by Sutton, Jacy
Nancy told Olivia by the time he actually started stitching the wound, she was laughing so hard he had to reprimand her, “Your bum’s jiggling.”
“I bet he used that line on all the girls.”
Nancy touched Olivia lightly on the arm, pointing her away from the lake path, toward the trail leading up a steep hill. “What if I’d never seen him again? It could have happened so easily.”
“But you did,” Olivia said. Then she stopped abruptly and asked, “Where are we going?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve been taking this new route. It’s about three-quarters of a mile longer, and I like the added workout of the hill. Brad showed it to me.”
“Who’s Brad?”
“Gus’s owner.”
“Who’s Gus?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Gus is a yellow Lab I see when I walk. He comes up to me nearly every morning, so I started bringing him treats. Brad said it was okay. Some days, he and I walk together.”
Olivia and Nancy resumed the uphill trek. “Go on. Tell me about when you saw Dave again. You were at the Union? By the lake, right?”
“Yeah. I’d just finished my last final and I went to take out a sailboat for the afternoon. I was wearing this white bikini. I looked so damn hot.” Nancy smiled, remembering. “And I sensed these eyes on me. When I turned, there was this young guy, who looked vaguely familiar, and he pointed right at my tush and said, ‘That looks great.’
“I was so taken aback, I thought I should slap him. Or possibly hug him. I mean, it was a pretty nice compliment. But then he said, ‘I stitched you up. Remember?’ It was only later that night, as we sat holding hands on the pier, talking and laughing, that he told me, ‘I would have remembered that great little ass anywhere.’”
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“Olivia, how old do you feel?” Nancy asked suddenly.
“I don’t know. I guess I don’t feel much older than I did when I left college. Twenty-five, maybe.”
“Me too. And that evening last August when Dave and I were in Madison, that’s exactly how I felt. I’d maneuvered his wheelchair to the end of the pier, right to the spot where we’d sat that long-ago summer evening. We got the same New Glarus Native Ale we drank all through college. A band was playing on the patio. There was a warm breeze, and I looked out at the water.
“Dave was talking to me. His voice was still strong. And I could just imagine it was all those years ago. That magical summer when he had mostly finished his internship, and I’d changed plans and got a job in Madison. We spent every day together. We literally couldn’t get enough of each other.
“But then I turned and saw him. His eyes were still the same coppery brown, but his body was so weak. He was reed-thin. And his face looked haggard, so lived-in. We just sat there, talking, watching the lake. The sun had set and there was the glow of the last remnants of twilight.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Olivia said.
“He asked me if I remembered the first time he’d kissed me. And I told him, ‘Of course. It was right here.’ He said, ‘Come here, sweetie.’ So I climbed gently into his lap. I must have outweighed him by twenty pounds by then. But he put his tender, gaunt arms around me, and I turned my face to his and we had the loveliest kiss. And then he said, ‘I may not make it to our anniversary, but you know you’ll always have my love.’ And I rested my cheek against his. We sat there until the only light came from the stars in the sky.”
Olivia touched her hand to Nancy’s back and they simply stood, a sweet silence enveloping them, until Olivia’s cell phone broke the reverie. She pulled it from her pocket and moved to silence it, but Nancy said, “You can answer it. I need a minute.”
Olivia heard a woman’s voice come on, deep and nasal. “Olivia?”
“Yes.”
“Ruth Zisser. Stinger Publishing,” she said, as an introduction. “Your story is not awful.”
Olivia opened her eyes wide, pointing to her phone she mouthed “Ruth” to Nancy. “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”
“There’s a lot of work that needs to be done, and I don’t usually take on beginners.”
“Yes. Understood,” Olivia said all at once.
“The beginning time-travel scene is schlocky. The third friend of the trio needs to be developed. He’s not the leader. He’s not the follower. Who the hell is he? And that woman. That real-life character…”
“Deborah Sampson—” Olivia began to say.
“Make sure we understand her motivation to join the Continental Army. Fix the beginning and make sure the end leaves open the probability of another adventure for the kids. If I can get this past the editorial director, I could sell him on more.”
Olivia heard the word sell and her knees buckled. She stepped to the side of the path and reached for a tree trunk to lean on.
“Make those changes fast. We’re looking to take on some new acquisitions at the start of the year,” Ruth said, clipping her words.
“Okay. I um,” Olivia stammered. “Sure. Yes.”
And the phone clicked off.
Olivia put it back in her pocket and tried to speak, but instead, she threw her arms around Nancy and gave her friend a celebratory hug.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON WEDNESDAY, Olivia stayed late at the office, working on an ad for a new account. By the time she arrived home, Mike had already started dinner.
He offered up his cheek to her as she walked in. “How was your day?” he asked, mashing the potatoes.
“Great.” She gave him a quick peck.
Daniel looked up from the couch, called a greeting, and immediately turned back to the sports wrap-up on ESPN.
“I love the new project we just got.” Olivia grabbed a spoon to sample Mike’s fare.
“Good.”
“Bob signed this cute little deli called Delish. And Sarah and I spent all afternoon working on some ad concepts. We didn’t even realize it was six o’clock.”
“Hmmm,” Mike said, as he turned the chicken breasts in the roaster.
“Sarah wants to do some beauty shots of food. You know, a mouth-watering pastrami sandwich. That kind of thing.”
Mike pulled out the cutting board.
“But I had an idea for some one-liners,” Olivia said to Mike’s back as he turned toward the refrigerator. “Mike.” Olivia tapped her nails on the butcher-block island, trying to get his attention.
“Yes?” he said, finally looking at her.
“Do you want me to do anything?” The question was helpful, but her tone was not.
“No. I’m good,” he said pleasantly, starting to peel a large, white onion.
“Want to hear my ad ideas?” She forced her voice to sound low and neutral.
“Sure.”
“My thought was the ads would be funny quotes from the guy who owns the deli. The first one would say something like, If you can take it, I can dish it out, with a picture of an empty to-go carton.”
Mike nodded and began chunking the onion.
“Do you like it?” she asked. “Sarah’s idea has merit for sure. But I feel like it’s kind of expected.”
“I think Sarah’s would probably sell more sandwiches,” Mike answered.
Olivia eyed him.
Daniel looked up. “Seriously, Dad, how long have you been married? The answer is Mom’s idea, for chrissake.”
Olivia smiled at her son and grabbed some dishes to set the table. “I think my line would get attention. People would read it twice.”
Mike and Daniel returned to the tasks at hand, cooking dinner for the former and watching sports for the latter. Olivia gave a small sigh, which passed unnoticed, and grabbed the silverware to finish setting the table.
As they ate, Daniel and Mike discussed likely Super Bowl contenders. When they’d exhausted the topic of the NFC Central Division, Olivia poked around for a new subject she had some interest in. “Did I tell you about my walk with Nancy yesterday?”
“Oh,” Mike said abruptly. “Did
you know your ankle weights were leaking pellets all over the garage floor? I threw them out.”
“I wish you would have told me. I spent twenty minutes looking for them yesterday.”
“Sorry. I meant to.”
“Mom,” Daniel interjected, drawing attention to himself. “What were you saying about Nancy?”
Olivia wondered when she and Mike had forced Daniel into the peacemaker role. “Fine,” she said crisply. Then she asked Daniel if he’d ever heard the story of how Nancy and Dave met.
“How many stitches did she need in her butt?” Daniel asked.
“I think twelve, didn’t she?” Mike asked Olivia.
“At least. Maybe fourteen, even.”
“You never told me how you two met,” Daniel said suddenly. He stood and started toward the refrigerator to refill his milk glass for the third time.
“Of course we have. At college.”
“No. I know. But how, exactly?”
“At the library,” Mike said.
“We did not,” Olivia said. “We met in the dorms.”
“No. We were at the library. My roommate was studying with that girl in your poli-sci class. You were sitting by them and you started talking to me.”
“I asked you to move your hand because it was leaning on my notes.”
“Wow. Sounds romantic,” Daniel said.
“I was annoyed because we’d met at a dorm party a few weeks before, and your dad obviously didn’t recognize me.”
“I still think we never really talked that night.”
“Then how did I know you were in the pit orchestra in high school?”
“Oh, Dad, the ladies love a good pit story,” Daniel said. “Nice opening.”
Olivia flashed Mike the same grimace she remembered giving him that night in college when his hand had covered her papers. Mike looked just as oblivious now as he had then.
Daniel put his silverware on his now-empty plate, picked up the half-finished glass of milk he’d just poured, and stood. “If I were you guys, I’d make up a better version.” He carried his dishes to the sink. “Maybe you could borrow Nancy’s. Hers is really, really good.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“SO NO MERMAID, EH?”
Right after she got a Facebook notification that Jake “liked” a Halloween photo she’d been tagged in, he messaged her. She looked at the photo again. It was her, Marti as a flapper towering above her, and Beth in cowboy hat and pigtails. Olivia studied the photo. Her clothes were so baggy you couldn’t tell if she wore a size two or a twelve. The hat mostly covered her face and the fishing pole prop did nothing to make the outfit less…ugly.
“No. No mermaid,” she answered.
A notification popped up, and Olivia clicked on it. Jake had liked another photo. This one from a college football game a couple years ago with Nancy and Dave and the all kids. It was preseason and still summertime hot. Olivia wore a tight little tank top with Goldy Gopher, the team mascot, emblazoned across her chest. “You could have worn that. Gone as a Minnesota cheerleader.”
How far back through her pictures was he going to look? Mentally, she tried to catalog the ones that were the least attractive. She thought of one a couple summers ago that Beth had posted. In it, she was climbing out of a neighbor’s pool. It featured an unflattering view of her derrière.
“Jake,” she typed.
“This one,” he wrote, and again a notification popped up.
Olivia clicked. This picture was even older. It had been snapped at her ad agency’s company holiday party. Nancy’s daughter Liza had found the dress. It was long with a fitted black sateen bodice covered in sapphire and crystal rhinestones. The slim black skirt, completely unadorned, reached her ankles. It was one of her favorite shots. The dress fit like a glove, and she loved the way the photographer had caught her—eyes sparkling, smile demure.
“You could have gone as prom queen.”
“Are you insinuating Elmer Fudd doesn’t look good on me?”
“Not at all. Just suggesting if you were thinking cartoon character, Jessica Rabbit should have at least been in the running.”
Sarah popped her head around the corner of Olivia’s cube. “The brand manager from Home Cooked Café wants to meet you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next year,” Olivia typed quickly. “Have to run.” She closed the window, so only her email inbox was visible and turned to Sarah. “He wants to meet us?”
“No, just you.”
“But you’re the art director.”
“It’s not about the ads. I guess he knows you. You went to college together, evidently.”
Olivia rummaged through her memory for one of the roughly two thousand students she’d known twenty years ago who might now be a midlevel marketing executive for a shopping mall chain restaurant. Blanking, she decided whoever it was, he was probably worth putting on a bit of lip gloss.
She looked down to remind herself what she’d chosen to wear today. Sometime during the mommy years, her clothing style had transformed from almost, but not-quite trendy to slightly out-of-range of in style. Today, she wore simple gray slacks and a red sweater that set off her slim figure, if not her fashion know-how. She’d meant to add a scarf, but as usual, hadn’t actually gotten around to it.
Dragging colored balm along her lips, she glanced at her compact quickly, just before a man stepped around the corner of her cube wall. His hair was thinning and he had a well-rounded paunch, but he did retain just the slightest quality of the boy who’d been her partner for the final advertising project her senior year.
“Craig?”
“Olivia! You look great. Holy shit, you haven’t aged.”
“You too.” She stepped forward into his doughy embrace.
“Yeah, right,” he laughed. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were the writer on the campaign. I like your ads.”
“Thank you.” She stepped back and studied him, trying to re-familiarize herself with her friend from long ago.
“We’ll have to make a few changes to them, of course. But that’s standard operating procedure. Right?”
Olivia nodded, and the word always came to mind.
“I had you pegged for a creative director by now though,” he said.
“Well.” She looked around her small office space, her lack of a door or real walls. “Well…” she repeated. “And you were going to be an art director.”
“I was. But I wasn’t very good at it.” He laughed amiably. “But you knew that.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. You were the one who made me realize.”
Olivia shook her head no and looked at the ground.
“Remember our final project? You redid the whole damn thing yourself the night before it was due.”
“I remember. I’m sorry. I was a pain in the ass back then.”
“You were, but you were right. We got an A.”
“We did,” Olivia said. She fidgeted with a pen on the corner of her desk and gave him a small smile.
“Anyway, you were just determined,” Craig said. “I thought you’d end up on Madison Avenue.”
“I did, too. For a while.”
“What happened?”
“Life.” She turned and picked up a small picture frame from her desk. It was her, Mike, and Daniel on the bluffs of the St. Croix River. Daniel was shorter than her in the picture. She made a mental note to bring in a newer snapshot. “Mike, and our son Daniel. It’s an old photo.”
“Mike. I remember him.” Craig looked at it briefly and set it back on her desk. He took a step past her and glanced at some of the campaigns she’d hung on her wall. They were clever, she knew that. But not award-winning. Nothing spectacular.
“Nice,” he said. “Have you always worked here?”
“Since Daniel was in grade school. After college I worked at a bigger agency. The work was great and I won a couple local awards,” she said brightly. “But after a few years, we were bought by a d
irect mail house, so the work—” She held her palms up.
“Got crappy,” Craig finished.
“Yeah.”
“I wish I could tell you some of the stuff you’ll do for us will be award-worthy, but I think it’s going to be more along the lines of advertising spring rolls and double-glazed baby back ribs.”
“That can be great,” she said, trying to mean it.
He raised an eyebrow. After a brief moment, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and began pushing buttons on the screen, then handed it to Olivia. It was a picture of Craig standing with another man. They were about the same age, although the other man was nearly half a foot shorter. “My partner, Flynn,” Craig told her. They stood in front of an ocean somewhere, happy, at ease.
“What a beautiful spot,” Olivia said. “Hawaii?”
“Boracay. In the Philippines.”
“Wow.”
Craig looked at his watch. “I better run. I have to catch a plane. It was nice to see you, Olivia.”
“You, too.” She stepped forward to hug him again.
After their quick embrace, he said, “You’ll have to come up with some new excuses for not calling.”
“I’m sure we’ll talk now that we’re working together.”
“No. That was the line from the campaign we did.”
“Oh,” Olivia said, turning the word into a sound effect. “Yes. It was for a long-distance phone plan. Back when people still paid for long distance.”
“You wrote that. Come up with some new excuses for not calling. And I’d used a dramatic photo of a family looking distraught which overwhelmed the copy. You had your roommate do a quick line drawing.”
“It seems pretty trivial now, doesn’t it?” Olivia asked.
“It does, but that illustration worked better. Anyway,“ he smiled and clapped her on her arm,“ I get to change your copy now.”
Olivia made a laughing noise, if not quite a laugh, hoping Craig’s grin wasn’t at all malicious.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“TELL ME ABOUT THE KISSING.”
“It was good. Nice. Not too soft. Sensual. He started with my neck.”
“Which you like?” she interrupted.
