I would have preferred to spend a quiet evening, home alone. I could have listened to some music (James Taylor, of course), folded a basket of clothes, reread The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, or gotten falling-down drunk. All to avoid reflecting on the new wrinkle in my own personal horizon—the one involving interest expressed by a Hollywood actress in my married boyfriend.
Obviously, the problem wasn't the movie star, who just happened to be an old acquaintance of the aforementioned fellow. The problem was the guy himself.
Or more specifically, his marriage.
As far as the rest of Delphi was concerned, Stu was the victim, and his search for comfort and solace was perfectly justified. Only Del and Neil knew that this was not exactly the case.
Del and Neil and Stu. And me. We all knew the timing of the affair wasn't exactly blameless, a fact I tried to forget. I assumed the relationship was solid, though a nagging voice in the back of my head would periodically remind me that a man who ignored his own vows was not likely to pay strict attention to my assumptions.
Or as Del, who has done ample research on the subject, would say, "A man who cheats on his wife will sure as hell fuck around on his girlfriend."
The pragmatic side of my brain knew that Del was probably right. The rest didn't even want to think about it. Given my druthers, I would have done anything, including cleaning bathrooms at the cafe, to avoid the subject of Stuart McKee and J. Ross Nelson.
Unfortunately, with homecoming on Friday, and the All-School Reunion the day after, committee meetings were frantic and mandatory. The bar was buzzing, the lights were low, and the smoke and noise levels were high, as assorted groups gathered around to finish projects in time for the parade and party.
"I heard she was in town today," Gina Adler said, handing a sheaf of paper to me.
She had to speak loudly to be heard over the jukebox whining about an achy-breaky heart.
I picked up a small stack of pages from the pile in front of me and handed the bundle down the table to Junior, who added her own section. I hummed along with the music. I despised that particular singer, and song, but at least it drowned out some of the conversation.
At our table, everyone had some kind of grudge against at least one other person. Gina and Del were not exactly friends. Del and Junior were outright enemies. Generally, Junior drove me batshit. In a genuine emergency, we would have forgotten our differences entirely. In this case, we back-burnered grievances and worked together, almost pleasantly.
"Has the sighting been confirmed by any reliable sources?" Junior asked Gina. She placed a computer-generated cover design on top and handed her stack to Del, who had been pressed into service to run the stapler.
We were collating our portion of the reunion book. Junior had decided to wait until the last minute to staple the booklets together in order to include any information sheets that straggled in after the deadline.
"Well, Ronnie said that Willard Hausvik saw her walking past the school," Gina said, picking up more papers and starting the process over again. "He said she was all by herself, but she peeked in the windows, and then went inside."
Junior snorted. She counted neither Ron Adler nor Willard Hausvik as reliable sources. "Well if she was around today, I sure as hell didn't see her," Del said.
I hummed some more. Del narrowed her eyes at me. She knows what I think of Billy Ray Cyrus.
"You're talking about her, aren't you?" Rhonda asked over Del's shoulder, monitoring our progress and eavesdropping. She seemed to spend more time in Delphi than at college these days. "Mom saw her too, driving all over town in a fancy car. Wearing some sort of designer outfit and drinking Perrier. Do you suppose they get to keep the clothes they wear in movies? I bet she has a closet full of Gucci dresses."
"I think Gucci only makes purses and shoes," Gina said, frowning. "And scarves."
"Whatever." Rhonda shrugged, heading back to her own table and committee, carrying a full pitcher of beer. "Mom said she was being real snooty, not talking to anyone."
"She seemed very nice in her letters," Gina said firmly. "She said she was looking forward to coming back to Delphi and couldn't wait for the reunion. That doesn't sound snooty to me."
I stayed out of the conversation, concentrating on picking up the right number of pages for each booklet. Reluctant to discuss the ramifications of Janelle's request for Stu's location, I hadn't told anyone, not even Neil, that I had actually talked to her.
"So," Junior said, straightening with the heel of her hand pressed into the small of her back. She was showing now, quite bit in fact, fueling rumors of another multiple birth. "How's Stu today? Where is he, anyway?"
"Tory's not his social secretary, you know," Del said, pounding on the stapler. Putting aside little differences did not preclude sarcastic needling.
"He's working on the float tonight," I said hastily, not wanting listen to Del and Junior bicker about Stu, whom I'd expected to meet after the float work was done. He'd phoned the bar thirty minutes earlier with an excuse about being tired, and would I mind if he went straight home instead.
Yesterday, I would have wondered if he was going to spend another couple of hours on the phone with Renee. Now a long chat with the estranged wife seemed preferable to a reunion with J. Ross Nelson.
"What do you think, Tory?" Gina asked.
"Huh?" I looked up to find the entire table watching me. "Sorry, I was listening to the music." I hummed a couple more bars.
"Gina asked what you think will happen when Doug Fischbach and Janelle get back together," Junior snapped.
"So what do you think?" Gina repeated. "About Doug and Janelle? And Debbie, since she's not here right now?"
"Yeah," Del said, looking around, "where did madam chairman and hubby dear go, anyway? I expected her to stick around, giving orders and lording over everyone."
"They went to check out the float builders," Gina said, still efficiently stacking booklet pages as she talked. Though Gina was a co-chair of the committee, she seemed to be the one doing the real work. "Said she'd be back soon. To keep us on track."
Del mumbled something rude.
I turned Gina's question back to her, an efficient way to avoid answering it myself. "What do you think? You and Debbie wrote all the letters together. How did she feel about inviting Janelle back here?"
"To be honest, I couldn't tell," Gina said, frowning. "I mean, she seemed fine about it. We both thought it would turn the reunion into something special. But Doug was always around, reminding us to write to her, and for some reason, Debbie does whatever Doug tells her to do."
"Well, he whacks his kid around during football practice, who knows what he does to his wife," I said darkly.
"I don't know that she seemed afraid of him," Gina said thoughtfully. "And if she was upset about all that stuff from the past, she never let on."
Junior was quiet. Unless the idle gossip originates with her, she has no interest in it. We continued assembling booklets and refilling our drinks. I'd started out with Diet Coke and then switched to Tom Collinses. I was on my third, studiously forgetting anything about boyfriends or movie stars. Lee Greenwood was even starting to sound good.
"Behold, the grand entrance," Del said under her breath as Debbie Fischbach stepped into the bar alone, shaking her umbrella outside the door.
Debbie, swathed neck to ankle in a glitzy sweatsuit unsuited to any activity that involved actual sweat, nodded in our direction. She stopped at the bar, bought herself a drink, and then paused momentarily at almost every table. Each time her greeting was followed by excited chatter and surreptitious looks our way.
"Something's going on," Gina said, watching Debbie work the room. "She's making a point of talking to everyone in the bar."
Debbie schmoozed her way around to Rhonda and her crew. Neil had come in earlier, waved at me, and then sat next to Rhonda. As Debbie talked, he shot an odd look my way.
"Are they talking about us?" Gina asked.
"I hardly think we'd make an interesting topic of conversation for the whole bar," Junior said, frowning.
"Unless Debbie got hold of an ultrasound and is busy announcing that you're having quints, I'd have to agree," Del said wickedly.
Junior ignored her.
"They're still doing it," Gina said uneasily. "I don't think I like this."
I didn't like it either. At each of the tables on Debbie's journey, heads turned, all right. But they weren't just looking in our direction. They were looking at me specifically.
I considered making a break for the bathroom, but it was too late. Debbie had finally arrived at our table.
"Hello ladies, you're progressing nicely," she said, pretending to inspect the pile of finished reunion booklets. She smiled brightly, but her eyes had a flat glitter and her cheeks a high color.
From a distance, Debbie looked young and perky. Up close, the lines showed under heavy makeup. I did not mistake her smile for the genuine article.
Del, in a preemptive strike, said, "Well, Deb, how about we cut right through the crap and you tell us why you're wearing that shit-eating grin."
"Certainly," Debbie said, taking time to sip.
I felt the whole bar watching us.
"As you know, I've been with our hardworking float builders for the past hour," Debbie said, looking at everyone but me.
"And were they progressing well too?" Junior asked sarcastically. Pregnant women are not noted for their patience.
Neither are waitresses.
"For chrissake, just spit it out," Del said.
"Oh all right," Debbie said, "since you're so impatient!" She sipped again, and then smiled. "Janelle Ross is here in Delphi," she said with a flourish.
"Tell us something we don't already know," Del said. "People have been talking about that all night."
"Yes, I had forgotten how quickly stories spread in a small town," Debbie, said, patting me on the shoulder. "And who could blame our Tory for telling everyone that she spent an hour chatting in the cafe with Delphi's most famous native?"
I would have defended myself against Debbie's smarmy accusation, but was stopped by Del's stony face. If she had been irritated with me this afternoon for disparaging our hometown traditions, she was really going to be pissed I had deliberately withheld such juicy news. Silently, I pleaded with Del to let it go for the moment.
"Since we all know that Tory here has been favored by the royal presence,"Del lied, with a smile every bit as phony as Debbie's, "why do you think we'll be surprised by your big news?"
"Oh heavens," Debbie laughed. "The fact that Janelle was here is old news. But I venture to guess that none of you know that she's still here. Or that she's spent the whole evening working on our float. Or that we've all had a wonderful time getting reacquainted."
For a woman who had ample, if ancient, reason to resent and distrust J. Ross Nelson, Debbie was certainly relishing her return.
"Well that's just peachy keen," Del said sweetly. "I bet she and Doug have lots of catching up to do."
Del's frontal attack caught everyone off-guard. We all held our breaths—even Junior, who theoretically did not remember exactly what Janelle and Doug had to talk about.
"Yes indeed." Debbie smiled even more widely. "So much so that we talked Janelle into spending tonight in Delphi, instead of returning to her motel room in Aberdeen." She finished her drink in a gulp and signaled the bar.
"So you have a movie star bunking in your spare bedroom, how nice for you," said Junior tersely. We were all tired of Debbie's attitude.
"Actually..." Debbie grinned, and this time there was no strain. She was genuinely enjoying herself. "We don't have a spare room."
Striving mightily to keep a neutral look frozen on my face, I waited. Everyone who was listening in, which was everyone in the bar, waited. On the jukebox, Jimmy Buffett wondered where to go when "de volcano blow." I wondered the same thing.
Debbie continued, smoothing damp blond hair out of her eyes. "Our kids are in bed and it's far too late for a crowd to converge on my house on a school night. She shook her head sadly. "So we're all going over to Stuart McKee's for drinks. No kids there to disturb," she said brightly. "And since Stu is all alone in that big house, he's generously offered to put Janelle up for the night."
She looked directly at me. "Isn't that wonderful?"