“Maybe CJ’s the right one, then, to help melt those pounds you mentioned.”
She couldn’t believe he had said that. She exploded. “Shall we talk about sex, Marsh? About who’s doing it with whom, and where, when and why? Because CJ’s still living in the Statlers’ pool house, but Sylvia’s living with you.”
He was silent a long moment; then he shook his head. “I think this is it, Tracy.”
She didn’t pause to think. There had been enough of that. “I’ll tell you what, breaking up’s getting old. So let’s agree whatever we had is over for real, okay? No need for another repeat. No need to test the waters. We’re done. Finished. What do you say?”
“No need to say anything. You’re surprisingly articulate.”
“Let me add another verbal gem, then. Goodbye.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more but knew there was no more to say. He finally turned without any hint of ceremony and left.
Tracy swallowed tears and wished she could call him back. There was only one good thing that had come out of Marsh’s visit.
She had definitely lost her appetite.
chapter seventeen
Tracy got home in time to try on five dresses before she settled on a beaded black sundress. She had never been particularly fond of it, since the modified A-line design hadn’t done much to show off her assets. But now that her assets were larger than life, the dress was her new best friend.
Theoretically, she knew moving from a comfortable size three to a snug five was not the end of the world. After the weigh-in, Kitty had pulled her aside to caution against losing more then ten pounds. For her height and body type, ten was more than enough to shed, and there was no reason ever to be as thin as a rail again.
Except that once upon a time Tracy’s entire identity and most of her conversational repertoire had revolved around staying painfully thin. So what was she now? Fat, unloved, unhappy…and had she mentioned fat?
She forced herself to find jewelry that would improve the dress. She forced herself to find shoes. And when her mind veered toward Marsh, she forced herself to think about dress sizes again, which were as much bad news as she could handle at the moment without breaking down. If she started by desensitizing herself to an expanding waistline, maybe eventually she could progress to Marsh, whose absence in her life could not be fixed by eating lettuce instead of French fries.
For Christmas Alice had crocheted her a black angora shawl flecked with gold that was as lacy as a spiderweb, and before she went to do her makeup, Tracy set it on the purse she was taking tonight. She was just doing her eye makeup when somebody knocked on the front door. She heard Wanda’s familiar voice.
“You home, Ms. Deloche?”
“I’m in my bedroom.”
Tracy heard footsteps, then the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing, before Wanda wandered through the bedroom doorway and made herself at home on Tracy’s unmade bed.
“Brought you pie,” Wanda said without introduction. “Had some leftovers, on account of Sunshine running a special on éclairs, and I know you love my piña colada.”
Tracy wondered how many calories one slice of Wanda’s amazing piña colada pie was worth, and how many days of exercise it would take to work it off.
“Yum, I’ll eat every bite,” she told her friend—and, sadly, she would. “It’s the good news in a day filled with bad.”
“Wanna tell Aunt Wanda?”
“Not while I’m lining my eyes.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Bad enough that I need gossip to take my mind off it.” What Tracy really needed was a slice of pie, but she wasn’t going to let that happen right before dinner. She had learned something from Kitty. “How’s the shop?”
Wanda shrugged. “Good days and bad, like today. Mrs. Statler was happy with my pies. Last Friday I got a nice order from one of her guests, so she’s passing on my name. Hopefully word will keep spreading.”
“I still can’t imagine Janya falling in that pool. It’s just not like her to be so clumsy.” Tracy glanced at Wanda, who was frowning. “Wait a minute. Something’s up,” Tracy said. “I didn’t hear the whole story, did I?”
“Well, see, here’s the thing. Janya didn’t really fall in. More like she went in on purpose.”
“What? She was in the mood for a swim and couldn’t resist?”
“More like she was protecting me.”
Tracy’s day had been difficult. She figured even following the text in a third