Then came the part that still had the power to bring the sick burn of humiliation to her stomach. Words slurring, she’d told Kevin she loved him. She’d told him she wanted their first time to be on a bed. But not just a bed. A bed of white linen strewn with roses.
Oh, God. She was blushing even now.
Addie would never forget the look of utter bewilderment on Kevin’s face. He’d mumbled some kind of apology, said something about a misunderstanding, and had driven her home in a silence even more painful than the one on this slow, slow elevator. Kevin had gone back to Brown. Addie had gone back to high school. She’d heard about him now and then through Sarah or Paul, but hadn’t run into him again.
Okay, for a few years, she ran away from him so as not to relive that mortification.
But she had enough self-confidence now to laugh about the incident with him when she saw him again next week. She was no longer a virgin and she no longer confused sex with love. Or at least she understood that for most guys they were separate entities.
The elevator door opened and she surged out ahead of Mr. Gorgeous so as not to burden either of them with forced contact.
On E. 53rd street at the offices of Hawthorn Brantley Insurance Company, she grabbed a bran muffin and cup of coffee from the cafeteria then met with teams to design a new life insurance plan and to work on storm damage models, then she formulated spreadsheets dealing with expected drunk driving deaths in Wisconsin the following year.
At lunchtime, back in the cafeteria, New York Times crossword puzzle section tucked securely under her arm, she selected her usual sandwich, carrot sticks and apple, then threw caution to the wind and picked out a cookie. Special occasion! Her half birthday!
Eating the same thing every day meant she knew how many calories she was getting, and that they’d last through her workout and that she’d be healthily hungry for dinner.
Unfortunately she was a little late and her usual single table was taken. Heading for her second choice, Addie noticed Linda Persson, assistant director of Human Resources, seated by herself at a table for four. Linda was a lovely woman, but a little...well, she wasn’t very attractive or very funny or very talented or very interesting, and at age sixty wasn’t likely to become so.
Addie couldn’t bear to see her sitting alone in her beige suit and ivory blouse, forking chef salad into her mouth, trying to look as if she’d chosen to be without a friend in the world because she so enjoyed the experience.
Sigh.
Addie put her tray down on the table. “Hi, Linda.”
“Hey, Addie!” She smiled with such obvious relief that Addie banished the doomed feeling and put herself in the Glorious Martyr column.
“May I join you?”
“Of course.” Linda pulled her tray toward herself as if there wasn’t plenty of room already on the large table. “I was just thinking about my plans for the weekend.”
“Fun ones?” Addie hoped they were special and interesting, because then she could think about something other than Kevin.
“I’m getting a new mattress Saturday afternoon. And then I’m going to see a movie.” She pushed her too-large brown glasses up her nose. “I like going to movies by myself, do you?”
Addie nodded reluctantly. She did, but was ashamed not to want a lot in common with Linda. “I don’t mind, either.”
“I like getting there early because I like to sit in the middle of a row, not too close, and because I like to watch the previews, and have popcorn all to myself. And since no one talks to me, I can really disappear into the film.”
“Same here.” Actually...exactly the same.
“And then after the movie I’ll probably go home and organize my kitchen. It’s driving me crazy that the flour and sugar canisters are on the opposite side of the counter from the measuring cups and spoons. I’ve stood it this long, but no more.” She tossed her mousy-brown curls, beaming triumphantly.
Addie took a long sip of skim milk to wash down her suddenly dry sandwich. She’d made similar changes after Great-Aunt Grace died.
“Sunday’s my weekly brunch with my friend Marcy.” Linda finished peeling a banana and took a bite. “We have sesame bagels with whitefish salad and read the New York Times travel section to plan fantasy vacations.”