Franny laughed as she peered at me over Serena’s shoulder, giving me a bewildered look.
Pulling away, Serena shot me a glance. “I didn’t realize you two were real-life friends.”
“Oh, we’re not,” Franny interjected, a bit too quickly.
“It’s a long story,” I offered. “But the short version is that Franny’s an interior designer, and she’s come on board at the last minute to do our new office space.”
Serena nodded, completely unfazed. “So nice to meet you, Franny,” she said, flashing bleached-white teeth.
“You too,” Franny said, looking from Serena to me, then back to Serena, trying to connect the dots. “Okay, well”—she offered us a small wave, and now her voice had shifted to an unnaturally cheerful tone—“have fun, you two!”
“Come show me your new office,” Serena said, dragging me back toward the elevator. “And we’ve gotta get a picture of these tacos for Instagram before we eat them.”
Chapter Thirteen
Franny
My phone rang while I was in the middle of multitasking, too many tabs open across my computer screen to count. In one, I was confirming my orders for Hayes and Eleanor’s office. Load-in was in a month, and everything was on rush order. Then there was the response to Anna that I’d started but never sent, which I kept in my Google Docs and mostly just stared at. And then tab after tab of financial stuff: bank account, credit card balance, student loans. I’d been staring at those too, but not shockingly, the balances still remained unpaid.
“Mom, hi,” I said, tucking the phone between my ear and my shoulder so I could keep working.
“Hi, honey.” Her voice crackled on the other end; they had terrible service at their house. “Just calling to check in on things.”
“Everything’s good here,” I said, fudging. Technically, things were fine. I had clean underwear on and had managed to drink at least one glass of water so far today. That counted for something, right?
“I was just telling Marianne how in demand you are,” she said.
Ah, Marianne, her best friend since high school. They seemed to spend most of their time discussing what their kids were up to. Marianne’s daughter, Ruby, a year younger than me, worked as an RN at the local hospital’s pediatric ward and was pregnant with her second kid. Plus, she and her husband lived ten minutes away from Marianne.
By Mom Measurements, Ruby was always beating me handily. Even as kids, it always felt like we were held up against each other, her very active school sports schedule compared to the time I spent doodling in notebooks. Needless to say, we spent our childhood in very different friend groups and never had much to say to each other when our moms got the families together.
“I’m working on a big office opening right now,” I said, giving her information that would hopefully make her stop worrying. “I’ll send you and Jim pics when it’s all installed.”
“I’d love that,” she said. “Honey, I wanted to see if you had time to help plan Ruby’s baby sprinkle. I’m hosting it, but you know I don’t know the first thing about decorating. I thought maybe you could send me some ideas, make one of those Pinterest things of what I should buy. And then come help me set up at the house. It’s on a Sunday.”
“A sprinkle?” I asked. It sounded like some sort of sex-fetish party.
“Yes, you know, it’s like a baby shower, but for the second kid. A sprinkle.”
I rolled my eyes. The last thing I had time for was putting together a mood board for a baby shower, much less taking the train out to their house for a day spent dragging plastic tables around. But she was my mom, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that letting her down would be worse than saying yes.
“Okay, yeah. Sure,” I said. Saying yes felt like a good way to reset the cosmic balance of me not yet telling her about Anna’s existence.
A text interrupted us, and I glanced at my phone to see what it was. I’m officially in a committed relationship! wrote Lola, followed by a row of shocked-face emojis.
“Mom, that’s a work thing I gotta go answer,” I lied. So much for cosmic balance, I guess.
“Okay, sweetie. Bye.”
Phew. That was easy. Back to Lola. I sent off a row of bright-red exclamation-point emojis. For anyone else, a committed relationship might not have been a big deal. But this was Lola, who had always leaned into her reputation as someone who never settled down, who preferred ending things before they got serious, who couldn’t stand the feeling of being tied down. For her, proudly declaring herself off the market meant something.