“Then ask.”
“Ask who? And what do I ask? What if it’s bad … like really, really bad?” I remembered the whispers when Celia had been diagnosed, but after that came offers of help and displays of compassion. Chance had good people. Really good people. Mostly. “I don’t know. I don’t have time for this, Josie. I don’t have the energy for this. Not now. Do you know what it did to me just to see…”
“Who?”
“My old house. And Celia’s.” Beck was a secret I’d always keep. I rested against the washing machine, as tired as if I’d run on the beach or away from the cemetery. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. If there’s something I should know, someone will tell me. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t say anything.”
“Why not?”
“‘Excuse me, bitches, I heard you talking about me.’”
“Why not?”
Josie rubbed my arm and my emotions swelled. I wanted to hug her then turn and leave.
“Are you two coming?” The voice drifted in from the kitchen. “We have a bunch of women here who tell me they’ve found their good sides.”
*
“I can’t believe Teddi Lerner is going to take our picture.”
I ignored the third-person reference and peeked out the window of the family room to study the sunlight, but mostly to waste time. I pinpointed a good spot in Josie’s backyard for confronting the gossipers. Maybe I should just ask them. My stomach flip-flopped. I didn’t know if I was afraid to ask or afraid to know. And I wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Where should we stand?”
I feigned artistic and flailed my arms. “Maybe by the wall, over here. In front of the chairs. The lighting is divine.” No one laughed at the exaggeration.
“Work your magic, Teddi.”
“Make us all look thin and young.”
“I wish we were at one of Teddi’s fancy hotels.”
“They’re not mine.” No one acknowledged me. The women buzzed around the room. These were college-educated, professional women. Some were educated women who chose to stay home with their children—the children they were acting like, just because I took pictures of celebrities. Sometimes. And my photos were online and in magazines. Sometimes.
“I need to stand on the right, that’s my good side.”
“Let me go fix my makeup.”
“You all look great, really. And we can fix anything afterward. Just get a little closer. Okay, ready…”
“You have to be in the picture, Teddi.” I wanted to ask everyone to whisper so I could figure out who had been in the room with me.
And then I just knew. Josie had seated herself between them on the sofa. She looked at me wide-eyed. She had them under her spell, at least for now.
As would I when I colored their teeth yellow in Photoshop before posting to Facebook and Instagram. And tagging them.
“Everybody look over here!”
“We can use it for the Welcome Wagon page on Chance’s Web site.”
“I want to be able to say Teddi Lerner took my picture.”
“I want to make sure it’s printed in the Gazette.”
Most of these women were sincere and excited, so I set the camera on an open shelf and set the timer. “You have ten seconds!” I said, and took my place across the room from Josie, scrunched on the end of the arm of the couch. After the flash went off, I clapped twice. “Let’s do it again, just in case.” But my voice trailed off as everyone stood and puttered, headed back to the food and the dining room, suggesting all the places this group photo would be appropriate. Even for me.
“You can put it in your office as a reminder of home.” Others suggested my living room, my bedroom, my kitchen—as if my life were a Mad Lib and they were filling in “place in one’s home.”
Fact was, I didn’t have a “my.” Not a mantel, dresser, nightstand, nor a coffee table. Not any that belonged to just me.
*
The women had appeared in a bundle, and they seemed to leave as one too, with waves and hugs and a few air-kisses, affection penetrating the needed space between us. We agreed to “do it again soon.” Some said “see you at the wedding.”
The gossipy duo waved from across the room. I waved and smirked with a closed mouth. I wasn’t ready for a confrontation.
“Sit and relax. I’ll be ready in a few,” Josie said.
The hum of the dishwasher soothed me and I snuggled into the corner of the couch in the family room. Books packed the built-in shelves. I wondered if Josie had read any of them, or if they, like the book club, were for show.
Josie plopped down near me. “Did you have a good time?”
“I did. I’m glad you invited me. But…”
“Don’t worry about them. Not now. You have time to ask them what they were talking about or figure it out for yourself. Or figure out if you care.”
“But Shay—”
“Don’t think about it.”
“How can I not? Now I’m worried.”
“That will get you nowhere fast. But tell me—is there anything to what they said about you and Simon?”
“You mean that I’m sleeping with him?”
“Are you?”
“Yes, but it’s more than that, actually…”
“Well, there you go! They just got a vibe when you were talking about him. I didn’t pick up on it—that you liked him, yes, but nothing more than that. My radar must be off tonight.” Josie adjusted invisible antennas on her head. “So—you and Simon Hester, the eligible rich bachelor, huh? Is it serious?”
“Not really. Well, maybe it could be.”
“How long have you been seeing him?”
“A few years.”
“A few years! You can’t be involved with someone for a few years and not be serious!”
“It’s not, though. We have fun. I’ve learned a lot about the business. He’s interesting.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s difficult to explain.”
“I’m not going anywhere…”
“I don’t want to talk about him, okay? Not right now. I’m trying to figure things out.”
Josie touched my knee with her hand. “I have a favor to ask you.”
I sighed inside, disappointed because I hadn’t thought Josie wanted anything from me. What could it be? Family photos? Glamour shots? A free room upgrade? With her other hand Josie held out a small, black, rectangular key and pressed it into my hand.
“I want you to drive Jason’s Prius while you’re here. He’s traveling for the rest of July.”
“How is this me doing you a favor?”
“The car can’t just sit in the garage for three weeks, and the other boys don’t drive yet. It’s better if the car is driven. You don’t leave until after the wedding, right?”
“I can’t.” I laid the key on the couch in between us.
“Yes, you can, and you will.” She pushed the key back to me.
“This is too much.” I pushed the key back to Josie.
“I’m not giving you the car, I’m lending it to you for a week. You can’t expect me to just show up and drive you everywhere you need to go, you know.”