Coming Home to Greenleigh

Chapter 11

Elisabeth wondered how much longer she could stand breathing the same air as Christine Roberts.

Yes, she was friendly. Oh-so-friendly. The type of golden-haired princess who put her hand on your arm as she reacted with intense interest to whatever you were saying. Touchy-feely.

Yankees aren't touchy-feely, Elisabeth reflected. Christina must be from somewhere outside of New England. Like, maybe New Jersey or New York. Someplace where people don't mind touching each other.

Don't touch my arm. I'll oh-so-accidentally spill coffee on your beautiful skirt if you do.

She smiled at Christine, thinking irritatedly that Ricky Junior could at least have found her a marital mediator who was old and ugly. He'd said she was new in town but an old friend of the family. Ricky Junior had been eager to help Elisabeth out after she'd fled and abandoned the mocha latte at the firm the other day. She was touched that he'd apparently gone to Shawn to demand an explanation for her absence.

Maybe she should let Ricky Junior take her out just once. No...no, that wasn't a good idea. She couldn't lead such a good guy on.

And this thing about being Shawn's classmate. Was she one of the happy champagne drinkers in that photo in his office? Shawn hadn't recognized her right away, so probably not. But she was certainly eager to be cozy with him. Elisabeth almost sniffed, but she caught herself just in time. Bob was saying something to her about the difficulty of keeping up a big old house, and Christina was smiling and nodding as if Bob were telling a funny story.

"Have you thought about selling and moving to something smaller?"  Elisabeth asked. She gestured toward a comfortable armchair for Bob, leaving Shawn to join Christine on the couch.

You can put your hand on Shawn,  she thought maliciously.

Bob shook his head.  "No, I've never gone that far in my thinking.  You see, I've always viewed that house as Angela's.  I was hardly home all those years when I was working, and she was the one who held down the fort.  I suppose I just assumed that she'd want to stay there."

"You know, Mr. Stewart," Elisabeth said gently, "I think that you might be surprised at how much change your wife is willing to embrace.  You should try talking to her about the house."

Bob leaned forward, hands clasped before him.  "She worked so hard to build up her life, no thanks to me.  I really left her to fend for herself.  She took care of the house, the children--everything.  When I retired I felt like there was no space in her life for me.  She was already so busy, so accomplished.  Somehow selling that house would have felt like destroying all the effort that she went through for my sake over the years.  So I never thought of mentioning it."

"In many ways, Mr. Stewart, when we're going through the motions of survival, we reinvent ourselves," Elisabeth said.  "Angela made a choice to dedicate her life to you when you got married.  You also made a choice to dedicate your life to her--and you did, in the way that you knew how.  But as time went by, with the two of you applying separate agendas, both of you became different people.  That's not to say that you've grown apart.  I think that's too simplistic an assessment, and a cliché at that.  But in reinventing yourselves, you neglected to reinvent your marriage.  Your marriage needs attention separate from the two of you as individuals."

"What a lovely thing to say," Christina interjected. Her hand was on Shawn's shoulder as she leaned into the conversation, and Elisabeth tried not to glance at Shawn to see what he was thinking. "I know that this is a very difficult conversation for us to have--especially since Angela isn't here, unfortunately, and doesn't have an attorney to represent her--but Beth is correct. Marriages need fuel. If you don't feed them, they die."