She opened the door breathlessly. “Okay, Ronni, I’m ready. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“My God, Abigail, you look positively winded. What have you been doing, jogging in place?” Ronni’s eyes moved left and right. She was disappointed that she couldn’t see more. She was in a foyer area. There was a hallway to the left and the right. In front of her was a table with a painting over it.
“Nice painting,” she said, stepping further into the apartment to peer at the work of art.
“Thank you,” said Abby, and then showed her class by not mentioning the artist’s name. Someone with less class, someone like Ronni, would have said, “Thank you. It’s a Pisarro.”
“I’ll just grab my purse, said Abby. She moved down the hall to Ronni’s left.
Ronni followed her. “Oh my, this is a lovely big room, isn’t it? And so bright with all the windows.” Ronni ran her hand idly over the back of an armchair.
Abby picked up her purse. Shit! One more compliment and she was going to have to give a tour. She looked at her watch. “I guess we’d better…”
Ronni looked around thoughtfully. “You did a really great job, Abigail,” she said sincerely. Then almost to herself, “…a really great job. I like that cabinet.”
“Would you like to see the rest of the place?” asked Abby, conceding defeat.
“Yes, I would,” said Ronni.
Abby took Ronni through the apartment. Ronni made comments in every room – detailed compliments about the furniture and the style and the colors. She had a very good eye for decorating and she liked what Abby had done with the place. There was nothing to be gained from being bitchy anyway, but many points to be earned by being nice.
“Nick must love this,” she blurted out when they entered the bedroom. Then she pressed her lips together. Shit!
The two women stood together silently, looking at the blues and the greens and the big, brass bed.
“Yes, he does,” said Abby, finally.
After another few seconds of silence, both women said, “Well…” and turned for the door.
Abby didn’t want Ronni in her study and she certainly didn’t want to see her reaction to the leather sofa in Nick’s game room. “I haven’t gotten to all the rooms yet,” she began, but Ronni was already marching up the hall.
“This is nice,” said Ronni, stepping into the study. “Nice computer setup. Do you spend a lot of time on the computer?”
“More and more each day,” said Abby. “Mostly for business and…what about you?”
“Oh, not much,” replied Ronni, waving her hand dismissively. “We have one, of course, who doesn’t these days? What’s this?” She peered at the picture on the wall.
“Nick did it,” said Abby quietly. Now this was a conversation she really did not want to have.
“A Princess Penelope Story,” muttered Ronni under her breath. Her eyes traveled over the frame next to it…the drawing of Princess Penelope sweating under the watchful eye of her personal trainer. “Hmmm…” she said and then turned away without further comment.
Abby was halfway through a sigh of relief when Ronni picked up the framed wedding picture from the table beside Abby’s reading chair. She gazed at it for a moment and then looked over at Abby, who had not moved from the doorway.
Ronni smiled. “Good picture,” she said. “Nice dress.”
Abby nodded her thanks but didn’t speak.
“I didn’t even have a dress,” said Ronni, setting down the picture and walking to the door.
Abby stepped out into the hall and motioned toward the front of the apartment. She stood her ground, blocking the way. Ronni would have to be blatantly rude to get past her. Fortunately, Ronni wasn’t interested in going further. She’d found a topic of greater interest – herself.
“I mean, I had a dress, of course. I wasn’t naked…” Ronni laughed.
Abby bit back the catty remark that sprang to her lips and followed Ronni to the front door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Later that night, Abby relaxed with a glass of wine and some music. She sat in her living room…she loved being able to say that to herself, ‘her living room’…and reviewed the day. It had been a busy one, with lots of drama, but she felt that she’d made it through relatively unscathed. She and Nick were back on solid ground. His email had proved that.
Hey Abby!
It was nice to talk to you today. I’m sorry I was such a prick on the phone. Don’t bother telling me that I wasn’t or that it’s okay or something like that. It’s not okay. And I was a jerk, I know that too. I just reacted badly…but not to you…I want to be sure you know that…not to you. It was the situation.
And I had a great time with you on AIM. We have to do that more often. I’d better warn Terence, though. I think I scared him a little. LOL!!
He’s calling me now. Gotta go.
Nick
Yes, everything was okay again. And he’d be home in a month. Abby smiled to herself. The smile faded a little as she considered the rest of her day.
Ronni.
Abby tried to pick out the part where Ronni had done something wrong or said something mean. She couldn’t. And that bothered her. Ronni was the enemy, she had been for over a decade. When she appeared in Abby’s life, trouble followed. Abby wasn’t prepared to trust her, but she felt guilty and small tonight for her uncharitable thoughts. Ronni had been polite and complimentary about the apartment. She’d been nice on the way in and back. She’d been pleasant in the meeting. She had gone out of her way to pick Abby up and bring her home.
Abby furrowed her brow. She wondered about that. Ronni had said she was passing by, but she didn’t live anywhere near Abby. Ronni had passed off the question with a wave of her hand and a comment about business in the neighborhood. The only business Ronni ever had was shopping, thought Abby, and there wasn’t much of that around her building. Abby chastised herself for the thought.
Abby had been on her guard with Ronni anyway and felt that, for the most part, she had successfully negotiated the stormy waters.
“So you’re going by Fremont-Carter now, are you?” Ronni finally wound down after giving way more details about her Las Vegas wedding than Abby ever wanted to know.
Abby kept a straight face through the whole recitation, showing no emotion, but wanting to throttle the woman beside her because Abby knew exactly what Nick had been doing while Ronni was making her dreams come true. Ronni’s speculative sidelong glances at her made Abby wonder if Ronni was looking for information rather than giving it out, so she kept very quiet, only muttering the occasional, “Really…how nice…lovely…”
“Yes,” said Abby, “I sort of tried them all out…you know…to see what fit…”
“Abigail Carter…Abigail Fremont-Carter…” Ronni rolled the words around her mouth.
“Abby, actually.” The words were out before she could stop them. “I go by Abby now,” she continued in response to Ronni’s raised eyebrows.
“Oh,” said Ronni. “I didn’t know. I’ve never heard anyone…”
“Old habits are hard to break,” said Abby with a shrug.
“Tell me about it. I hate being called Veronica. But I’ll never be able to convince my mother-in-law or…” Ronni stopped abruptly.
“Sharon Fremont?” asked Abby with a laugh.
“Veronica,” said Ronni in such an exact imitation of Sharon’s voice that Abby didn’t know whether to be insulted or shriek with laughter. She chose to laugh.
“And what about you?” asked Abby. “Did you ever consider…?”
“Howell-Fenton?”
Abby nodded.
“No way,” said Ronni. “Miles and Jeannette would stroke out at the very thought of it. James asked me if I wanted to, but he asked me in such a way that I knew he wanted me to say no.”
Ronni had decided not to hyphenate her name because she wanted to be a Fenton, not a Howell. She was taking a big step up the social ladder and she didn’t want to be reminded that there was a time when she was only a Howell. She was smart enough to keep that to herself and let James think she was doing it all for him.
Ronni smiled to herself at the memory of what James had done for her when she told him ‘no, my darling, I only want to have your name’. Her husband could do more with his tongue than most men could with their…
“Nick likes it,” said Abby, giving Ronni a bit of a start until she managed to remember that they were talking about names. “He says he thinks it sounds classy.”
Ronni nodded. Abby wasn’t sure if she was agreeing that the name sounded classy or just acknowledging that Nick would.
The conversation ended as they pulled up to the Symphony Center on Michigan Avenue. Abby thought the meeting went well. Ronni called her Abby every chance she got. It was said with a smile. Abby looked for evil intentions but could find none. That was because she was out of the room when Candace Walker asked Ronni about it.
“Oh, it’s her new thing,” said Ronni airily, as if Abby were some flighty birdbrain often given to whimsical gestures, “now that she’s Mrs. Popstar.” This explanation, of course, did not really help the others to know what to do, and they stuck to calling her Abigail.
The drive home had been uneventful as well. Abby was apprehensive when they started out. Would Ronni expect to be invited up to the apartment? It was after four. Was that too early for a drink in Ronni’s world?
“Do you ever hear from Philip?” asked Ronni casually.
“Philip?” Abby was taken completely by surprise. What did Ronni know about Philip?
“Philip Randall. Wasn’t that his name – your former fiancé?”
“Philip and I were never engaged,” said Abby in a frosty tone.
“Oh, I thought that was a sure thing,” continued Ronni. “In one of Clarice’s letters, she mentioned that you seemed serious.” Ronni created an entire fictitious correspondence on the spot. In truth, she had not heard from one of her friends when she was out on the coast. Nor had she made any effort to contact them. She had not wanted to discuss failed auditions and other disappointments. She wanted to make it big and then sashay home to Chicago as a star.
“It didn’t work out.” Abby was not going down this road, even if she had to be rude.
“So you never hear from him then?”
Abby had not been raised to lie, but she was tempted in this instance. She wasn’t sure why. “He sent me a note congratulating me on my marriage,” she said, settling for the truth. “Well, here we are. Thank you for the lift.” Abby mentally crossed her fingers. But it wasn’t necessary. Ronni merely said that it had been her pleasure and drove off, waving goodbye in her rearview mirror.
Ronni would have enjoyed another look at Abby’s apartment, but she didn’t want to overdo the friendship thing. If Abby had any brains at all, she’d be suspicious of too many overtures. No, slow and steady was the way to go.
“Bye bye, Ducky!” said Ronni to herself, as she raised her hand in farewell. Then she headed home to her computer.
