Free The Memory Garden by Mary Rickert

good-looking one.”
    Bay pretends sudden and compelling interest in her fingernails.
    “He’s coming. Act real.” Ruthie poses behind Mavis in a most unnatural way, her hands clasped behind her board-straight back.
    “Mrs. Singer? I’m Howard. I thought I’d just stop by to confirm the airport transportation.”
    Howard? Bay looks up, thrilled that her secret about Karl is safe.
    “Oh, Howard! Well, my goodness, you didn’t have to drive all the way out here. Why didn’t you call? Come in, come in.”
    When he steps into the kitchen, Bay feels herself go still. He is a very good-looking one, almost perfect but for the faint blush of a birthmark on his cheekbone. Nan introduces him to her friends, absentmindedly waving in the direction of Bay, quickly veering into a cheerful account of the early arrival of her guests, during which his demeanor changes from pleasant to sullen. When he tilts his head to listen to Nan, Bay realizes it’s not a birthmark at all, but a bruise.
    While Mavis and Ruthie were impressed with his looks, they seem quite uninterested now, absorbed in a separate conversation about their bunions. How could they? Don’t they feel it? He walked into the kitchen and changed everything. Even the air is different! Bay can hardly breathe. The temperature has changed as well; it is suddenly hot. Even at this distance, Bay can feel the heat rising from his body.
    “You have the shopping list, don’t you?” Nan says.
    They are all looking at her, apparently expecting some kind of response.
    “Bay, Howard is going to take you and me to do our shopping. You don’t mind, do you?”
    Mind? Of course not. It would all be so perfect had not Mavis announced that there were a few things she needed as well, which reminded Ruthie of her toiletries confiscated by “those horrible security people.” Howard says they don’t have to make up stuff for him to do just because the people he was supposed to transport have already arrived, at which Mavis and Nan offer their wineglasses as proof of the need for a designated driver, while Ruthie says she simply cannot get behind the wheel of a car so soon after her harrowing trip from the airport, if ever again.
    Bay reconsiders going along but can’t deny herself his company. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t seem the least bit curious about her. It doesn’t even matter that she is squished between the lemon-scented Ruthie and Mavis, with her horrible death perfume, in the backseat of Howard’s small car. It doesn’t even matter when the three women start singing some song from an old TV show which, surprisingly and much to their delight, Howard sings along with. What matters is him.
    So carried away is Bay by the sweetness in her heart that she finds herself nodding vigorously when Ruthie invites Howard to join them for dinner.
    “Don’t embarrass the boy,” Mavis scolds. “I’m sure he has more interesting things to do than spend the evening with a bunch of old ladies.”
    And me , Bay thinks.
    “Of course he does,” Nan says. “He’s already going out of his way as it is. He only stopped by to confirm the schedule for tomorrow, now we’ve got him taking us to the grocery store. I’m sure he has plans for the evening.”
    “Well, I just asked. He’s a big boy. He can say no.”
    “You’re putting him in an awkward position.”
    “Goodness, how awkward can it be? I mean, really, Mavis—”
    “Actually, I think it would be nice,” Howard says.
    “What?”
    “I think it would be nice.”
    “Has anyone ever told you that you sound just like Marlon Brando?”
    “Yeah, I get that sometimes.”
    “You must have other plans.”
    “I don’t. My parents moved here after I started college. I don’t know anyone local. I think dinner would be nice. If you don’t mind.”
    “Oh, not at all!” Ruthie says in her sing-song voice, while Nan says something about how his presence will make it even more of a party.
    “We’d love to have you,”