“Hi, I’m Jenny,” said a pretty woman dressed in black as I fondled a sleeve. “You’re Kate O’Leary’s sister, right? She took my picture a while ago. I still owe her dinner out.”
We played the Cambry-on-Hudson two degrees of separation game; I told her I’d met Leo at Kate’s grief group, and it turned out Eric and I had lived down the street from Jenny’s sister.
“So Rachel Carver is your sister! Wow!” I said. “We used to chat when I walked Ollie. How’s she doing?” She’d gotten a divorce, I knew that. I always thought her husband was a little too smug.
“She’s doing really well,” Jenny said. “She’ll be here on Saturday. Her daughters are going to model flower girl dresses for me.”
“Oh! So cute!” I said. “They’re such beautiful girls. I miss seeing them. I, uh... My boyfriend and I broke up, and I’m staying with Kate now.”
“That’s so nice of you,” she said. “She told me that. My sister and I are super close, too.”
Did Kate say we were super close? God, that made me happy!
I asked Jenny a few more questions for the article and left reluctantly, thanking her for her time. Next stop: Cottage Confections. Kim, God bless her, felt it was necessary to feed me a red velvet cupcake as I sat there asking questions, then send me off with four more.
Too bad more of my workdays weren’t like this. Speaking of, I had to take a good hard look at my life. I had options. I always had, but now I had funding because of my mother’s insurance policy. What would she want me to do? Travel? Live in Paris for a year, drive across America?
But I loved this town.
And there was Jonathan. Too early for him to be a real factor in any decisions I had to make...except I was kind of falling for him.
Well. I had two clothing boutiques and three jewelry stores to check next. Not quite as fun as wedding dresses and cupcakes, but not bad, either.
As I was crossing the street an hour later, someone called my name.
It was Matthew Kent.
He came down the steps of Hudson’s (which was not on my list). “Hey, Ainsley.”
I had to give him points for remembering my name. Most people didn’t on the first try.
“Uh, listen. I...I tried calling Jonathan this morning, but I’m pretty sure he’s blocked my number.”
“I wonder why,” I said.
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Nope.”
He gave an exasperated sigh, and I caught a glimpse of the resemblance between them. “Would you tell him I’d like to see him? Tell him we can’t go on like this forever, and... Shit. I don’t know. It’s not good for the girls.”
“Probably their uncle sleeping with their mother was also not good for the girls.” I cocked my head and stared him down.
“It was more than two years ago,” he said, “and they were little, and look. I know what I did was wrong. But it’s done. It can’t be undone.”
“Sounds like you need to go to confession,” I said. “I’m working. Bye.”
“Tell him I miss him.”
“Not gonna,” I called, walking away.
When I got back to the office, it was nearly quitting time. “How’s it going with the new boyfriend?” I asked Rachelle.
She let her head flop back against her chair and sighed.
“That bad?”
“He’s a sex offender.”
“Oh, man! Again?”
“Flashes senior citizens at nursing homes.”
I nodded. “Oh, okay. Yep. My grandmother mentioned him. She said it livened up bingo, for what it’s worth.”
“I’m giving up,” she said. “Want to go get a drink or something?”
I glanced at Jonathan’s office. He was on the phone. “I need to check in with the boss,” I said.
“Poor you.”
“Ah, he’s not that bad.”
She snorted, then grabbed her purse. “See you tomorrow, Ains.”
I scrolled through my emails, waiting until Deshawn had left, too. Jonathan was still on the phone. I needed to talk to him. No matter how grouchy it might make him, he should know that his brother had talked to me. Twice.
And I wanted to kiss him. Office hours were over, baby.
Finally, he hung up, only to have his cell phone ring immediately. I sank back into my seat to wait some more.
Almost everyone I knew seemed to be estranged from someone. Candy no longer spoke to her sister, because Aunt Patty never visited Gram-Gram. Rachelle didn’t speak to her uncle—for good reason, though; he enjoyed walking around family events in his boxer shorts, testicles dangling past the hem. Kate had that bitchy Paige, who’d dumped her.
And here I was, estranged from the Fishers and the man I once loved without question.
Against my better instincts, I went to his blog, which was no longer called The Cancer Chronicles. No. It was now called New Life Horizons, which sounded to me like a cult or a weight-loss center.
There he was, looking bundled up and healthy on a snowfield. No grizzly bear in sight, unfortunately. He looked...good. Happy. Sunglasses against the glare, a few days of downy scruff.
I glanced through the blog. He used the word pure a lot. Pure sky, pure air, pure snow, pure rush. If I still edited his pieces, I’d have fixed that.
Ah. Here was a mention of me. While I know Sunshine has yet to get over me, I can’t help thanking my guardian angel, Nathan, for setting all this in motion.
I almost punched the computer. For the love of God! Yes, by all means, Nathan, well done! I’m sure this was exactly what he intended.
The comments held a surprise—there were only four. The blog had been posted six days ago.
From one of his fraternity mates: Nice pictures, dude!
From his parents (Judy, of course; Aaron wouldn’t know how to comment on a blog): Make sure you’re eating right! You could also call sometime! xox Mom & Dad.
From Anonymous: Cool.
From Jeannie8393: I’ve struggled all my life to lose weight and finally found a supplement that REALLY WORKS!!!
Seemed like Eric’s fifteen minutes of fame had expired.
I clicked off the site and checked the magazine’s Twitter and Facebook pages. Jonathan was still on his cell. He opened his door, glanced at me, did a double take, then went back in, leaving the door open this time.
I could hear him talking now.
“What did Mommy say? Everyone else was invited? Everyone? Ah. Well...sometimes people can be thoughtless. I know she’s your friend, sweetheart. But if she didn’t invite you... No, no, you’re wonderful! It doesn’t make you any less nice. Just her. I know it’s her birthday, but... Oh, Lyddie, don’t cry.”
Ah, shit. That sweet little girl was getting stiffed by a friend.
“It does sound like a fun party. But maybe you and I can do something fun on Saturday, too. We could go horseback riding, maybe. No? Okay, well, we could go to the painting place, how about that? Oh. Okay, something else, then.”
I whipped out my phone and texted Jenny Tate. Any chance you could use another flower girl model? Six years old. A little friend is having a bad day.
She responded right away. Sure thing! Can she come about 10?
Yay for Jenny! I scrawled a note on a piece of paper and ran to Jonathan’s office, where he was still trying to find something to assuage her. “Well, what about a movie? No, you’re right, they’re very loud.”