Jeanie set two glasses of tap water onto the table, pulled the chair across from Libby out a little farther, and lowered herself down. Draping a paper towel in her lap, she asked, “How are you really doin’?”
“Not great,” she said, looking at her steaming chicken and pasta.
“Thought so. That’s why I stopped by tonight. I could tell when I saw you last.” They ate in silence for a moment. Libby knew that she was waiting for her to say something, but she just didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know where to begin. Jeanie took a bite of chicken and followed it with a swig of water. “Wanna talk about it?”
She wanted to say “no,” but with Jeanie, she knew that her secrets were safe. She took a deep breath and let it out like a burst pipe, the tension in her shoulders pinching her neck—and tried to figure out how to verbalize her thoughts. “It’s hard coming back… hard to see everyone.”
Jeanie nodded and took another bite. Through the glass in the door, a swarm of tiny bugs circled the porch light outside the kitchen window. “By ‘everyone,’ you mean Pete?”
There it was. Jeanie just laid it all out there. But she was right. Libby couldn’t lie to Jeanie. “That’s a big part of it, yeah.”
“Have you two had a chance to talk?”
“Some. I don’t think he hates me anymore. Now he just doesn’t like me,” Libby smiled.
“I’ve heard of married couples worse off than that. Maybe you two can work things out then.”
“Maybe,” she smiled, knowing that she meant Pete’s “maybe” and not the real one.
“If you did work things out, would you stay?”
“No.” Her shoulders were tightening with the complete misery of her predicament. She could feel the stress welling up. Why did she even have to have dated Pete Bennett? They’d been friends for so long. Why had they taken that next step? It made everything so complicated. He was a fantastic person, just not the right one for her, and now it left them in a very odd place.
“You might surprise yourself. Not everyone wants to leave this town. There’s a lot of good here, you know. Some people like it enough to spend their whole lives here.”
Jeanie’s comment brought to mind Anne’s letter and the choices that she’d had before her. Regardless of what may have happened, she’d stayed. Libby wanted to tell Jeanie about it, but she knew it wasn’t her secret to tell. She wondered if Jeanie knew anything about the man named Mitchell or if she had heard any stories about trouble between Pop and Nana. They had been so perfect together; it seemed unthinkable that anything could have put a wedge between them, yet the point crept into her mind that Nana had been given the chance to escape that town for something bigger.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Jeanie asked.
Libby set down her fork and put her hands in her lap. She took a moment to look around the kitchen, the old wallpaper still there where Nana had hung it. “I think about Nana and Pop a lot since coming home,” she said. “Being here brings back so many memories.”
Jeanie took a sip of her water and nodded, following Libby’s gaze as she looked around the room once more. Jeanie had known Hugh and Anne Roberts quite well. During so many of the times she sought a retreat from the demands of her mother, and she’d come to the Roberts’ place with Pete, Jeanie had been there. Libby had never said a bad word to anyone about her mother, but whenever she’d shown up, it was as if Jeanie already knew.
“Do you remember what they were like when you were young?” she asked, trying to ascertain how Mitchell could have even gotten into the picture. “They were always so happy. As a kid, it never occurred to me, but now, I wonder about their life together.” She scooped a bite of casserole onto her fork. “Didn’t you say that you’d attended their wedding? I’ll bet it was wonderful.”
“I did go to their weddin’,” Jeanie smiled. “I was seven.” The paddle fan clacked outside as it spun the warm air around on the porch. “I remember her dress so well because I was at that age where I still thought it might be possible to be a princess one day. And that’s exactly what Anne looked like.”
Libby leaned on her fist, her elbow propped on the table. “Tell me what she looked like.”
“She had a long, ivory dress. The top was a mixture of lace and satin. It went right up to her neck and down her arms. She had a large sash of satin at her waist, and a train—I swear—the length of a football field. At least that’s how I remember it.” Jeanie stood up. “Come on out with me. Let’s get the pie from the car.”