Page 25 of A Better World

Rachel shook Linda’s hand. “Welcome. You’re gonnahatethis town!” she said in a jokey way.

“I hope not. That deposit wasn’t cheap!”

Rachel winked with sly good nature as the third and final member of the group, Anouk Parson, kissed Linda on both cheeks. Her open mouth left saliva. Linda made a conscious effort not to wipe it away.

“Disregard our resident gadfly. You’ll love it here. Greetings from the first lady of Plymouth Valley!” Anouk gushed in an incredibly thick PV accent. You could have floated heavy metal on it. She wore a loose, ankle-length dress topped with a patchwork shawl that looked like the back of someone’s couch. Linda had read in Anouk’s lengthy bio (two pages instead of one) that in addition to being a prizewinning poet and Plymouth Valley royalty, she was the town historian.

The women returned to their seats. Unlike the people in the main room, the clothing here looked tossed together, the makeup undone. They seemed relaxed—comfortable in their skin. Linda didn’t get the feeling any of these women clapped in syncopation. Or, if they did, they led the rhythm.

“Come, Linda! Be my favorite!” Daniella called, indicating the empty seat beside her.

Panting from nervousness and trying hardnotto pant, she sat. Directly across, Rachel gathered the loose papers into a multicornered pile. Linda spotted some of the words in bold black:MRI; X-ray; Requisition for Surplus Medical Equipment.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt your meeting. Do you need more time?”

“We just finished,” Daniella said. “Did you find Sirin’s all right?”

“The GPS did most of the work. It’s the happening place.”

“Theonlyplace,” Daniella said. “We’re a peanut of a town. You’re coming from New York?”

“The Great Melting Pot!” Anouk said. She lifted the bottle at the center of the table and poured something burgundy and thick into Linda’s goblet.

Daniella raised her glass. “To Dr. Linda Farmer! Who was gracious enough to drop everything on a Saturday night!”

“To Linda, our next victim!” Rachel cheered.

“To Linda!” Anouk joined.

They toasted and drank. “Is this wine? I get why people in screenies go crazy for this. It’s like candy,” Linda said.

“Shipped direct from New Zealand. Those mining executives know how to build a company town,” Daniella said.

“Please. This crap is jet fuel. But it’s better than mead,” Rachel said, making a yuck face.

“Everything with you is a complaint,” Anouk said.

Rachel winked at Linda, and Linda decided she liked her. She conveyed a messy realness. She also liked Daniella, who vibed phony, but also funny and competent. Anouk was a maybe. She seemed removed from the real world in a way that was specific to Plymouth Valley.

“My husband and I are having a War of Roses,” Rachel explained. “He’s the fourth member of this charity—does all the logistics, my general partner in crime—but he hasn’t come to a meeting in a while.”

“—What’s he done now, the fink?” Daniella asked.

“—The divorce thing again. I don’t know where he thinks he’ll go.”

“—You know I love him, but he’s an emotional Tehran,” Daniella said.

“—Oh, no! The divorce thing again? We’ll offer some pomegranates for a satisfactory resolution,” Anouk said. Except for Anouk, who talked slowly, the other two chattered rapid fire.

“It’ll take more than a bloody pomegranate to get Kai off my back,” Rachel said. “I was hoping you’d send Keith over. Have him wear his Beltane Crown; stand outside the house and stare into Kai’s bedroom, looking terrifying.”

“He’d poop his pants,” Daniella whispered, scandalized.

“That’s the goal,” Rachel said.

Anouk huffed with exasperation. “The last thing Keith needs is to get in trouble for wearing a Hollow costume outside a festival. Daddy already thinks that this Beltane King thing’s gone to his head.”

Rachel noticed Linda quietly tracking all this and sighed. “Blah, blah, blah. Other peoples’ problems are so boring.”

---