Cheating at Solitaire (8 page)

WAY #54: It's better to be single and happy than married and miserable.

One of the biggest chal enges you'l face is the "Why haven't you been married?"

phenomenon. Dealing with this is simple: Ignore it. And pity the culture that looks more
favorably on those who have bad marriages than those who choose to remain single. ;

—from
101 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire

en minutes later, they were flying down the highway in Nina's vintage VW. She had pushed aside piles of fabric samples and magazines to make room for Lance in the backseat. "It's a project," Nina had explained. What kind of project, Lance certainly wasn't going to ask, because he wanted Nina to stay as focused on the road as possible. Maybe it was the way his six-two body had been folded into the tiny car, but when they began to swerve between semis, he knew for a fact that he might die there, in the back of a bug, surrounded by pieces of velvet.

"Ro-Ro's coming," Nina said casually.

Julia wheeled around in the front seat and nearly kicked the car out of gear.

"No!" she yelled.

"Yes," Nina snapped back.

"Ro-Ro doesn't come to birthday parties," Julia argued.

"Ro-Ro sends recycled cards and dingy five-dollar bills."

"Who's Ro-Ro?" Lance asked from the backseat.

Julia buried her head in her palm then bolted upright again and exclaimed, "Ro-Ro doesn't come to birthday parties!"

"Well, she's coming to this one," Nina said with resolve. "She knows, doesn't she?" "That's my bet."

"Who's Ro-Ro?" Lance asked again, but the women had evidently forgotten he existed.

"But, how does she know? Mom and Dad wouldn't tell her, and they're the only people who ever call her. She's got her maids scared half to death. She doesn't even own a television."

"True," Nina said with raised eyebrows. "But the Georgias do."

"Oh." Julia slumped in the seat again and moaned, "The Georgias."

"You are a hot topic on the Tulsa bridge circuit today!"

Nina laughed. "I bet they crash the party just to get a look at him." She gestured to Lance in the backseat.

"Ro-Ro's coming," Julia said with dread. "And she's bringing the Georgias."

Nina joyfully added, "That's right!"

Lance leaned between the seats and yelled, "WHO IS RO-RO?"

Julia waved dismissively at Nina and said, "Tell him." Nina glanced at Lance in the rearview mirror. "Ro-Ro is Julia's aunt."

"Great
aunt," Julia corrected.

"Right," Nina said, then carried on as if this was the beginning of her al -time favorite story.

"She's Rosemary Crane Willis Fitzgerald, and in this town, she's famous."

"You call her Ro-Ro?" Lance asked, thinking he was catching on.

"Oh, heavens no," Nina said. "Not to her face. To her face, family calls her Aunt Rosemary, and vagrants like you and I call her Mrs. Willis."

"Why Willis?" Lance asked. "Why not one of the other ones?"

"Willis was the husband she liked best," Nina answered patiently.

"Hated least," Julia corrected.

"Whatever," Nina said. "She's a piece of work. Married four times. Widowed four times. Each husband richer than the one who came before him. Plus, she's tighter than a submarine and older than the hills."

"Married four times?" Lance questioned. "You only gave three last names."

"Two of the husbands were brothers," Julia clarified.

"She never leaves her house unless she's on the warpath about something." Nina reached over and patted Julia's thigh. "But she's coming today."

Julia moaned, and Lance raised his eyebrows.

"And then," Nina stated with flair, "we have the Georgias—also known as Georgia Abernathy, Georgia Burke, and Evelyn Wesley, who was Miss Georgia in 1954. They all live in Ro-Ro's building and follow her around like little blue-haired disciples, especially Miss Georgia A. and Miss Georgia B. I think Miss Georgia '54 would like to lead her own gang, but as long as Ro-Ro's living there, no ex-beauty queen has got a prayer of forming any kind of splinter group."

"Sounds like 90210, the golden years," Lance joked.

"Exactly," Nina said, nodding her approval.

Lance began to wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

"Don't worry," Nina reassured him. "You'll do great!"

Julia cringed and sank a little deeper into the seat.

When they stopped for gas, Lance insisted on getting out and pumping. Nina insisted on letting him.

"He is the biggest problem my career has ever faced, and instead of leaving him in New York"—

Julia gestured to where Lance stood beside the car—"I let him follow me home," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes skyward, finishing a five-minute monologue on "the Lance Situation." She looked to Nina for sympathy, but all she saw was her best friend's outstretched hand. "I'm not wearing the ring, or did you notice?"

"I did notice, and I'm proud," Julia said, and gave herself a mental slap for not being more sensitive. But it was hard not to grow immune to the drama of Nina's love life, especially after watching her marry and divorce the same man twice.

"Jason's totally moved out, and we've filed the papers. So . . ." There was a drum roll in her voice. "In eight weeks, I'll be a single gal!" she finished with a big
ta-da.

Nina must have confused Julia's silence for self-pity because she said, "Come on, Jules, let's keep things in perspective here. You meet a hot guy. Great. Worse ways to spend a day. People think you've got feelings for the hot guy. Hardly a national crisis. Besides"—she stopped and gestured to Lance, who stood dutifully beside the car—"he pumps the gas. I don't even remember the last time I didn't have to pump my own gas."

Both women stared at him out the window.

When Lance took the squeegee and began to clean the windshield, Nina gripped the steering wheel and moaned, "Oh, have mercy."

"Which house is it again?" Nina asked as they pulled into a housing addition a half mile off the highway. Lance looked around and understood why she was confused. The subdivision was like a maze, each structure nearly identical to the one that stood beside it, all of them in the last stages of completion, each one reeking of decay as muddy, un-sodded yards oozed into piles of shingles and scrap lumber.

"What is going on here?" Lance asked.

"Contractor went bankrupt," Nina told him. "There are only three or four houses in the whole subdivision that are done. Everything else is in limbo. No one can finish them until the courts straighten it out."

"What a mess," he muttered.

"This is the road," Julia said, guiding Nina onto a snakelike lane that resembled every other road in the monster development. They eased their way through the half-finished carnage of dream homes until they made another twist and saw one house that had daffodils dotting the flowerbeds and an abandoned tricycle standing sentry in the yard. Orange and white helium-filled balloons were tied to the mailbox and drifted in the breeze, but there wasn't another car in sight.

"Good," Nina said as she pulled the VW up the slight incline of the garage slab and shifted into park. "We're early."

WAY #56: Always enjoy the party.

Whether it's the wedding of two old col ege friends or the
-as.
birthday of someone from
work, your lack of a date should I never keep you from attending important celebrations. If
people are real y your friends, they'l invite you to such events because they want
you
to be
there. So go; kick up your heels and have a great time.

—from 707
Ways to Cheat at Solitaire

Here are some things the world should be spared, and the sight of a tax attorney in a Hello Kitty
party hat is one of them,
Julia thought as she stood in the doorway of her sister's house and examined her brother-in-law, Steve. Then she recognized the strange feeling in her stomach:
relief.
Maybe she was simply glad that Steve had placed his family over his firm for at least a few hours that weekend, but deep down, Julia realized the feeling was probably due to the fact that of all the people she could count on not to notice the

Lance debacle and not to care, her brother-in-law was at the top of the list.

"Julia, welcome back," Steve said, as if ushering her inside his office.

"Like the hat," Nina said as she followed Julia inside. "Hi there," Lance said, and held out his hand. "I'm Lance "Welcome, Lance," Steve said, shaking his hand. "Come on in."

In the grand foyer, their footsteps echoed on the marble floor, despite the gorgeous rugs and wall hangings that Nina had sold to Caroline at cost, earning her a place in Steve': penny-pinching heart forever. A staircase curved to the second story and the formal living room stretched out beneath a cathedral ceiling, and Julia had to wonder for the millionth time( how her sister and brother-in-law had wound up here. It look like a page from a magazine, and it had been Julia's experience! that only two-dimensional people live in such two-dimensional rooms.

But the chandelier kept blazing, and all six thousand square feet of it kept gathering dust—

despite Caroline's constant efforts otherwise.

Steve led the way through a formal dining room that Julia had never seen anyone use. They were about to enter the kitchen when her sister screamed, "I'm going to kill her!"

"Now, Caroline, sweetheart, you shouldn't harbor darkness in your heart."

Great, Mom's beret,
Julia thought. But Caroline was havin: none of their mother's goodness and wisdom.

"Mom, you misunderstood. I didn't say I hated her, I said I was going to kill her."

Steve, Julia, Nina, and Lance exchanged glances as Caroline shrieked, "That old bat is trying to ruin my daughter's party!"

Nina leaned close to Julia and whispered, "Ro-Ro?"

"I don't think so," Julia whispered back. A loud crash echoed through the house, and Steve bolted toward the noise, muttering, "That sounded expensive!" The rest of them hurried along behind him.

"That is our backyard!" Caroline was saying as they all entered the kitchen. "Three different surveyors were here, and they all agreed on the property line. So help me, if she pulls up one more stake, I'm going to stick it up her . . . "

Caroline stopped short at the newcomers' arrival. Then everyone seemed to stare at Lance, who looked wrinkled and worn. Julia knew how exhausted she was, and thought that he must be about to collapse, too; he certainly looked like it.

"Julia, welcome back," her mother said at last. "Aren't you going to introduce your friend?"

Friend.
Not sweetheart or parasite or stalker.
Friend.
She could handle that.

"Lance Collins, this is my mother, Madelyn, and my sister, Caroline. You met Steve and Nina.

Everyone, you probably know about Lance."

The grins on the women's faces said that yes, they knew all about Lance. Steve's vacant expression said that he was wondering what would happen to the 248b deduction when Congress met next session. For the first time ever, Julia wished the rest of her family was more like Steve.

"Sweetheart," Steve said to Caroline. "Did I hear something break?"

"Oh, Steve, I'm fine," Caroline told him.

"But what broke?" he persisted.

"It was a pickle jar, Steve," Madelyn said, obviously understanding what her son-in-law was getting at. "And don't worry, it was empty. No precious pickles went to waste."

Steve seemed to visibly relax.

"Lance, won't you come over here and sit down?" Madelyn gestured to one of the barstools surrounding Caroline's granite-covered island. "You must be exhausted. Did you have a nice trip?"

"He had a fine trip, Mother," Julia said, but Madelyn cut her a look that mothers never lose, no matter how many years removed from the womb their children are.

"I was talking to Lance, Julia Marie. I was speaking to your guest."

"Hey, don't jump on me. Caroline's the one premeditating murder," Julia said, quietly relieved that there was a major crisis on the table, something—anything—to take the focus off her and the stray that she'd brought home.

Caroline sighed and screamed into a dishrag. "When she came up for air, she explained: "Crazy Myrtle is about to be the death of me."

"Caroline," Madelyn interceded, "don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

"She goes through our trash," Caroline said with the finality of someone laying down a trump card.

"No way does she actually do that." Nina laughed.

"Oh yes she does," Caroline said defiantly. "She goes out there in her bathrobe before the garbage men come. She'll dig around, and if she finds something she likes, she'll take it." Before anyone could protest this bold revelation, Caroline raised her right hand and said, "I swear."

"Well, what do you do about it?" Nina asked.

"The first time we ignored it, but after a month, Steve went over there, and the crazy bat laughed and slammed the door in his face." Caroline took a bottle of kitchen cleaner and sprayed her already spotless counter, then picked up the rag and began scrubbing with a vengeance.

"Now"—Caroline sighed—"she's complaining about the property line. She's probably out there pulling up markers even as we speak. Forty-seven empty houses in this place, and the only other occupied one is next to us. Is it a nice young family with kids the same age as ours? No.

It's the crazy mother of the crazy contractor who went bankrupt and is now trying to drive me completely crazy." She turned to her husband. "I swear, if she so much as crosses a toe over our property line during Cassie's party, I'll—"