Annabelle

Mad Game

Lovey always says that the right outfit can totally change your outlook. No matter what her financial situation when she was younger, she always made sure to buy one new, fabulous outfit every season, complete with shoes, hat and bag.

I had never been much of a shopper but had definitely inherited Lovey’s taste for the finer things. Like her, I would rather have one gorgeous designer outfit than ten from the mall. But, looking through my closet, nothing seemed quite gorgeous enough to be Spring Fling worthy.

It was the first time in my life I wanted to buy a dress to impress another woman. But, upon occasion, you know you are the amateur at the Masters, so, instead of looking like a total rookie, you get the same putter Tiger’s using.

The thing about Laura Anne was that she was sort of like one of the saints. I heard about her all the time, and I believed that she existed. But I had never actually seen her. You would think that would have been difficult, given that we co-chaired the same event. But, somehow, we managed to coordinate the entire thing via e-mail and never actually made it to a meeting together.

It gave me plenty of time to build up Salisbury’s star quarterback—and my husband’s ex—in my mind. I had her pictured as tall, at least five eight or so, with those blue eyes so rich you think they must be colored contacts, and long, naturally blond hair that perfect shade that is luscious and stunning without looking like a floozy. She also, of course, had a perfect body in my mind and, for better or worse, she did my physique a lot of good. In the weeks leading up to that event and our first meeting, I became quite the runner and yoga goddess.

I told myself it was because I didn’t want to come face-to-face with my husband’s ex without him thinking that I looked better. But, in all honesty, I think it had less to do with what Ben thought and more to do with what everyone else thought. I was so tired of hearing about this perfect, infamous Laura Anne that I needed to prove I wasn’t the consolation prize.

My paycheck seemed to go as quickly as it came, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask my new husband for the kind of money I was planning on dropping on my attire. So I did something that I had always been too proud to do until that moment: I called Lovey.

“Hello, my darling Annabelle,” she said when she answered. I loved that my eighty-seven-year-old grandmother read her caller ID.

“Well hello, my darling Lovey.”

“How’s life in Food Lion country?” It was a special question from my grandmother because she and D-daddy had made a good part of the fortune they had amassed on the grocery store’s stock.

“All is well, Lovey. I just wanted to tell you that I am chairing the biggest gala of the year next weekend.”

Lovey gasped. “You need to get here immediately. I must buy you a new dress for your formal introduction to Salisbury society.” She sighed. “I know all you young people have gotten casual, but in Salisbury they dress.”

I smiled. I don’t know if she instinctively knew that’s why I was calling or if the offer was her own idea. I said, “Oh, Lovey, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Darling, I insist.” I could hear her flipping through the pages of her calendar. “I have bridge on Monday, book club on Tuesday, D-daddy has a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday . . . How about Wednesday afternoon? Thursday I’m having my hair done.”

“Do you think that’s enough time before the party?”

“Oh, heavens yes,” she said. “I’ll order everything I think might work from Neiman Marcus, and I’ll have Sun here in case we need any alterations. Easy breezy!”

I laughed. It really was something to have had the same tailor so long that she would make house calls. “Well, I can’t say no to that, Lovey. I’ll call Mom and see if she can meet us.”

I took the day off, realizing that I was a little bit sad that I wouldn’t be there for that morning’s adventure. How many people could take a day off of their job and feel like they wished they were there? I was feeling so blessed that it had all fallen into place so seamlessly. My husband was a god who worshipped me, my job was so fun it didn’t feel like work, and I was going to look hot Friday night. Father Rob and I talked all the time about counting our blessings, about being thankful for the present without the “if onlys.” But, until I had my baby in my arms, I’m not sure I could fully embrace anything else. After the gala, I promised myself again, we will go to the doctor and find out what’s wrong.

When I got to Lovey’s, she and Mom were sitting on the floor, flipping through old photo books. To see an eighty-seven-year-old cross-legged is sort of like spotting a tiger in the wild. It made me happy that, like Lovey and Louise, I had started a daily yoga regimen.

“Well, we’ve found what you should wear,” Mom said without even getting up to hug me.

Lovey nodded and pointed to the book. She and D-daddy were posed casually, his arm around her shoulder. She was holding a swaddled, infant Mom, while my aunts hovered around in their Easter bonnets, squinting uncomfortably in the sun. “I wore that to our first party in Raleigh, right after we moved,” Lovey said. “So I think it’s fitting that you wear it to your first party in your new town.”

It was a stunning black sleeveless dress with a thin ribbon around the tiny waist, just the right amount of flair, and just the right amount of skin. Mom pointed to where the dress was hanging on the door, and I gasped. “It’s perfection!”

“Well, go try it on,” Lovey said. “This old thing would love to think its dancing days weren’t over.”

As I sucked all the air out of my stomach, I couldn’t imagine that, after just giving birth, Lovey had been tiny enough to fit into this thing.

Mom and Lovey managed to get it zipped, which was nothing new. The “two-person dress” was something we all wore more often than not. Assuming, of course, that it didn’t produce bra fat, VPL, or any other travesty of too-tight clothing, it was the perfect recipe for looking your best at any event.

As expected, Mom said, “Just go on the three-day diet, and it will be perfect.”

The three-day diet was a dreadful grapefruit and hard-boiled egg situation with the occasional spare square of toast that was guaranteed to produce at least a five-pound weight loss in record time. And five pounds could easily turn a two-person dress into a one-person one.

When I produced my egg and fruit combination at work on Thursday, Father Rob came down the hall immediately. “What is that stench?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Hard-boiled egg.”

He shook his head. “I will take you to lunch. You can’t possibly eat that.”

I sighed. “I don’t really mind boiled eggs, for one. For two, I have to be crazy thin by tomorrow. Thinner than Laura Anne,” I added, under my breath.

Father Rob laughed. “You’re nuts. And you’re thinner than her anyway.”

I brightened. “For real?”

He shrugged. “Seriously. You’re Heidi Klum, and she’s someone’s mom in the carpool line.”

The momentary sting of wishing I was someone’s mom in the carpool line was soothed by the spine-straightening thought that I was like Heidi Klum. “For someone who’s abstinent, you sure do know what to say to a woman.”

He winked. “I’m abstinent by choice, not because I don’t have mad game.”

I laughed so hard it shook the table, and that damn egg rolled right onto the floor. “Now look what you’ve done!” I said through my giggles.

He took my hand, pulled me out of the chair and said, “Perfect! Now let’s go get some real food, Heidi.” He looked me over and said, “You’re looking much too thin.”

I put my hand on my heart. “You can keep my paycheck this month. That was all I needed.”

We walked through the double doors of Sidewalk Deli and into the building, the tall, white fountain in the middle and the walls painted with outdoor scenes; real, iron balconies affixed to the bricks. I inhaled, “Ahhh, food smells so good.”

Rob laughed, reached in his pocket and handed me a penny, as had become our custom when we came to the restaurant together.

I was closing my eyes as he said, “Wait!” He winked. “Be careful what you wish for.”

I closed my eyes and tossed my penny, making the same wish I always did. I wish I would get pregnant!

“Do you want to tell me yours?” I asked as we stepped into line.

“If I tell you,” he said, “it won’t come true.”

A few minutes later we were sitting at one of the black iron tables with the glass top, and Father Rob was putting his pickle spear on my plate. “So, I’m coming to your party,” he said between bites of the roast-beef-filled Bell Tower. I was having a particularly torrid affair with the grilled pimento cheese that might as well have been handmade crème fraîche for as decadent as it tasted after two days of near starvation.

“That’s so nice!” I said, swapping sandwich halves with him and licking my finger. “But you hate parties.”

He nodded. “I do. But I think you’re going to need moral support. Anyone on the edge of anorexia over an ex-girlfriend needs a shoulder to lean on.”

I nodded. “Maybe you could make up some stuff within her earshot about how gorgeous and brilliant and talented I am?”

“I could,” Rob said, taking a sip of his sweet tea. He grinned. “But I wouldn’t be making it up.”

•   •   •

You have to take care of yourself or you won’t be able to take care of anyone else. And, that day, I needed some downtime, preferably a day of glamour-inducing pampering. But I was forced to realize that I made a commitment and I must honor it.

So far, things weren’t going too well. The flower arrangements were too short, the van that was supposed to deliver the tables and chairs had broken down, and the band, waiting to board a delayed flight on the other side of the country, hoped they would make it on time.

So I did what I did best in a crisis: I called Ben.

In direct contrast to the “Sure, TL, I’ll run pick up those tables and chairs in my dad’s truck,” I received a “Sorry you’re in a pinch, babe, but there’s no way I could possibly leave work right now.”

Ben’s constant care and attention was a little like water running down the drain. When it suddenly backed up, it took a few minutes for the reality to set in. I ended the call, threw my hands up in the air and said, “So what the hell am I going to do now?” to no one in particular.

A familiar voice from behind said, “The devil got you down, Ann? Or is it the deviled eggs?”

I laughed and turned to see my boss, looking scarcely older than a high school kid in a T-shirt and shorts.

I shook my head. “Someone has to go pick up all the tables and chairs because the rental company can’t get them here.”

Before I had finished my sentence, Father Rob was dialing the phone. “Hey, Junie. What’s up?”

I smiled, thinking of Junie on the other line, rolling her eyes at her young boss asking her what was up. He nodded and said, “Could you round up a bunch of our youth group in need of service hours? And make sure you get some big guys with trucks.”

He hung up and looked around. Before I could even say thank you, he said, “Mrs. Taylor is going to have a conniption when she sees those stubby flowers.”

I sighed. “I know. And the best part is that this will somehow all be my fault.”

“Wait. Where is the hallowed Laura Anne?”

I smiled pertly. “Where is she ever?”

Rob said, “Well, I guess when it comes to fixing the flowers, I’m the best you’ve got right now.” He looked around the room, surveying every element like it was a member of his flock in desperate need of saving. And then we got to work.

We had fixed the first arrangement in a very long line, when I heard a voice I knew as well as my own say, “Oh my God. It’s worse than I thought.”

“Cameron!” I squealed.

In her cutoff jean shorts and white T-shirt, she was ready for work. Cameron had grown up in her mom’s flower shop, and, though she didn’t want to do that for a living, she had true, raw creative ability.

“Cameron, this is Rob. Rob, this is Cameron,” I said as they shook hands.

Cameron raised her eyebrows.

“He’s the priest I work for.”

Her face fell.

“Oh, good,” Rob said, looking toward the driveway. He grinned at me. “I’ll go help the boys unload. Seems like that’s more in my skill set than fluffing flowers.”

Cameron and I both laughed. “All that talent,” she said. “Totally wasted.”

I sat down in the lone chair under the tent because Cameron was already working away. These were her arrangements now. “It’s not a total waste. I mean, he can get married and everything.”

Cameron shrugged. “Yeah. So that means still a total waste for me.”

I laughed. “So, what on earth are you doing here?”

“You’ve been talking about this stupid party forever. I thought maybe I should come help you out.”

That was the thing about Cameron. She was rude and sarcastic, but she had the biggest heart, and, at the end of the day, was always the first person to help you out in a pinch. “And, don’t worry, I brought a very appropriate dress to wear tonight so as not to embarrass you.”

I laughed. “You wouldn’t embarrass me. I can’t believe you’re staying.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “After the number of times I’ve heard the name Laura Anne, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

That night, I scanned the crowd, searching for the leggy blonde who was growing taller, whiter teethed and more regal by the moment. So, when a perky, bordering on shrill voice behind me gasped, “Oh my gosh, you must be Annabelle. Finally!” I expected to have to look up to respond.

You can imagine my surprise—and relief—when I turned to find a girl, barely five feet tall, with a brown bob, embracing me like we were old friends. “Oh my Lord,” she continued, seeming to scarcely stop to take a breath, “that is the most gorgeous dress I have ever seen, and you are the only girl I have ever met who is as beautiful in real life as in her wedding picture.”

I wanted to hate her on principle. I wanted to despise her simply because she had dated my husband, because she had been there first. I’m not one who has ever been much on flattery, but there was something about her face that seemed so honest and open. As much as I didn’t want to, I could see instantly why she was so dearly loved. True beauty was intimidating, but soft, nice-featured cuteness wasn’t a threat to anyone. And I felt myself breathe for the first time since I put on Lovey’s ridiculously tiny dress, realizing that I hadn’t needed to worry all this time. She was really no competition.

An older man I recognized from the club came by, leaned down to kiss her on the cheek and said, “Beautiful job as always, Laura Anne.”

“Oh, thanks,” she replied in that fairy-tale princess voice, “But it was really all Annabelle who put it together.”

It was a nice acknowledgment because it really was all Annabelle who had put it together.

Cameron appeared behind Laura Anne’s head and rolled her eyes.

Laura Anne sipped her champagne and said, “Listen, we have been super swamped lately, but Jack and I must, must throw a party for you and Ben.” Before I even had a chance to respond with a polite “thanks, but no thanks,” she said, “I mean, obviously Ben knows everyone already, but all our friends are just dying to welcome you to town. We’re thrilled to have you here!”

I thought she might burst into song right then and there, and I couldn’t fathom in my wildest imagination that Ben had ever been with anyone so . . . perky. I wanted to say that a party wasn’t necessary, but the truth of the matter was that I had already met everyone in town, and they hadn’t quite taken to me, to put it mildly. As much as I hated it, I needed everyone to know that I was in Laura Anne’s good graces because, as was becoming increasingly clear, that’s what it was going to take for everyone to finally acknowledge that I was Ben Hampton’s wife, not the other woman.

I tried not to laugh as Cameron made a face like she was gagging and then disappeared. A moment later, I felt an arm around my back and turned to feel Ben’s soft lips on my forehead. “So I see you two have met,” Ben said, looking amused. He raised his eyebrows at me as if to say, See why we didn’t work out?

As if on cue, a tall, handsome man in a perfectly fitted tux appeared at Laura Anne’s side and squeezed her shoulder. “Jack,” he said, waiting for me to hold out my hand for him to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You didn’t have to ask Jack any questions to know everything about him. He had been to prep school and attended college somewhere that money, good looks and partying are as important for acceptance as grades and SAT scores. I caught a glimpse of the oversized diamond on Laura Anne’s tiny finger and wondered if she had already scoped my simple Love band. I wondered if she wished Ben had locked it on her finger and thrown away the key.

“So, Jack,” Laura Anne said, handing her husband her empty champagne glass, wordlessly defining that she needed more and clearly displaying the power dynamic between the two of them. “I was just telling Annabelle that we’d like to have a little celebration for them.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Ben interjected, but I squeezed his hand.

When Jack said, “Oh, no. We insist,” he didn’t argue again.

All I can say, looking back now, is how deeply I wish I hadn’t squeezed his hand.