Almost Perfect

Chapter 21

Truth hurts even when it sets you free.

– How to Have a Perfect Life

Maddy huddled in one of the big wooden chairs on the front porch of the resort's central lodge. Even though she wore the largest pair of sunglasses she owned, the light stabbed at her sensitive eyes. If only Christine and Amy would arrive, she could go to the suite they'd be sharing, close all the drapes, and hide out from the other guests until she got her emotions under control.

When she'd arrived an hour ago, she'd managed to put on a happy face long enough to get checked in, greet her hosts, and meet a few guests. The puffy eyes had been easily dismissed as allergies. She doubted that excuse would hold up if she joined the party going on in the bar and suddenly burst into tears for no apparent reason.

Sitting outside to "enjoy the mountain view" was a much safer bet.

Finally, she saw an SUV turn into the resort's long, twisting driveway. She tracked its progress past the horse stables, over the wooden bridge, then as it climbed past a scattering of guest lodges.

Rental vehicles had been arriving at a fairly steady pace, but she clung to the hope that this one would be carrying her friends.

It made the final turn into the long, narrow parking lot. After it slipped into an empty space, a tall blonde stepped out of the driver's side.

"Christine!" Maddy called, springing to her feet.

The woman turned, shading her eyes. A familiar smile broke over her face, the most welcome sight in the world.

"Maddy!" Christine waved as Maddy hurried off the porch and barreled toward her friends.

Amy emerged next, and Maddy soon found herself engulfed in a group hug. The comfort of it stirred all the emotions that had been too near the surface for the past twenty-four hours.

"I've missed you both so much. I'm so glad you made it!"

"Us, too," Christine said. "Although it was touch and go at the very last minute."

"What happened?" Maddy looked instinctively to Amy and noticed the lack of glasses. "Did you get contacts?"

"I did." She beamed, her green eyes sparkling. Her jumper also hung looser than normal.

"Hey, you look great!" Maddy stepped back for a better look.

Amy struck a diva pose. "Just forty more pounds to go."

"So what was the holdup?"

"Grandmother." Amy rolled her eyes, speaking volumes with that single word. "It's okay, though. Christine helped me handle it."

"Yeah." Christine snorted. "It's hell being a hypochondriac when there's a doctor in the room."

"But everything else went okay?" Maddy searched Amy's face for signs of strain, but realized her friend had never looked more excited. "You handled the plane all right?"

Amy laughed. "Christine's the one who hates flying. But since we had each other, the trip was really fun."

"It was," Christine agreed. "And now that she's had her first taste of travel, I suspect there'll be no stopping her."

"I don't know. Traveling solo still sounds pretty scary." Amy shaded her eyes as she looked about. "Goodness, what a place!"

"No kidding." Christine looked equally impressed, which was no mean feat for someone who had grown up with family money like hers. Then she turned back to Maddy. "So, where's Joe? We're dying to meet him."

"He's-" She managed to swallow down a rise of tears. "Not coming."

"Uh-oh." Christine narrowed her eyes, trying to see past the sunglasses.

"Why not?" Amy's smile turned into a worried frown.

"I'll tell you when we get inside." Though she said it calmly, nothing got past Christine. Her friend plucked the sunglasses right off her nose. After a two-day crying jag, she knew perfectly well how awful she looked.

Christine turned to Amy. "We need an emergency girlfriend crash cart. Stat. Did you bring the chocolate I put on your packing list?"

"I told you, it's not on my diet."

"Amy, calories don't count when you're out of town." Christine shook her head. "Never mind.

There's bound to be a restaurant or gift shop inside. See what you can scare up."

Amy bit her lip as she studied the central lodge. "Okay, I can do this."

"You don't need to." Maddy put the shades back on and realized her head was now pounding. "I'm okay."

"No, I can handle it," Amy insisted. "Where's the gift shop?"

"Right inside the door."

"And our room?"

"We're in Alta Vista." Maddy pointed to a three-story adobe building perched at the end of a footpath above the parking lot. "Bottom corner suite on the left."

"Got it." Amy hurried off, digging in her purse for her wallet.

Moving to the back of the SUV, Christine popped the hatch. Maddy followed to help her with the luggage and was shouldered away. "Patients aren't allowed to tote and carry. You just lead the way."

"Come on. Y'all are being silly," Maddy protested weakly as Christine herded her up the path with a suitcase in each hand.

With their suite on the bottom level, they had a patio rather than a balcony. The twin patio doors opened into two units that could be separated with double doors or opened into one big unit. Since Joe hadn't come, Maddy had opened the doors.

"I put you and Amy in here." Maddy led the way into the side with two double beds. She'd taken the one with the single king on the remote hope that Joe would show up.

"Nice digs." Christine looked around as she de-posited the suitcases on the beds. "Western chic meets feng shui. Your new friends have good taste."

"I don't even want to think about what this room would cost if we were paying."

"Then don't. In fact, don't think about anything. Just sit." Christine pointed to the sofa before the kiva fireplace as she ducked into the bathroom.

Since obeying was easier than arguing, Maddy sat and rested her head against the back of the sofa. The draperies were open, so she left her sunglasses on and closed her eyes. A minute later she heard Christine return. The stinging red light behind her eyelids went wonderfully blue when the drapes closed with a swish of sound.

"Don't move," Christine told her, her voice coming closer. The sunglasses were removed-gently this time-and a damp washcloth settled over her eyes.

"Thank y-you-" Her voice broke, so she shut up.

"You just sit there and relax while I unpack a few things. We'll talk when Amy gets here."

Giving in to exhaustion, she stayed just as she was, struggling to regain control of her rioting emotions. She heard the zip of a suitcase being opened, rummaging, footsteps, the pop of a cork leaving a wine bottle.

Then the patio door opened with a tangible burst of happy energy and return of sunlight.

"Mission accomplished," Amy announced. "And I only took one wrong turn trying to find the kitchen."

"They didn't have chocolate bars in the gift shop?" Christine asked.

"They did. Really good ones, too. But I wanted to get this."

"You're that determined to stick to your diet?"

"No. It's for Maddy."

Christine burst out laughing.

Curious, Maddy lifted the corner of the washcloth. She found Amy standing just inside the patio door proudly holding a fistful of candy bars in one hand and an enormous cucumber in the other. She couldn't help it, she laughed as well.

"So"-Christine stifled her mirth-"is that supposed to console Maddy by replacing Joe?"

"What?" Amy frowned, then turned scarlet when understanding dawned. "You!" she scolded Christine as she closed the door, plunging the room back into semidarkness. "It's for her eyes. Cucumber slices take the swelling out."

"Ah." Christine grinned as she poured wine into hotel water glasses. "Well, bring it over and add it to the rest of our emergency supplies."

Maddy straightened, plucking at her hair where the cloth had dampened it. Christine had sej a bottle of wine on the coffee table along with a manicure kit, her laptop, which was booting up, and a small stack of DVDs.

"You brought movies?" Maddy lifted a brow.

"I was hoping we could kick Joe out for one evening and have a girls' night ogling Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp."

Maddy's throat went tight. "Looks like you got your wish."

"Oh, crap." Christine's shoulders slumped while Amy hurried over, sat on the sofa, and pulled Maddy into her arms.

"It's okay." Amy patted her back. Maddy gave in and slumped into her nurturing softness.

Big, humiliating, shoulder-shaking sobs wracked her body. "I'm sorry," she managed to say after several long minutes.

"Don't be." Amy soothed her by rubbing her palm on Maddy's back in circles. "Whatever happened, we're here. You can cry in front of us all you want."

"Thank you." Maddy sniffed as she straightened.

Christine sat on the coffee table facing her with a glass of red wine in her hand. "Here, drink this."

"Thanks." Maddy took a sip, hiccuping slightly.

"Now this." Christine held out a chocolate bar that was half unwrapped.

The chocolate was dark and rich and had a wonderful bite that made Maddy moan in unexpected ecstasy. Amy was right-they stocked the good stuff.

"Now," Christine said sternly. "Tell us what the bastard did, so we can decide whether or not he gets to live."

The chocolate turned to sawdust in Maddy's mouth. She managed to wash it down with a swallow of wine. "It wasn't him. It was me. Oh God, I've been so stupid!"

She bent forward in a rush, bracing her forearms against her thighs. The wineglass and chocolate bar magically disappeared, allowing her to hide her face in her hands. "Really, really stupid!"

Amy patted her back. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"Only if Christine promises not to say 'I told you so.' "

"I swear upon my Hippocratic oath."

"Well, you were right." She sat back and accepted the wine again. "I should have talked to Joe weeks ago. Not about telling him I loved him- we really were making progress there-but about Sylvia's offer."

"Ah." Christine raised a brow. "He found out."

"Oh yeah."

"And he didn't take it well."

"You could say that." She took a drink. "Actually, he pretty much lost it. At the time, I was stunned. I couldn't figure out why he was so angry. All the way up here, I kept trying to sort it out. Well, actually, I started out arguing with him in my head about how ridiculous he was being. This wasn't like last time, when I put my own dreams and independence before him. It was exactly the opposite. I was putting him first. Putting us first.

"But something he said kept ringing through my own tirade, until I finally got it. I finally understood what he was saying."

"What?" Amy asked.

"He said he couldn't be with a woman who thought so little of him that she thought she had to make herself less in order for him to feel like he's more. And suddenly I realized something in this blinding flash that's humiliating to admit."

"What?" Amy's eyes went round.

"I've turned into my mother!"

"Now, there's a frightening thought," Christine said.

"Maybe not for everyone, but it is for me." Maddy remembered when Joe had had the same revelation about him becoming more like his mother, but at least Mama Fraser was someone she would want to be like. "What's worse is I was treat-ing Joe as if he was as big an insecure jerk as my Neanderthal father. No wonder he's insulted. I'm insulted for him." She covered her eyes. "And embarrassed and ashamed and really pissed at myself."

"Maddy"-Christine squeezed her knee-"this is hardly surprising. We all form our opinions about relationships based on the dynamics of our parents' relationship. It's what we grow up watching."

"Yes, but I grew up swearing I would never be like my mother."

"You love your mother," Christine said.

"Of course I do. That doesn't mean I always like her. And I sure don't respect her. She's an intelligent, talented, personable woman with incredible organizational skills. She ran our house so smoothly it was amazing. But it was all done behind my dad's back, with her dismissing everything she did as no big deal while praising anything Dad did, no matter how stupid. Like 'Oh wonder be, the man managed to lift his own butt out of his armchair and walk into the dining room all on his own power to eat this little oP meal I fixed. Isn't he a miracle? Oh no, dear, don't get up to fetch another beer. You've been driving around in your squad car all day while all I did was grocery shopping, cleaning, mending, cooking, and running ten thousand errands for your five ungrateful kids. Let me wait on you.' Gag, gag. gag-"

"You shouldn't be so hard on her," Amy said gently. "That's the way a lot of marriages from that generation work."

"Actually," Christine put in, "a lot of marriages are still that way. I guess it works for some people."

"I'm talking about an extreme case here," Maddy insisted. "One that's sickening to watch.

Mom sang in the church choir but laughed off any suggestion that she sing a solo. She worked in a department store for a while but turned down a promotion into management. She belonged to a garden club and refused to be president all three times she was asked. I grew up blaming all that on my dad and vowing that I would never, never let a man do that to me."

"Are you saying now it wasn't your dad's fault?"

"Yes and no. I'm getting to that. First, the part that's easier to understand. The reason I freaked when Joe asked me to marry him way back when is because I refused to get married right out of high school and spend my life subjugating myself to any man. I was going to work my tail off, go to college, be an independent woman. A successful artist. My own person. So in my head the two things became connected. Marrying Joe equaled having to become like my mother."

"So"-Christine held up a hand-"since you changed your mind about marrying Joe, you had to change your mind about the other."

"Yes!"

Amy frowned. "Then how come you weren't that way with Nigel?"

"I don't know." Maddy massaged her temple. "Maybe because he was so completely opposite from my father, while Joe is much more masculine, so not so opposite. Not that he's like my father, because he's not."

"Oo, I just had a thought." Christine pursed her lips. "One I don't think you'll like."

"What?" Maddy frowned when her friend hesitated. "You might as well tell me. I can't possibly lose any more respect for myself today."

"You did do it with Nigel." Christine shrugged apologetically. "It just wasn't as noticeable. He was very successful professionally, and he came from a reasonably well-off family. That gave you a pretty high ceiling to hit before your success topped his. Then he got sick, which jeopardized his professional status. Some women would have reacted to that by becoming more aggressive in their own careers to replace their husband's income. But you poured all your energy into guarding his success by running his business for him. That may be the real reason you stopped pursuing an art career. The ceiling got too low."

"Oh crap, you're right." Maddy hid her face behind her hand. "And this is where it all gets more complicated. I don't do it just with men. I do it with women too. Which is something Joe pointed out, but I didn't see just how bad I am about it until I was driving up here."

She lowered her hand. "So now, I feel like someone ripped a blindfold off my eyes and suddenly I'm looking at my mother and really seeing her for the first time. Maybe Mom can't let herself do all the things I know she's capable of for the same reasons I get all sick at my stomach when I do well. My success might hurt someone's feelings or make people not like me. Maybe that's the real reason she won't sing solo in the church choir. And that's why a marriage that looks completely unfair on the outside works for those two people. Dad gets a slave and a verbal whipping post to make him feel manly, and Mom gets a convenient excuse to hold herself back. How warped is that?"

"True," Christine agreed, "but like you said, it works for them."

"I hate that, though." Disgust sat sourly in Mad-dy's stomach. "And I don't want to be like that."

"You don't have to be." Christine unwrapped another candy bar. "The first step to breaking a pattern is recognizing it. Or, as Jane said in her book, face your inner fear."

"Except she was wrong. I'm not afraid of rejection."

"You're afraid of success." Christine held out the chocolate.

"What kind of a fear is that?" Maddy broke off a bite.

"A fairly common one, I think," Amy said.

"But why?" Maddy asked. "It's so stupid."

"Success changes things." Christine shrugged. "Sometimes in ways that aren't so comfortable. It requires responsibility and sacrifice and can open you up for undeserved criticism. It also changes how you see yourself and how others see you."

"Yeah." Maddy popped the bite of chocolate into her mouth. "It makes some people hate you."

"Only petty, selfish, insecure people. The trick is to realize that your success doesn't rob anyone of anything."

"But it can rob you," Maddy said. "Look at Jane. She was willing to sacrifice anything, which turned out to include us, to achieve her dream."

"She didn't have to," Amy said.

"You know"-Christine munched thoughtfully- "I've been thinking about her book a lot. Hidden among a lot of nonsense it has some pretty good gems of wisdom about how hard life can be. That makes me wonder if she's really as 'outrageously happy' as she would have the world believe."

"See?" Maddy gestured with her glass. "There you go, right there. Success doesn't automatically equal happiness."

"Yet surely it doesn't automatically exclude it either," Amy argued. "I have to believe that happiness comes from finding the right balance. Maybe your balance is accepting that success can empower you without consuming you or diminishing others. Mostly, though, you don't have to sacrifice friendship to reach for your dream. The people who love you will be happy for you, and even get a vicarious thrill watching you."

"God, I love this woman," Christine said. "She's so damn wise. And she's right, Mad. Those of us who love you will be nothing but thrilled."

"Which I guess brings us back to Joe." Maddy stared at her nearly empty glass. "What am I going to do? I really insulted him."

Amy squeezed her hand. "Then apologize."

Christine shuddered. "Don't you just hate that?"

"Not when I've been this stupid." Maddy sighed. "I just hope we can work past this."

"If he loves you, you will." Christine swiveled on the coffee table to survey their supplies. "In the meantime, we have wine, chocolate, and Johnny Depp."

"Orlando Bloom," Amy countered. "He has the sweetest eyes."

"Okay, you get sweet, I get bad, and Maddy gets the cucumber."

"Christine!" Amy blushed.

"For her eyes." Christine blinked, the picture of pure innocence. "That is why you got it, right?"

Maddy smiled at both her friends, loving them so much she thought she might start crying again. Good thing Amy got that cucumber.