The Age of Grief - Jane Smiley [2]
“I promise!” Her mock exasperation is reassuring.
Florence says that her best friend in college was the most mysterious and beautiful woman she ever met, and the only man who ever treated her friend badly was the one she married. Marriage is something Florence doesn’t understand at all. Florence mentions that she has saved over six thousand dollars since nursing school and wants to buy a little house and plant raspberry canes, but the prices of houses rise faster than her savings account. Frannie says, “You know, it really was fascinating to look at houses with Philip. We went out every day with the realtor, so we really lost the sense of having our own life, and began to feel like the right house was the key to everything. On the Sunday morning after we saw this one, which we both liked, and which was empty, the agent took us to one a ways out of town. The owners were there, and they had a new baby, about ten days old. The place was spotless. There were lots of windows and awnings, and arched doorways, and the place had a sort of Provençal aura about it, maybe because the cookbooks were in French. They took us all over the house, then out into the yard, where they had planted all sorts of lilacs and the dwarf apple trees and bulbs. The house was overpriced, and we would have had to replace the furnace, but Philip fell so in love that he just had to have it. Even when the realtor told him this was more of a bargain, Philip couldn’t stop talking about how he felt there—so light and springy. I kept teasing him and saying he just wanted the chance to live their life better than they were doing it.” She laughs.
“I’m glad you got this house.”
“It is beautiful. Philip loves it now.”
Florence begins to eye Frannie closely for symptoms of retreat, but Frannie’s interest and growing affection seem to meet hers at every level. Florence offers to pick up Frannie’s cleaning when she is downtown. Frannie brings home butter from the market, which she knows Florence needs. Florence drops by next door once a day. Frannie comes by only every other day or so, but comments spontaneously that she loves it when people drop by. Where they lived before, everyone was terrifically formal—always calling and making arrangements as if they expected to be entertained. Every time she sees Frannie, Florence feels intelligent. Her new powers exhilarate her.
Florence crosses the adjoining side yards on a rainy Saturday morning. Frannie is intending to meet Philip at the hardware store and is waiting for the rain to let up. She pours Florence a cup of coffee. “Won’t he be annoyed if you’re late?” Florence asks, feeling nosy because Frannie just doesn’t gossip about her husband in that way; she tells what he does, but never what he is like. Florence thinks this might be the result of so many years together.
“He’ll love the chance to moon around the hardware store planning major renovations.”
“Say, do you like the yellow slicker effect?” Florence gestures toward the raincoat she has left by the door. “I just bought it at the Army-Navy. It feels like a three-man pup tent, but I love it.”
Frannie nods and sips her coffee. There is a letter next to her elbow, and the return address is illegible, although in a woman’s hand. In a moment Frannie says, “It’s odd, you know. I haven’t had a really intimate woman friend since the day Philip and I got married, though I’d had three or four the day before. There’s a friend I’ve had since grammar school, who