My throat filled.
“I have to go.” I pushed back my chair and stood. I pulled a twenty out of the front pocket of my camera bag that dangled over the back of my chair and handed the money to Josie. “My treat. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Oh no,” she said. “No more running away.” Josie grabbed my camera bag and placed it on her lap. I sat.
“I’m not running away.” I exhaled more air than I knew I could hold in. “I’m expecting a package and thought I’d check the post office.” I knew full well that Annie would ship FedEx.
“Really? You know they’ll deliver right to your door? We’re fancy here that way,” Josie said. “Why don’t you calm down? Then, you can go find Beck.”
“What makes you think I’m going to look for Beck? Actually, I need to go call Simon.” I’d never called Simon. Shit. “I think he’s going to propose when I get back to San Francisco.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s fantastic!” Josie whispered.
“It’s not official. He only said he had something to propose when I came back.”
“And you left this out of every single conversation? I didn’t realize it was that serious.”
“Neither did I.”
“Didn’t realize what was so serious?” a voice said.
Josie and I jolted and looked up from our huddle. The two book club gossip girls pulled out the empty chairs at our table and sat.
“We’re waiting for takeout for the swim moms.”
“You look great today, Teddi.”
I’d worn my sleeveless denim shirtdress and a pair of flip-flops. I had my half of the heart necklace around my neck and my hair in a ponytail. My beauty routine had consisted of tinted moisturizer. There was nothing great about any of it but hell if I’d give them that.
“Thanks!”
“So, what’d we miss?”
“That’s what I want to know,” I said. These women were chazzers. Gluttons for gossip that they could parcel out for any takers. I wouldn’t peck. “Not here,” Josie said.
I raised my hands, but not in an act of surrender. “Sorry, Jos.” I drew a deep breath. “I heard you talking about me when we were at Josie’s.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We were with you the whole night.”
“I was in the laundry room.” Recognition flooded their faces. Their jaws tightened. “I said—I heard you talking about me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Me either.”
I slid forward on my chair. “Ladies…” I reached out and touched their hands. “If you want to know something about me, ask me. But don’t talk about someone’s kid. It’s really, you know, unattractive.”
“We would never—”
“I’m just trying to help you out here, make sure you don’t get yourself into an unsightly predicament.”
“What are you implying, Teddi?”
“That in the future you mind your own business while you’re hunting for your lipstick.”
“Well, we just thought … you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“That you knew about the wedding, and we were surprised you were here for it.”
A bell rang twice and three large paper bags were placed on the counter. “Debbi? Order for Debbi! Debbi or Meredith? Six chopped salads, two hummus plates, one tuna platter, and one vegan BLT hold the T!”
“That’s us,” Debbi said.
“If I don’t see you again, have a good trip back to—Where is that you’re jetting off to after the wedding?” Meredith asked.
“Give it a rest, girls.” Josie stepped lightly, once, on my foot under the table.
As the women left Fat Chance Café with their boxed-up mom fare, I pulled off the crust of my congealed grilled cheese, folded it accordion-style, and stuck it into my mouth. The buttery, crisp, and salty bread had just the resistance to need ample chewing, and I needed that to stop me from saying something I shouldn’t say. Something else I shouldn’t say. Because even in moments like this, my mother was in my ear reminding me not to talk while I was eating. I shoved in another piece.
“Forget them,” Josie said. “They’re not worth it.”
“No, they’re not.” I swallowed.
“I can’t believe what you said to them.”
“I know. It was good, wasn’t it?”
“You didn’t really get any answers.”
“That’s okay, Beck really told me everything I needed to know about Shay. What he didn’t tell me was anything about himself. I don’t feel like I’m being nosy, I’m thinking about all the things I don’t know. Like when he bought Nettie’s on Lark, how he fixed it up, how his graphic design business is doing, if he’s eating right…”
“If he’s dating anyone?”
“I—”
“Don’t even try to lie to me. You should see your face when you talk about him.”
“I care about him, is that a problem?”
“No, except you told me that Simon wants to marry you, but the only man you’ve mentioned in the past ten minutes is Beck. And, you’re watching the door like you’re expecting someone to walk by. Or walk in. And I don’t mean Shay. That is a problem,” Josie said.
“I know.”
*
I jaywalked across Main Street to the park. The clouds made the sky look as if gray paint had been dragged across it. I crouched and touched the grass. It was dry so I sat, and dug into my camera bag. I lay on my back, crossed my ankles for propriety, and looked up, camera pressed to my face. I saw nothing but those painted clouds floating past my lens, as if late to an appointment. A chill washed over me with the warm, light breeze. Simon.
I sat up and pulled out my phone. It was still morning in San Francisco. Was Simon in San Francisco today? I hadn’t checked his travel schedule, or asked. I called his cell instead of the office.
“Good morning, stranger.”
I heard the smile in his voice, sensed his movement—likely he was making his way to the window where he often perched to talk on the phone. I cringed. Why did he say that? But more importantly, why was that the wrong thing to say? He was being playful. He was teasing me.
“I’ve only been gone a few days, Simon. We’ve been apart longer than this for work.”
“But this isn’t work.”
“No, but it’s important to me…”
“I’m kidding, but it’s not the same here without you.”
“I talked to Henry,” I said. “I think they’re going to book next year’s benefit gala in New York. I told him the ballroom would be finished by then. Will the ballroom be finished by then?”
“If we get to charge a thousand a person, you bet it will. Did you tell him you’d get it covered on ‘Page Six’?”
“That part’s not my job, you know that. I said I’d be there myself taking pictures and posting to social media all night, and that I had an in with Lucy Cartwright.”
“Lucy Cartwright?”
“The society blogger? The one you want to stay out of your business but in everyone else’s in New York?”
“Yes!” I heard one big five-hundred-thousand-dollar clap. “Wait till you hear what else is going on here.”
“There’s a lot going on here too. I’m entering a photography contest.” I kicked up my voice an octave, hoping to sound nonchalant, yet excited. It wasn’t until that moment that I’d known for sure.
“Why?”