Young Widows Club by Alexandra Coutts

Author:Alexandra Coutts [Coutts, Alexandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374301279
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

After Judge Feingold dropped me at school, I assumed she’d gone straight to Dad to tell him all about my little city adventure. But that night at dinner, nobody seemed the wiser. Dad asked about our project proposal (which, since I didn’t get to school until just before lunch, I still ended up missing), and I lied carefully, telling him it had gone well, and that Lula was really stepping up. The air felt charged and dangerous after I’d spoken, as if the judge had assumed Zeus-like capabilities and could strike me down at any moment. It would be the last lie, I promised myself, and anyone else who was listening. Only the truth, only real, from here on out.

The next widows group meets at the Agricultural Hall, and Dad and Juliet drop me off on their way out to dinner. Since I’ve been home, Thursdays have turned into “date nights,” when Juliet’s sister comes over to watch the kids and Dad takes her to one of the five mediocre restaurants open in the off-season. Tonight, I tell Juliet her hair looks nice (it does; new highlights, I think) and I see them share a surprised glance across the front seat.

The Ag Hall is packed with people and with goods, for the Annual Easter Flea Market and Antiques Fair. The long, cavernous barn has been chopped up into a grid, with narrow passages snaking between rows and rows of congested, craft-strewn tables. I stand inside the hefty wooden doors, unpeeling my scarf and stuffing my mittens into the pocket of my coat, while scanning the crowds for Bunny.

I have no idea why we’re here for the Flea. I can only imagine what types of alternative therapies we will uncover among the overflowing aisles of recycled junk, the endless arrays of outdated electronics, and the blur of tapestries, clothing, artwork, and tchotchkes. But I’m sure that Bunny, per usual, has something up her woven poncho sleeves.

I see Liza and Karen the Librarian first, hovering in front of a wall display of neckties fashioned out of old comic books. I walk slowly over to join them, and soon I spy Bunny in a quilted, puffy coat, elbowing her way toward us through the crowd.

“Here you are,” she huffs. “I knew I should have assigned a meeting place. I thought the end of the day would be quiet, but I guess everyone loves a good bargain!”

“I told you,” Karen says, nodding knowingly at Liza. Bunny bustles off to corral some other group members wandering aimlessly by a samovar of hot cider.

“Told her what?” I ask. Karen’s eyes are red and puffy and I’m worried I’ve interrupted something.

“Bargaining.” Liza leans over to explain. “It’s the next grief stage. Karen thinks it’s why we’re here.”

“I hate flea markets,” Karen grumbles, crossing her arms. “Everything smells like my grandmother’s attic.”

Liza gives me a hidden smile. “One of those days,” she says quietly, turning away from Karen’s indignant mumbles. “But you look better.” She gives me a quick once-over.

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