"No kidding. I was sway-backed as a mule. I had shooting pains in both legs, and the baby's head pressing on my bladder made me dribble in my pants. I went into labor that night and Meg was born the next afternoon. Listen, the reason I called, we'd love to have you over. We never see you these days."
"Sounds good to me. Give me a toot and we'll set something up."
There was a pause. "That's what I'm doing. I just invited you to come over and have a drink with us. We're putting some people together for a barbecue this afternoon."
"Really? What time?"
"Four o'clock. I know it's short notice, but I'm hoping you're free."
"As it happens, I am. What's the occasion?"
Vera laughed. "No occasion. I just thought it'd be nice. We've invited a few neighbors. Strictly casual and low-key. If you have a pencil handy, I'll give you the address. Why don't you plan to be here a little early and we can catch up."
I took down the information, not at all convinced. Why would she call like this out of the blue? "Vera, are you sure you're not up to something? I don't mean to sound rude, but we chatted for five minutes in April. Before that, there was a gap of four years. Don't get me wrong. I'd be happy to see you, but it does seem odd."
"Mmm."
I said, "What," not even bothering to make a question of the word. "Okay, I'll level with you, but you have to promise you won't scream."
"I'm listening, but this is making my stomach hurt."
"Neil's younger brother, Owen, is in town for the weekend. We thought you should meet him."
"What for?"
"Kinsey, occasionally men and women are introduced to each other, or haven't you heard?"
"Like a blind date?"
"It's not a blind date. It's drinks and a few snacks. There'll be tons of other people so it's not like you'll be stuck with him one-on-one. We'll sit on the back deck. Cheez Whiz and crackers. If you like him, that's swell. If you don't, no big deal."
"The last time you fixed me up, it was with Neil," I said. "My point exactly. Look how that turned out." I was silent for a moment. "What's he like?"
"Well, aside from the fact that he walks with his knuckles barely grazing the floor, he seems to do okay. Look, I'll have him fill out an application. You can do a background check. Just be here at three-thirty. I'm wearing my only pair of jeans that haven't been split up the back."
She hung up while I was saying, "But…"
I listened to the dial tone in a state of despair. I could see now I was being penalized for shirking my job. I should have gone in to work. The Universe keeps track of our sins and exacts devious and repugnant punishments, like dates with unknown men. I went up the spiral staircase and opened my closet so I could stare at my clothes. Here's what I saw: My black all-purpose dress – which is the only dress I own, good for funerals and other somber occasions, not suitable for meeting guys, unless they're already dead. Three pairs of jeans, a denim vest, one short skirt, and the new tweed blazer I bought when I had lunch with my cousin, Tasha, eighteen months before. Also, an olive-green cocktail dress I'd forgotten about, given to me by a woman who was later blown to bits. In addition, there were castoffs from Vera, including a pair of black silk pants so long I had to roll 'em up at the waist. If I wore those, she'd ask to have them back, thus forcing me to drive home essentially naked below the waist. Not that I thought harem pants would be suitable for a barbecue. I knew better than that. Shrugging, I opted for my usual jeans and turtleneck.
At 3:30 promptly I was ringing Vera's doorbell. The address she'd given me was on the upper east side of town, in a neighborhood of older homes. Theirs was a ramshackle Victorian painted dark gray with white trim and an L-shaped wooden porch complete with froufrou along the rail. The front door had a stained-glass rose in the center that made Vera's face look bright pink when she peered out at me. Behind her, the dog barked with excitement, eager to jump up and slobber on someone new. She opened the door, holding the dog by its collar to prevent its escape.
She said, "Don't look so glum. You've been given a reprieve. I sent the guys out to buy Pampers and beer, so it's just us for twenty minutes. Come on in." Her hair was cropped short and streaked with blond. She still sported her glasses with wire frames and enormous pale blue lenses. Vera's the type of woman who attracts admiring glances wherever she goes. Her figure was substantial, though she'd already dropped much of the weight she gained with Meg. She was barefoot, Wearing tight jeans and an oversize tunic with short sleeves and a complicated cut to the top. All the toddler and baby toting had firmed her biceps.
She held the door for me, angling her body so the dog couldn't lunge at me just yet. He'd doubled in size since I'd seen him on the beach. He didn't seem like a mean mutt, but he was exuberant. She leaned close to his face, put a hand around his muzzle, and said, "No!" in a tone that had no particular effect. He seemed to like the attention and licked her in the mouth the first chance he got.
"This is Chase. Ignore him. He'll settle down in a bit."
I made an effort to ignore the dog while he pranced around, barking happily, and then snagged the hem of my pant leg and began to tug. He emitted a puppy growl, his feet braced on the hall carpet so he could rip my jeans to shreds. I stood there, captive, and said, "Gee, this is fun, Vera. I'm so glad I came."
She gave me a look, but let the sarcasm pass. She snagged the dog by the collar and dragged him toward the kitchen while I followed. The foyer ceiling was high with a set of stairs to the right, the living room on the left. A short hall led straight to the kitchen across the back. The passage was the usual land mine of wooden blocks, plastic toy parts, and abandoned doggie bones. She shoved Chase into a kennel the size of a steamer trunk. This didn't dismay the dog, but I felt guilty nonetheless. He placed a baleful eye to one of the air vents in the kennel and stared at me with hope.
The kitchen was large and I could see a wide deck accessible through a set of French doors. The cabinets were dark cherry, the counters dark green marble, with a six-burner stove-top built into a central island. Both the baby and Vera's son, whom she introduced as Peter, were already bathed and dressed for bed. Near the kitchen sink, a woman in a pale blue uniform was piping a star of yellow filling into each of a dozen hard-boiled egg halves.
"This is Mavis," Vera said. "She and Dirk are helping, to save the wear and tear on me. I've got a babysitter on her way."
I murmured greetings and Mavis smiled in response, hardly pausing as she squeezed the filling from a pastry bag. Parsley had been tucked around the platter. On the counter nearby there were two baking sheets of canapés ready for the oven and two other serving platters, one arranged with fresh cut vegetables and the other an assortment of imported cheeses interspersed with grapes. So much for Cheez Whiz – which I personally adored, being a person of low tastes.
This party had clearly been in the works for weeks. I now suspected the designated blind date had come down with the flu and I'd been elected to take her place… a B-list substitute.
Dirk, in dress pants and a short white jacket, was working near the walk-in pantry where he'd set up a temporary bar with a variety of glasses, an ice bucket, and an impressive row of wine and liquor bottles.
"How many are you expecting?"
"Twenty-five or so. This is strictly last minute so a lot of people couldn't make it."
"I'll bet."
"I'm still off the booze because of Twinkletoes here."
The baby, Meg, was strapped in an infant seat in the middle of the kitchen table, looking around with a vague expression of satisfaction. Peter, aged twenty-one months, had been secured in a high chair. His tray was littered with Cheerios and green peas that he captured and ate when he wasn't squishing them instead.