Carpool Diem Page 4

  “You’ll have complete privacy,” Annie added.

  Hildy emptied the pouch of powdered cheese into the pot and then splashed in some milk. She broke up the loaf of macaroni with a wooden spoon, gave it a few stirs, and slid half the glutinous mixture into a cereal bowl.

  “Charlotte,” she called through the screen door. “Dinner.”

  She put the bowl on the table, along with a napkin and spoon.

  Annie stared at her daughter’s dinner. In addition to the ignored weekly To Do lists, Annie wrote out menus each week. She spent a lot of time figuring out menus of carefully balanced meals that were easy to prepare. She even included a grocery list.

  Nowhere on any list of menus had she written boxed macaroni and cheese.

  “Do you want me to get out a vegetable for you?” Annie asked, because none was in sight.

  Hildy opened the refrigerator and took out a bag of baby carrots. “I’m fine.” She tore open the bag, and put half a dozen carrots on a small glass plate. “See? Vegetables.”

  “How about if I wash them for you?” Annie offered.

  Hildy picked up the bag, pointed to the small print, and read aloud. “Prewashed.” She passed the bag to Annie in case Annie didn’t believe her.

  All Annie saw was the expiration date, which was three weeks ago.

  Charlotte came in and sat down. Hildy began cleaning the pot.

  “Do you mind if I eat these?” Annie asked Charlotte. She took the plate of expired carrots and started popping them in her mouth.

  “Go ahead.” Charlotte said. “I don’t like vegetables anyway.”

  Hildy announced, “Done,” and put the pot upside down on the counter, suds still clinging to its sides.

  “Do you want me to rinse that off for you?” Annie asked.

  “No, thank you,” Hildy said. “I’m trying to conserve water.”

  “Hildy is very concerned about the environment,” Charlotte boasted.

  “I’ll see you later,” Hildy said. She scooted out of the kitchen. The front door slammed shut.

  “Where is she going?” Annie asked.

  “She has school Wednesday nights,” Charlotte said. “Volleyball.”

  “Volleyball? I thought she was taking classes to become a teacher.”

  “Not anymore,” Charlotte said.

  “But I thought becoming a teacher was her long-term plan,” Annie said.

  Charlotte could see that a change of subject was needed. “Mom, do you still want to go get socks?”

  “Sure,” Annie said, relieved that at least Charlotte had changed her mind about that.

  “But even if we find the right ones,” Charlotte added, “it doesn’t mean I’ll get on a travel team. And even if I do get on, I still might want to stick with town soccer. I think I like town soccer better.”

  “Isn’t travel soccer better than town soccer?” Annie asked.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said, without pausing to think about it.

  Annie’s eye began to twitch again. When had Charlotte stopped eating vegetables and started watching TV during the week? Why didn’t she want to play the soccer that was better? Annie had given Hildy a long pep talk about how important it was for Charlotte to develop her passion and drive. She used to have both. Now she didn’t seem to have either.

  “It was probably stupid for me to try out,” Charlotte said. “I think I’m too old for travel soccer.”

  Too old? Where did that come from? Why did she sound so defeated? Did she learn that from Hildy? Because defeat was not something Annie ever felt. Even now, forced out of her job, she didn’t feel defeated. She felt energized. She had something to prove.

  Charlotte needed an attitude adjustment, that was clear. And maybe she’d get one if she played the better soccer.

  “Come on,” Annie said. “Let’s go get those socks. And new cleats. And some shirts. And some shorts.”

  “Okay,” Charlotte said, because in the end it really was easier to agree.

  Annie stopped at the hall closet to grab a light jacket in case the evening grew cool.

  The jacket fell on the floor, where it landed amid a jumble of winter boots, summer sandals, sneakers, dust, and dog hair. Why were the winter boots still in the closet? Hildy was supposed to change over the closets twice a year. And why was there dog hair? They didn’t even have a dog. Did Hildy have dogs come to visit? Who else came to visit?

  The twitch started up again, worse than ever. Could it be an allergic reaction to all the dust and dog hair in the house? Could Annie be allergic to her life?

  She blasted the thought out of her mind and put a smile in her voice.

  “Come on, Charlotte,” she said. “Let’s go get you dressed for the winning team.”

  Seven

  They went to three stores but all the striped socks were wrong. The shorts and shirts were all wrong too.

  “How can all the shirts be wrong?” Annie asked as they left the last store and headed for the car.

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “But they are.”

  When they got home, Charlotte headed upstairs to shower. Annie went to the kitchen, where she saw the flashing light of the answering machine.

  She played back the message. It was from Tim, calling from his cell phone. The connection was bad. Even after playing it several times, Annie still could make out only a few words. But it was enough to get the idea. His flight was delayed once again.

  The rush of disappointment she felt surprised her. She wasn’t used to missing Tim. They were accustomed to being apart. They had gotten good at quickly reconnecting. Why now this feeling of unease?

  She tried Tim’s cell, but the call went into voice mail. She checked the front of the refrigerator where Tim always posted his itinerary, but for some reason this time he’d forgotten to hang it there. She called information for the number of the Atlanta hotel where Tim always stayed.

  “I’m sorry, but we have no guest by that name,” the hotel receptionist told her.

  “Can you check again?” Annie asked. “I’m sure he’s there.”

  “We have several other hotels in the area,” the receptionist offered when a second check came up with nothing. “Perhaps you’ve called the wrong hotel.”

  Annie tried Tim’s Mountain Ridge office instead.

  “Hello,” came Trissy’s voice on the machine. “You have reached Hot Holidays. Our regular office hours—”

  She hung up and thought about trying Hank at home. Hank would surely know where Tim was staying. But what if Trissy answered? Trissy would never not know where her husband was. And Annie didn’t want to hear the judgment in Trissy’s voice when she explained the reason for her call.

  Anyway, it wasn’t like it was an emergency. She just wanted to know where Tim was, what had happened, and why his plans had changed again.

  By the time she went to bed, Annie had left three messages on Tim’s voice mail. She no longer just missed him, and she was done being mad. Now she was worried.

  Anxious and restless, she dreamed of Tim in hotel lobbies, at airport gates, in dark cafés. Tim sipping martinis, laughing, telling whispered jokes to women with blank faces. One of the women was chasing Tim down an alley when Annie was jolted awake.

  Tim’s belt buckle banged against the bedroom doorknob a second time. He dropped his suitcase on his foot and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yowl.

  Annie sat up.

  “I’m sorry,” Tim whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Annie looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. “That’s okay,” she said. “What happened?” She quickly added, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Me too,” Tim said. He sat on the bed and exhaled.

  Annie smelled it all—hotel soap, Scotch, gasoline-tinged jet air.

  He kicked off his shoes. One hit the wall. “Sorry,” he said. “Long day. Long, bad day.”

  “Where were you?” Annie asked.

  Tim looked at her oddly, like he didn’t und
erstand the question. Then he turned away, took off his suit jacket, tie, and pants, and changed into a T-shirt and shorts.

  “I’m going downstairs,” he said.

  “It’s after two,” Annie said.

  “I know. But I’m not ready to go to bed.”

  Annie tried to shake off the feeling of discomfort that had settled around her. She wasn’t sure she could even explain it. Her dreams would sound ridiculous to Tim. He didn’t drink martinis. He didn’t tell jokes. She was overtired and at loose ends. But he hadn’t answered her question. Where had he been?

  She got up and went downstairs, then followed a loud thrumming noise to the basement. Tim was walking fast on their dusty treadmill.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Again, Tim looked confused by her question.

  “You never work out,” Annie said.

  It was true. Tim had been born fit and remained fit without expending any effort. He didn’t run and had never joined a gym. He could eat whatever he wanted without gaining weight. It had taken Annie several years to stop being annoyed by this. But she accepted it now. It was a fact, like any other. So why the treadmill?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Tim had started running now. He couldn’t hear her over the noise of his pounding feet. “What?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” she yelled.

  Tim studied the treadmill console to try to figure out how to turn it off. He gave up, looked at Annie, and shrugged.

  “Tim,” she shouted. “Why are you exercising at two fifteen in the morning?”

  “What happened?” came a voice from the stairs. It was Charlotte.

  “Everything’s fine,” Annie said. She rushed over to the treadmill and pressed the arrow that slowed it to a stop.

  Tim hopped off. “Hey,” he said to Charlotte. “How’s my favorite girl?”

  “Good,” Charlotte said.

  “Just good?” he asked.

  “Super good,” Charlotte said. “Why were you shouting?”

  “The treadmill was loud, and we couldn’t hear each other,” Annie explained. “Did we wake you up?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte said.

  “Come on,” Annie said. “Let’s all go back to bed.”

  She took Charlotte by the hand to lead her upstairs. Charlotte stretched out her other hand for her father. They walked together to Charlotte’s room, and Charlotte climbed into bed. Tim tucked in the covers. Annie pulled them out at the bottom so Charlotte could move her feet.

  When they got back to their room, Annie turned to Tim. “Since when do you run on the treadmill?”

  “Why is that such a big deal?” Tim asked.

  “It’s not,” Annie said. “I’m sorry.”

  Tim sighed. “It’s okay. Actually, you’re right. I’ve been in a funk and I thought running on the treadmill might help me get out of it.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No.” Tim sighed again. “I wish I had never changed jobs.”

  Tim’s decision to leave his accounting firm and join Hank at Hot Holidays hadn’t been an easy one. Except for the brutally long hours, he had been one of the few people he knew who actually liked his job.

  But once Annie got sucked into her all-week workweek in Connecticut, Tim’s long hours started to feel like a problem. They both worried that neither of them was around enough anymore.

  Hank swooped in as if he’d overheard their pillow talk. He’d been begging Tim to come aboard for years, but now he pushed Tim harder, promising the irresistible combination of shorter hours and better pay.

  Finally, Tim gave in. He was happy for about a week. A week was about how long it took him to discover that Hot Holidays was in dismal shape. His job as Chief Financial Officer immediately segued to Director of Dismissal. Now all he did was travel to branch offices and close them down.

  It wasn’t how he and Annie had planned for it to go.

  Tim got into bed and stared at the ceiling. “There are thirteen employees in the Atlanta office,” he said. “I got them all together in the conference room. I brought the doughnuts as usual.”

  This was a theory Tim had—that bad news went down better with good doughnuts. It wasn’t Annie’s idea of a business plan. She had suggested a more conventional approach and offered to write him a termination script. Termination terminology was one of her specialties. But Tim liked his doughnut theory. He felt it lent a human touch.

  “I’m in the conference room, making small talk, waiting for everyone to settle down. The last one who comes in is the receptionist. She sits across from me. She’s about eight and a half months pregnant. A single mom. And she’s playing with a letter opener. The letter opener is shaped like a dagger. Basically, it is a dagger. She’s just sitting there stabbing her notebook. And I’m thinking, I’m about to tell a pregnant woman holding a weapon that she no longer has a job.”

  “Did she stab someone?” Annie asked. “Did she stab you?” This would explain everything.

  “No,” Tim said. “She might have, but I didn’t give her a chance. I told everyone I’d stopped by to say they were doing a heck of a job. Which is true. They are. And then I left.”

  “You didn’t close the office down?” Annie heard the harshness in her voice. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know your job is rough right now. But I don’t think it would be a good idea for both of us to lose our jobs in the same week.”

  ‘I’m not losing my job,” Tim said. “My brother’s not going to fire me just because I didn’t close down the Atlanta office today. I’m going to take care of it. I just don’t like it, that’s all.”

  “It’s a rough patch,” Annie said. “But we’ll get through it. We just have to buckle down. Work hard. Push on. We can make it work. We just have to stick to our plan.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” Tim said. “I’m really tired of talking about work. What’s new here? Anything good? What’s good at home?”

  Annie tried to think of something good to report. But all she could think about was the woman at the hotel who hadn’t been able to find Tim as a guest. Annie had to ask. It was bothering her too much not to ask.

  “Tim,” she said. “I called the hotel you usually stay at and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

  Tim didn’t answer and then she heard it—the small catch at the back of his throat that told her he had fallen asleep.

  Annie lay staring at the ceiling. She was wide awake now. There was no way she was going to sleep. There was no point in even trying.

  She got out of bed and crept up to her third-floor office, where at least she could begin tomorrow’s Plan for the Day. She would make a new plan for Tim too. He wouldn’t have to follow it, but maybe it could be useful as a jumping-off point for discussing his future.

  As she got close to Hildy’s room, she slowed. She did not like being on the third floor when Hildy was there, even when Hildy was sleeping. She crept on tiptoe, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that waited for her like traps.

  She heard Hildy’s TV and glanced at it, just for a moment. But in that moment she saw everything. The dark, blurry movie. Hildy on top of the blanket. A boy on top of Hildy. The boy looked up and met her eyes. Annie saw she had misjudged his age by roughly twenty years.

  The man stood, grabbed his pants, and held them in front of him like a shield. “I’m very embarrassed,” he said.

  Annie willed herself out of her frozen state and turned to Hildy. “Here? In my house? While we’re home?”

  “I thought you were asleep,” Hildy said. “And someone’s always home now. What do you want me to do? We were being quiet.”

  “This is so awkward,” the man said. He pulled on his pants and moved toward the stairs. “Believe me,” he said as he zipped, “this is not how I imagined we’d meet.”

  Annie did not want to meet this man or see his naked hairy chest. She closed her eyes and wished she could will him away. She opened her eyes and his hairy chest
was still there.

  She kept her voice low because she did not want to wake up Charlotte. Her anger came out like a growl. “Get dressed and get out of my house.”

  “I thought you said it was okay for me to be here,” the man said to Hildy.

  Hildy threw him his shirt. “What am I supposed to do? Be a nun?”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said to Annie. “I thought it was okay. I’m Wayne. From next door. Bonnie and I moved in—”

  “Two years ago,” Annie finished his sentence. “Bonnie told me.”

  Wayne quickly buttoned his shirt. “I didn’t know you and Bonnie had met. I hope you don’t feel the need to tell her about this. She and I have an understanding. But, still, because it’s here, next door, with Hildy, well, you know.”

  “What does that mean?” Hildy asked.

  Annie noticed Hildy was now packing a small suitcase. Suddenly Annie felt dizzy. She leaned against the wall and concentrated on taking deep breaths.

  “Are you okay?” Wayne asked her.

  She met his eyes. “You need to leave my house.”

  “Wayne, can you drive me to my friend Kathleen’s?” Hildy asked.

  “Right now?” Wayne said.

  Hildy shoved her suitcase into his chest, nearly pitching Wayne backward. “Yes.”

  “Watch it,” he barked as he regained his balance.

  “Shh,” Annie hissed. “Charlotte is sleeping.”

  Hildy brushed past Annie and Wayne and clomped down the stairs.

  Annie followed. “Where are you going?”

  Wayne came stomping after them.

  “I’m moving out,” Hildy said.

  “Now? What about Charlotte? Aren’t you even going to say good-bye?”

  “Do you want me to wake her up?” Hildy snapped.

  “No,” Annie said.

  “Then I’ll say good-bye when I come back for the rest of my things. Wayne!” Hildy called as she stormed out of the house.

  He followed her out the door, then turned to Annie. “I am really sorry,” he said. “I had no idea this wasn’t okay. You seem really great. I’m kind of glad we met, even though—”

  Annie slammed the door and leaned against it.

  “What’s going on?”

  She looked up and saw Charlotte standing at the top of the stairs.