Her heart kicked up its pace. “Do you always do everything your mother tells you?”
“Hardly ever,” he said. “Just the things that seem like they might be a good idea. You have been working too hard. So have I. We both need to eat.”
“I don’t know.” She pretended to think. “Are you going to fight me for my dinner?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether you order something that looks better than what’s on my plate. If I prefer yours, I might fight you. Does seven twenty-five work for you?”
“Seven twenty-five? That’s very specific.”
“My mother suggested seven-thirty. It doesn’t pay to have everything go her way.”
It would have been easy to say yes. She wanted to say yes very badly. Being with him made her feel lighter, even though the load of her life was just the same.
She tried to think through the implications. Consequences, she thought. Everything had consequences.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Let’s find out, shall we? It’s just dinner, Hattie.” He pulled up outside the inn and turned to look at her. “Dinner, that’s all. If you hate my table manners and decide you never want to eat with me again, I won’t bear a grudge.” He was smiling and so was she.
“How can you be sure? You might decide to punish me by giving me the smallest, weediest Christmas trees from now on.”
“I only grow magnificent specimens.”
“You might give me one with a sloping trunk so that all my decorations slide off.”
He considered. “That’s possible, but you’ll have to take your chances. You seem like a risk taker to me.”
They both knew she was anything but a risk taker, but the conversation had made her realize how much she wanted to spend an evening with him, just the two of them.
He was making it all sound simple and she was ready to go along with that, even though she knew it wasn’t simple at all. But then life rarely was simple, was it? It was full of good decisions and bad decisions, of twists and turns, ups and downs, moments of intense wrenching pain and, occasionally, moments of heightened joy and pleasure.
And when those good moments came, you had to grab them.
“All right,” she said. “Thursday. Seven twenty-five.”
And she had to hope this turned out to be a good decision.
EIGHT
Claudia
“You could retrain as a teacher,” Anna said. “I’ve always thought that would be a rewarding career.”
“I don’t want to retrain as a teacher.” Claudia was in the back of the car, staring out the window as they left Anna’s house and neighborhood behind. She was trying not to remember the look Anna and Pete had shared as they’d kissed each other goodbye. “And anyway, I’m too old to rethink my whole life and start again.”
Or maybe she wasn’t ready for a rethink. She was still adjusting to the fact that she didn’t want to cook. There had never been a time in her life when she hadn’t wanted to cook. It was like losing a part of herself. Remembering how food used to excite her, she felt bereft.
“You’re never too old to rethink your life.” Erica was driving, but that didn’t stop her joining in the conversation. “And don’t give me drama while I’m driving.”
Anna glanced at her. “Are you okay? You seem a little tense this morning. Didn’t you sleep?”
“I slept well, thank you.”
“Was it the work call you took at breakfast? You usually have a no-work-calls rule when we’re away.”
“This was an exception, but no, that’s not the reason. And I’m not tense, I’m focused.”
Claudia shifted to try to get comfortable, but it was impossible. It felt as if they were back in college. The only difference was that they were in Erica’s sleek sports car and not Anna’s ancient Ford Mustang, donated by her parents and maintained by Pete.
Still, Claudia was crammed in the back as always with her legs pushed up to her chin, or so it felt.
Next to her was the luggage that hadn’t fit into the trunk, and a stack of gifts. Anna’s were hand wrapped, neatly tied with string and decorated with greenery from her garden. Erica’s were store wrapped in shiny expensive paper folded with geometric perfection and secured with elaborate bows. Looking at the expensive wrapping on Erica’s gifts, Claudia worried that she hadn’t spent enough. She dismissed the thought. Their friendship had never been about money, and it never would be. She’d made her gifts and that, she told herself, made them priceless.
She restacked the gifts to give herself more room. “I have a question. Given that you’re not financially challenged, Erica, why didn’t you buy a bigger car?”
“I don’t need a bigger car.”
Claudia tried to find a position that wasn’t going to cut off the blood supply to her lower limbs. “Trust me. From where I’m sitting, you need a bigger car.”
“Why? Usually it’s just me, and occasionally one other.” Erica flashed a wicked smile at the mirror and Claudia laughed.
It was good to be back with her friends. Just being with them made her feel better. They made her feel more confident. Happier. Lighter.
But it was also true that she felt a little envious of them. How could she not? There was Erica in her beautiful clothes, so confident and sure of herself and so obviously happy with her life. She was financially secure and was doing what she loved.
And then there was Anna. Anna, with her shiny dark hair and her kindness. She wore her life like a favorite dress that fit perfectly and made her feel good. And why wouldn’t she? She had everything she’d always wanted. Pete, the twins and a beautiful home. Anna’s home was like another member of their family, sheltering them and holding all their memories. It represented security, both literally and figuratively. A place where they could all gather.
Claudia was genuinely happy for her friends, but that didn’t stop her from wishing she was as settled in her life as they were. A year ago she’d been settled. She’d had no inkling that everything she’d built was going to fall apart.
She’d been with John for ten years, and yet when he’d walked out and moved in with someone else, she hadn’t seen it coming. How was it possible to be with a person that long and not see that coming? What was wrong with her? It was something she thought about constantly. It nagged at her in the middle of the night when she should have been sleeping.
She’d lost everything and was basically starting again at the age of forty.
Her friends were exchanging banter in the front of the car and Claudia listened, soothed by the familiar teasing.
Not everything had changed. Whatever she might have lost, she still had her friends. They were the glue that held her life together. The cushion that softened the blows.
She gazed out the window, pondering her options. “If you’ve spent your whole adult life training to be something, is it a waste to throw that away?”
Erica glanced in the mirror. “I assume we’re talking specifically about you, not generally?”
“Yes. I spent so many years training to be a chef. It feels wrong to walk away from that.”