Annabelle
Throwback
Never let anyone see you sweat. Lovey says that literally and figuratively. She has never been too fond of getting all gross at the gym where everyone can see you outside of your primped perfection. But, in a larger way, she was a master at teaching all of us to keep our cool no matter what. And I needed that advice that morning.
“I completely understand your concern, Mrs. Jamison.” I mimed a talking hand at Junie. “Yes, I can understand how the drumming hurt your husband’s ears.” I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. “Well, the wonderful thing is, Mrs. Jamison, if you’re annoyed by the sounds of the children allowed to stay in the service, you can always go to the eight o’clock or the nine fifteen like you usually do. It is only the ten thirty that has gotten more contemporary.”
I hung up a few minutes later, wiping sweat from my brow. That was the sixth call I had received that morning about the new contemporary service. It was only in its second week, and attendancewas up more than 30 percent. Families with children loved the music, the laid-back atmosphere and being able to let their little ones enjoy the sermon too without the scornful looks if they accidentally dropped a crayon. The church’s oldest, most faithful parishioners, on the other hand, were about to have a stroke. Literally.
Father Rob breezed through, pulling on his sport coat. “Another complaint?”
I nodded. “You’re looking snazzy. Where are you off to?”
He looked uncharacteristically stressed. “I’m heading to an afternoon conference.” He paused, as though he were thinking, turned back to me and said, “Hey, why don’t you go home for lunch now.”
I looked at the computer. “It’s ten forty-five.”
“Yeah. But you’ve had to deal with all these complaints. Take a long lunch. Go home and rest.”
I shrugged. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Going home for a leisurely cup of tea, a sandwich, and maybe even enough time to whip up a batch of my hubby’s favorite toffee cookies for dessert sounded like it would hit the spot. Ihadbeen a little stressed that morning. I rustled for my keys in the bottom of the monogrammed L.L.Bean bag that I used to tote my work essentials. In a flash I was around the corner and in my driveway. I could feel my heart flutter excitedly when I noticed Ben’s car was there too. If the thought crossed my mind that he hadn’t called me, it ran out just as quickly with the justification that I was rarely able to come home for lunch—and especially not so early.
Smiling at the happy coincidence, I pushed the door into the galley kitchen and called, “Honey, I’m home,” expecting to see Ben. When he wasn’t there, I headed toward his office, calling, “Ben?”
“Oh, hang on a second,” he yelled from our bedroom. I started up the steps and stopped at the tiny bathroom right in front of me.I opened the medicine cabinet and applied some of my favorite cherry Carmex to my chapped lips before turning the corner to our bedroom and saying, “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
I had felt a little neglectful lately. Ben was working insane hours. Combine that with the fact that Laura Anne and I were always grabbing drinks, treating ourselves to a long dinner or catching an early movie, and Ben and I hadn’t had any time at all to ourselves. A leisurely lunch would be just the thing we needed to get us back on track.
Ben was lying down, the covers mussed. I was pretty sure I had made the bed before I went to work. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “Just lying down for a second. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
I looked around the room, sensing that something was off but unable to put my finger on it. Emily’s housekeeper had become, by extension, our housekeeper too, and she was in the habit of redecorating a little here or there in between the dusting and vacuuming. I guessed that that was it. I crawled in bed beside him, kissed my husband and laid my head on his chest. “I have a long lunch. Do you want to go out?” I raised my eyebrows at him suggestively and unbuttoned his top button. “Or we could stay right here.”
“Oh. Um.” Ben paused. “I’m playing golf this afternoon, so I actually have to get going here in a second.”
I stuck out my lower lip and said, “You didn’t mention anything about golf.”
He shook his head. “I totally forgot. It’s with a new potential client.”
I brightened. “That’s great!”
I had sensed something off with my husband ever since we had moved back to Salisbury, right around the time that I had gone to Martha’s Vineyard with Lovey. I knew the Holden thing had to bebugging him nearly as much as it was bugging me. And, of course, being tied to a desk all day and barely even picking up his guitar had to have been frustrating.
I sat up, sensing that his somber mood had returned and decided to let him rest for a bit. “I guess I’m going to go down and make a sandwich,” I said.
“Then are you headed back to work?”
I yawned. “I don’t know. Father Rob is out, and I can easily do the newsletter from here, so I might just work from home this afternoon.”
I kissed him quickly and skipped down the steps, so excited for a childhood throwback to peanut butter and jelly for lunch.
I could hear Ben rustling around upstairs, and a few minutes later he came down with his airplane golf bag on his shoulder. I had bought it for him for his birthday the year before when he was going on a trip with his friends. It was basically a huge black duffel that zipped all the way around his entire golf bag, with the clubs inside, so that nothing fell out in flight.
“What are you doing with that?” I smiled. “Going on vacation without me?”
He shrugged. “Just had a few extra clubs I’m taking to the course today. This seemed easier than lugging them all down.” He scooted out the back door without so much as a good-bye kiss, shouting, “Running late. Sorry.”
