“No, he’s not. He’s such a bad liar none of us really thought he could pull this off in the first place.”
Emma refused to let herself feel hopeful again. She may as well have been a complete stranger for all the emotion he’d shown her today and it hurt too much to poke and prod, looking for scraps.
“You should go downstairs,” she told Lisa. “If people start looking for us, I’ll end up with your whole damn family in here.”
“Do you want me to tell them you don’t feel good?”
“No. I’m going to take a couple minutes and wash my face and then I’ll be down.”
Her friend gave her quick hug. “I’ll save you some Doritos.”
She managed to smile, but it faded as soon as Lisa left the room. Throwing herself facedown on her bed and having a good cry sounded like a good idea, but she couldn’t. Her having an emotional breakdown would ruin Gram’s party.
Instead she doused her face with icy-cold water and did a little makeup magic. She didn’t look her best, but maybe she could get through the rest of the day without anybody guessing she was totally coming undone on the inside.
“It’s not working,” Mary said quietly, and Cat had to reluctantly admit she was right.
Sean and Emma couldn’t have had more distance between them if they were in different counties. Cat and Mary were smooshed together in front of the kitchen sink, watching the party through the window. Sean on one end of the yard, Emma on the other.
“Why are they being so stubborn?”
Mary snorted. “He’s a Kowalski. I’m not sure what Emma’s excuse is.”
They sighed in unison. “I know there’s something there. I’ve lived with them for a month. Maybe they’re not ready to run off to Vegas yet, but it was more than the sex. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m sure of it, too. And would they be so carefully avoiding each other if it was nothing but a breezy fling? It hurts them, seeing each other here.”
“Idiots.” Cat left the window and started pulling desserts out of the fridge.
“Speaking of stubborn idiots, how are you leaving things with Russell?”
Cat set a bowl of Jell-O salad on the table and stared at it. “I don’t know.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “It doesn’t feel like it did when I fell for John. And we haven’t been seeing each other very long.”
“I’m not surprised it doesn’t feel the same. You’re sixty-five years old and what’s important to you—what you want in a man—is different now.”
“I enjoy his company. I know that sounds lame. I’d probably enjoy the company of a golden retriever, too. But I like him. I like being with him.”
Mary took over, taking the plastic wrap off the Jell-O salad and sticking a spoon in it. “But you’re afraid that’s not enough.”
Cat laughed. “You’re very good at this.”
“I raised four children, plus had a hand in the raising of four nephews and a niece. Throw in teenaged grandchildren and I’ve seen my share of love woes, trust me.”
“His life is here.”
“A one-bedroom apartment in senior housing? The occasional Sunday dinner with Dani and Roger?”
“Have I known him long enough to ask him to move to Florida with me?”
Mary slid the bowl toward Cat and moved on to slicing Keri’s store-bought chocolate cake. “I don’t know. Have you?”
The door opened before she could answer and Stephanie walked in, pulling her earbuds out and shoving them into her pocket. “Mom told me to come in and help.”
“You can start carrying things out to the table,” Mary told her. “Make sure you keep the dishes away from the edge of the table if Lily’s cruising.”
They finished preparing the desserts in silence and then it was time to drown her uncertainties in copious amounts of sugar, chocolate and whipped cream. She laughed as Sean and Keri played best out of three Rock-Paper-Scissors for the last blonde brownie, and at Beth, who had her hands full trying to stop Lily from sneaking whipped cream from anybody she turned her blue eyes and dimples on.
They were such a wonderful family, she thought. Having them as in-laws would have been a pleasure.
When she couldn’t possibly eat another bite, she threw her paper plate in the trash and headed toward the double-wide swing hanging in the shade of the big maple. John had built it from scratch and she’d spent many an hour there, gently swaying with a four-year-old Emma on her lap. The picture books and stories they’d read together in the swing had helped them both leave their grief behind for a few minutes.
She sat and nudged the ground with the toe of her shoe, giving it a little swing. The wood was warm and smooth under her hand, worn with time but meticulously cared for by Emma.
Russell crossed the lawn to join her and she scooched to one side, making room. “I can’t believe how much food you ladies made. I’m going to waddle for a week.”