Good Harbor by Anita Diamant Read Free Book Online

away.”
    “Not me,” Joyce said, “maybe that’s why Susan’s not here,” trying to deflect attention
     away from herself.
    “Actually, Susan is in Cleveland to help move her father to a nursing home,” said
     Marie. “The Alzheimer’s got to be too much for her mom to handle.”
    “Oh, God,” Joyce said, “I haven’t talked to her in ages.” She and Susan used to walk
     around the high school track twice a week, but that had stopped when Susan went back
     to school last fall.
    Heidi headed for the kitchen and returned with two bottles of wine. “I don’t think
     decaf is going to cut it tonight,” she announced.
    Alice didn’t want to say more about her problems, so Marie took up where she’d left
     off. They all knew the story of her last pregnancy; her husband hadn’t wanted another
     child, and her fifteen-year-old boys weren’t the least bit interested in baby-sitting
     for their little brother. “I think I had a baby so I wouldn’t have to deal with the
     rest of my life,” Marie said, as close to tears as any of the women had ever seen
     her. “But now I’m bored out of my skull at home all day with Ryan. Al is working eighty
     hours a week, and the boys are going to spend the whole summer at my sister’s house
     on Nantucket. I think I made a terrible mistake.”
    Diana, the therapist, put an arm around Marie. Diana had a “challenging” son, too,
     a thirteen-year-old who was perpetually failing in school. “Hang on, Joyce,” Diana
     said by way of warning. “I, too, have a tale of woe.
    “I didn’t tell you before, but Dylan was arrested for shoplifting a couple of months
     ago. The judge ordered tests, and they came back with a diagnosis of ADD and depression.
     Herb insisted we try Ritalin and his grades are up. He’s hanging out with other kids
     more.” Diana paused. “He’s happier. He even said so.” She raised her glass for a refill.
     “All those years I wouldn’t let him be evaluated because I thought the teachers and
     counselors just wanted to drug my creative, free-spirited boy. God forgive me.”
    The phone rang and Heidi hoisted herself off the couch to answer it. Joyce used to
     think Heidi carried her extra weight stylishly in her long skirts and Navajo jewelry,
     but tonight she just looked dated and tired.
    There was a pause as they waited for Heidi to return. Then, Alice turned to Joyce
     and asked, “So, what’s really up with you, Tabachnik?”
    “I, um, wrote a novel.” Joyce’s timid announcement was met by an outburst of congratulations
     and questions. Did she have an agent? A publisher? Who? When?
    Joyce smiled weakly. “It’s signed, sealed, and available in a supermarket near you.”
    The faces around her went blank. Taking a deep breath, she said, “It’s a romance novel.”
    That shut them up. Joyce figured that these women might read the occasional British
     mystery, but they were more likely to subscribe to Soldier of Fortune than pick up a romance.
    She felt herself begin to sweat. “You guys know that none of my nonfiction projects
     panned out. Three different agents tried on the last one, but no one wanted to buy
     a book about the Children’s AIDS program. Too depressing. Too many AIDS books.”
    Joyce was ashamed for parading her “serious” credentials, but she continued anyway.
     “I decided to go commercial.”
    She entertained them with a description of the how-to-write-a-romance workshop she’d
     attended, quoting sample phrases from handout sheets: “Her body vibrated in response
     to his presence.” “He felt a numb certainty that the moment was wrong.”
    She told them about her lunch with Mario Romano, but stopped short of revealing her
     pen name.
    Joyce emptied her glass and excused herself. The buzz from the wine was starting to
     turn into a headache. Serves me right, she thought, as she walked out of the bathroom.
     I’m such a hypocrite.
    They agreed to postpone the discussion of Tolstoy until after the