’s getting ready. As far as he’s concerned, this, this separation, isn’t permanent. It’s a vacation is how Eddie is choosing to think about it. A chance for all of them to recharge their batteries, ready to start their lives, their real lives, fully refreshed again, and Eddie has decided that Christmas is when the vacation will end.

“Where’s this place again?” Lisa’s on the phone as Sarah’s getting ready for book club.

“It’s that new Mexican place on Water Street. Right behind Main Street. Where Pier One used to be.”

“Okay, great. And you’re dressing up?”

Sarah laughs. “You’d better believe it!”

For book club tonight they have read, or attempted to read, or are halfway through
Daughter of Fortune
by Isabel Allende. It’s Caroline’s turn to host, but she’s having her house repainted so Sarah offered to switch, and because she now has more energy than she knows what to do with, because she has started wearing makeup every day, coloring her hair, actually living again, Sarah has decided to do something different for this book club.

Instead of being in someone’s family room with dessert and coffee, they are going to a Mexican restaurant, and each has been instructed to come in bright, festive colors with flowers in her hair.

Sarah walks into Villa del Sol, squinting through the darkened restaurant to try to find her friends. She sees Caroline waving at her from a table downstairs in the corner of the room and makes her way down as a couple of waiters bow and grin at her with approval.

“Wow! This place is great!” Sarah gives Caroline a quick hug.

“I know!” Caroline squeezes her friend. “I asked them to move us over here because it’s away from the speakers. The music’s so loud in the front.”

Sarah laughs. “I love salsa music, but it makes me feel so old to admit that I can’t stand loud music in restaurants. But I can’t!”

“We’re not old; we’re just interesting, and interested in actually hearing what one another has to say.”

“Speaking of one another, where
are
the others?” As Sarah speaks, Lisa and Cindy appear, both with the requisite flowers, closely followed by Nicole.

“I love this!” Cindy says. “Why didn’t we decide to go to restaurants before? This is a great idea, Sarah!”

“Thank you. And may I say you girls all look gorgeous.”

“As do you.” Lisa smiles. “I love your gardenia.”

Sarah shrugs. “Fake. But the best I could do in early December.”

Cocktails are brought; menus are studied; food is ordered. There is the usual, cursory pretense of them having come together for some intelligent, intellectual discourse about the book, and then Cindy and Caroline break off to talk about the First Selectman’s latest comments about the educational system at the town meeting two days prior, and soon they have all abandoned the book.

“Poor Isabel Allende,” Sarah says. “I hope she forgives us.”

“Okay, I’m going to be honest,” Cindy says. “I did read the book this time”—the others applaud as Cindy does a mock bow—“and I loved it, but there’s nothing I need to say about it. Was it beautifully written? Yes. Did I sympathize with Eliza? Yes. Was it engrossing? Of course. But the bottom line for me is I come to book club every month to see you guys, not to talk about the book. I come because I get more friendship and support from all of you than anywhere else, and because you keep me sane, and reading a book is just an excuse to come together and talk about real life.”

Caroline makes a face. “Does that mean book club is coming to an end?”

“Cindy is right, though,” Nicole says. “I never have time to read the book and I come because of you. Maybe we should rename it dinner club.”

“Or we could have a poker night instead,” Lisa offers. “Actually, no. Gambling probably isn’t a good idea.”

“Given that we usually end up grumbling about our husbands we could be Wives Anonymous,” Caroline jokes.

“Except of course for me,” Sarah adds wryly. “Given that I no longer have one.”

A silence falls upon the table.

“What do you mean, you no longer have one? Are you getting”—Lisa’s voice drops to a hushed whisper—“divorced?”

The shock shows on Sarah’s face as she adamantly shakes her head, and soon she is pouring out her confusion to the women.

“So give it another go,” they all say. “If you feel that confused and you’re that lonely, try again.”

“But I can’t,” Sarah moans. “I can’t put the kids through this again, let alone myself. I can’t let him come back if it’s going to continue the same way, only to have to split up again, next time permanently. I’m only going to damage them and myself even more.”

“You could always put yourself out there and try dating. Just dip a toe in the water to see if you could face it.”

“Are you nuts?” Nicole looks at Cindy as if Cindy is completely mad. “How is that relevant? And, anyway, Sarah’s loneliness isn’t going to be solved by dating.”

Sarah shrugs sadly. “First of all I absolutely, positively do not want to date anyone at all, not to mention that I am a middle-aged mother of two living in the suburban heartland where ninety-nine percent of the people are married and there really aren’t any decent men to date over the age of twenty-four.”

“So?” Cindy shrugs. “Demi Moore isn’t complaining.”

Sarah lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m hardly Demi Moore.”

“I don’t know.” Caroline looks at her appraisingly. “With your new dark locks and plum lipstick…”

“Oh, be quiet!” Sarah says.

“Meanwhile,” Caroline says, “what about Joe, the sexy contractor?”

“Who?” “Who?” “Who?” There’s an echo of excited voices around the table, and Sarah actually blushes.

“Oh, God.” She gives Caroline a stern look. “Why did you have to bring him up?”

“Who is Joe the sexy contractor?” Lisa’s eyes are wide with excitement. “And why haven’t you mentioned this before?”

“There’s nothing to mention.” Sarah shrugs. “He’s just the contractor who’s taking down the wall and he’s cute—”

“And single, and interested in Sarah!” Caroline finishes off the sentence triumphantly.

“I’m sure he’s not,” Sarah says.

“Oh, come on.” Caroline turns to the rest of the table and tells of how she went to Sarah’s house a couple of days previously to find Joe the sexy contractor sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a soda, and talking animatedly to Sarah.

“We were talking about the wall,” Sarah says helplessly.

“I’m telling you, he was staring at you. That man is attracted to you. You’ve just forgotten what signs to look for.”

Sarah shrugs. “It doesn’t matter even if he is. I’m not interested.” But despite herself she turns to Caroline again. “But seriously. Do you really think he’s attracted to me?”

“I don’t think so—I know so.” Caroline grins. “And you, Miss flick your hair girlishly and smile up at him through your long, dark eyelashes, were attracted to him too. Don’t try to deny it.”

Sarah laughs as she shakes her head. “Girls, I’m a married woman,” she says. “Leave me alone.” But Caroline’s right. The second time Joe came over the attraction was even stronger than the first. Not that she’s planning on doing anything about it….

Several margaritas later, a live salsa band comes on and soon half the restaurant is up and dancing.

Sarah leads her table to the floor, whooping and laughing as they go, none of them caring when, an hour later, they are dripping wet, more than a little drunk, and rather flustered by the sudden appearance of dozens of men, far better versed in salsa dancing than they, who twirl the women around like dervishes.

None of them had had this much fun in years.