THE PHONE WAS ringing as Theresa came up the porch steps carrying groceries. She cursed herself for accepting plastic bags at the store, as she felt the grapes and tomatoes squishing against the jug of milk. Everything collapsed into a jumble as she set the bags on the hanging swing and grabbed the outside phone.
Theresa paused and could not speak. Pushed up close to the kitchen door she saw a large vase of white roses decorated with pink ribbon. The mystery of carrots and notes had finally been settled, but she knew instantly who would send her white roses.
“Hello,” she said breathlessly, almost saying Kevin’s name.
“Hi, there. I was going to give it just one more ring.” It was Rick. “Feel like going out for an intimate, five-course dinner with candlelight and violin players?”
Theresa laughed—still staring at the flowers. “Just one more ring, huh? That’s why I don’t have an answering machine. I don’t want all my gentleman callers thinking it’s too easy to find me!” She loved the sound of his voice, relaxed and willing to wander to meet her moods. “And what secret restaurant do you have up your sleeve? Violin players?”
“Well, I was thinking of having the jet brought up and taking you to New York, or we could just settle for chowder and a burger at the Squire.”
Theresa was enjoying his little game. She had no awkward or lonely times with him. She didn’t need to rewind conversation and edit out the hurt or the misunderstanding. “Since my sequined dress is at the cleaners, I think it will have to be something local, not too formal.”
“Squire’s it is. Pick you up at eight?”
“I guess I can slip into a pair of jeans by then!” They both laughed.
A relationship starved for fun will choke and die.
As she hung up the phone, Theresa had to admit she felt stirrings of excitement. Rick made her feel at ease, as if he knew what she was thinking almost before she did. He dared her to be herself and didn’t argue with the result. She craved his touch. But for the first time, Theresa felt embarrassed being a married woman rehearsing the desirable qualities of a man not her husband. Whimsy Towers had understanding walls that absorbed indiscretion, but she could not expect Kevin to be so resilient. She knew the clock was ticking.
Gathering up the grocery bags by their stretched-out plastic grips, Theresa headed for the refrigerator, carefully putting the bags on the counter and hoping ice cream wasn’t oozing out over the lettuce. As she lifted the cold carton, the sides caved in slightly, and she automatically reached into the drawer for a teaspoon. The spoon ran easily along the soft edges of the melting ice cream, curling like rolling Hawaiian surf. It was cool and pleasing on her tongue—an innocent sensation.
After several bites, she quickly put the groceries away, making a mental note of what was left in the pantry. She imagined her grandmother taking stock of the tall shelves, sealing the tins, and putting colorful labels on the squatty glass jars: tea bags, cocoa mix, dried milk, cinnamon. Many items were left from previous years’ use, and Theresa had decided not to throw them out. She pictured Ana closing up the house after Grandmother’s death, leaving everything in readiness for the baby who’d grown up far from her inheritance.
Warm days were lengthening now as the season reached toward summer. An erratic breeze sauntered up from the water and caused a slight motion of the wind chimes on the porch, a faint hypnotic sound. Like echoes of vocal chanting tuned to scales in faraway chambers, the music called for meditation. Theresa did not like to think of leaving. She had begun to find her place here, settling in without disturbance.
The vase of roses was like a pair of eyes that found her hiding under a new identity, piercing the comfort of days drawn with fresh strokes and reminding her of unfinished business. She opened the card.
“Next week is a blue moon. Can we try a fresh start? Miss you and love you, Kevin.”
Theresa smiled at the thought of Kevin sharing these personal words over the phone for the florist to write. A blue moon had sealed their love physically, but they struggled to keep that closeness in all aspects of marriage. What did she want—and how willing was she to work for it?
The lilac buds were opening just enough to give hint of the sweet blooms to follow, and Theresa sighed happily at the remembrance of Rick’s guarantee. A relaxing bath before he came would feel wonderful, and she put a couple of candles on the porch table before going upstairs, still holding the card from Kevin.
The old tub in the master bedroom bathroom was unlike anything she had ever seen before coming to Whimsy Towers. She chuckled at the thought of “master” bedroom and doubted that her grandmother had ever called it that. The bathtub was huge, a long, narrow, and deep white canoe of a tub, rising from graceful, claw-footed legs. The toenails had been carefully painted bright red, and the short, curved legs were shiny gold. It took a long while to fill, and Theresa tossed a generous cup of bath granules under the roaring faucet.
She dropped her clothes onto the floor and slid into the warm bubbles. Her figure was still good, her skin turning brown from recent days at the beach. Even though she was tall, she could not quite reach the end of the tub with her toes. The fragrant water caressed her as she rolled rhythmically from side to side, her breasts reaching up, as if trying to float to the surface. She stirred the water with her hand and slowly moved her fingertips across her slippery body, exploring beneath the bubbles. She closed her eyes, repeating slowly, “Can we try a fresh start? Can we try a fresh start?”
For a long while Theresa coasted between memories and longing, lulled by gentle motion, eagerness, perfume, and the promise of moist lilacs.
As the water cooled and the bubbles evaporated, her skin started to feel chilled and bumpy. She reached for one of the large, fluffy pink towels with “Whimsy Towers” stitched in flowing blue letters. There were more than a dozen enormous towels and several terry cloth robes, all embroidered “Whimsy Towers.” She tried to imagine a muscular, young Stormy wrapped snugly in pink!
With just the bottom of her hair still wet from the bath, Theresa slipped into her flowered slippers and shuffled to the phone. She knew the number by heart.
“Hello, Rick?”
“Hey. You’re not breaking our date, are you?”
Theresa paused for a moment. “Date? Oh, no, of course not. I was just wondering … I’m sure you’ve had a long day at the garden center. What would you think of just having some Chinese carryout at my place?”
As soon as the question was out, she didn’t know whether he’d think she was being transparently forward, foolish, or confused. And she wasn’t sure herself.
“That sounds terrific. I’ll swing by Ming’s on the way. Any special favorites?”
“No, I like them all. Maybe a couple of egg rolls, though.”
“Your wish is my command. See you soon.”
She hung up the phone and let the towel slip to the floor in front of the mirror. She wondered whether it were easier for older women to stay married, to stay put, to be satisfied. Would an older body desire a lover? Her long, sun-tanned legs were a sharp contrast to the white outline of her bikini. If her father could only know how all those years of skating had given her great legs! She turned slowly around in front of the mirror. “Not bad, Theresa Crandall. Not bad!” She laughed aloud and picked up the towel.
An hour later she was just brushing her hair and was finally dressed. She’d tried half a dozen outfits and couldn’t seem to match her clothes with her mood. Finally, she settled for a pair of jeans and a knit top with a V-neck collar and long sleeves. It was a mossy green color that almost matched her eyes.
“Anybody home?” came a familiar voice from downstairs.
“Be right there,” she answered, her heart pounding a little faster than normal.
“Do you like spicy?” Rick called, as he pulled little white boxes out of a tall bag.
“Surprise me.”
For over two weeks, Theresa and Rick had settled into a routine that was both mischievous and caring. They were not greedy, allowing time and space to balance their days and ignite their desire. Did he belong in that kitchen? Did she? She smiled and tossed her head as she entered the room, moving toward him and kissing him lightly on the cheek as he held Chinese food in each hand. Neither had mentioned falling in love. Neither dared admit that their behavior had a future or an ending. Theresa wondered at what point Stormy and her grandmother had realized that they needed to be together, to live as if only being together mattered. Grandfather did not get his way and was left behind in the love story that endured. Obstacles could be stepping stones to happiness.
Gypsy sat with an expectant look as Rick continued to unpack won-ton soup, spicy beef, and a vegetable dish with chestnuts. As each container was opened for an approving peek, delicious fragrance filled the kitchen, and Rick’s stomach growled.
“Theresa, I .... ”
“How about we eat outside?” she interrupted, heading to the porch with plates, cups, and chopsticks.
Rick scooped up the cartons of food. She passed him on her way back into the kitchen. “I’ll put some water on for tea. Grandmother left lots of choices. Chamomile, lemon, herbal, green, even artichoke! Ever heard of that?”
“I’m yours to experiment on,” he teased. “The only requirement is that we both drink the same one. No kings’ testers here. Hemlock or nectar of the gods, we share the potion!”
“You are putting yourself dangerously in my hands,” she responded, reaching for green tea, but neither of them commented further.
A certain restraint settled over dinner. Rick did not ask about the white roses. Recently he had shown increased eagerness to let go of guilt and reservation, and Theresa had begun to pull back and resist the temptation of infidelity and deceit. Their roles were switching, and each stumbled in the exercise of changing places.
As night descended around them, the small candles flickered hard to fight off the darkness. Hot wax dripped slowly into patterned clumps on the checkered tablecloth, and Theresa squeezed soft bits between her fingers into odd shapes. She smiled and handed Rick her fingerprint in warm wax. Like friends meeting to reminisce, they talked of gardening and cooking, of roads not traveled, and choices they had made that defined their lives.
“What’s the matter with your marriage, Theresa?” he finally asked her. “We’ve never really talked about it. Neither of us can pretend it’s not a third presence here, the guest that will not leave.”
“The matter? How do you mean?”
“Well, obviously if everything was okay, I wouldn’t be here, and other things between us could never have happened. Satisfaction doesn’t leave an open door. Be honest.”
She stared at the candle flame as a moth is drawn to light, fixated and helpless. She could not look at him. Tears began to form, but she would not give in to them. She was being required at last to provide words for feelings about Kevin she could not explain—or wanted to ignore.
“Sometimes you just don’t hang the pictures the same,” she said softly.
Rick listened, waiting for her to go on.
“We’re like trains going down parallel tracks, but all the blinds are pulled.”
“How does that happen?” he asked earnestly, and she knew he did not understand how a relationship could tire. His had not died a slow death.
“Poor communication, impatience with differences, predictability, not enough common ground or joy. It’s easier just to shut down.”
“But Theresa, that’s not a marriage, that’s a life sentence!” he blurted out.
She laughed aloud and felt the comfort of companionship that was missing in her life, but the man trying to understand her marriage was not the one in it.
“I guess it’s the ‘worse’ part in ‘for better or for worse,’” she replied. And then she added, “Rick, I’m married to a very good man, a nice man. You’d like him. And in a couple of days I must go back to where he is, where we live. We have lots to sort out.”
“Are you planning to stay there? What about Whimsy Towers?” He reached across the table to hold her hand, and she did not resist. “And what about me?”
“You fell into my life, and I think it surprised us both. Two hungry puppies ready for love. I feel content and happy when I’m with you, but we both know this is not real. I came looking for answers about family, past and present, not an escape for dishonesty. “
“So this was just a respite from responsibility? A spring fling?”
“I think you know better. Hey, you have been the one with the voice of reason.” She laughed and continued, “The one on the high moral ground, remember? I’m just trying to share the view.”
“I’ve slid down the hill!” he responded, still holding her hand and joining the laugh. “Or maybe you pushed me.”
Theresa playfully pulled her hand free to open her fortune cookie. As the pieces broke apart, the message glared at her like a face in a mirror: “GOOD CHARACTER GUARDS AGAINST TEMPTATION.”