High October Page 5

  “I’m just not used to you like this. The Liz I remember was so quiet and shy.”

  “That was a long time ago. You don’t succeed as a surgeon by being shy.” Liz took a break from the chowder and turned her attention to her lobster roll. “What else did you find in your exploration of my house?”

  “I was in your office looking for a computer to get on the internet,” Maggie admitted. “I saw all those awards.”

  “If you think that’s something, you should see what’s in the closet. I was going to throw out that crap when I moved, but my mother said she would kill me. Jenny said she would kill me. I prefer being alive so… It was Jenny who hung up the stuff in my office.”

  “You were still together?”

  Liz shook her head. “No. She was just visiting. Although I think she was surveying the scene to see if she wanted to join me up here.”

  “Did she want to join you?” asked Maggie, focusing on her chowder. Her tone only sounded casual. Liz could tell she was very curious.

  “For about five minutes, yes, but she wasn’t ready to make such a big move. A shame. We could really use an OB/GYN of her caliber up here.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  Liz chewed her lobster roll while she formulated a response. “Sometimes. I miss the conversation at dinner...someone to talk with about medicine.” She drained the rest of her chowder by drinking the last drops straight from the paper cup. “Pardon my manners or lack of them. Living alone will do that to you.”

  “Maybe you need someone to civilize you.”

  Liz gave her a warning look. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  Maggie shifted in her chair like an artist trying to find another perspective. “I could see you settled down with someone. Why not Jenny?”

  Liz shrugged, not about to give Maggie more information than she’d already squeezed out of her.

  “Is she attractive?” Maggie asked casually.

  Liz put down her sandwich and gave Maggie a hard look. “Maggie, why are you interviewing me?”

  “I haven’t seen you in forty years,” protested Maggie in a righteous voice. “I don’t know anything about you!”

  “Not jealous, are you?”

  “How could I be jealous?” Her face had reddened a little. Liz studied her carefully and decided that her question hadn’t been that far off the mark.

  “Yes, Jenny is attractive, not like you, but a good-looking woman.”

  “I see.” Maggie went back to her chowder, but Liz could sense that she wasn’t done with this topic. She’d only put it on hold.

  Liz decided that flipping the interrogation was the best way to deflect more questions. “What about you? You said you were seeing someone.”

  “Tom. Yes. He’s also a professor at NYU.”

  “Will he expect a call about the accident?” Liz finished her sandwich in two bites.

  “I doubt it. Before I left, I told him it was over between us.”

  “Ah,” said Liz, nodding. “A broken leg and a broken heart.”

  “You’ve got the wrong idea. My heart’s not broken. Neither is his. We’d just run our course. Like you and Jenny.”

  ‘That’s good.”

  Maggie gave her a questioning look, but Liz had no intention of explaining. She waited for Maggie to finish her sandwich. Then she cleared away the papers and containers from their lunch and brought them into the kitchen.

  She heard Maggie call from the porch: “I’d like to take a shower now that I have clean clothes to put on. Would you mind…?” Liz went back to the porch door and gave her a puzzled look. Maggie pointed toward the hall.

  “Oh, you want your bags brought into your room. For a moment, I thought you were asking me to help you take a shower.”

  “You wish.”

  “Maybe I do,” called Liz over her shoulder as she went out to move the bags. “But in all seriousness, I will help you, if you need help.”

  “I’m sure I can manage,” Maggie called back.

  ***

  Maggie returned with a towel wrapped around her head turban-style. She sat next to Liz on the wicker love seat.

  “Put your leg up,” said Liz without looking up from her iPad. With a groan, Maggie hauled her leg up to the hassock.

  “You’re a hard taskmaster, Dr. Stolz.”

  “I hope you’re keeping it up when I’m not here,” said Liz, peering at her.

  “Mostly,” Maggie admitted, “not always.”

  Liz assumed her doctor’s scolding look, a neutral stare guaranteed to trigger the patient’s own feelings of self-recrimination. “It’s important to keep it up. It reduces the swelling and the pain. After I finish reading this, I’ll get you some ice.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “About how measles is making a comeback. Measles! I thought we were done with that decades ago. Fucking anti-vaxers.”

  “Liz…”

  “Yes, I know. The language.” She closed the cover of her iPad. “Feel better? Now that you’re clean?”

  “Much, but I feel like I’m keeping you from enjoying your weekend. I hope I haven’t spoiled any plans.”

  Liz shrugged. “I was thinking about driving up to Baxter State Park and doing some hiking tomorrow, but with you here, that won’t work.”

  “I’m sorry to show up without any warning.”

  “It’s not like you planned to break your leg. What a stupid stunt! What was Tony thinking?”

  “I had my doubts too, but he’s the director.” Maggie laid a warm hand on Liz’s bare thigh. It tingled where it lay. “You were going to get ice.”

  “Yes, I was.” Liz got up and headed to the kitchen. In a few minutes, she returned with a bag of ice and a towel. She took off the walking boot and carefully arranged the ice pack over the break.

  “I must give this infirmary a five-star review. The service here is excellent.” Maggie gave Liz a warm smile. “Thank you for all you do for me.” She reached up and brushed Liz’s cheek with her fingertips.

  Liz stood up quickly to get away from the gentle fingers. “You’re welcome,” she said gruffly. She picked up her iPad and sat down in one of the wicker chairs instead of returning to her seat beside Maggie.

  Maggie frowned, evidently having gotten the message. She retreated into theatrical poise. “Let me make dinner for you tonight. I saw you have a pork tenderloin in the refrigerator.”

  Liz looked doubtful. “Are you sure you’re up for that? I don’t mind cooking.”

  “No, let me. It will give me something to do.”

  ***

  For dinner, Maggie roasted eggplant and peppers from Liz’s garden to go with the tenderloin. She made a tomato salad with balsamic vinegar glaze and fresh basil. It was a simple meal, but Liz savored it because it was such a treat to have someone cook for her. She loved to cook, but lately, it had become merely a chore to provide herself with nourishment. Sometimes, she invited company just to have an excuse to cook something other than grilled meats and vegetables.

  After Liz cleaned up the kitchen, she sat with Maggie on the porch in the gathering twilight. “This is one of my favorite times of the day,” she confided to Maggie.

  “It’s so peaceful here. It was so quiet last night I almost couldn’t sleep.”

  “Did you hear the owls?”

  “Yes. Wonderful. Haunting.”

  “I was hoping you heard them.”

  Maggie gave her a warm smile. “Did you really?”

  Liz nodded.

  “Liz, do you mind if I play your guitar?”

  “No, of course not, but I’m sure it’s out of tune.”

  “I tuned it today.”

  “Hmmm. Checking out my office, my fridge, my elevator and now, tuning my guitar. Should I worry?”

  “Please get it.”

&n
bsp; Liz left and returned with the guitar. She strummed it, then tightened a peg. She tested the strings again and tightened another peg. “It’s been sitting a while. I’m not surprised it won’t stay in tune.” She handed the guitar to Maggie. “Go on, my chanteuse. This is how I remember you best.”

  Maggie strummed some chords. “What would you like to hear?”

  “You pick. You’re the one who wanted to play.”

  Maggie began to play the opening chords to something very familiar. “Who Knows Where the Time Goes?” The melancholy, reflective song instantly catapulted Liz across forty years to their dorm living room where that Judy Collins album was constantly playing.

  At the end of the song, Liz’s eyes were stinging. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to sound cheerful. “Maggie, you still do the best Judy Collins imitation I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thank you, but I’d like to think I’m doing my own interpretation. Not imitating her.”

  “She’s still singing. She comes up every year for a concert at Nathan’s. In fact, I think she’ll be up here on Labor Day weekend. I could see about getting tickets.”

  “I couldn’t possibly stay that long.”

  “Why not? You have someplace else to be?”

  Maggie lazily strummed the guitar while she considered the question. “No, I guess not,” she conceded.

  “So, I’ll get tickets?”

  “Only if she sings this.” Maggie began to sing, “That’s No Way to Say Good Bye.”

  Liz felt a sudden clutching sorrow, as if Maggie’s sweet voice had reached across the decades and squeezed her heart.

  “Please stop,” Liz said.

  “No, sing it with me.”

  “I can’t.” Liz got up and went inside, leaving Maggie alone in the dark.

  Chapter 6

  Maggie awoke to opera. The volume was carefully modulated but loud enough to wake her. She let the air out of the cast, exchanged it for the walking boot, and threw on her robe. The rousing soldier’s chorus from Faust emanated from the kitchen, where Liz sang along in a tenor voice that was perfectly on key but completely androgynous.

  Maggie stood just outside the kitchen door to listen. Liz continued to sing as she poured batter into a cast iron muffin tin. She exchanged the spoon for a spatula to scrape the bottom of the bowl. She shoved the pan into the oven and paused her singing to set her watch. The chorus continued. Liz, unaware that she was being observed, sang along with gusto. When the selection switched to the duet from Don Carlos, Liz, hand on her heart, sang the hero’s part with equal passion.

  Maggie applauded from her hiding place and came into the kitchen. “That was superb! I hate to break it to you, Liz, but you’re not a tenor.”

  “Oh, Maggie, don’t spoil my fun!” Liz reached for her phone to cut off the music. “Did I wake you? I tried to keep it down, but as usual, I got carried away.”

  “It was time to get up.” Maggie lumbered into the kitchen on the awkward boot and put her arms around her tall friend. Liz briefly tensed but then relaxed into the embrace. If Maggie slouched a bit, her breasts slid under Liz’s instead of colliding. Their profiles fit together like puzzle parts. “I’m sorry if I upset you last night,” she said, pulling Liz closer. The feel of her body was so different now. She felt like a woman. Maggie luxuriated in the softness of her flesh.

  “You didn’t upset me. It was the memories. I could practically smell your dinner cooking in the dorm kitchen and see Claudia studying on the other sofa.”

  “I’ve sung those old songs so many times since. I have other memories overlaid on them.” Maggie sighed and gave Liz a good squeeze. “This is what I miss most about not having a partner. Hugs.”

  “In that case…” Liz gathered her up and hugged her enthusiastically, stopping just short of a bone-crusher. Obviously, the years had not diminished her strength. “But no more apologies or heavy conversation today. The weather is going to be spectacular, and we are going to the beach!” Liz untangled herself from Maggie’s arms. “Sit. I’ll make you coffee.”

  “No, let me do it. And I should be making you breakfast to thank you for your kindness. What are you baking?”

  “Popovers! With Maine butter and wild blueberry jam.”

  Maggie attempted to sit at the counter, but Liz banished her to the breakfast room. “And put that leg up!” Maggie took a seat at the breakfast table and put her leg up on the neighboring chair. Liz arrived a moment later with two mugs of coffee.

  “I could get used to this wonderful service. Then you’ll never get rid of me.”

  “There are worse things.” Liz poured cream into her coffee. “By the way, I ordered those Judy Collins tickets. The concert’s on Friday of Labor Day weekend.”

  Maggie stirred her coffee. “So now you’re stuck with me. I could fly home and come back for the concert.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Liz with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, who’s going to help you get around?”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, we have taxis in New York. And I can have my groceries delivered.”

  “Yes, but here, you have beautiful accommodations…” Liz raised her arms expansively. “… a comfortable bed, home-cooked meals, and your very own physician in residence.”

  “A pretty good deal, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Impossible. You’re in the Stolz B&B, where we always extend hospitality. I have visitors all summer. You just happened to arrive at a good time.” Liz checked her watch. “Thirty minutes for popovers.”

  “You’re one of the few people I know who still wears a watch.” Maggie reached for Liz’s wrist to have a closer look. “Pretty fancy.”

  Liz gave the watch a critical glance. “Cartier. Not real gold. Plated stainless steel. A little pretentious, but I wear it because I have to time things like pulse beats. They gave it to me when I retired.”

  “Why did you retire so early?”

  Liz visibly tensed. Maggie sensed she might be probing too deeply, but Liz answered without hesitation. “Because the administration only cared about the bottom line and the public image of the hospital. I’m a surgeon, not a PR agent. But the final straw was a ridiculous malpractice suit. The day I was cleared of any wrongdoing, I announced my retirement.”

  “Wow,” said Maggie, more in reaction to Liz’s vehement tone than the story.

  A moment later, a little buzzer sounded on Liz’s watch. “It even has a timer. Cool, huh? The popovers need to come out.” Liz got up and took the cast iron pan out with oven mitts. She put the pan on a slab of wood. “That’s a cutoff from my shop.” Maggie had no idea what she was talking about, but she noted that the wood was beautiful. Liz plucked two popovers from the tin with her bare fingers and dropped one on each plate. “Enjoy.” She pushed the enormous hunk of butter in Maggie’s direction.

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  “Enjoy it while you can. My patience for pampering invalids is limited.”

  Maggie realized that she was enjoying the attention. Usually, she was the one catering to someone. That’s how it was with men. They expected women to take care of them.

  She watched Liz happily slather butter on her popover and felt a sudden stab of guilt. “How can you be so kind after what I did to you?”

  “It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there.”

  “But I want you to know that I—”

  “Maggie, stop right now. I won’t have this perfect day spoiled with confessions or apologies. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s just enjoy it.” There was the hint of protesting too much in Liz’s voice, but Maggie reluctantly let the subject go.

  “Your popovers are delicious.” Maggie wiped melted butter off her chin with the back of her hand. “I could eat them all!”

  “Go right ahead. They don’t keep well.”

  “In tha
t case…” Maggie reached for another.

  Liz put down her coffee cup. “Maggie, I have an idea. And you can say no, if you don’t feel up to it, but I’ve been meaning to invite Tony and his partner over for dinner. There’s no show at the Playhouse on Sunday nights, so they should be free. What do you think?”

  Maggie didn’t think for more than a moment. She liked Tony and felt she owed him something for rescuing her after the injury. Of course, she wouldn’t have needed rescuing if he hadn’t come up with that idiotic trampoline stunt, but that was another subject. She agreed it sounded like a nice idea and listened while Liz called Tony from the kitchen.

  “They’ll be here around seven,” Liz reported when she returned to the table. “Meanwhile, would you like to go to the beach?”

  “But I burn like a piece of bacon. Remember our canoe trip in the Adirondacks?”

  Liz’s eyes widened with remorse. “That was the most amazing sunburn I’ve ever seen, and you can believe I’ve seen a lot of them.”

  “But you couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to make love.”

  “What can I say? I was a horny kid. All I could think about was sex. But don’t worry. I have plenty of sunscreen and a beach chair with an awning. You can wear my fishing hat with the wide brim.”

  “You have a solution for everything.”

  “Of course, I do!”

  Maggie hadn’t thought to bring a bathing suit when she’d packed for this gig. During summer stock, she usually slept in after the late nights at the theater. By the time she got up, it was nearly time to go to the theater again. Fortunately, she found a pair of cotton shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt she’d thrown into her bag at the last minute. There was also an oversize white blouse to use as a cover against the sun.

  She sat on the front porch while Liz loaded the truck. The promised awning chair was packed along with Liz’s fishing poles and buckets. Liz easily swung herself up into the back of the pickup to tie down the fishing gear and the cooler.

  Their first stop was the bait shop, where Liz bought frozen mackerel and added it to the cooler. “You put your bait in with our sandwiches and drinks?” asked Maggie, incredulous.