Page 30 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane
That damn car.Libby feels the dark tides of her anger rising again. Every time she sees it sitting smugly in her driveway, she’s reminded of Bill’s utter disregard for her feelings on the matter. And then she remembers the argument they’d had afterward. His pointed words, the broken frame.
Libby presses her lips into a smile now as she replies to Georgina. “He can thank his father for that one. Anyway, I think it’s nice that he and Christina are getting closer.”
“What do you mean?” Georgina asks, a noticeable edge in her tone. She spins the bracelet on her wrist, and Libby can’t help but wonder what something like that cost. Probably almost as much asLucas’s new car. While it’s no secret that they all live pretty comfortably, as they’d have to in order to afford houses on Hawthorne Lane, Colin and Georgina seem to be, as far as Libby can tell, in a different stratosphere than their neighbors.
“Is it more than just the ride home?” Georgina continues, her focus locked on Libby.
Libby is surprised by the intensity of Georgina’s inquiry. “I don’t know, I just saw them out for a walk the other day. They went down the path through the woods. I thought it was sweet.” She catches sight of Audrey watching the exchange across the table, both eyebrows raised, and Hannah pretending to be very interested in pushing the crust of her avocado toast around her plate.
“I don’t know…” Georgina hedges, her polished red fingernails tapping on the tablecloth. “Maybe it’s different when you have girls, but I’m not sure I like the idea of that, them being alone together.”
“And why would that be?” Libby snaps, her hands balling into fists in her lap. She feels the familiar flutter of fury. “They’ve known each other since they were children, Georgina. And it was only a walk. I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest about my son, but—”
“Nothing,” Georgina is quick to say, her hand reaching for Libby’s over the table. “Nothing at all. Forget I even mentioned it.”
Libby allows Georgina’s cold, elegant fingers to wrap around her hand, but she wishes she could yank it away. Of course Georgina—perfect, frigid, holier-than-thou Georgina—would think that Lucas isn’t good enough for her precious daughter. A small voice in the back of her head suggests that her rage might be misplaced, but she feels it just the same. She feels as though there’s a dam inside her, fit to break. She’s been holding back so much for so long—Bill leaving, the incident with the car, Heather, Lucas’s newfound disdain for her—that it’s only a matter of time until she explodes.
20
Maggie
Benton Avenue
Maggie pushes the stroller along the smooth pavement of the sidewalk on Main Street. From under the sunshade, she hears baby Lila babbling to herself, swatting playfully at the colorful toys that dangle from the awning. She smiles and looks down at Carter, who trots happily by her side licking at a lollipop, one shoe untied, the laces trailing behind him. Maggie loves the children she nannies for as fiercely as if they were her own.
They pause outside a café, one Maggie couldn’t even afford a slice of toast in, so that she can attend to Carter’s laces. She ties them into a tight double knot and then stands, rocks the stroller back and forth as Lila calmly drifts toward sleep inside. As she does, Maggie gazes longingly through the café window at the fancy mommies clinking fizzing cocktails over a table laden with pastries. She marvels at how flawless and happy they look, how glamorous their lives are. All of them made up, designer bags casually draped over the backs of chairs, diamonds glistening at their wrists, twinkling on their manicured fingers. One of them tilts her head back in laughter, her vivid red, salon-styled hair spilling down her back. And then, just beside her, Maggie catches her own reflection in the glass, her mousy brown hair, the misshapen sweater she’d bought from a secondhand shop, and she turns away, ashamed that she’d almost been caught staring.
The women hadn’t actually noticed her, of course. Maggie knows she’s invisible to people like them. Even pushing a stroller thoughtheir town, she can’t pass for one of the mothers. She’s nothing more than the hired help, part of the seamless backdrop of their lives, one of the silently grinding gears that makes it all possible. But sometimes she likes to pretend. That Lila is her little girl. That the UPPABaby stroller, which costs more than her car, belongs to her. She allows herself to linger on that thought, turning it over in her mind. She considers the way her heart trills when Carter accidentally calls her Mommy, the longing she feels deep in her belly when he slips his small, warm hand into hers.
She can’t bring children into the home she shares with Dean. That sad, desperate space is no place for a child. But that won’t be her life forever. Maggie knows that now. She doesn’t know what trouble Dean’s new “business venture” with Mike will bring, the details of which he’s spoken very little of these past weeks, but she knows that whatever it is, it will not end well. She’s had to be careful not to tip him off. She can’t let Dean know that something has changed in her, that she’s readying herself to leave him. If he found out…well, Maggie doesn’t even want to think about what he’d do. But she finds that she likes this, having a secret that is all her own.
She feels a pleasant warmth spreading through her at the thought of the old jam jar hidden behind the shoeboxes in the back corner of her closet that has quickly been filling up with cash. She’d asked the Sullivans if they could start paying her that way, in cash rather than her weekly check. It makes it easier for Maggie to skim a few dollars and cents off the top before she has to hand her earnings over to Dean. She hadn’t explained this to Ms. Sullivan, of course. She wouldn’t want Ms. Sullivan, in her big house with her nice clothes, to think less of Maggie. Ms. Sullivan is not the type of woman who would find herself needing to hide dollar bills from her husband in a jam jar. But it seemed she didn’t have to explain. Ms. Sullivan had torn up Maggie’s check and reached into her purse without saying a word, the pity in her eyes enough for Maggie to know that she understood. Maggie had felt so ashamed, but she took the cash anyway, stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans, her eyes on the ground as she mumbled her thanks. It had been a humiliating experience, but it had to be done. Maggie has to stick to her plan.
“Are we going home now?” Carter asks, pulling Maggie from her thoughts. He looks up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
“Yes,” she replies, turning the stroller in the direction of the safe, quiet cul-de-sac. “Let’s go.”
She looks back at the café one last time.Maybe someday,she thinks.
21
Georgina
Hawthorne Lane
“Hannah! Mark! Over here!” Georgina calls, the gold bangles on her wrist jangling as she waves across the Sterling Valley High School gym. It’s crowded tonight, the annual goodwill auction being one of the larger community events. Fairy lights have been hung from the ceiling, and tables draped in white and navy blue—the school’s colors—line the space. At the center of the room is a long row of tables crowded with numbered baskets, each brimming with goods donated from local businesses to be raffled off in a silent auction. This year, the funds will be put toward building new playing fields for the high school. The school’s new principal, a former college football player, had practically insisted on the upgrade. He’d reminded parents of the importance of Sterling Valley remaining a top-tier district, a name that will continue to stand out to the competitive Ivy League colleges.
Georgina sees recognition crest over Hannah’s face as she spots Georgina in the crowd, and she picks her way through the throngs of people, leading Mark by the hand. Georgina has taken quite a liking to the younger woman. Hannah feels like a breath of fresh air in this town—she’s real, genuine. With her, there’s no undercurrent of competition the way there is among so many of the Sterling Valley mothers, who Georgina knows smile to her face but will cut her down the second her back is turned. When she’s talking to Hannah, Georgina never gets the impression that she’s biding her time, waiting for her turn to speak; she never feels judged or scrutinized.Hannah simply listens in that quiet, thoughtful way of hers. She hopes she never loses that, that this place doesn’t change her.
“Hi, Georgina,” Hannah says as she reaches the table. “I love your dress.”
“Thank you.” She’d chosen a fitted sheath dress in emerald green because Colin had once mentioned that it complemented the red of her hair.
Hannah and Mark make the rounds, hugs and handshakes offered to Colin and Libby, who are already seated.
Things have been tense with Libby since they went out for brunch last week. Georgina worries that she might have accidentally offended her when she mentioned that she wasn’t keen on the idea of Christina and Lucas spending time alone together. She hadn’t meant it as a personal affront to Libby’s son—Georgina doesn’t like the idea of her fifteen-year-old daughter wandering off into the woods withanyboy. Georgina might be forty, but she’s not too old to remember what it was like to be a teenage girl. To want things you don’t understand, to be worried about how to say no to the things you don’t.
As they all take their seats, Georgina senses a strange charge crackling over the table. She knows that Libby is probably still upset with her, but even Hannah doesn’t seem like herself tonight. She’s fidgeting in her seat, smoothing her napkin on her lap over and over again.
