Now it’s Grace’s turn to get pensive. It’s the first time she’s mentioned her parents’ divorce. I want to ask her about it, to offer for her to talk, but I’ve learned from experience that when you’re a psychologist, asking people if they want to talk makes them think they’re going to be analyzed. “I was ten when they split. It was rough. My brother didn’t really understand what was going on - he was only six - but I did. I had a friend whose parents had divorced the year before, and she said they were always screaming and fighting over her and she had to go to court with them. I was petrified. We’d always been a happy family that did everything together.” She pauses. “God, sorry I’m making you work over brunch.” She smiles, trying to cover up the sadness in her voice. “Nah, I’m just listening. If you want me to work, you’ll have to pay me by the hour,” I tease, to put her at ease. I naturally like listening to people and helping them out. At times, it’s difficult to turn off my psychologist brain, but I’ve gotten better at it over the years. “I was lucky,” Grace went on, “turns out my parents don’t hate each other. They just don’t love each other anymore, at least not in the romantic sense. They’ve managed to stay friends. It’s weird, sometimes we have holidays all together, like a family… but not quite.” “So you think it’s possible to stay friends?” “They’ve done it. I mean, it probably wasn’t easy at first. My mom wanted the divorce more. I think my dad still loved her. He might even still. But over time, it grew easier.” “Sounds like me and Brent,” I muse out loud. Grace raises a questioning eyebrow. I realize I’ve glossed over my breakup so far, not even sharing Brent’s name, let alone the details. “My ex of five years. One day he just told me over breakfast that I was his best friend but he didn’t love me the same way he used to. I guess I saw it coming, but it was still a shock. I asked if that meant he wasn’t attracted to me anymore, and he said he still was, physically. I didn’t understand. It still sounds weird to me. I mean, isn’t that what a romantic partner is - your best friend that you’re attracted to, that you have a physical relationship with? But now I’m starting to understand. He’s not emotionally and mentally attracted to me. It took a while to process it. But anyways, he wants to still be friends, and it’s strange for me right now. He texted me last night and sent me a picture from when we first started dating, saying he missed me…” I sigh. “I’m so sorry, I took over your story.” Grace shakes her head, “Not at all. My story is depressing and old news!” “Well, mine’s not exactly heart warming.” I laugh, Grace joining in. It’s as though the laughter has broken open in each of us, and soon we’re giggling entirely too much for two thirty-something year old women.
A voice interrupts us, “May I take your order?” Grace orders french toast with blueberries and I choose the egg white omelette. “So,” Grace leans forward with interest as the waitress walked away, “Speaking of men, where are you and Greg going tonight?” “A Thai place a couple of towns up the coast. He didn’t say the name, but said that it’s overlooking the water. Sounds nice, and I love Thai food.” Grace smiles, “That sounds like Lotus Garden. It’s supposed to be really good. And romantic.” “I don’t know,” I hesitate. I tell her the story he’d told me about his female friends mistaking friendly dinners for dates. “Is he picking you up?” she asks. “Well, he said it’s twenty minutes away, and I’m new here. Besides makes no sense to both make the drive.” “Hennie, it’s a date whether you like it or not. No guy meets you one night, arranges to meet you the next morning, spends the day with you, and asks you to go to dinner the next night at a romantic restaurant overlooking the water if he’s not interested in you.” “God, I haven’t been on a date in years.” I can feel the nervousness in my stomach. “Just be yourself. He obviously likes you. And try to talk about more than the stuff in his grandfather’s attic. He’s an interesting person, from all I’ve seen, and a good guy. Get to know him and let him get to know you.” I sit quietly, knowing she’s right, but also knowing it isn’t as easy for me as it sounds. “I know it’s tough. But I’ve been there, trust me, and you can do it.” I don’t pry any further. She’s already divulged more personal information than I was used to hearing from her in the short time we’d known each other, and she doesn’t seem to be one to talk about her innermost feelings all too often.
My phone buzzes - a text from Greg. “Good morning, how’s your day so far?” Speak of the devil, I joke to Grace. “He had better not be changing around plans,” Grace says, looking anxiously at me. “Nope, just saying good morning,” I assure her. “Sorry,” Grace looks sheepish. “I’m used to unreliable idiots.” “I think that’s a synonym for the word ‘men’,” I laugh to cheer her up, although in truth, my dating experiences have been more devastating heartbreaks than small annoyances like cancelled dates. I’ve only had three significant relationships, including Brent, and one of those was in high school. It seemed serious at the time, but in hindsight, it probably wasn’t. I never dreamed of us getting married and starting a family or anything like that. I’d dated in between relationships, but nothing even close to serious. Still, I’ve witnessed first hand the pain that people can bring each other, and have no desire to submit myself or anyone else to that again. Perhaps that’s part of my reservation with Greg. I’m not sure I’m ready to get close enough to someone to cause pain for either of us and, while I’m not even sure what he wants, it makes me cautious. “Yep,” Grace agrees, bringing me back from my thoughts, “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t kill ‘em!”
I send Greg a quick reply, “Going well. At brunch with Grace. How are you?” “Oh, enjoy. Tell her I said hi. I’ll see you at 7 PM.” “See you at 7,” I confirm. I must be smiling, because Grace smiled back at me and says “It’s ok to be excited, you know. Remember, if by any chance it doesn’t go well, I’ll be blaming him.” Then realizing she may have just doubled my anxiety, she adds “but I think it will go just fine.” I hope so, and to avoid further discussion, I switch the topic. “How’s your dad feeling?”. “Oh much better. He’ll be pleased to know you asked about him - he really likes you. I think it was just a twenty four hour cold or something.” She plays it off lightly, but her relief was visible. I can tell how close she and Billy are. “My brother’s coming to town next weekend, so Dad’s really looking forward to that. He’s bringing his kids too, so it will be a full house, but we don’t mind,” she continues. I realize that I knew nothing about Grace’s brother, not even his name. “Where is he coming from?” “Just outside of Boston, not far. Maybe about an hour or so drive.” “Oh that’s not bad. How old are his kids?” “Bella is eight and Luke is five. They’re adorable, though I think Bella is hitting the tween stage early. Thinks she knows everything, that kid. You should come meet everyone. I’ve mentioned you to Josh, I’m sure he’d love to meet you.” I look at her quizzically and she laughs loudly. “Oh no, nothing like that. I mean he’d love you, but he’s happily married. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to set you up with every man I know. I just mentioned that you were renting dad’s cottage. Unlike you and I, Josh isn’t much into detective work, but he has always loved that place.” “How did you come to own the cottage?” I ask suddenly, curious about the history of how it changed hands. “Well, Linda, the old tennant, was going to leave because she couldn’t afford it. She was heartbroken, she loved that place. Dad bought it at a steal and fixed it up a bit, and lowered her rent to where she could manage. The old landlord had just been taking her for a ride, and dad didn’t really need the extra income at the time - though now it’s been a huge help.” “He still doesn’t charge much for it, though I’m not complaining.” “It’s a tough sell. I think the history and all. But Linda just loved it, had to be there she said, and dad felt bad. She never forgot his generosity.”
As we finish breakfast, it occurs to me that I don’t have any plans for the day until my dinner with Greg, and my nervousness returned. It’s so beautiful outside that I want to spend as much time outdoors as possible. As if reading my mind, Grace asks me if I
wanted to go shopping. “I have a few things that I want to look for up in Northfield, have you been?” “Northfield? No.” “Oh it’s a great town a couple of minutes west. Kind of hipster, but really cute. It’s nice to get out of town for a bit, you know?” “That sounds great. I haven’t explored around too much so far and I’d like to.” “Well, you’re getting out of town tonight too,” she teases, and I respond with a mock look of exasperation. “I’ll drive?” Grace suggests. “That’s a much better option than my driving. We’d be going in circles for hours,” I laugh. Grace is right, though, I am glad to be getting out of town. I haven’t done much wandering yet, other than my impromptu drive up the coast the one day. “Tell you what… why don’t we take the long way and I’ll drive through some of the neighborhoods. There are some beautiful old homes and cool little bridges. And of course some hidden beaches.” “I’d love that!” I genuinely appreciate her offer to show me around. “I’ve only been up to Anchortown for a bit of shopping and a bite at Good Greens Cafe. That’s where I met that waitress Claudia that I told you about.”“Oh you did tell me that! Sometimes, my brain, I swear….” “At least this work we’ve been doing is keeping it sharp. No pun intended,” she laughs.
We are so similar, she and I, and I feel lucky that we’d become friends. I have the feeling that without her, I’d be pretty lonely here. “Oh crap, I never answered Brent,” I say out loud without realizing it. He’d sent me a third text the night before, but I’d gotten entrenched in my conversations with Grace and Greg, and I’d forgotten to reply. “Ah, that’s ok, let him sweat it out,” she jokes. “Besides, you’re busy and it’s not bad for him to know that.” Grace has a point, but I also don’t like playing games. My college ex, Andy, said we’d be friends, but I had to make all the effort. It had been a mutual breakup, and so I thought he was being sincere, but for one reason or another, he pulled away, and it had been more hurtful than the initial breakup. I don’t want to do that to Brent - I’m a big fan of always trying to take the high road.
“When George and I broke up two years ago, he did the same thing,” Grace states. “I shouldn’t have believed him in the first place, I suppose, so I guess it was my fault. He lied through our entire relationship, so I don’t know why I thought it would change afterwards. Maybe I figured he’d finally been called out on everything so there was no reason to lie at that point.” “I’m sorry. Men can be the worst,” I try to comfort her, not knowing what to say. “Thanks. I’ve gotten over it, but I’m still very leery of men in general. At least those that I’m not related to,” she smiles, though it seems a bit forced. “Except Greg,” I point out. “Ha, well, I’ve known Greg for so long that he’s almost like the little brother I never paid any attention to growing up. Besides, I’ll be leery of him until you give me a good report of tonight.” But my teasing has the desired effect, and her smile looks more genuine now.
“You know what’s funny?” Grace picks back up in the middle of her breakup story. “The girl George was cheating on me with, we’re still friends.” I raise an eyebrow in curiosity. “She had no idea he was with me the whole time. She got a text one day that was meant for me. Had my name in it and everything, the idiot. She saw he only had one Grace on his Facebook page - he’d kept her off of it, saying it was because they worked together and he didn’t want to mix business with personal. She messaged me and asked if she could call me concerning George. She promised she wasn’t going to say anything nasty. She was only twenty four at the time, poor thing called me bawling her eyes out, told me everything and swore she hadn’t known about me. She asked me to meet for coffee and talk. We’ve been friends ever since. She texted him in front of me, a picture we took of the two of us together.” “Wow!” I exclaim, both shocked and impressed at the gutsy move. “What did he do?” “First, he called me, panicked, pretending he didn’t know who Crystal was. But then she took the phone from me and started talking to him and it was all over. She sent him a picture of the text that was accidentally sent to her instead of me. After that, he confessed, told her he was sorry but he’d been with me for four years and needed to work things out. I told him to go to hell,” she laughs heartily this time. “And he wanted to still be friends?” “Honestly, I don’t think so. I think he realized he’d lost us both and thought that with our history, I’d forgive him. He admitted to all the times he’d cheated - one or two night stands here and there for at least three and a half years - but Crystal was the only ‘long term’ one, for lack of a better word. He confirmed her story that he never told her about us. I think he thought baring his soul would make me forgive him, but I felt so betrayed that there was no way. He got lonely, and I think his idea of being friends was texting once in awhile and sleeping together when he felt the urge. I wanted no part of that and told him so. She pauses. “Sounds like at least Brent wants to actually be friends.” “I guess so. If I thought he just wanted me close out of convenience, I’d write him off, but I’m six hours away. And he’s always seemed genuinely interested in how I’m doing.” Grace shrugs. “Maybe he realizes what he’s lost.” “It’s been eight months though…” “Exactly. At first, he might have felt like he did the right thing. But there’s a reason for the saying “the grass is always greener.” Maybe he’s figured out that his unhappiness is because of him, and not the relationship.” “I suppose. I’m still not sure what to do about him. I’ll see what happens, I suppose.”
When we get back to Billy’s house, I ask Grace if she minds my running up to say hi to him quickly. “Not at all. But you know how he can talk your ear off,” she warns good naturedly. “I’ll let him know we’re heading out.” She’s right, Billy loves to hear and tell stories, and I could easily sit there all afternoon talking with him. Instead, I tell him that we were off shopping, but I heard he was under the weather and wanted to give my well wishes in person. After promising to stop by again soon, I head to the door. “Have you found out anything more about Linda?” he calls out. “Not yet,” I call back over my shoulder, “but still working on it.”
Grace drives west, through towns I’ve yet to explore. While my cottage is cozy, the neighborhoods here have more of an antique, almost European feel. Cobblestones fill pedestrian streets with sidewalk cafes lining the blocks. As we approach Northfield, I can feel the atmosphere changing. Musicians play on the sidewalks, testing out their talents on passersby. Shoppers and diners are younger - younger than me at least - walking in groups, dressed in bohemian style clothes and funky hats. One side of the narrow road is reserved for cyclists. “People bike all over Northfield,” Grace explains. “They can tell you’re not from here when you pull up on four wheels instead of two. But,” she adds, “they’re incredibly friendly. Unlike some of the older towns.” She wrinkles her nose slightly. “It’s a welcoming vibe, which is why I like to shop here, despite being at least fifteen years too old.” “The older towns we drove through aren’t as friendly?” “Well, they’re friendly enough, but it’s a lot of old money. Except Plainfield, the first one we passed through. I go there sometimes too. This is just more artsy.” “Funny how it just kind of springs up here among the rest,” I observe. “Well, there’s an art college here, and a lot of residents are students or faculty. Or they’re local artists who pay a little to use the facilities and, in turn, decorate the shops and restaurants with their artwork.”
“Makes sense,” I nod. “How big is the college?” “Few thousand I think. They’re opening a design school as well, so a few boutiques here are starting to sell student-designed items - mostly hats and clothing, but I’ve seen some pretty creative stuff.” “I wish I had that kind of talent,” I admit. “I have my writing, but it’s not something I can display. “You can once you publish your book,” Grace reminds me. She has a point. I’m not yet used to the idea that I may actually have a published novel. Not part of an anthology, or articles in a magazine, but an actual novel that will sit on the shelves in stores and be inextricably tied to me, for better or worse. It’s f
ar from done, I remind myself, and even after it’s finished, I have to actually get it published and sell bookstores on the idea of carrying it.
“What time do you need to get back?” Grace interrupts my thoughts. “Greg says he’s picking me up at 7, so as long as I’m home by 5:30 or 5:45 I should be fine.” In all honesty, it will probably take me about half an hour to get ready, but I want to give myself extra time in case I dawdled, which I know myself to do occasionally. “What are you going to wear?” “You know, I have no idea. I guess I should ask him what the dress code is.” I send Greg a quick text, and he replies almost immediately. I find myself holding my breath slightly as I open his reply. Perhaps Grace’s pessimism has sunk in, and I’m worried he’s going to cancel at the last minute. It seems my worries, wherever they came from, are unfounded. “Hey! How’s your day? The restaurant is pretty casual, maybe not old jeans, but anything else should be fine.” I write him back quickly, giving him a brief update on my day and inquiring about his. “Quiet,” he replies. “Been looking at some stuff in the attic, including my grandpa’s old diary - he left it to me, though I’d not delved into it yet. It’s an interesting read. I don’t want to keep you, but I’ll have to tell you about it tonight. See you soon!” I send another quick response and shove my phone back in my purse, not wanting Grace to think I’m ignoring her. “What’s the verdict?” “Nothing too fancy, but not old jeans,” I repeat his suggestion. “It’s a nice day out, maybe a sundress?” I nod. “That’s exactly what I’m been thinking.”
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