This was when I usually said something like So many people lost loved ones that day. But I didn’t. Instead, I said, “Me, too. He was one of the good ones.”
James didn’t ask me back to his place, and I didn’t ask him back to mine. He didn’t kiss me, either. But he did walk me home, slowly, holding my hand the entire way. We talked for hours that night. We talked about art and politics, religion, love, our favorite episode of Friends, the new BlackBerry and how we couldn’t live without it. We talked about his brother and my sisters. Man, did we ever talk about my sisters. In fact, we talked so much that I wasn’t sure we’d ever have anything to talk about again. And when he didn’t try to kiss me, I assumed he considered me a friend.
I thought I would be bummed because I’d let one of my “eligibles” slip away. Instead, I was bummed because for the first time in my life, I really, really liked a guy, and he didn’t like me back. So I thought.
The next morning, I awoke to a soft rap on the door. “Hang on,” I called quietly, trying not to wake my roommates, swiping a toothbrush through my mouth. Not even the UPS man needed to deal with that. I had no makeup on, my hair was disheveled from sleep, and I was wearing these ratty flannel PJs Mom had gotten me when I first went off to college.
I opened the door expecting to see a brown uniform and hear “Sign here.” Instead, I opened the door and could feel myself blushing, Ansley-style.
James, in a pair of blue jeans and a button-down shirt, peeked his head out from behind the massive painting.
“No!” I exclaimed. There was no way I would ever have been able to afford that painting in a million years.
“I saw the way you looked at it,” he said. “And I knew it had to be yours.”
He was still standing in the hallway. He stepped forward two steps and slid the painting against the wall of the apartment.
My heart was pounding so loudly I forgot to be embarrassed about the dishes in the sink or the months of magazines stacked on the coffee table.
“Do you know what else I knew?”
I shook my head.
James took a step closer, pulled me to him, and said, “That you had to be mine.”
Then he planted one on me that I knew I’d never forget. I mean, it was like planets colliding and the world stopping and the earth shaking all at once. Needless to say, I was glad I had brushed my teeth.
I fell for him so hard and so fast, realizing pretty quickly that all of my lists and qualifications never would have mattered. Because when you fall in love, real, consuming love, you’re done.
Six months later, I graduated and “rented a room” in the apartment of one of my friends so my mom wouldn’t know I had moved in with James. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to know for sure. I married him nine months after that. And I can truly say that I never looked back. Not once. From the very first time I laid eyes on that man, he was it for me.
Which is what made it so particularly difficult to swallow that I hadn’t been it for him.
TWENTY-SEVEN
gmos and soul mates
ansley
When I was remodeling the house in Peachtree Bluff, you know, getting the general old-lady vibes out of it, one of the first things I wanted to do was replace the windows on the second floor. It had this grand and glorious view—and some of the smallest windows you’ve ever seen. Three of the windows were across the front. It wasn’t that many, but the Peachtree Historical Committee would have to approve the changes.
I knew they wouldn’t.
The same crew redid everything else in the entire house for me, and we got to be great friends.
So when Leonard the contractor said, “Ansley, I need you and the girls out of the house tonight,” I didn’t think much of it. When he added, “You’ll probably want to spend the night out, because the guys and I will be here at two a.m.,” I started to get suspicious. I looked at him sideways, and he said, “Trust me. Something has to be done here, and if anyone realizes it, you’re going to have to be able to swear you didn’t know a thing about it. So I am not telling you.”
I laughed. “Say no more, Leonard. Say no more.”
I wished I had witnessed Leonard and his crew installing, as silently as possible, three giant windows at two in the morning.
Six months later, when I thought I was in the clear, that damn Carol Glover came to me with a photo. “Ansley,” she asked, peering at me suspiciously, “what on earth happened to the windows?”
I looked at the picture and then at the house and then at the picture and then at the house. There was a vast and gaping difference to anyone with a trained eye—or an old photograph. But I squinted and said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She crossed her arms. “Ansley Murphy, I know you can see the difference.”
I put my hands up in confusion. “I don’t know about a single thing that has ever been done to those windows, Carol, so you’re asking the wrong girl. Too bad Grandmother isn’t here to consult.”
I looked at her, teary-eyed, and she rolled her eyes, but she relented. I haven’t heard about those windows again directly, but the historical committee has made it clear via snide remarks that, no matter the culprit, they are less than thrilled that the windows do not match the originals.
Caroline was less than thrilled about her date with her possibly soon-to-be-ex-husband. She couldn’t say that, of course, because Vivi was there. I’d give Caroline credit. She was as feisty as they come, but I hadn’t heard her utter one negative word about James in front of her daughter. I had to catch myself every now and then.
“So are you and Dad going on a date?” Vivi asked.
“No, sweets,” Caroline lied. “We’re going to dinner to discuss some things.”
Vivi crossed her arms. “Are you getting back together?”
“All right, love.” I stepped in to save Caroline from the line of questioning. “Let’s go downstairs and make supper.” Then I whispered, loudly enough for Caroline to hear, “And then we’ll go get real ice cream with dairy and gluten in the cones and everything.”
“Even GMOs?” she asked.
“Probably even a few GMOs,” I said.
“I’m not hearing this,” Caroline called.
Hummus swept in with Preston. She winked at me. “You get Vivi squared away, and I’m going to get this little guy down, and then . . .”
I winked back. That was code for and then we would sneak into the guesthouse den while Caroline was out and watch Ladies Who Lunch. As soon as Caroline stepped into James’s car, I texted Gary: The Eagle has landed.
We were all chuckling and thinking we were funny. But if we weren’t careful, this could end very, very badly.