Erica paused in the doorway. After the yellow bedroom with the clouds, Pete and Anna had turned Meg’s room into a fairy grotto, complete with pink walls and a canopy bed. Now it was a haven of teenage sophistication. The walls were covered in vintage movie posters; in one corner was a faux fur beanbag perfect for snuggling, and her bed was stacked with cushions and warm throws.
It was no wonder teenagers struggled to get up in the morning, Erica thought. If she was cocooned in this bed, she wouldn’t want to get up, either.
Did Meg know how lucky she was, having Anna and Pete as parents?
“It’s a great room.” On a stand in the corner was an old-fashioned turntable and next to it a stack of records. “That’s cool.”
“It’s my record collection. I’ve been building it up for a year.” Meg followed her gaze. “It’s more fun than having everything on your phone.”
“It really is.” Erica picked up the sketch on Meg’s desk. “Did you do this?”
“Yes, but I was just messing around.” She was dismissive, her face scarlet.
Erica knew insecurity when she saw it. “It’s incredible. You have real talent.”
“You think so? Thanks. I’ve been building up my portfolio. I love art and graphic design. I think I might want to work in advertising or maybe publicity. Look.” Meg grabbed a remote control from her bed and pressed a button, and lights twinkled around her ceiling. “They look great when I’m making content for social media.”
Erica felt old.
Claudia appeared in the doorway with Daniel and after more hugs and greetings, they headed downstairs to the kitchen.
Anna was in her element, chopping, frying, plucking fresh herbs from the pots on the kitchen counter. Christmas jazz played quietly in the background, and four long-stemmed glasses gleamed in the center of the large table.
“Erica, grab the champagne from the fridge.” Anna slid the casserole back into the oven. “Pete just called to say he’s on his way, which gives us a good hour to say all the things we don’t want him to hear.”
“Since when have you kept secrets from Pete?” Erica opened Anna’s fridge and stared in astonishment at the array of foods. “How do you find anything in here?”
“What sort of a question is that? It’s a fridge.”
“My fridge looks nothing like this.”
“That’s because you never cook for yourself.” Anna nudged her to one side and grabbed a bottle of champagne from behind a stack of fresh vegetables. “I was saving this for Christmas, but having you here is better than Christmas. Sit down. I’ve got this.”
“You’re too used to room service,” Claudia said to Erica. “That’s your problem.”
“Why is that a problem? There’s nothing wrong with room service.” Erica took the champagne from Anna and popped the cork. “The sound of celebration.”
Anna produced a plate of freshly made canapés. “I’m always nervous to feed you.” She offered the plate to Claudia, who scanned the food and chose something.
“I don’t know why. You’re an excellent cook. And anyway, there is nothing a chef loves more than someone else putting food in front of them.” She bit into the canapé and closed her eyes. “Delicious.”
Anna looked relieved. “You think so? Thanks. It’s a new recipe. If you were staying for two nights I’d make my cheese soufflé for you tomorrow.”
“You mastered it?”
“Yes, thanks to the tips you gave me.”
Erica took a sip of champagne. It slipped down, ice-cold and delicious. She felt herself relax as the conversation flowed around her and the warmth of Anna’s kitchen seeped into her bones.
The dog padded across, sat down on her feet and looked at her with adoring eyes.
“Don’t be fooled. She just wants what you’re eating. Push her away,” Anna said, but Erica bent to stroke Lola’s soft ears.
“I always wanted a dog when I was little.”
“We know. We know you, remember?” Anna picked up her glass. “We also know you won’t ever get a dog because you don’t want the responsibility.”
And they were right, of course. She never would get a dog. And they did know her. All those tiny details embedded themselves and became part of the fabric of friendship. It was like having the key to a secret door that no one else had. She spent so much of her life with the door to her real self firmly closed, that it jolted her to be with her friends. With them, the door was open. They saw right in.
She smoothed Lola’s silky fur. “You’re right. I won’t ever get a dog. It would be irresponsible. I’m never home.”
“If you had a dog, you might feel like spending more time at home.”
“A dog is a big step,” Claudia said. “She should start with a houseplant. Maybe an artificial one.”
“A houseplant doesn’t love you unconditionally.”
“But nor does it cause you any trouble.”
Erica decided it was time to shift the subject of conversation. “I don’t want a dog and I don’t want a houseplant, artificial or otherwise. I’m happy with my life, thank you.” Although if that was true, why was she about to follow a course of action that would shake it all up?
“Lucky you.” Claudia finished her champagne. “My life is a disaster. Maybe I should adopt eight dogs.”
Erica wrenched her mind away from her own problems. After all, anything happening to her was her own choice whereas Claudia had lost her relationship and her job. She couldn’t fix the relationship part, because she had no expertise in that direction, but she could help with the job.
“When we’re away we’re going to sit down and come up with some ideas about what you can do next.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Anna topped up Claudia’s glass. “She needs to find a job in a kitchen that excites her.”
“Hello. I’m sitting right here. You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not in the room.” Claudia lifted her hand to stop Anna pouring. “And I hate kitchens. I hate kitchen politics. I’ve given up cooking. I was explaining to Erica in the car—I just don’t enjoy it anymore. We need to think of something else, although what, I have no idea. I’m too old to retrain.”
Erica caught Anna’s eye and gave a quick shake of her head. She knew that the time to talk about it wasn’t when Claudia was tired.
“She’s twenty-six, did I tell you that?” Claudia reached for her glass. “The girl John is now with. Twenty-six. Fourteen years younger than me. No wrinkles, no gray hairs. Abs as flat and hard as oak flooring. She’s nearer to twenty than forty.”
“But she’s not always going to be twenty-six,” Anna said, “whereas you will always be amazing. You’re smart and kind and special and if John doesn’t appreciate your qualities, then you’re better off without him.”
Erica raised her glass. “I agree. Also, I bet she can’t cook the way you do.”
“Judging by how slim she is, I don’t think she eats at all.”
Anna frowned. “You’ve met her?”