The Reunion

Faye pulled over, studied her phone and then returned to her GPS. The address was correct. As she drove on, following the instructions of the syrupy, synthetic voice, she glanced around at the large homes with their immaculate lawns in growing disbelief. Her rambunctious friend and college roommate Sarah would have despised this display of wealth in their younger days. She and Sarah had once been inseparable, but contact had gradually diminished after graduation as life got in the way. Faye had been pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to stay at Sarah’s home for the weekend of the college reunion, an occasion she usually found an excuse to miss. Informed that she had arrived at her destination, she entered the driveway of a pseudo-Tudor mansion, complete with half timbers and diamond paned windows. Parking the car, she glanced in the mirror.

“No spinach in the teeth. Hair is clean. This is as good as it gets,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her battered canvas bag and taking a deep breath.

She had barely exited the car when the front door opened and Sarah ran towards her, embracing her fiercely.

“Hola, amiga! Long time no see! Thank goodness you could come. I love your dress and that necklace is fabulous. Are you still making jewelry?”

Sarah was slim, almost gaunt, and her glossy no-make up look probably came from beauty products that cost as much as Faye’s monthly rent. Faye glanced down self-consciously at her simple embroidered Indian cotton dress.

“Yes, I am. I’ve been selling online, but I just opened my first little store.”

“Great. Tell me all about it.”

She ushered Faye inside and showed her to a guest bedroom not much smaller than Faye’s apartment.

“I’ll let you freshen up and then let’s have a glass of wine. Chardonnay for you?”

“Yes, that’s right. Serve it in a plastic glass to get that real college nostalgia going,” said Faye, grinning.

Sarah laughed.

“You look and sound like Sarah, but who are you?” Faye muttered to herself as she went downstairs a few minutes later, staring at the expensive furniture and gaudy accessories. The house reminded her of a furniture store display. There was no sign of Sarah's personality here.

“Out here,” Sarah called from a large screened in porch. Faye plumped down on the comfy overstuffed cushions of a bamboo couch. Sarah poured the wine and gestured towards a tray of snacks. She raised her glass.

“Cheers! Here’s to us.”

“Cheers,” said Faye. “Will Mark be joining us?”

“No, he’s off on a business trip,” said Sarah. “That’s another reason I thought it would be nice if you could stay. It’ll be like a real girls’ weekend.’

Faye tried not to show her relief. She had never understood what Sarah saw in the arrogant, often rude Mark, despite his good looks. Sarah’s self-esteem seemed to evaporate whenever Mark was in the vicinity.

“I know you’ve never liked him, Faye.”

Faye blushed.

“I didn’t realize I was that transparent,” she said. “Let me put it this way…I didn’t like the way he treated you. You deserved better. But I respected your choice. He’s your husband, after all, not mine.”

“He's been a good provider. I certainly never thought I’d have a house like this,” said Sarah, looking around. It’s just that sometimes I … well, never mind that. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Time fell away as they reminisced, shrieking with laughter at recalled pranks, mishaps and lovers as if they had never been apart. Dusk was falling as Sarah glanced at the clock.

“Good gracious, look at the time. I thought I’d just order in, if that’s okay. Look at these menus and tell me what you’d like.”

Faye made her choice.

“Great,” said Sarah. “I’ll call it in.”

Faye, sipping her wine, felt pleasantly tipsy. True friendships are like comfortable slippers, she thought. No, that was silly. She was searching her mind for something that did not sound as if it came from a Hallmark greeting card, when they heard the front doorbell ring.

“That was quick,” said Sarah, puzzled. “I just hung up with them.”

The ringing was followed by a series of thundering knocks on the front door. Faye started upright and stared outside.

“Sarah, there are three police cars in the driveway. What’s going on?”

“What?” said Sarah, jumping to her feet. “I bet it’s that nosy Mrs. Bradley next door. She’s always fussing with Mark about something or other.”

Faye followed as Sarah opened the front door. A large man in a baggy dark suit stood there holding a sheet of paper. Behind him, a police officer holding a gun blocked the way.

“Mrs. Sarah Morrison?” said the man in the suit. “I’m Detective Todd Hunter. We have a warrant to search the property.”

“Search the property? For what?” Sarah said, ashen faced. “Where’s my husband?”

“He’s been arrested for embezzlement, fraud and other financial crimes,” said the detective. “Please allow us to enter.”

He stared at Faye.

“Who are you, Ma’am?”

“Faye Wilson. Sarah’s friend. I’m visiting,” said Faye, stumbling backwards as several large, uniformed men pushed past her.

Detective Hunter nodded.

“Please keep Mrs. Morrison company. I’ll be back to talk to you both shortly.”

Faye grabbed Sarah’s arm and led her back to the porch. Sarah followed as if in a trance and sat down.

“What are they doing?” she said to Faye who glanced outside.

“They’re carrying out computers and boxes of files,” she said.

Sarah flinched.

“Mark’s going to be mad that I didn’t stop them,” she said, hunching down in her seat. “He barely lets me into his office, and I’m not allowed to touch his computers.”

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Faye sat down beside her and offered her a tissue.

“This isn’t your fault. What do you think Mark’s been involved in?”

“I have no idea,” said Sarah said wearily. “He never talked business to me. Oh, Faye. I’ve turned into one of those wives I despised. The little wifey who stayed at home wearing a frilly apron. I thought he might have cut some corners. He always loved to come out on top. But I never imagined anything like this. It’s been so nice today remembering who I was, and now this.”

They turned as Detective Hunter appeared.

“Mrs. Morrison, you are not suspected of any criminal involvement at this time,” he said. “But we would like you to accompany us to answer some questions. We’ll bring you home afterwards.”

“Let me get a jacket,” said Sarah, rising from her seat. “Faye, I'm sorry that you got even remotely involved. You don't have to stay. I'll be okay."

Faye hugged her.

“Friends don't bail when the going gets rough. I'll be waiting for you, amiga.”