Page 31 of Playing for Keeps in Starr's Fall
“I’m so sorry.” Maggie didn’t know what else she could say. “Thattotallysucks,” she said with feeling, and Laurie let out a huff of laughter.
“Yeah. Totally. But…” She hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Maggie before continuing. “I don’t know exactly where you’re coming from. I mean, losing your husband… it’s got to be so hard. But maybe part of that being hard is that it’s complicated?” She stopped, a question in her eyes before continuing. “Sorry if I’m way out of line, but if that is the case… well, I want to say I get it. Sort of, anyway. My relationship with my mother—or lack of it—might seem like an open-and-shut case, but it’s never that simple, is it? The truth is, if she emailed me tomorrow, I’d go see her again, in asecond. I’d try for that relationship, even if everyone was telling me it wasn’t worth it, protect yourself, blah, blah, blah. Because when it comes down to it… she’s mymom. And the important people in your life… well, sometimes it’s all kind of tangled up, isn’t it? As much as you love them, orwantto love them… it can be hard.” She trailed off, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I was probably projecting a lot of emotional baggage onto you that you absolutely don’t have. It’s just… so many people see it as open-and-shut, you know? Even Joshua. Like, ‘Your mom abandoned you? Well, good riddance.’ And… that’s not how I feel, even if sometimes I wish it was.” She let out a trembling laugh as she brushed at her eyes. “Sorry. I’ve really offloaded onto you.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I don’t mind.” Maggie was grateful for Laurie’s honesty, and unsettled by her perceptiveness at just how complicated everything had been.
She felt as if Laurie had looked right through her, straight into her soul, dark and guilt-ridden place that that was. Laurie had managed to articulateexactlyhow Maggie was feeling… the confusing mix of grief and guilt, the sweep of devastating loss and the faintest flicker of treacherous relief that she could hardly bear to think about. She hadn’t said as much about any of it to anyone, and it was both gratifying and horrifying that Laurie, who barely knew her, had guessed. Was she that transparent? How awful… and yet how weirdly freeing.
“I…” she began, and then, shaking her head, found she couldn’t continue.
“Sorry, I think I’ve probably said too much.” Laurie bit her lip, apologetic. “I don’t think sometimes?—”
“No, no.” Maggie took a deep breath. “You’re right. Itwascomplicated. And something that’s been so hard to admit, even to myself, is that…” She paused, and then made herself continue. “Matt and I weren’t doing all that well as a couple before he died. We weren’t talking divorce or anything like that, and I don’t think we ever would have, but… we’d gone in really different directions over the last few years, and that was something we were just both coming to realize when he died.” She paused, picturing the way Matt looked at her, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, like she wasn’t quite coming up to scratch. The suffocating sense of pressure she’d felt, to be what he wanted her to be, all the while kicking against it in passive-aggressive ways. It had been a miserable and even toxic combination.
“He’d got a big promotion a couple of years back,” she explained to Laurie, “and he was all about the ambition, the house, the car, the country club, and I… I wasn’t. I mean, I tried to be, for his sake, but I never really managed it.” And his disappointment had felt like a weight she staggered under. When he’d died, she hadn’t known how much longer she could have kept going,notbeing the kind of wife he wanted. But she wasn’t ready to admit all that to Laurie right now.
“I think all relationships are complicated,” Laurie told her with a wry smile, and then her eyes lit up as she nodded toward the door. “Speaking of…” she murmured before calling out gaily, “Henrietta! It’s so nice to see you!”
An elderly woman, dressed immaculately in an admittedly slightly motheaten tweed skirt and jacket, a silk blouse knotted in a bow at her throat, was coming gingerly into the pet store with the help of a cane.
Laurie hurried to open the door for her. “Maggie, have you met Miss Henrietta Starr yet? Resident matriarch of Starr’s Fall.”
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.” Maggie gave the older woman a friendly smile and was subjected to a beady stare back.
“You’ve moved here with your son?” she surmised. “I heard you were a widow.”
Startled, Maggie nodded. “Yes. I was widowed a little over a year ago.”
“Well, I’m sorry for your loss,” Henrietta replied as she moved into the store and sat down in the armchair like a queen sitting upon her throne. “Having never been married, I cannot imagine what it feels like to be a widow.” She sniffed. “But grief is grief, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even as it comes to all of us eventually.” She gave a short sigh, having finished making this pronouncement. “How are you finding Starr’s Fall?”
“Good, so far,” Maggie replied cautiously. She had the feeling of needing to pass muster with the town’s matriarch, and Henrietta Starr looked like she wasn’t easily impressed. “But it’s been an adjustment. Have you lived here all your life?”
“Save for two unfortunate years in New York City,” Henrietta replied. Her gaze moved to Laurie, whom Maggie saw smile at her in sympathy. Clearly there was a story there that Laurie knew, but she wasn’t about to ask now. “And this business of yours?” Henrietta barked, her beady gaze moving back to Maggie. “A boardgame café? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” She gave another little sniff. “But I am partial to a game of Scrabble, as long as I’m playing someone who is actually competent at the game.”
“We’ll have Scrabble,” Maggie promised her. “As for proficient players…” She smiled ruefully. “I’m sure we can find someone who is up to speed.”
“We’ll see.” Henrietta sounded doubtful. She turned back to Laurie. “Now, onto important business,” she declared. “Is there any coffee?”
Laughing, Laurie assured her there was and went to get a cup. As she left, Henrietta turned to Maggie once more.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” she said gently. “It will get better. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does make a difference.” She gave her a kindly smile, her face crinkling even more into a mass of wrinkles, her blue eyes twinkling, and gratified and touched, Maggie smiled back. She’d been grateful for her conversation with Laurie, and she realized she was also grateful for meeting the imposing Henrietta Starr. She felt a lightness to her spirit, for having shared with Laurie something of the difficulties she’d had in her marriage. And while she hadn’t shared every difficult and painful thing she’d experienced, she’d admitted something of the truth, and that was, surprisingly, a good feeling.
Even better was the feeling, the belief, that she’d made a true friend… maybe even two.
11
After six weeks in Starr’s Fall, a day in Hartford felt like going to the big city. Maggie had left Ben that morning with heartfelt promises from him to do his schoolwork; Zach was coming over after breakfast to crack the whip and also work on finishing the bookshelves. The café was set to open in just eight days, which felt absolutely crazy. Maggie didn’t think they were remotely ready, but Zach had argued that their supposedly “grand opening” could still be something of a soft launch, with limited kitchen offerings, and assured her that she didn’t need to have absolutely every last duck in order to open her doors. Sometimes, he’d said, it was better just to begin. There was, Maggie had decided, wisdom in that. She hoped.
In fact, there had been a lot of beginnings in her life lately—the café, her friendship with Zach, Pilates, making an appointment at the Humane Society to get a cat. It all helped her to feel settled, just as Laurie had asked if she was, but the truth was no matter how many strides she took, Maggie still felt jumpy inside. Telling Laurie about her complicated feelings toward Matt’s death had been both a relief and a terror, and a week on she still found she couldn’t quite look her new friend in the eye; she wasn’t used to or comfortable with having been so vulnerable or having admitted so much.
And now, with all that behind her, she was heading to Hartford for her eight-hour-long course in how to be a barista. It would be the longest Maggie had been away from Ben since he’d got out of the hospital, nearly a year ago. A shudder went through her as she remembered that dark, dark time—the endless days in the halogen glare of a hospital room, the persistent beep of the monitor as she’d sat by his bedside while he’d pretended to sleep, followed by her own sleepless and gritty-eyed nights of despair, and then, when he’d been discharged, the sudden clutches of panic when she wasn’t sure where Ben was in the house, or what new terrible thing might have happened.
Heaven help them both, Maggie thought as she gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles ached, but she couldnotgo back there again… and neither could Ben. She really hoped Zach was up to the challenge of watching her son today. She hadn’t sold it to him as babysitting, for Ben’s sake, but now she wondered if she should have been a little more forthcoming about her son’s history. But wasn’t that Ben’s to tell?
It was so hard, as a parent, to know what the right thing to do was, Maggie reflected despondently. If sheknewthe right thing, she’d do it, absolutely. But a thousand questions and doubts plagued her daily—should she let Ben game or force him to find different interests? Should she tell people how he could still be considered at risk or let him start over with a clean slate, just as she was trying to do? Should she be protective because it might save his life, or let him make his own mistakes, knowing that was part of growing up?
And now she didn’t even have Matt to back her up and offer a different perspective—not, she reflected, that he’d done that all that often, especially in the last few years. He’d become so busy with work, and in her darkest heart of hearts Maggie had sometimes felt that Matt had found Ben something of a disappointing mystery. He’d never said as much, but even so, Maggie had felt his confusion and even disapproval that Ben wasn’t the kind of kid who played football and flirted with girls and cared about the stock market, the way he had hoped for. The way he himself had been. His mother had been even more vocal in her disappointment, which was partly why Maggie didn’t mind not pursuing that particular relationship.
But could she really blame either of them, when she too had had a secret, shameful version of a dream child too—a son who had friends, and hobbies, and could look people in the eye when he spoke to them? A son who hadn’t been bullied, sometimes relentlessly, since middle school, and who didn’t cause her to lie awake wondering if she’d done something wrong, if she was doing it at that moment.
