“She’s going to hate us.”
“Look, we like Steve, but this isn’t about him. It’s about Paige.”
I agreed to meet Robin at Paige’s apartment by six o’clock. The plan was to ambush her when she got home from work. Operation Save Paige was starting to look like a full-on military maneuver.
“What are you planning with that lunatic Robin?” Maria asked me after I placed the phone back on its cradle.
“Nothing.”
Maria narrowed her eyes at me. “Did you find a dress for Paige?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
I looked away, just in case Maria planned to use her Jedi mind trick to pull the truth out of me. “Nothing looked right on her.”
Maria shook her stubby finger at me and warned, “You better not be doing anything to my Paige.”
Her Paige. Who was Maria kidding? She probably didn’t even know Paige’s last name. When I first introduced my best friend to my new pastry chef there was instant rapport between them the moment Paige declared that she’d take a misshapen homemade chocolate chip cookie over a ninety nine cent Mrs. Fields cookie any day. Maria told me later that Paige reminded her of herself when she was younger, although I couldn’t imagine the two of them having anything in common.
I piled the cake boxes on a shelf in the storage room before taking Charlie’s phone number with me into the gallery. The kitchen phone was too close to Maria’s curious ears and I didn’t want her to hear me canceling my date.
I dialed Charlie’s office and left a message on his voice mail explaining that we’d need to reschedule our dinner. I found myself rambling on until a beep interrupted me and indicated that my time was up. Reluctantly, I hung up and started back toward the storage room.
“No date tonight?” Maria asked, reading my mind – or more likely eavesdropping on my conversation.
I shook my head, no.
“Now was that a date with Charlie or Neil that you were canceling? I can’t keep all your men straight these days.”
“Charlie, of course. Neil’s getting married,” I reminded her.
Maria raised her eyebrows at my declaration of innocence. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?”
“Freezing,” Robin mumbled, jumping up and down on the sidewalk to keep warm while I sat on the front steps watching my breath escape in cloudy puffs into the night air.
Paige sorted through the keys on her key chain until she found the right one and slipped it into the lock. “This isn’t some sort of surprise bridal shower, is it?” she asked, almost sounding hopeful.
“We just wanted to see you. Our morning at Filene’s wasn’t much fun.” Robin nudged me and I realized that was my cue.
“We thought it would be nice to order a pizza and hang out.”
Paige shrugged and opened the door. “Sure. Come on in.”
Robin and I followed behind as Paige climbed the stairway to the second floor of her two story brownstone. This was the first building Paige bought after saving for years to begin her quest for real estate domination. And even though she’d added four other properties since then, I knew that no matter how many buildings she had in her portfolio, Paige would always have a special place in her heart for the two unit investment property in Brookline that she’d ultimately turned into her home.
When Paige first took me to see the run-down building that was just off Beacon Street, I thought she was crazy. It took more than a can of paint and some spackle to be able to see beyond the purple marbled wallpaper in the bathroom and the bronze dining room chandelier with the squirrels and acorns – it took fearless vision. But Paige persevered, and today she rented out the first floor unit for a pretty hefty sum while her own apartment’s foyer opened up to a living room with a creamy granite fireplace and floor to ceiling windows that gave Paige an amazing view onto the tree-lined street.
While Robin passed out bottles of Corona from the twelve pack we’d brought with us, Paige ordered a pizza from Pino’s.
“It’ll be about thirty minutes,” she told us. “Take a seat and put on a CD, I’m going to change my clothes.”
Since Robin was already kneeling next to the fireplace trying to get the flames going, I headed over to the stereo. I flipped through the CDs, which were all neatly lined up and arranged alphabetically inside the built-in bookshelves. I selected five discs and slipped them onto the CD player’s tray.
“Hey, Lauren. I heard you had a date,” Paige yelled from her bedroom as the sounds of Natalie Merchant filled the room and a mellow orange glow swelled from inside the fireplace.
I glanced over at Robin, who shrugged. “I didn’t tell her.”
“Who told you that?” I called back.
“Maria, when I called yesterday.” Paige reappeared wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a flannel shirt. “So who is he?”
“His name’s Charlie Banks. He’s an attorney.”
“Is he a litigator?” Robin interrupted. “He better not be representing that dickless prick who’s suing me. Maybe he’s a plant from the opposition, maybe they’re trying to get to me through you.”
“Right, because God knows the only way I could get a date is if he’s being paid by Plaintiff’s crack legal team. No, he’s not a litigator,” I assured Robin.
“And?” Paige waited for me to spill some salacious tidbits. But what could I say? Charlie’s great, too bad the idea of marriage repulses him.
“And what? He’s cute and he seems to have a good sense of humor.”
“So is he a candidate for Mister Absolutely Right?”
“So far he’s just a candidate for dinner.” Not that I was complaining. Dinner at trendy restaurants sure beat a tuna melt at home.
“Well it’s about time someone filled Neil’s shoes.” Paige grabbed a pillow from the couch and sat on the floor. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t need lifts.”
Without realizing it, Paige had just handed me the opener for the can of worms I was dying to set free. Ever since Neil showed up at the boutique I couldn’t stop wondering what he meant by go out for drinks? Was that code for take you to bed and show you what you’ve been missing? I wanted to tell Paige and Robin about Neil’s little visit, but the night we were going to put the final stages of Operation Save Paige into action didn’t exactly seem like the right time.
“You know, the lifts never bothered me so much,” I told her, defending Neil’s orthopedic shoe implants. But then I couldn’t resist adding, “In fact, I could care less.”
Paige let out a gurgled laugh and had to cover her mouth to keep from spraying beer on her Parquet floors. “To Neil,” she toasted, holding up her bottle. “He’s got three hot chicks in Boston toasting his fallen arches and I’m sure he could care less.”
“I don’t know,” Robin broke in, ignoring the toast as she continued to formulate conspiracy theories in her head. “It’s a little curious, this guy showing up at exactly the same time I’m served papers.”
“He’s not a litigator, Robin. He’s a divorce attorney.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Robin flopped down on the floor next to Paige and laid her head in Paige’s lap. “And here I thought he was a sleazeball lawyer. Silly me.”
After the pizza arrived and we’d managed to polish off eight slices of a large cheese pie in six minutes flat, we stretched out on the area rug in front of the fireplace and listened to the crackling flames.
“It’s so cozy in here,” I mumbled to no one in particular as I watched the fire create flickering shadows on the walls of the living room.
“We could rent a movie or go out for a drink if you want,” Paige offered, even though her eyes were closed and she didn’t look like she’d budge to go to the bathroom, no less outside where it was about thirty degrees and sleeting.
“We actually wanted to talk with you about something important.” Robin sat up and smacked my arm.
I didn’t feel like moving, but I kn
ew Robin wanted to present a united front so I pulled myself up and sat Indian style next to Robin.
Paige opened her eyes. “Is this about the bridesmaids dresses? Because I promised you could help pick them out. And I saw a dress on the Vera Wang web site that was so beautiful, it’s the kind of dress – “
“We can both wear again,” Robin and I chimed in unison before Paige could finish.
“Why does every bride say that? All these women come into the boutique and tell me how their bridesmaids will be able to reuse the Bubble Yum pink floor length gown with matching shawl, and I’m always sitting there wondering if they really believe that or they’re just trying to justify asking their best friends to spend four hundred dollars on something completely useless. I mean, even the nice ones aren’t exactly recyclable - I’ve never worn the navy strapless number from Robin’s trip down the aisle.” I turned toward Robin. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Robin paused briefly before forging ahead. “Look, it sounds great, but before we start picking out bridesmaids dresses Lauren and I wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”
“What about it?”
Robin took a deep breath and exhaled before laying it on the line. “We think you should call it off.”
“Or at the very least postpone it,” I added, trying to soften the blow.
Paige looked at us with a crooked smile on her lips, as if she was waiting for the punch line to the joke she’d obviously just missed.
“You can’t be serious?” Paige turned to me. “Lauren?”
“We’re serious.”
“What are you talking about? We put deposits down on the church and the hotel and now we have the cake.”
I shifted onto my knees to keep my legs from falling asleep. “Yeah, about the cake –“
“What about the cake?”
“The other night, watching you and Steve pick out the cake reminded me of some other couples I’ve worked with – like Robin and Mark, and Gwen and David Stern and a bunch more.”
“So?”
“So they all ended up getting divorced.”
Paige waved away the implication with a flick of her wrist. “That’s crazy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes it is,” Paige insisted.
“It’s just that maybe if Lauren had said something to me I would have thought twice about marrying Mark,” Robin explained. “I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. You know, every time I had to call a customer service representative to change a credit card or household bill back to my maiden name, they’d always ask if I was changing my name because I was getting married. And like an idiot, I always said yes, because the thought of telling anyone that Mark left me, even a total stranger who didn’t even care, was just too – “ Robin shook her head and paused, looking off into the darkened bedroom before finally finding the right word. “Mortifying. I don’t want you to go through that.”
“Steve isn’t Mark, Robin.” Paige stood up and moved to the couch, where she pulled a pillow onto her lap and stared into the fire.
I waited for Robin to become defensive, but instead her voice softened and she got up from the floor and took a seat on the couch next to Paige. “I know that Paige. I’m not saying this to you because I never want you to get married or meet a guy or because I don’t like Steve. We just think that maybe you’re rushing into this, and you have to admit, Lauren’s been pretty accurate in her assessment of couples so far.” Robin gestured in my direction as if she expected me to start spouting statistics of my successful pastry prophecies.
“So you could really tell with Robin and Mark?” Paige asked.
I nodded. “And others, too.”
“But Steve’s about the most genuine person I’ve ever known.” Paige hugged the pillow closer. “And I love him.”
Robin let a hand fall lightly on Paige’s shoulder before continuing. “We know that. But we also know that you’re two totally different types of people. He isn’t anything like the other guys you’ve wanted to date, and we’re just worried that you’re rushing into this. You’ve only known Steve for six months – and you’ve been engaged for three of those. Can you honestly say that before you met Steve you would have even considered marrying a guy you knew for only a few months?”
Paige was silent.
“Or that if you took out that checklist you made senior year, Steve would be able to check-off all the boxes that you listed as criteria for a husband?”
Paige cringed. We’d all made those damn checklists our senior year, and at the time it seemed like a good idea. I made a mental note to see if I still had mine packed away in a box with my yearbooks.
“What did I know back then? I was twenty one. Besides, what makes you two experts at this?” Paige sat up a little straighter, as if ready to challenge us. She stabbed a finger in Robin’s direction and then turned it on me. “You’re divorced and you won’t even go out on a date because every guy you meet is flawed in some miniscule way.”
Paige managed to get in a few zingers with her keen observations, but neither Robin nor I rose to the bait. It’s not like I expected Paige to toss her engagement ring into Boston Harbor like Robin. I couldn’t argue with Paige’s logic, our own track records didn’t exactly inspire confidence. If she knew that I was in planning dates with Charlie even as I was figuring out how to bump into Neil again, Paige would probably kick us to the curb on the spot.
“Why should I listen to either of you?” Paige asked defiantly.
“Because you know we love you and we only want you to be happy - long after the wedding is over,” I answered, and then decided to be honest, even at the risk of sounding like I was pointing a finger at Robin. “I’ve seen it Paige. All the excitement surrounding a wedding day and the idea of happily ever after. And I’ve seen what happens when happily ever after ends. I’m just scared for you.”
“It’s just that you and Steve are such an unlikely couple,” Robin forged on, building our case. “You’ve always had a grand plan while Steve’s content to live each day as it comes. If I asked you where you’d be in ten or twenty years, you’d be able to give me an answer right away, down to the day and maybe the hour, but Steve doesn’t even think about what he’s going to have for lunch tomorrow, no less what he’ll be doing years down the line.”
Paige’s chin dropped into her chest and she stared sadly at the solitaire poised on her left hand. She didn’t argue.
“And it’s all happened so fast. You haven’t even known each other for that long and here you are planning the rest of your lives.”
“You know we’re not saying this to hurt you, right?”
Paige tipped her head back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling as if looking for an answer amongst the stippled plaster. “Man, this sucks.”
Robin and I nodded. “We know.”
While Paige let the night’s turn of events sink in, I got up from the floor and reached over into the cardboard case, taking out three Coronas. After removing the caps, I handed one to Robin, who seemed grateful for the offer of alcoholic refuge.
“At least promise us you’ll think about it,” I asked holding out a Corona for Paige.
She hesitated, looking briefly at Robin and then to me, before she reached out and reluctantly took the bottle. “I promise.”
Chapter 11
“You know what today is?”
I glanced at my alarm clock and tried not to drop the phone as I snuggled back into the warm cocoon of my down comforter.
“Saturday?” I ventured, my voice muffled under a tangle of flannel sheets.
“The day I was supposed to go pick out my wedding ring,” Paige reminded me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, the reality of last night’s intervention truly sinking in for the first time.
Operation Save Paige was a success, if you could consider breaking up your best friend and her fiancé an achievement. I tried not to think about how heartless that sounded, and instead focused on the positi
ve – Paige wasn’t going to make the same mistake Robin made when she married the wrong guy.
“Am I okay? What do you think?” Paige’s tone was verging on sarcastic, and for a minute I thought she was getting ready to rip into me. Instead, she let out a frustrated sigh. “You know, I’m not saying I think you and Robin are one hundred percent correct, but I just got off the phone with my mom and apparently you weren’t the only ones with concerns.”
“So what are you going to tell Steve?”
“I already called him.”
“And what happened?”
“Well, he was asleep when he picked up the phone, but once he realized what I was saying, he wasn’t exactly understanding.”
“You can’t blame him for not understanding, Paige. Just a few days ago you were picking out your wedding cake.” As soon as the words escaped, I closed my eyes and waited for Paige to echo what I was already thinking myself – that while Paige couldn’t blame Steve for not understanding, she could blame Robin and me for stirring up this mess.
“Anyway, by the time we hung up we’d agreed to take some time apart to think things over.” I could hear the crunchy stream of Special K in the background as Paige poured herself a bowl of cereal. Paige is religious about her morning routine, which consists of a bowl of Special K with bananas and skim milk, her One A Day vitamin and tomato juice. She spent the night at my apartment once after a Red Sox night game, and all I could offer her as a substitute was Frosted Flakes and bloody Mary mix. Paige didn’t stay for breakfast.
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