Hugh seems like a smart match, and maybe Lara’s onto something.
“What do you think of the curry?” Hugh asks, setting down his fork and knife. “Not too spicy or bland?”
Hugh wanted to leave the restaurant to my choosing, but he obviously didn’t want to appear like he put zero thought into the date. So he gave me two options: a longtime favorite Italian dive or a quaint Indian spot with, as he claimed, “Seattle’s best curries.”
“It’s perfect,” I say, taking a bite of my chicken madrasi. “When I was in Indonesia I had some of the spiciest foods ever. I thought I liked spice before I ate their cuisine.” I take another bite. “I don’t know how the locals do it every single day.”
“You went to Indonesia?” Hugh asks, looking stunned. “That’s amazing!”
“Oh, it was!” I can feel my eyes light up at Hugh’s excited reaction to my talk of exotic locations and cuisine.
“What were you there for? Mission work or volunteer?” He takes a fast sip of ice water. “Photography? Pleasure?”
“All of the above,” I say, and Hugh nods.
“That must have been an adventure. Indonesia! God, I couldn’t imagine…”
“If you get the chance, you should go.” I dip my spoonful of rice into the curry.
He laughs, then takes another quick drink. “Don’t think my firm has many accounts out that way.”
“Well where have you been recently that you just loved?” I say brightly. “Any awesome vacation hot-spots? Tips on where I absolutely must visit?” I flash a smile.
“Oh, I love traveling along PCH. Hop on the road, amble along the picturesque roads, in and out through forests, along beaches…”
My mind starts to wander as Hugh paints a really beautiful and tantalizing picture. I’ve taken a few road trips along the Pacific Coast Highway. I even took one with a guy I was dating back in college. His parents lived in Santa Monica and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a four-day Easter weekend than driving along the nation’s most gorgeous highway.
“Sometimes there’s Las Vegas,” Hugh says. I snap out of my landscape dream. “Or the long drives home to Atlanta. Took a drive up to New York for a week. That was work-related, however. Too busy to see much up there.”
“Sounds nice,” I say, taking a bite.
“Not quite Indonesia but…” He sets down his fork and leans in to the table. “I’ve got a confession.”
“Yeah?” I reply with raised brows.
“I’ve only been on an airplane twice in my entire life.”
I almost choke on my rice. The spicy pieces fall clumsily in the back of my throat, and I give a low cough.
“I know,” he says. “Crazy, huh?”
“Twice?” I manage to say once I’ve cleared my throat. “Only twice in your whole life?” I’m flabbergasted. How can that be? How does he see places? What about vacation?
“Thirty-two years old and only been on an aircraft twice,” he says, pushing back from his hunched position over the table.
“How do you get around?” I ask, my lip curled up in a mock-sneer. “I mean, are you a train-travel kind of guy? Ships?”
“Ships?” He gives a chortle. “Not many ships from Seattle to Atlanta, are there?” Another chortle. “No, no. I’m strictly a highway driver. No airplanes for me. No, thank you, ma’am.”
I press my lips together, then take a quick drink. “Well, how do you get out? Go overseas? Do you travel? Do you like to travel?”
“Certainly! But I can go several places with a car.”
“Ah.” I take another bite, my mind temporarily wandering away from the date and disappointing conversation, and on to Indonesia, Africa, so many magical places just waiting to be visited. How can Hugh immediately discount these locations simply because they can’t be reached by car?
“Well,” I say with caution. Minus this travel disagreement, the date’s been going nicely, and I’d hate to make Hugh feel uncomfortable or like the date just not might have the potential for a second one, but I have to be honest. This whole travel philosophy of his is kind of a downer.
“I’m always in the mood to travel,” I finally bring myself to say. “Whether for a few days or maybe months, I’m always open to the idea.” I look at Hugh, at those really pretty green eyes. He’s smiling and lightly nodding. “Travel can also be a great way to do something for someone else. Like a giving-back-to-the-community type of thing. Volunteer work.”
I take an awkward pull of my water, hoping my words will produce the result I’m hoping for—for Hugh to say, “Yeah…I suppose.” Or, “Yeah…I guess I could consider travel for volunteer work.” Something so this date really isn’t a total bust. Some kind of…hope?
When Hugh just takes one bite after another, tossing down hearty slogs of water in between the spicy bites, I continue talking. “I love giving back and immersing myself deeply into a culture, becoming a part of the family and village and making the customs my own. I was in Ghana not that long ago and it was amazing!” I pause for a contemplative second. “There’s no other feeling quite like it, giving back to those so desperately in need. It’s also a great way to better understand my own culture. Being away from it and all.”
“I bet.” Hugh finally says. “That does sound really amazing, Emily. I admire that drive and passion. It takes a special person to do that.”
“Well,” I say with a shrug, spooning up some more spicy curry and rice, “just about anyone can do it. If you have an open mind and an open heart, and you’re willing to adapt and learn and, well, experience…live! Well, you can do it.”
Hugh sits more upright in his booth seat. “I admire that passion for travel and volunteer abroad, but there’s so much that can and needs to be done here at home.” He taps his index finger twice on the wooden table.
“Oh, absolutely!” I agree. “There are as many children needing adoption here in the U.S. as there are in Russia and Africa and Asia. The world!” I set down my utensils and finish my spicy bite. “There are plenty of starving and homeless people right next door. I agree. Help at home.”
“Exactly,” he says. “I help out down at the Y once a week. I coach a basketball team, and while that’s a lot of fun and counts as some of my gym time,” we share a light laugh, “it’s also really rewarding to be helping those in need. Brightening up someone else’s day just a little bit. You know?”
“Exactly. You know,” I say, resting my elbows on the table, “if you feel like you’ve got the travel itch, you can take your call to volunteer overseas. Just for a change of pace.” I quickly add in, “Even though giving back at home is really important. If you wanted a change of scenery, maybe. Something to think about. I know some great NGOs.”
Hugh nods repeatedly, eating another helping of curry and rice and then taking a drink.
“I know this school over in Guatemala had a missionary group down there,” I say. “One of the Americans volunteering put together a small basketball team. It was really cool. I think he volunteered back home at his Y, too, or something. Those skills travel.” I wink and return to my curry.
“Yeah,” he draws out. “I’m all for the volunteering. Like you, I love giving back.” He smiles and I smile back, though somewhat weakly. “But, like I said, there’s a lot I can do here. Whatever is out there, there’s something just like it here. No plane-travel required, no messy overseas trips—”
“Hugh,” I say, not wanting to interrupt but wanting to get something straight. I have to know, for certain, and in no roundabout way. “You’re telling me you don’t ever intend to fly? No airplanes? At all?”
“No, thank you.” He shakes his head harshly. “Scared to death of flying. That’s why I embrace travel across this great land and, well, aside from a few quick trips up to Canada, that’s the extent of my, oh… What do you call? Those… Wanderlust! Yes. That’s the extent of my wanderlust.”
I look down at my chicken madrasi, and I suddenly feel queasy.
“No,” he
says with a hearty sigh, “there’s so much to see here in America that I just can’t imagine why anyone would put other countries and foreign—even dangerous—cities on their bucket lists before seeing our fifty beautiful united states!”
I force out a stiff laugh and limply bring up a piece of chicken to my mouth.
“Well,” he says, once more leaning in playfully over the table, “more like forty-eight, maybe -nine, if we don’t count Alaska…and Hawaii. I don’t think I could manage those long and exhausting trips.” He wags his head in a shivering way. “Especially couldn’t handle the long cruise by ship to Hawaii. No, the forty-eight contiguous is enough to keep me busy for a lifetime. Plenty of different cultures to encounter.” He takes a bite and adds, “And plenty of different cuisines, too! Mexican, Italian, American…”
I smile weakly and set down my utensils for the final time. The chicken suddenly tastes a bit dry, the curry now having lost its spicy flavor, and I’m ready for the check. Hugh Chadderton, blind date number two, Lara’s attempt at doing me a solid, is not going to pan out after all.
***
“I don’t really get this,” Claire says, stupefied. “How can,” she quickly whips her head in my direction and asks, “half-a-million in Seattle, is that right, Em?”
“A tad more, but close enough,” I reply, blowing on my hot cup of tea.
“In a city with that many people,” Claire continues in her enthusiastic vein, “how the hell can we not find a suitable match for Emily?” She thrusts an open-palm my way. “She’s a catch. I don’t get it!”
“The men we find for her just aren’t catches,” Robin replies simply.
“The craziest part of it all,” Sophie says, also blowing on her tea, “is that Em can hit it off with just about any guy in the universe. We must be really shitty matchmakers if we’re oh for two. Right?”
“That’s not it, girls,” I speak up, at last.
All of the girls and I are in the cozy (and scrumptiously cinnamon-scented) kitchen in the back of The Cup and the Cake. We’ve been chatting for the past several minutes about my date with Hugh from the other night. I’ve let them all pipe in with their thoughts, advice, and the routine, He wasn’t good enough for you, anyway, girl! You’re better off.
“I don’t know,” Lara says with a long face. “Oh for two isn’t so great, and with you it should be easy. You find something good and likable in everyone, Emily.”
I test the temperature of my tea, but decide it’s still too hot. I set it down on the pink and gold filigree saucer.
“It’s not that Hugh and Rick weren’t guys I’d get on with or be able to have a few fun dates with,” I say.
Jackie makes an uproarious laugh. “Rick the Dick? Please, Emily!” She cackles loudly some more. “Not even you could manage another date with that loser. I mean, you walked out on that date!”
“True,” I say in a ho-hum kind of way. “But Hugh,” I swiftly say. “Hugh’s a really nice guy. A sweetie.”
“He just has weird issues with steel birds that will never pan out for you in the long run,” Lara says acutely.
“And ‘long run’ is precisely what we’re doing this whole kit and caboodle for,” Claire says. She slumps lower into her seat.
The girls and I are all circled around one of the kitchen’s island workstations, seated on a mishmash of barstools and pink and white, cane-webbed chairs from up front. A lot has transpired this week, like date number two in the “Operation,” and Robin finding out the gender of her baby. Robin also says she’s ready to supply date number three, so, as you can see, an emergency get-together was obviously in order.
Since Sophie had to work the last café hours of the night by herself, and since she had something in the oven specifically for tonight, we brought the party to her. I, of course, can’t think of a better place to have one than in the back of the café. Why bring all of the drinks and sweets to someone’s apartment when we’ve got everything we need right here?
Speaking of which. I lean over and motion to Sophie to bring over the stand of freshly baked vanilla cupcakes. She sets it on the center of the table.
“Can we? Can we?” Jackie asks sprightly, pointing at the white-iced cupcakes. “Come on, we’ve waited long enough! I want to know already!”
Robin still hasn’t told any of us what she’s going to have, and we’re about to burst from anticipation! Well, she told Sophie already, because Sophie had this great idea of doing a fun gender-reveal surprise with cupcakes. The cupcakes were just finished being iced when Jackie and I arrived, and I’ve been dying to sink my teeth into one—to find out if there’s blue or pink filling inside.
“You ready, Robin?” Sophie asks, nudging the stand of treats into the center of the table.
Robin looks like she’s glowing. Oh, she’s always glowing. She’s wearing the glowing pregnancy look so well.
“Come on!” Claire shrieks. “I want to know what theme I need to plan for your baby shower!”
I wasn’t there for Rose’s shower, but apparently Claire really went to town on the planning. It was done up beautifully, but I’m not surprised. Claire’s a regular Martha Stewart. Even though Claire got extremely overwhelmed with planning her massive wedding, it did turn out lovely. I’m sure if she plans Robin’s next shower, that, too, will be perfect!
“Hold the shower,” Sophie says. “Robin’s also got a wedding to plan.”
“Omigod!” Claire squeals. She smacks her hands together and is glowing just as brightly as Robin. “I can help you with that. We all can!”
Robin calmly pats Claire on the shoulder. “Easy, girls. One thing at a time.” She pulls a slightly distraught face. “We’ll have to work on the baby shower first.”
“Have you and Bobby set a wedding date yet?” Lara inquires, removing her eyes from the BlackBerry she discreetly brought out a second ago. That girl. It’s always about work, work, work.
“We’re thinking some time next spring,” Robin says. “Maybe March or April.” She scratches at the bridge of her nose. “A sweet, little, springtime fête of sorts.”
“What, you don’t want to be preggers in your gown or something?” Jackie asks. She takes a sip of tea. “Why the wait?”
Robin says with a light smile, “I don’t want to add the stress of planning a wedding to the pregnancy, and getting ready for that.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “And, yeah, I guess being pregnant in my dress isn’t the way I dreamed my wedding photos would look.”
“You’ll look stunning no matter when you get married,” I tell her.
“Obviously,” Jackie says with an emphasized roll of the eyes. “Until that day, let’s find out what’s inside that tummy of yours, girl!”
“Okay,” Robin says. She motions to the stand of cupcakes. “Everyone bite on in. Find out what I’m having!”
Like cats to the watering hole, we all dive in and snag up a frosted treat.
I peel back the cream wrapper to reveal white cake, and I poise my lips over a sugary edge.
“Ready?” Robin says in muffled tones, her lips also poised over the cupcake. “Go!”
All together we take a bite, moans of delight ringing up, and then I pull my lips back.
“Omigod!” Claire and Jackie cry out together.
“Congratulations!” Sophie says, plopping her cupcake onto a saucer and throwing her arms up in the air.
There’s a small dollop of icing inside the center of the cupcake, and it’s a soft shade of blue.
“I’m having a son!” Robin sings, finishing her bite of the cupcake, a small mixture of white and blue icing on her upper lip.
Chapter Sixteen
“You and Bobby knew it all along, didn’t you?” Lara asks Robin, taking a hearty bite of the “I’m having a boy!” cupcake. “You had a hunch, didn’t you?”
“I’ve read about those hunches,” Claire says. “A mother’s intuition is, like, always spot-on.”
“We weren’t certain, obviously,” Robin says, smoothing h
er black-and-green-striped v-neck over her discreet baby bump. “We were both betting on a boy, though.”
“This is so exciting!” Sophie says. “A little boy! Goodness, that’s so unreal.”
“I bet Bobby’s really excited,” I say. I top everyone’s tea cup off with some more Early Grey. “Every man wants a son.”
“That is a fact,” Claire states with a sharp nod. “I’ve read that in every girly magazine; and Conner tells me all the time how neat it’ll be to have a son.”
“You guys going to try soon?” Sophie tosses out, looking fast to her right at Claire.
“Omigod,” Claire groans. “I so want to be pregnant. How cool would it be—”
“To be pregnant with Robin,” Lara finishes with a raised eyebrow. She picks up her BlackBerry and takes a drink of her refilled tea.
“Yeah! It’d be super amazing!” Claire says in apparent tones.
“You and Conner are seriously trying?” Jackie looks flummoxed.
“We’ve talked about it a couple times, but Conner thinks it’s too soon.” Claire pulls a sad face.
“You guys did just get married not even two months ago,” Sophie points out.
“So?” Claire says. “There’s no rule about when to have a baby or not.”
“True,” Robin says with a silly smirk.
“But,” Claire says, darting her eyes about in a sly fashion, “if I do just so happen to get pregnant…”
“Claire, that’s so mean,” Sophie says through a light laugh. “I mean, that’s not cool.”
“I’m still taking my pill,” she says in a brush-off manner. “I wouldn’t do that to Conner. Come on, you know me better than that.”
Sophie slowly totters her head side to side.
“But it doesn’t mean I can’t keep pestering him,” Claire states. “We can keep it a topic for discussion. I don’t know.” She waves a hand around. “We’ll see. But I would so love to be pregnant at the same time as you, Robin. I mean, six women here, how can not at least two of us not get pregnant around the same time?”
When Girlfriends Take Chances Page 14
