Marriage Matters

Ten

The summer sun beat down on June as she stood outside, sweeping the sidewalk. More than one neighbor had peeked out in the past hour to see what she was up to. Probably because sweeping was something June simply did not do.

Well, let them stare. She was not about to miss the arrival of Rose, who, according to Bernice, was planning to pay a visit to Charley. With a casserole. Wearing that bloodred lipstick.

The tramp.

It was perfectly fine with June if Rose wanted to establish a reputation. She was welcome to go after every widowed—or married—man in town, but when it came to June’s neighbor, such behavior was wildly inappropriate. What if Charley actually fell for her tricks? If that happened, Rose would eventually take over Charley’s garden and spend every waking minute trying to outdo June. Charley might even start saying things like, “Why, your blooms are the best in town, Rose.”

Oooh!

June swept furiously. Within seconds, sweat was pouring down her face. Apparently, the sun did not stop shining simply because she decided to spend a little time working on her front sidewalk, which was a shame. She leaned against the broom to catch her breath. While doing so, she noticed for the hundredth time that her legs were covered in inky varicose veins. So many of her friends had gotten that surgery to make them go away, but June was wary of anything that had to do with needles.

“Grandma, what are you doing?” a familiar voice demanded.

June practically jumped out of her skin. Turning, she came face-to-face with her granddaughter. Chloe was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans with that ratty-looking book bag thrown over one shoulder. Her curly brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail.

“Hello, darling.” June kissed her cheeks as though they were at a cocktail party. Her granddaughter smelled like pink bubblegum, even though she did not appear to be chewing any. “How are you?”

Chloe eyed her. “It’s a thousand degrees out here. Have you finally lost your mind?”

June blinked. “I’m just keeping the sidewalk nice.”

“I can see that,” Chloe said. “But A, you don’t sweep. B, this sidewalk is perfectly clean. Which leads me to C. You are up to something.”

June sighed. She hated the way these schools taught deductive reasoning. “The sidewalk is clean because I’ve been sweeping. You should have seen it before I started. It was a mess.”

“Hmmph.” Chloe watched her closely.

June leaned against the broom and decided to change the subject. “You are a lovely distraction. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just got out of class.” Her granddaughter yawned. “On my way to work. The usual.”

June nodded. The kid’s gym where Chloe worked was only five blocks from June’s home. Not that she would ever set foot inside it. If children weren’t related to her, June wasn’t interested, thank you very much.

Chloe glanced at her watch. “Can we go inside? I’ve only got twenty minutes to grab a snack. I need some fuel or those kids will tear me apart.”

“Oh.” June gave a desperate look around. “Um . . . You go ahead. I just want to . . .”

“Grandma!” Chloe said. “Seriously. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, of course. I am simply concerned about a rumor I heard.” Leaning in close, June whispered, “If you must know, my neighborhood is in great danger.”

“That’s it.” Chloe whipped out her cell phone. “I’m calling Mom.”

“No,” June cried. What did the girl want? A full report right here in the middle of the sidewalk? “Chloe, I feel fine. I—”

Just then, June spotted Rose. She was strutting down the sidewalk, decked out in a pair of white shorts, a white polo shirt and tiny pink scarf around her neck. The wind blew just slightly and the scarf flitted in the wind. The whole spectacle reminded June of those music videos Kristine used to watch when she was in high school.

“Toodle-loo,” Rose called, waggling her fingers. “Isn’t this a beautiful morning?”

Swooping in, Rose kissed June hard on each cheek. June practically choked on the overpowering scent of lavender perfume.

“Hi, Rose.” Chloe squinted in the sun. “You look nice.”

“She does not,” June barked, taking in Rose’s outfit. There was no trademark taffeta to be seen. In fact, Rose’s shirt was . . . “That’s a golf shirt!” This was deeply disturbing, as Rose did not play golf. But Charley did.

“Why, yes.” Rose smoothed down the front of the shirt, her augmented breasts shifting with the motion. “I thought I’d take it up again. I’ve always played a little,” she said, “over at the club.”

June eyed her, suspicious. “I don’t remember you ever mentioning that.”

“Well.” Rose appeared to check her lipstick in the foil cover of the casserole. “Perhaps you’re losing your memory.” Looking up, she blinked her cat eyes. “Getting old can be a bitch.”

“You can say that again,” June muttered.

“It’s been lovely chatting with you, but I am actually here to pay a visit to your neighbor. I believe he lives . . .” Rose made a big deal out of scanning the magnificent brownstones, before pointing at the one right next to June’s. “There.” She gave a happy sigh. “What a lovely home.”

With that, Rose swept away in a cloud of perfume. As she pranced up Charley’s steps, her legs perfectly tanned and varicose free, June leaned against her broom like Cinderella.

June watched as Charley answered the door. Silver hair shining, he listened closely to Rose. Throwing one last sly look at June, Rose slipped through Charley’s front door.

June’s heart sunk. “It is truly unbelievable,” she said, picking up the broom, “that someone over seventy could be such a complete and total hussy.”

Chloe studied June. “Interesting. Very, very interesting.”

“What?” June did not like the way her granddaughter was looking at her. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing.” Chloe shrugged. “I’m not saying anything at all.”