Russ got in his car and pulled out. Safely and sensibly. He waved at Tom as he drove past.
Tom lifted his hand to wave back.
Cherry went inside. She went upstairs. She left the front door open.
Chapter 42
Now that Tom was back in town, he was coming by the house almost every day after Cherry left for the office.
And leaving before she got home.
One day Cherry came home, and there wasn’t a single Post-it note left on the main floor. There were two new boxes labeledTomsitting on the dining room table, and everything else was back on the shelves or in the cupboards.
It looked like Tom had dusted, too, and vacuumed. The house still looked patchy and sad, with Tom’s toys gone and Tom’s pictures off the wall. But it didn’t look turned inside out.
Cherry skimmed through the new boxes. There was nothing in there that she’d contest. Tom had taken some vintage drinking glasses and mugs—the ones he’d always used when he was home. She was glad to see him staking a claim on something. He’d set aside a teapot he’d always liked. If he were staying in Omaha, or if they were both still broke, maybe he would have taken more of the practical things—a few plates, some of the furniture. But Tom could buy anything he needed. So could Cherry. They could both start over fresh. He was only taking things with sentimental value... He was only taking things that tugged at her.
Cherry left a Post-it note on the boxes—Thumbs up, thanks.
The next day, the boxes were gone. All of Tom’s boxes were gone.
She wondered where he was keeping them.
Cherry went to the Western Alliance Christmas party at Meg Jones’s house. She wore an off-the-shoulder gold brocade dress with a floralpattern—red roses and green leaves. The dress pinched in at her waist and fell to the floor. It was the fanciest thing Cherry had ever owned. She’d bought it from a dressmaker on Etsy after she got her last bonus. It was prettier than her wedding dress.
She wore her hair pinned up on one side, falling like water down her back. She looked like a fat Disney princess. She took a photo in the mirror to send to her mom.
When Cherry got to the Christmas party, she avoided the back room, where the agency people hung out. Doug and Wallace were at the party; she said hello and gave them a hard time. Wallace was retired now. Cherry was Doug’s boss.
Everyone asked her about Tom—except for Meg Jones, who asked about Russ.
“He’s been in Los Angeles,” Cherry told everyone, “working on the movie.”
“He couldn’t make it,” she told Meg.
If Tom were at this party, he’d be on his best behavior, pretending not to hate everyone for Cherry’s sake. Keeping his mouth full, so he didn’t have to talk.
If Russ were here, he’d be introducing himself and making connections. Thriving.
They’d both ask Cherry if she needed anything. They’d both keep an arm around her.
Cherry was a tricksy kind of unlovable...
Mencouldlove her. Menwould. They’d touch her. Listen to her. Maybe even marry her. But they didn’t love her in a durable way. Not in a way she could trust. That would hold her weight.
(Cherry had trusted Tom. She’d taken him for granted—she’d thought that she was supposed to. She’d believed they were a settled question.)
Cherry worked the party. She said hello to everyone and their wives and husbands. She ate canapés. She gave Meg Jones a box of expensive candy from Budapest.
Tom had been walking Stevie every weekday. He told Cherry that she could assume Stevie was walked, unless he told her otherwise. He never told her otherwise.
Stevie’s coat was always brushed. She had a new collar and a new leash.
“You’re very beautiful,” Cherry told the dog while they watched TV together on the couch. Stevie looked up at Cherry with big brown eyes. “You look like a woman in love.”
Cherry went to Stacia’s Christmas party.
The house was full of beautiful people. Cherry wore a very cute corduroy jumpsuit—striped pink and green and ice blue. It wasn’t very slimming, but it made her butt look big in a nice way. She plaited her hair and twisted the braids into a crown, then wove in tiny jingle bells. She wore pink lipstick.
