Marriage Matters

Twenty-three

“There you are!” Sally raced toward Chloe in a blur of wild, curly blonde hair. “I can’t believe it.” Tackling her in a huge hug, Sally bounced up and down. Chloe bounced along, delighted to finally see her good friend.

Sally had been Chloe’s roommate at undergrad. They went on to share a crappy apartment in the “real world,” until Sally met her future husband and moved in with him. Ben liked to joke that the two friends were polar opposites, thanks to Sally’s distinct loathing for academia and, without exception, children.

“Let’s go outside and catch up, then,” Sally chirped in her adorable British accent. “It’s going to get much too loud in here, isn’t it?”

Chloe surveyed the club. The small stage was set with microphones, guitars and a drum set. Their friend from college, Michael, had gotten a small deal with a record company and was setting off on a cross-country tour. Even though she hadn’t seen Michael in years, Ben kept her up on his latest activities. Supposedly, Ben was coming to the show, not that he’d bothered to text Chloe. Four days had passed since she’d seen or heard from him. Four days! Of course, he’d probably just act like everything was normal when he showed up and pump her with questions about her date with Geoff.

“Do you want to get a drink?” Sally thrust her glass toward Chloe. “This is pretty good. Some sort of flavored-vodka thing. Peach? Pineapple? I don’t know, really.”

“No drinks for me.” Dramatically, Chloe stuck out her lower lip. “I have to study after this.”

“Aww,” Sally groaned. “Hurry up and open that practice because I’ve got a million problems to talk to you about.”

In her pink corduroy jacket and with her bright, rosy cheeks, Sally looked like a girl whose biggest problem was finding her favorite marshmallow in a box of Lucky Charms cereal. That was one of the things that Chloe loved most about her. After all of the crazy, heart-wrenching stories she had to deal with day to day, she appreciated being around someone as light as cotton candy.

Outside, it was a little chilly, so they congregated around a fire pit in the center of the concrete porch. Apartments towered over them from above, their lights bright in the dark night. The pungent odor of weed drifted over from a group of teenagers standing in the corner. Chloe grinned, happy to be part of the real world instead of stuck at her desk, slaving away at yet another paper.

“So, my date with Geoff was fun,” Chloe told Sally. “I met him next to Tiny Tumblers and he’d set up a whole picnic in that little garden, you know, the one next door?”

Sally’s eyes widened. “That’s so romantic. I love it.”

“It was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Geoff had set up a blue blanket on the ground with plates, wineglasses and even two long, tapered candles. “He was afraid we’d get busted by the fire marshal, but it was so fun. Then, he took me to that little piano bar for coffee and Irish cream.”

“Get to the good stuff.” Sally’s eyes were wide. “Did he kiss you?”

“Outside the piano bar.” Geoff’s kiss had been warm and secure. It didn’t end with him slamming her up against the door or anything, but who wanted that anyway?

“You kissed him?” a familiar voice growled. “And how was that?”

Chloe turned to find herself face-to-face with Ben. Dressed in a ratty blue baseball cap and a U2 Joshua Tree T-shirt, he was more attractive than ever. Crossing her arms, she glared at him.

“The kiss was great,” she said. “Believe it or not, he even called me the very next day.”

“Ben!” Sally bounced up and down. “Hello, gorgeous.” Rushing forward, she leapt into his arms.

As Sally wrapped her white jeans-clad legs around him, Chloe felt a pang of jealousy for her cute blonde friend. Now that there was some weird boundary between Chloe and Ben, it would be a while before she could hug him at all.

“Ben, can you believe Chloe has a boyfriend?” Sally screeched, sliding back to the ground. She boxed Chloe’s arm in excitement. “Maybe Norman will stop telling me we got married too young, if we can finally have some decent couples to go out with.”

Ben looked at Chloe in surprise. “He’s your boyfriend? That was fast.”

Technically, Sally was just being dramatic. But if that’s what Ben wanted to believe, then let him.

“Ben, don’t be jealous,” Sally scolded. “You are just going to have to accept the fact that you officially missed out on your chance with our Chloe.”

There was a tense silence, except for the crackle of the log in the fire and the muted sounds of the band warming up indoors. After a long moment, Ben took a step forward and clapped Chloe on the back. The heat of his hand seemed to burn through her shirt.

“Sally, I think it’s great,” he said. “I thought she was just going to ignore every man on the planet until she opened her practice.”

Chloe looked at him, surprised. “I’ve never said anything like that.”

Ben tugged at the rim of his baseball cap. “It’s not what you said,” he mumbled. “It’s how you act.”

In some ways, he was right. Her schedule had been so packed for the past few years that she hadn’t had time to give to anybody. But if there had been a guy really worth it, someone that she could really be herself around, she would have made the time. Other than Ben, no one fit the criteria.

“You’re hardly a person qualified to decide whether or not I’m open to love,” she told him. “You don’t even know the definition of the word.”

Ben ripped off his baseball cap. His blond curls shot out in nine different directions. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, goody.” Sally jumped up and down. “Fight. Fight! The band hasn’t even started playing yet and it’s getting real out on the patio.”

Chloe clapped him hard on the back, just like he’d done to her. His muscles were taut beneath his soft T-shirt. “I’ve seen the way you fall in love.”

Ben scowled. “And how’s that?”

Chloe gave Sally a knowing smile. “Ben is all whispers and innuendos. But at the end of the day, he goes out of his way—even enlists my help—to send girls far, far away. Do you think that sounds like an expert on love?”

Sally laughed, clapping her hands. “Poor Ben. We’ll help you find somebody, one of these days.” The muffled sound of electric guitars shot out from the club. “Ooh, they’re starting. Shall we?”

As they walked into the club, Chloe could feel Ben glaring at her over the top of Sally’s blonde curls. She turned to glare back, then stopped in surprise. The look he was giving her wasn’t angry at all. It was . . . hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned in close, so that only she could hear. His voice was low, his breath warm against her ear. “I should have called.”

Her heart clutched. Yes, of course he should have. Ben was her best friend. It was so ridiculous that they’d stopped talking because of one stupid kiss.

After a moment, she shrugged. “It’s fine. Next time, right?”

He pulled his cap low over his eyes. “Yeah.” He leaned against the back wall and settled in to watch the band. “Next time.”





Twenty-four

Taking a deep breath, Kristine let herself into June’s house. It was Thursday night and she was late. Even worse, she’d skipped two Thursdays in a row. June got the hint, though, and finally left an apology message for ambushing Kevin.

Straightening her shoulders, Kristine followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen. “Hi, everybody.” Dropping her purse on the table, she hugged them. “I’ve missed you guys.”

June was stiff in her arms. “How nice of you to join us.” She plucked Kristine’s purse off the table and stomped off. Hopefully, she was going to place the purse in the basket in the living room instead of throwing it out into the street, as she’d probably prefer to do.

Chloe giggled. “It’s a good thing you’re here. Grandma would have had a conniption if you skipped again. Here, pick an apron.”

There were several options on the table. Yellow stripes, navy and white flowers, green polka dots . . . Kristine settled on one with embroidered bluebirds and pulled it over her head.

“What are we doing tonight?” An array of cooking utensils were set on the counter, along with a bag of flour, a carton of eggs and a variety of herbs and spices. Maybe June had hired a pastry chef.

Chloe grinned. “Making homemade pasta, in honor of your trip to Italy.” Whispering, she added, “Grandma’s trying to prove that she’s happy for you. She thinks you think she’s mad that you’re going. Have you been avoiding her or something?”

Kristine fidgeted with a string on her apron. “It’s been busy at the store.”

Yes, she had been avoiding June. Kristine was mad at her mother for stalking Kevin at the juice bar, but she was also feeling guilty about the fact that maybe her mother was right.

Rather than risk June’s interference, she’d been avoiding her mother instead.

“It’ll be fun to make pasta,” Kristine said, her voice bright. “I—”

“Oh!” Chloe’s eyes focused on something behind Kristine. “I have to warn you,” she murmured. “The chef tonight is a little . . .”

“Hahl-lo,” a raspy voice cried.

Kristine practically jumped out of her shoes. Turning around, she was surprised to see a tiny man with a large nose and crooked teeth standing just inches away from her. He was dressed all in white, other than a bright blue apron filled with a variety of cooking utensils. When he moved, the spoons jingled together, making a sound like that bell Chloe’s cat always wore.

“I am Hannigan!” The rotund man stood on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. “Oh, you are delicious.” He sniffed the air around her like a bloodhound. “You smell like coconuts.”

“Hello.” Kristine took a step backwards, trying to move him out of her personal space. To her surprise, Hannigan followed. She took another step back. He followed again, as though they were performing some odd number on Dancing with the Stars.

Kristine looked at her daughter in confusion, not quite sure how to get out of this.

Chloe grinned. “Hannigan is going to teach us about making pasta. Grandma met him through a mutual friend. Although he has asked her on a date, once or twice—”

“Three times, yes.” Hannigan nodded, vigorously.

“Hannigan has resigned himself to teaching us about cooking instead.”

“Yes, yes.” He abruptly abandoned Kristine’s personal space and invaded Chloe’s instead. Running his stubby hands through her ponytail, he proclaimed, “This one is already my sous chef.”

June bustled back into the room. Smoothing down her red polka-dot apron with white ruffles, she said, “Shall we get started?”

“Yes.” Hannigan bebopped over to June. “Let’s start the party.”

June gave a hearty sigh and pushed him away. Reaching for her Thursday night notebook, she cleared her throat and placed a pair of purple-rimmed reading glasses onto her nose. Two days ago, Kristine had picked up the exact pair to replace the pink ones. It was time to get a real pair of glasses.

June cleared her throat. “Harriet Van Horne said, ‘Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.’ The Italians create their meals with love, creating dishes with few ingredients and enjoyed over a period of hours, to maximize time with family. Today, we will learn how to make homemade pasta in an effort to spend more time together as a family. And of course . . .” She cleared her throat again. “To honor Kristine’s upcoming trip to Rome.”

Hannigan whistled. He yanked Kristine over to the pots like a lobster he planned to boil. “We cook here.” Then, he dragged her over to an area with colorful plastic mixing bowls. “We create here.”

The three of them worked quickly to keep up with Hannigan’s instructions, dumping eggs, flour and a variety of spices into the bowls. The chef chose a whisk from his apron collection and whipped the ingredients together, while maintaining a tight grip on Kristine’s elbow. Thanks to the motion of his arm, she felt like a kid stuck on a merry-go-round. The ingredients transformed into dough and the chef cried, “Who would like to master the art of the roll?”

“Chloe would,” Kristine said, pointing.

As Hannigan raced to be by her side, Kristine approached her mother. “Thanks for doing this tonight. It’s really sweet.”

June sniffed. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry I missed the past few weeks.” She kept her voice quiet. “The store’s been busy.”

“Work is the excuse Kevin is using with you,” June said. “Don’t you dare use it with me.”

“Mom . . .” Kristine sighed. “Look, what you did to Kevin was completely unacceptable. Our marriage is not your business.”

June eyed her over those purple frames. “If it involves you, it is my business.”

“You made me look like a child. Can you imagine what would happen if I talked to . . .” She wracked her brain. “Chloe’s dean? Without her permission?”

June’s eyes looked guilty. “I only—”

“You only wanted to butt in. I’m begging you, butt out.” Kristine reached up and tugged at the knot in her hair. Pulling it down, she rearranged it and tied it up again. “Seriously. I don’t need your help. I need your support.”

“Kristine, I know that things have been difficult for you and Kevin lately.”

Kristine looked at her mother in surprise. Even though June had made her concerns about Italy more than clear, Kristine hadn’t realized her mother knew that things had been strained with Kevin. On the other hand . . . maybe it was just that obvious.

Reaching out, June smoothed back a strand of Kristine’s hair, just like she’d done when Kristine was a little girl. “And because things are difficult, I don’t think you should go. You’re putting yourself in a bad position. But . . . it’s your life and your decision. I just want you to go into it with your eyes open.”

Kristine shook her head, irritated at her mother’s insistence that something had to go terribly wrong. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“Helloooo.” Chloe waved at them from across the kitchen. Hannigan was draped over her, demonstrating how to cut noodles. “What are you two talking about?”

“I was updating your mother on your new boyfriend,” June called. To Kristine, she whispered, “They’ve been seeing each other a lot in the past few weeks. Did you know that he’s the grandson of Rue, from my mahjong group? Rue and I just made the connection.”

“You’re kidding.” June loved the ladies in her mahjong group. “Does that mean that Chloe found someone you might actually approve of? I thought that was an impossible feat.”

The first time Kristine brought Kevin home, she had expected her mother’s disapproval. What she had not expected was how much that disapproval hurt. Now, she wondered why June had given them such a hard time. Maybe it was because . . . she let out a slow breath. Maybe even back then, her mother had seen that the differences between Kristine and Kevin would eventually tear them apart.

“I think it’s wonderful Chloe found someone,” June said. “I think she’s falling in love.”

Hannigan seemed disappointed. “You’re in love?”

Chloe gave the chef a mournful look. “If only we’d found each other first.”

Without missing a beat, Hannigan glommed onto Kristine instead. “Come here, pretty lady.” He tugged at her hand. “Let’s cut the pasta and make a beautiful meal together.”

When the pasta was finally cooked and served, the chef declined their invitation to dinner. “No, no. The meal is for the family.” Clearly, he was disappointed to not yet be a member of the family.

“Ah.” June was delighted. “Then it must be time for you to leave.” After paying Hannigan his fee, she ushered him toward the door.

“Whew.” Kristine pulled out a seat at the kitchen table. Sliding off her shoes, she tucked her legs underneath her. “That guy was a handful.”

“You mean, we were a handful.” Chloe laughed. “He was like an octopus.”

June swept back into the kitchen, a look of indignation on her face. “Do you know what just happened?” She smoothed her hair, as though still trying to believe it. “That slimy little man just tried to kiss me. He tried to kiss me. At the door. Can you imagine?”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “What did you do?”

“What do you think I did?” June said. “I slapped him across the face. Then I told him that I have a collection of knives that extends well beyond the kitchen. And if he tried something like that again, I would cut off his weiner.”

“You didn’t.” Kristine gasped.

“I most certainly did.” Sitting down at the table, June folded her napkin and took a bite of pasta. Kristine and Chloe stared. “Oh, please. If I didn’t know how to stand up to the pasta man, what am I supposed to do when we take tango?”

The three of them burst out laughing. Chloe laughed so hard her curly hair bounced, something that made June laugh even harder. Wiping tears away from her eyes, she passed around steaming plates of linguini.

Kristine stuck her fork into the pasta and brought it to her lips. It was dripping with olive oil, and gooey Parmesan cheese melted in her mouth like chocolate. “Wow.” She closed her eyes. “Amazing.”

“Made with love,” June said. “A meal meant to be shared with family.”

Chloe waved a fork at Kristine. “Even the pasta in Italy won’t be this good.”

“The company won’t be as good,” June corrected her. “The pasta will be just fine.”