The Girls Of Mischief Bay. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ watched her much younger self perform. She was all legs, she thought, without the usual gangliness of adolescence. Probably because she’d been studying dance since she’d been Tyler’s age.

      She’d made it into the summer program only to be told at the end that she didn’t have what it took to make it professionally in ballet. At the time she’d been both heartbroken and secretly relieved. Because her being a famous ballerina had been her mother’s dream for her.

      Nicole’s mother had cried for two days, then come up with a new plan. There were many kinds of dance, she’d informed her only child. Nicole was going to conquer them all. There had also been acting classes and voice lessons. She’d barely managed to get the grades to graduate from high school because she was always attending some coaching session or another.

      On the screen, the scene shifted to yet another performance. Nicole figured she’d been about seventeen. It was the year her mother had started complaining of headaches. By the time Nicole had received word of a full dance scholarship at Arizona State University, her mother had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. The funeral had been the Saturday before Labor Day. Nicole had already started at ASU.

      So many choices made that weren’t really choices at all, she thought, pleased she’d reached the point of only sadness. For a long time she’d tasted bitterness, too, when she’d thought about her past. Maybe watching the DVDs with Tyler helped. He only saw the beauty of the dance. There weren’t any emotional judgments. No history fogged his vision.

      Nicole hadn’t been so lucky. Her mother had wanted her to be a star. The origin of the dream wasn’t clear. Something from her own childhood perhaps. But they hadn’t talked about that. Instead, their most intimate conversations had been about how Nicole could do better, be better. Always strive for more, her mother had told her. How disappointed she would be today.

      Sometimes Nicole wondered if she was disappointed, too. How different things would have been if she’d been just a bit better. A hair more talented. Not that regrets helped, she reminded herself. They only wasted time and energy because regrets didn’t change anything.

      She stared at the screen and watched her younger self dance with a grace and confidence that seemed to be lacking these days. While she didn’t regret not being famous, she knew that somewhere along the way she’d lost something important. All the elements of a happy life were there—a growing small business, a husband, a wonderful son, friends—but somehow they didn’t come together the way they should. She accepted the exhaustion. That came with the territory. It was everything else—the sense of never having quite found what made her happy, the wondering if she’d made a mistake somewhere along the way. That was what kept her up nights.

      * * *

      Sunday morning Pam double-checked the contents of her refrigerator. The whole family was coming over for dinner later that afternoon and she needed to make sure she had all she needed.

      Sunday dinners were an Eiland family tradition. When the kids had been younger, they were all required to be home by four, regardless of whatever fun they might be having somewhere else. Exceptions were made for travel, of course, and now, vacations. But otherwise, Sunday dinners were required.

      During the summer, they were casual affairs, mostly outside with barbecued whatever as the entrée. Come September, there was usually a football game playing and when favorite rivalries were on the line, dinner became a buffet in the family room.

      For today Pam had decided on prime rib. She’d ordered a large one so she and John could have plenty of leftovers. The rest of the menu was simple. Mashed potatoes and green beans. Steven, their middle child, had requested her jalapeño-corn biscuits. She’d made pies yesterday. Custard and chocolate. She liked to do as much in advance as possible so that when her kids arrived, she didn’t have to spend all her time in the kitchen.

      She wandered into the dining room and walked to the built-in hutch along the far wall. She opened the cabinet doors and studied the stacked dishes. There were three sets of them, all inherited from grandmothers. One was only used for special occasions. She looked at the other two and picked up a side plate with blue-and-green swirls. She put it on the table, along with a tablecloth and a stack of napkins. John would set the table later, using what she’d set out.

      There would be six of them today. Jen and her husband, Kirk, Steven and Brandon. Steven used to be allowed to bring a date but he went through women like most people went through chewing gum. Pam had grown tired of liking girl after girl only to have them disappear. It was discouraging. Now Steven was under a very strict rule. No girlfriends allowed at family functions until they’d been together for at least six months. Which meant they hadn’t met anyone he’d dated in the past three years.

      She told herself he would grow out of it. He was only twenty-six. Which seemed young. How funny. John had only been twenty-two when they’d gotten married. But times were different now. People were different.

      The doorbell rang and Lulu took off toward it, barking excitedly.

      Pam followed her. “You know, I can hear it, too.”

      Lulu was unimpressed by the information and continued to bark until Pam scooped her up and opened the door.

      Hayley Batchelor held out a plate of cookies. “Hi. I haven’t seen you in forever. Is this a good time?”

      “Sure.”

      Pam stepped back to let in her neighbor and John’s secretary. Hayley set down the plate of cookies and held out her arms. Lulu made an easy jump from one cuddler to the other.

      “How’s my favorite girl?” Hayley asked.

      Lulu snuggled close and gave a quick chin kiss.

      “So sweet,” Hayley murmured. “Why did your mom get you fixed? There could have been more Lulus in the world.”

      “Given her health issues, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Pam told her. “Come on. I have herbal tea in the kitchen.”

      “John told you,” Hayley said.

      “He did. Congratulations. You must be excited.”

      “I am. It’s going to be different this time. It has to be.”

      Pam admired her determination and belief. Hayley had suffered a series of miscarriages in her quest to get pregnant. She’d been probed and tested and there didn’t seem to be any specific reason for the problem. She wasn’t allergic to her husband’s sperm—or so she’d shared with Pam a year ago. Pam hadn’t known such a thing could happen. Allergic to sperm? What were their bodies thinking?

      The plumbing all worked and was in the right place, the hormone levels were good, she wasn’t lacking in any vitamins or minerals. But Hayley was unable to carry a baby past twelve weeks.

      With the last pregnancy, she’d gone straight to bed rest the second she’d found out she was pregnant and that hadn’t helped, either.

      Now Hayley sat in one of the stools at the bar-level counter while Pam put water on to boil. She pulled out her tea tray and chose her friend’s favorite—a white tea with pear.

      “How far along are you?” she asked.

      “Seven weeks. Only five more to go.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ