“Any more photos of him you can show us?”
“I might have a few.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, wanting to give my friends at least some of what they wanted. My worlds were overlapping. Right here, right now, I liked it.
They waited as if I were about to read winning lottery numbers. I scrolled past photos I’d taken of the tulips at Butchart Gardens. I’d imagined enlarging a few, framing them, and hanging them up in my someday house. Maybe I still would.
When I saw photos of Simon, I passed the phone to Josie.
“There’s Simon at his desk.” As my phone was passed down the line, I hoped they wouldn’t help themselves to any more photos.
“It’s so formal.”
“He’s so handsome.”
“Did I mention my sister is divorced?”
“You did,” I said.
“Nice smile.”
It was. In that photo the women saw Simon seated behind his mahogany desk in an oversized leather chair, oversized smartphone to his ear. It was one of a dozen I’d taken with my phone as test shots for the company newsletter. Simon was camera shy. At first he didn’t like this one because his elbow was on his desk—but really it was because he looked relaxed. And that was exactly why I did like it.
“Does he always look so—serious?”
“He’s leaning on his elbow, looking out the window. That’s not serious. That’s—pensive.”
“Okay, does he always look so pensive?”
Fair enough. “Yes,” I said.
“How could he not? He owns like fifty boutique hotels.”
“Thirty-two,” I said.
“Does he ever stay in one place?”
“I don’t think my sister would mind traveling. He goes first class, right? I’ll text you her profile photo from JDate. You remember Marni, don’t you, Teddi? She lives in Atlanta now, and sells Shakely. She’s doing very well…” Lydia elbowed Katie and she stopped talking.
“Good for her,” I said, and I meant it, as long as she stayed in Atlanta.
“So … where does he live?”
“He travels a lot but San Francisco is his home. It’s the only place he doesn’t live at one of the hotels. He has a condo on—” I was already saying more than Simon would have approved for public consumption. And more than I wanted anyone to know that I knew.
“Okay, enough about Simon, let’s talk about you! Ellen, I saw your Facebook photos of your bathroom renovation. Looks luxurious.”
Ellen opened her mouth to speak but had no such luck.
“Ooh, it’s Simon, is it? You don’t have to call him Mr. Hester?”
“Knock it off.” Josie stood as she said it. The mayor of Bookclubville had spoken. She nodded at me as she sat, as if she knew more than I’d already said. Gratitude filled me.
“We all call each other by first names. It’s company policy. We also all wear name tags when we’re on property.” I hated that part of my job.
“Why haven’t you snagged him for yourself?”
“Teddi’s a career girl, no time for love, right, Teddi?”
“Don’t put words in Teddi’s mouth,” Josie said.
“I don’t know why you are all so interested in Simon Hester’s love life, you’re all married!”
“We’re not interested in his. We’re interested in yours.”
“Nothing to tell you at the moment,” I said.
“Even with those fancy weddings you shoot? There must be love in the air.”
“That’s work,” I said. “They mean nothing.” Just like the staged brunches, choreographed beach volleyball games, and precision lobby scenes. They were all creations, usually mine, with the help of willing participants and picturesque sunsets. And Photoshop. I looked at Josie.
“I have an idea,” I said.
*
I slipped into the laundry room to get my camera. I’d forgotten what it was like to be encircled by a group of women who could whisk me off to places I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.
I stood close to the row of cubbies near the garage door, unzipped my bag, and inhaled a momentary reprieve. I’d take a few photos of everyone together for social media posterity. I could look at the pictures and remember the present part of my past. I could show the photos to Annie. The pictures were what I could give them of myself, enough but not too much.
I heard shuffling and movement in the family room a few yards away. I almost said hello, but heard whispering, which attracted my attention and forced my silence more than screaming would have. I kept my head down, as if searching for the bottom of Mary Poppins’s carpetbag. I closed my eyes to help open my ears.
“She looks good.”
“I’d look good too if I were living at luxury hotels and sleeping with a millionaire.”
“Do you think she knows about Shayna? What about Beck?”
“She must know. Don’t you think?”
“Did you find your lipstick? Let’s go back.”
I opened my eyes and lifted my head, but stayed behind the cubbies. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think straight.
“Let’s go, ladies.”
I listened as Josie herded her flock.
“We were just getting our lipstick.”
I heard rustling, cajoling, and tapering taps of footsteps.
“You can come out now,” Josie said.
I stepped into the middle of the room. Josie walked in from the family room. I was flummoxed; any words would spew out as gibberish. I completely lacked an eloquent way to explain what happened or how I felt. “They were talking about me! And about Shay! And Beck.”
“I heard the end of it. I’m sorry.”
“They were talking about my job and my clothes and—and—Simon. It was a big deal for me to show you all that picture of him. He wouldn’t have liked that but I did it because—Oh hell, I don’t know why I did it. And what am I supposed to know about Shay, because I don’t know anything about her! Or Beck.”
“Calm down, you know a lot about Shay, and about Beck, I’m sure. Think for a minute. They probably are just talking about the wedding. It’s got to be a little hard for everyone, right?”
“I guess.”
“And you showed us the pictures because we’re your friends and you share things with your friends.”
“I didn’t come back here for friends; I came back for Shay. Then I saw you today, and my cousin Maggie.” I thought about Cameron and Beck, but I didn’t say anything. “I remembered what it was like—you know—before.”
“It can be like that again, you know. No matter where you live. Or with whom. You can just be yourself here.”
Until yesterday I’d known just who that was. Or thought I did.
I slipped my camera bag onto my shoulder. I wasn’t letting go of it again. “Shay’s off-limits. They wouldn’t like anyone talking about their kids.”
“Don’t listen. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Tell me if there’s anything that I should know about.”
“I’m sure if there’s something you should know, someone will tell you.”
“I don’t know about that.”