I knock on the door of number 1024 in the very chic Park Newberry building. It swings open and Lynne, somehow looking impeccable and stylish in a Lululemon workout outfit, with a cute bandanna over her hair, grins at me.
“Welcome to the new pad!” she says, ushering me inside. “Teresa is running late . . .”
“As always,” we say in unison, since being late is one of Teresa’s main occupations. I put down my large bag and hand my coat to Lynne, who hangs it in the entrance closet.
“I can’t believe you bought this place so fast!” I mean, we barely made the bet a month and a half ago back in September, and she is already moved into her new condo.
“It was just good timing. The owners had already moved to Florida, so the place was sitting empty. I was prequalified for much more than they were asking, and it was in such impeccable shape that there was no need for contingencies. My place was month-to-month, so timing wasn’t an issue on my side. Really, I had a team come in and paint for a couple of days, and voila! Obviously I still have a lot of work to do, but I’m pleased.” The place is covered in boxes, with artwork stacked against walls, but she has set up her living room pretty well, and has a nice spread of cheeses on the coffee table and a bottle of wine open. She pours me a glass and gives me the tour. The condo is pretty straightforward: two bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, living room–dining room combo, and a large den that will clearly be an office. There’s a well-appointed eat-in kitchen, plenty of storage, his and hers walk-in closets off the master, and a spectacular master bath.
“I see you’ve taken over both closets . . .” I say, laughing.
“Seasons, darling. Winter and fall there, spring and summer over here.”
“Not exactly taking the ‘if you build it he will come’ attitude, I guess.”
“Hell no. This is my place. If he comes, and frankly I don’t know that I even want to go down that path again, then there will have to be a new neutral place when the time is right.” Lynne continues to be somewhat bombastic about her ex-husband, but I’m the last person to call her out on that. I certainly keep any of my Bernard references on the overblown side. Because it is always easier to shoot for funny than it is for truth.
“That makes sense.”
“You have no idea. I mean, when that lummox I married decided that the whole life we had been heading toward and planning for should just up and go another direction? I was fucked. I’d given up the best rental condo in the history of L.A. rentals and moved into his house, so after the divorce I had to find a new place, which wasn’t nearly as great as the one I had given up. So this condo is for me. If someone shows up who actually is worthy of permanence, we are going to buy something new together and start fresh. But for now I’m building my life around me. And this is a good start.”
“Well, it is gorgeous, congrats.” I can see what she means about wanting to put down some very independent and personal roots. It sounds like her marriage, brief and badly conceived as she makes it sound, really threw her for a loop. I know from Teresa that they met and were married in just the span of six months or so, and that it only lasted a year and a half. Lynne’s been divorced for over four years, so while most might wonder why she is still so vitriolic about her ex, I get it. I know better than anyone that there is no real time limit on how much damage someone can inflict, or how long it can take to recover. I’ve been home from France for a long time. But the Bernard wounds, while technically healed, are still red on the surface and tender to the touch. For all her tough-girl exterior, I know Lynne, and I know if she is still finding reasons to denigrate the former Mr., then she too is dealing with some stuff that makes your breath catch if you turn the wrong way and aches when the rain is coming.
The bell rings, and Lynne goes to let in Teresa while I look out at the view of Washington Square Park and the Newberry Library. It’s not the kind of place I would ever want for myself, too modern, too new, but it suits Lynne to a T and I’m happy for her, if a little chagrined at how easy it all seems to be for her.
I know she is going to be the first to complete this stupid bet. And I don’t really know why that irks me—after all, we were very clear this isn’t about winners or losers. We can all fulfill the bet and be off the hook. We could all fail and have to write three checks. And yet, there is some tiny part of me that just doesn’t want Lynne to cross the finish line before us. Which is weird, because I don’t feel the same about Teresa, who flies into the apartment in a whirlwind of excuses about why she is late, handing Lynne a platter of cookies and shimmying her curves out of her coat. Hugs and kisses all around and then Lynne takes her on the tour while I retrieve my package from the front door and unwrap the still-warm loaf. I’ve made their old favorite, pizza strudel, a recipe I invented in high school. It’s essentially pizza dough rolled out to a long rectangle, covered in a combination of mozzarella and provolone cheese, studded with chunks of sweet Italian sausage and slices of pepperoni, and then rolled up strudel-style and baked. I slide it onto a cutting board and slice it into inch-wide slices, pour some chunky roasted tomato sauce into a bowl for dipping, and arrange it all on the white platter I brought as both serving piece and hostess gift.
The three of us settle into Lynne’s deep couch, making small plates and sipping the dark red wine.
“Cheers to Lynne on her new place and on checking off the big item on her list!” Teresa says, and we all clink glasses.
“How about Eloise having two actual dates! That is pretty major,” Lynne says. “Even if there wasn’t any chemistry.”
“Or bacon.” Teresa chuckles.
I told them about Jack, and they both gave me permission to count the date as a two-parter to help with my other social obligations, which I thought was generous of them. And of course I told them about Ethan, since if I’m going to be dating badly, it might as well provide some amusement.
I did not tell them about Shawn.