“Once, I had a dream that Charles was in the kitchen, making me breakfast,” said Elaine. “I knew it was supposed to be a surprise, so I stayed in bed. When I woke up, I expected to find a big mess in the kitchen. I was relieved when everything was neat and tidy, but also a bit sad. Charlie’s too old to do something like that now. How did the time go by so fast?”
The conversation moved on to disastrous breakfast-in-bed experiences and Mother’s Day mishaps.
Natalie made a fresh round of drinks while telling a story about the time J.J. overturned an entire tray of food onto her bed. Her comforter had been drenched in oatmeal, bacon, orange juice, and coffee. J.J. had burst into tears and fled, leaving Jimmy to clean up the mess.
“And you can imagine how uselessthatwas,” she said. “Theman looks at the dials on the washing machine like they’re the control panel of a Russian rocket.”
She and Elaine chortled with mirth. Beth didn’t join in.
Natalie knew how much Beth wanted a baby, which was why she tried not to mention her children too often in front of her. But it was hard to avoid. Most of her time and energy was devoted to her three kids. Even with her new job, the things she needed to do for them were always on her mind. The calendar in the kitchen was filled with their swim meets and sailing regattas. J.J. had a dentist appointment this month, and Justin had his annual checkup with the pediatrician. And she was always thinking about their meals and snacks, planning menus, and making shopping lists.
Just change the subject, she chided herself.
Turning her attention to the dessert platter, she said, “I’ve been starving myself all day because I knew you’d be bringing goodies tonight.”
Elaine pointed at a row of cake triangles made of layered wafers drizzled with chocolate. Chocolate buttercream peeked out between the layers. “Remind me what these delicious morsels are called.”
“Andrut,” said Beth. “It’s a traditional Polish dessert. Last time, I made them with plum butter. This time, I went with chocolate and almond. It’s French buttercream. Very light and silky.”
“Hmmm.” Natalie leaned closer to the platter. “Keep talking, baby.”
Grinning, Beth pointed at the next row of treats. “You’ve had thekarpatkabefore, too. It’s a sandwich cake with creamy filling. And these arekolaczkicookies with three different fillings. Apricot, raspberry, and poppy seed.”
“They’re so professional looking,” Elaine said. “You reallyshouldsell your desserts. Have you talked to Don about your home business idea? I think you’d make a killing.”
“Me, too,” said Natalie. “Birthday cakes, desserts for dinner parties—I’ve never met anyone who can bake like you do.”
Seeing the defeated look in Beth’s eyes, she reached over and squeezed her arm. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Don and I aren’t talking about my home business idea because we’re not talking,” Beth mumbled. “I feel like I’m living with a stranger.”
Elaine cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“He comes home late, gobbles down whatever gorgeous meal I’ve spent hours cooking for him, and then goes to the den to watch TV. When I ask about his day, he gives me one- or two-word answers. And he’s not touching me atall.” Beth lowered her voice. “In bed, he pretends to be asleep.”
An affair, Natalie thought.
She wasn’t surprised. Don flirted with every woman between the ages of sixteen and sixty. He saw himself as a Casanova, and while Natalie enjoyed his gregarious nature, she didn’t find him attractive. He was too loud and way too hairy for her taste.
“Did you two have a fight?” she asked Beth.
“That’s the crazy thing. Everything was hunky-dory between us one day and totally weird the next. He’s not mean. We’re not arguing. It feels like he’s not really there.” Beth tapped her temple. “When he’s watching TV or brushing his teeth, he looks totally spaced out. When I say his name, it’s like I’m waking him up. Like he didn’t even realize I was in the room.”
Elaine studied Beth over the rim of her glass. “How long has this been going on?”
“About a week. Ever since he sold a car to Mrs. Smith.”
Natalie stared at Beth. Then she glanced at Elaine. Judging by the look of shock on her face, this was news to her, too.
“Acar?” Natalie couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Does she even drive?”
Elaine pointed toward Mrs. Smith’s house. “I’ve never seen the woman. She could walk right past me and I wouldn’t know who she was.”
“She’d have to come outside to walk past you,” Beth said snidely. “And if she doesn’t come outside, why does she need a car?”
“What did Don say about it?” Natalie wanted to know.
“Just that she called the dealership and asked for him by name. Said she saw the Porsche in his newspaper ad and wanted it.” Beth pushed one of the pastries on the platter back in line. “She told him she’d pay the sticker price. Incash. All Don had to do was collect the check from her house.”
