to Mrs. Janaszewski, “How long have they been together?”
“Oh, close to a year now. She says, ‘Ma, quit asking when we’re getting married. If I have something to tell you, you’ll know.’ ”
So if Pete were going to track me down, to confront me, wouldn’t he have done so months ago? Had Dena not told him, could it be that she didn’t remember? This seemed unlikely but not impossible. After all these years, Dena and Charlie were still the only people whom I’d told; confiding in Jadey felt too risky.
I said, “That must be great for you, having Dena nearby.”
“She just lives down on Colway Avenue,” Mrs. Janaszewski said. “Now, I may not know the full story of what happened between you girls, but if I know Dena, I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. I’ll give you her number, and she doesn’t go into work until five—why, I’ll bet she’s home right now.”
“Unfortunately, I’m headed back to Milwaukee shortly.” I grimaced, as if I didn’t yearn to return to my usual life, my own house and bed and kitchen and habits. “Ella and Charlie have taken off already. But I’m glad to hear Dena is doing well.”
“You and I both know she can be stubborn, but you girls were so close. I used to think, Alice is like the fourth sister, if only my own daughters were half as well behaved.”
I was surprised that Dena hadn’t told her mother why our friendship had ended. But if she had, would Mrs. Janaszewski have treated me as warmly? I’d never felt that I was as much at fault as Dena had believed, but I also had never considered myself blameless; the flourishing of my relationship with Charlie at the expense of my friendship with Dena wasn’t a subject I chose to recall with any frequency. Now, knowing she was dating Pete Imhof, I tried not to wonder whether, apart from the abortion, they’d ever compared notes on me.
I attempted to strike a regretful note as I said to Mrs. Janaszewski, “Maybe on another trip.”
WHEN EVERYONE WAS
gone, Lars and my mother and I sat in the living room, my mother sideways on the couch, her legs in black slacks extending in front of her and her feet, clad in sheer black stockings, on Lars’s lap, where he was absently rubbing them. I found the intimacy of the tableau both unsettling and sweet; certainly I had never felt Lars’s presence more reassuring than on this day, knowing that when I drove back to Milwaukee, he would remain.
“I don’t mean to be unkind, but did you see the nacho casserole that Helen Martin brought?” my mother said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing!” My mother was in a surprisingly upbeat mood; I suspect she was relieved that the guests had left.
“No, it was quite tasty,” Lars said. “It had some kick to it, but not too much.”
“It just
so funny.” My mother looked across the room, where I sat in a recliner that had been one of Lars’s few additions to the household when he moved in. “Did you try it, honey?” my mother asked.
I shook my head. “But I had more than my share of Mrs. Noffke’s chocolate-chip cookies.” The phone rang—my mother had finally replaced her black rotary ones with cream-colored push-button versions—and as I walked to the kitchen to answer it, I said, “I think she put walnuts in them. Hello?”
“You’re still there?” Charlie said.
I looked at my watch. “It’s not even five-thirty.”
“Are you about to leave, or you think it’ll be a while?”
“Charlie, I told you I’d be home by dinnertime.”
“You happen to have Shannon’s number on you? I’m gonna call and see if she can sit for Ella.”
“I doubt she’ll be free on such short notice.”
My mother appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, frowning inquisitively. I set my hand over the receiver and shook my head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just Charlie.”
“Just Charlie, huh?” Charlie said as my mother walked back out of the room.
“You know what I meant.” A pause ensued, and I said, “I really wish you’d tell me what your mystery errand is.”
He sighed. “You know how I was talking to Zeke Langenbacher at the game Sunday? Well, he’s invited me to have a drink. This could be a huge opportunity—I can’t say more right now, but trust me, it’s big.”
“Are you going to work for his company?”
“Not exactly. Listen, do you have Shannon’s number? I promise I’ll explain everything.”
“Look on the fridge. No, you know what, don’t call her. I’ll get in the car now. What time are you and Zeke meeting?” I glanced at my watch; it was twenty past five, and it would take me fifty minutes to drive to Maronee.
“Six-thirty,” Charlie said.
“Then that’s fine—”
“No, but not at the country club, at Langenbacher’s office downtown.”
“Well, please don’t leave Ella at home by herself. If you need to leave and I’m not back yet, take her to Jadey and Arthur’s.”
“I owe you,” Charlie said. “Hey, how are things there?”
“They’re fine.”
“Are you mad?”
