MONDAY NOVEMBER 5, 2007
THERE’D BEEN NO WORD FROM Gerald Murray. Lee Ann stayed close to the phone, but left the ranch Saturday for groceries. Pulling into the Round Valley Safeway parking lot, she changed her mind and drove on to Show Low where there’d be less chance of bumping into someone from Brand or Alibi Creek. No one from the courthouse had called, including Caroline, or Lyle.
She and the boys tackled items on the To Do list, small tasks put off for ten years that took ten minutes to complete. Scott screwed a new bulb in the porch socket. Dee replaced the screen in the mudroom door and secured the loose rafter in the barn. At Mother’s, they emptied the fridge and drained the water lines and closed the house up for the winter.
“Dad must be pretty involved at his new job. He hasn’t picked up the phone once to see how we’re doing,” Dee said, closing the main shut-off. “Talk about a disappointment.”
“There’s life beyond cattle,” Scott said.
“He’s just traded running cows for herding people. I don’t know how he can stand catering to a bunch of tourists on a dude ranch. It’s pathetic.”
“Anything beyond ranching is meaningless to you,” Scott said, handing Dee a case of Ensure.
“Especially researching pansies and caterpillars.”
“You’d perk up if animal scientists bred a small heifer with a bigger uterus and wider birth canal.”
“Now you’re talking. Feed her less, make birthing easier.”
“There you go, perked right up.”
Lee Ann asked to be put through to Gerald Murray.
“I’ve been expecting to hear from you regarding charges against me for abetting illegal activities.”
“Lee Ann, I assumed you understood,” he said. “Those who report fraud are exempt from prosecution.”
He went on to say he’d just begun his investigation, that it would take time and she needn’t concern herself with the details. There would likely be calls, and perhaps a few meetings to verify certain information, but she was clear of any criminal charges. He wished her a good day.
The dial tone buzzed until the phone beeped. She replaced the receiver and walked twice around the table. This day! The kitchen seemed large, grand in fact. She opened the cupboards and took stock, reached for a gourmet cookbook Caroline had passed around the office, and searched the index for recipes requiring hours of preparation because there was all the time in the world to try something new, something to please the boys, please herself.
Goodness, everything called for fresh vegetables, fresh ginger, strange herbs, coconut milk, and unheard of spices. Exotic dishes required sour cream or crème fraîche, (what was that?), saffron, and Parmesan cheese, lemons for Hollandaise sauce, basil for pesto. For today, she’d use Dijon mustard, Swiss cheese, and fresh sage from the garden to fix Stuffed Tenderloin with Potatoes Gratin.
Scott said, “Good dinner, Mom.”
Dee took seconds, thirds on potatoes.
Lee Ann said, “I’m going to Albuquerque the day after tomorrow to shop for Thanksgiving. Make a list of anything you need. Dee, you’re welcome to ask Ginny. We’ll eat at three.”
“I’ll go along,” Scott said.
“We set a wedding date,” Dee said. “June 14th.”
She rose quickly, gathered the silverware, and stacked their dishes. Scott collected the glasses and napkins.
“Wow, you’d think I’d said I caught the swine flu.”
When Lee Ann announced her intentions to marry Wayne, Mother’s reaction had been mild, although she must have been distraught. Dee would have problems with this girl, not a doubt about it. Lee Ann sat next to him and touched his arm.
“I want you to be sure,” she said. “I rushed into marrying your father. I can’t say it was a complete failure, seeing as you and Scott are the results of that marriage, but you know what I mean. We were not compatible.”
“She’s got a great sense of humor,” Dee said. “She’s fun.”
Perhaps those qualities kept a couple together, if generosity prevailed, if respect survived. She was certainly no expert on what kept a marriage intact. Chores and work and caring for Mother had killed any humor she might have possessed. Since the kids were little, she hadn’t found many situations or jokes funny, really funny. Hilarity seemed childish, an indication of emotional instability.
Scott had never had a girlfriend and that had caused less concern than Dee’s attachment to Ginny. Marriage was a gamble. Life’s partner could stay the same, improve with time, or change for the worse. Eugene had stayed the same, or just about. He’d hardened some. Hard work had tightened his muscles; disappointment had lined his face.
Before bed, she inspected her face and neck in the bathroom mirror. Sun, dry air, worries, and work concocted a sure-fire formula for wrinkles—those around her eyes etched from gardening, the one on her forehead from the day of Mother’s stroke, the ones around her mouth from Walker’s last prison sentence. She touched the widening silver streak in her widow’s peak, the gray sprouting at her temples, the slight change in her jaw line. Tired eyes looked back at her. Tension she’d assumed hidden had left its mark.
She pinched her cheeks, fluffed her hair, lowered her head, and squinted, catlike, lips parted. Eugene, if you come home now, there’ll be fun to be had. Teasing and pleasing and laughter, apologies and sweet words of forgiveness. She hooked her finger in the elastic collar of her nightgown and pulled it into a V, exposing the crease between her breasts, let the neckline spring back and cupped her breasts as Eugene would, his working man’s hands firm and rough, his stroking and petting gentle.
Propped against her pillow, she took a pad and pencil from her nightstand.
20 lb. Turkey (Dee liked dark meat, Scott, white.)
Sanchez Brothers’ extra hot sausage (Edgar favored sausage stuffing.)
Celery. Onions. Parsley. Bread crumbs.
Brussels Sprouts (Eugene’s favorite.)
Pumpkin. Evaporated milk.
Whipping cream (Mother’s weakness. She’d cut a small slice of pie and smother it, sneak an extra spoonful when no one was looking.)
Cranberries.
Butternut squash and Granny Smith apples with Maple syrup (New recipe.)