Scott looked up from the paperwork. "You think these guys will be ready to run the Chicago Marathon?"
Nick leaned forward and drummed his fingers on Scott's cluttered desk.
"Yeah, why not? Mattie said we had the power to change the world. I have to admit, I'm starting to believe her."
Scott turned the grant application around so it was facing Nick and handed him a pen. "You two are like the opposite of Bonnie and Clyde, you know that?"
Ignoring him, Nick asked, "So where do I sign?"
* * *
A few weeks later, Dianne held an impromptu staff meeting in her office.
"Skinny comfort food? Talk about an oxymoron." She looked over to the food critic seated across from her and asked, "Am I right?"
David Morse, the man who had the power to make or break any dining establishment in the entire Chicago metropolitan area, chuckled.
"You're right. It's a hot trend, though. People want to devour grandma's homemade macaroni and cheese but not suffer the consequences."
Dianne stood up and leaned against her desk, twirling a pencil between her fingers like it was a mini baton. "I'm thinking videos of Mattie remaking old favorites in the test kitchen. Posting them next to her column and linking it to the food section."
Mattie offered, "I've already gotten a couple from my readers." She looked around at the others as she listed them off. "Turkey meatloaf, sweet potato and quinoa chili, cauliflower mac and cheese."
"Yeah, but how do they taste? Do your kids eat them?" asked a skeptical Nancy Braley, assistant food editor.
Unable to recall if she had shared any with her sister to conduct a taste test with actual children, she evaded the question by asking another. "What's not to like?"
Nancy, a perky single middle-aged woman directed her attention to Dianne. "Well, if you're going the video route, you really ought to have Nick in them. I'm sorry, but that man is hot."
A loud, awkward laugh burst out of Mattie. "No, he's not."
All eyes turned toward her. "He's not," she muttered to herself.
"Well, of course a happily married woman wouldn't think so," Dianne replied. Addressing Nancy, she said, "That's not a bad idea. We'll float the idea past him. If that flies, we can move on to healthy brown bag options for kids, quick and easy dinner options, tips for feeding your child athletes. The list goes on."
Mattie, worried the ten extra pounds added by the camera would belie all of her hard work, nodded at Dianne. "I'll ask him."
"Good. All right. That's all for now. Thanks everybody. Mattie, I need you to hang back a second."
When they had the office to themselves, Dianne pulled an envelope out from under her desk calendar.
"What's this?"
"Just a little something to tide you over."
Mattie ripped open the envelope to reveal a check that was big enough to cover a month's rent. She looked at Dianne with her mouth hanging open.
"Lester put in for it after I convinced him that absolutely nothing untoward was brewing between you and your coach. The way he explained it, he'll cut you a check—an advance on your bonus, if you will—each time you finish one of your races. The longer the race, the bigger the check."
"Hang on. Are you saying that if Lester thinks something is going on between me and Nick, he'd withhold my bonus? A morality clause? In this day and age? Is that ethical?"
"Sweetie, you, of all people, are in no position to be asking if something is ethical."
Mattie knew Dianne was right, but she had one last question for her.
"Does the same hold true for Nick?"
Dianne smirked. "I'd assume so. I hear it was his idea."
* * *
By April, Mattie's everyday lexicon included phrases like, "hill work," "mile repeats," and, her personal favorite, "fartleks."
Motivated by money, she figured finishing the upcoming 10k race would net her double what she got for completing the 5k. That she felt herself transforming into a healthier, slimmer, more confident person with each workout completed helped. But, her biggest motivator of all was Team Plate Spinner. At last count, it had over two thousand enthusiastic members, not including the satellite teams that were sprouting up in Chicago's collar counties.
Since the new feature kicked off, Mattie highlighted a "Plate Spinner of the Month." By sharing their personal struggles and how they overcame them, entrants contributed to the valuable forum in which working parents shared ideas on getting fit. After tallying readers' votes, Mattie sent the winners a goody bag filled with certificates to spas, organic grocers, and athletic apparel stores. She had never expected to feel so fulfilled professionally and personally by this assignment.
With those very readers in mind, she was determined to finish another punishing hill workout on the steps of the Knollwood High School football field bleachers. After reaching the top one last time, she started her final descent and noticed Nick talking on his cell phone while he paced back and forth on the sidelines.
Another client? He must have a dozen by now.
Curious, she hopped down the steps, watching as he ended his call and jotted something on his clipboard. When he looked up at her mid-scribble, she asked, "Ordering a pizza? I'd like black olives and red onions on mine."
In reply, he nodded toward a grassy spot in the middle of the field and said, "Core work. Come on, you know the drill."
Making no attempt to hide her disappointment, she muttered under her breath, "Yes, I do. I was just trying to make conversation."
Since the 5k, their verbal exchanges had gone from friendly banter to curt one-sided directives with Nick issuing orders and Mattie obeying.
In short, he was being everything Eddie always told her he was—domineering and egotistical. After nearly two months of being at the receiving end, she had half a mind to storm Lester's office and tell him what he could do with his morality clause.
She wiped her face with a towel from her duffle bag and pulled out a bottle of water. After a couple of swigs, she spread her towel on the dewy grass and lay on top of it. Enjoying the damp coolness of the grass, she clasped her hands behind her head, raised her feet in the air, crossed her ankles, and began a set of crunches. After completing forty-five, she started lowering her legs.
"Feet up. Elbows out. Ten more," Nick said as he circled her like a hawk, inspecting her form.
When she was done, she started bicycle rotations, touching her right elbow to her left knee and alternating until he told her to stop.
At the end of the workout, she zipped her jacked and asked, "Where to tomorrow, coach?"
"Nowhere. Nothing now until the race on Saturday."
"Have you made up your mind about doing that cooking demonstration with me?"
He shook his head back and forth, but said nothing.
She examined his expression. "I'll take that as a no."
He dropped his clipboard to his side and locked his eyes onto hers for the first time in a very long time.
"Why? I didn't say I wouldn't do it. I just haven't made up my mind.'"
Huzzah! A conversation.
"You never struck me as the indecisive type."
He narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin. "Oh yeah? Well you never struck me as a"
Mattie held her breath.
Nick checked himself. "Never mind."
"What? As a what?"
He turned his attention toward his gym bag and said, "I'll see you Saturday."
Mattie pressed her lips together and would've said something, but thought better of it. He wasn't interested in her, and that was that. Was she surprised? No. Was she disappointed? Hell, yes.
But, as Claudia was so fond of reminding her, "What more could an allegedly married woman expect?"
Maybe she imagined that something more was developing between them. Maybe the way he was making her feel about herself was spilling over into some residual gratitude that she mistook for something more. Maybe she'd quit her job and come clean.
Ye
ah and maybe the Cubs will win the World Series.
On the morning of the 10k, Nick rattled off the exact same advice that he had given to Mattie for the 5k, minus the smiles, minus the face holding, minus all warmth whatsoever. After depositing her at her start corral, he vanished into the crowd of runners. She wondered why he even bothered coming at all.
While alone in the crowd, Mattie was heartened by the fact that everywhere she looked she saw Team Plate Spinner shirts, hats, and shorts.
Before the starting air horn went off, she hopped up on a curb and turned to rally her team.
"Hey Team Plate Spinner! Who's a winner?" she shouted as loud as she could.
After the crowd shouted a mixture of "me" and "I am" in reply, she yelled, "Ya know why?"
Hundreds of men and woman shouted all around her, "Why?"
"'Cause you're a spinner!"
Again, the crowd thundered with cheers. On the opposite side of the road, she could see Charlie Clark clicking away with an enormous zoom lens affixed to the front of his camera. Nick was nowhere to be found.
Feeling like the coolest person on the planet, Mattie slipped on her sunglasses and got into position with her Team Plate Spinner peeps. When the blast of the air horn pierced through all other sounds, the runners poured across the start line, heading north on Columbus Drive. The air, still on the brisk side, was perfect for a race along Lake Michigan.
During the third mile, Mattie swept by a water station and grabbed a cup, splashing some in her mouth before crushing it with one hand and tossing it to the curb like a pro. By mile five, she opted for a sport drink station, downing as much as she could while jogging; the rest dribbled down the side of her face and chin. When she finished the sixth mile, the muscles in her legs began running out of gas, and she was starting to feel disoriented.
Following along with the pack of runners surrounding her, they headed south on Michigan Avenue for a few blocks before turning left to ascend the slope on Roosevelt Road that marked the southern border of the expansive Grant Park. About half way up, she was desperate to lay her eyes on the finish line.
Where is it? How much farther?
Slowing her pace, she panted to no one in particular, "I can't do this."
"Oh yes you can," said a woman twice her age jogging beside her wearing a hot pink Team Plate Spinner tank top. "Come on. Don't give up now. We're almost done."
Mattie looked up and there it was—the big beautiful finish line. The two women turned left onto Columbus Drive and started down the straightaway.
Sure enough, there was Nick, just on the other side of it, staring at his stopwatch.
When he looked up and spotted her, he let it dangle from his neck. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he bellowed, "Come on, Mathilde Jean, show me what you got."
She was dumbfounded.
The first thing he says to me in over two months that could pass for conversation, and he picks something he knows will piss me off?
The next thing she knew she was charging over the finish line and blowing right passed him. Charlie Clark couldn't click his camera fast enough.
Making her way straight to the table covered with water bottles, she uncapped one and kept walking through the chute, not looking back. She went directly to the gear check tent to pick up her things, leaving Nick in her wake.
All around her, runners were celebrating with their friends and families, enjoying the cool breeze coming off of the lake, hugging, taking pictures, laughing, drinking, and eating. After posing for several selfies with some of her jubilant teammates, she waved to others who greeted her as they passed by.
Music coming from speakers mounted on old-fashioned coach lights in the park started playing a popular love song that prompted several couples to start dancing all around Buckingham Fountain. Mattie stood watching the spectacle, feeling accomplished, but empty and alone. She tried to remember which lame excuse she had given Lester for her family's absence this time around. Was it an out-of-state soccer tournament or an in-law's birthday party?
I've told so many lies, what's one more?
She took one last swig of her water and started walking toward her train station.
A few weeks later, Dianne informed her that Nick had finally agreed to co-host a cooking segment. And she handed Mattie a check to cover roughly two months' worth of rent.
Looks like I won't have to sell my ring, after all, was her first thought.
Her second was, So why am I so bummed?
CHAPTER NINE
"I'm at the age where food has taken the place of sex in my life. In fact, I've just
had a mirror put over my kitchen table."
– Rodney Dangerfield
On Memorial Day, Chicago's lakeshore was abuzz with concerts, newly opened beaches, and family picnics. People came out in droves to welcome summer in the city.
But all Mattie wanted to do was fall asleep on her couch.
It was ten in the morning. She had gotten up four hours earlier to meet Nick at Lincoln Park Zoo where he said little, but handed her a blue rental bike and a helmet. From there, she followed him up to Sheridan road, then all the way down to Burnham Harbor and back. Doing her best to look at anything besides his backside for the duration, she thought of how cold he had become toward her over the last four months and wondered how different things might be between them if she had simply told him the truth.
Still, given that they would be co-hosting their first-ever cooking demonstration that might actually air on their local news affiliate later in the week, she would've thought he'd at least try to make conversation.
From what she could gather from Nancy Braley, they'd be supplementing her series on skinny comfort food by making a healthy meatloaf. It was Dianne's idea, but when Mattie found out Nancy booked the studio with the one-person kitchen in it, she grew suspicious. All it had was a five-foot long food prep counter with a chopping block, a range and an adjoining sink behind which was a working wall oven and a fake kitchen window. When Mattie called her on it, Nancy, mocking all things coy asked, "Oh, are you cooking, too?"
After her shower, Mattie recalled their exchange as she opened all of the windows in her apartment. Mocking Nancy, Mattie made a face and repeated, "Oh, are you cooking, too?"
She flopped on her couch, enjoying the breeze. Just as her eyes were starting to close, her phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the number. With a groan, she draped an arm over her eyes and answered.
"Hey, Claud. What's up?"
She was accosted by her sister's, slightly congested, maternal scolding. "Mat, where have you been? I've been trying to call you for two hours."
Mattie sat up. Clearly aggravated, Claudia sounded like she had been crying.
She gripped her phone tighter. "What's wrong?"
"It's Aunt Viv. She died during the night."
Stunned, Mattie had trouble getting the news to register in her brain. "What?"
Claudia spoke quickly, speaking in staccato sentences.
"Linda just called. Said they had dinner last night. Aunt Viv seemed fine. Went to bed earlier than normal. Said she felt like she was coming down with something. Linda found her this morning. Thinks she either had a stroke or heart failure. She'll let us know about arrangements."
Mattie felt like the floor had opened up and swallowed her whole. Having already lost a parent, the thought of losing the next best thing, even if it was in the form of an overly critical, sometimes callous aunt, was still heart wrenching.
"I don't know what to say," she thought out loud.
"I know, right? She was the only one there for us after Mom passed." The words caught in Claudia's throat. "Do you want to come over?"
Mattie swallowed hard. "Sure, yeah. I'm on my way."
She called Dianne who gave her the rest of the week off and pledged to postpone the cooking demo. Mattie started to text Nick, but decided to call his phone instead, certain that the sound of his voice would bring her some small degree of comfort.
&n
bsp; After four rings, it went to his voicemail. While she couldn't keep her voice from breaking up as she left her message, she assured him that she'd meet up with him the day after the funeral.
On the train ride to Claudia's, she replayed all of the wonderful ways Vivienne had stepped up and taken over as mother to her two grieving nieces, opening her home to them, and making sure they felt safe and secure.
Two days later, she sat alone on a settee at the funeral home before the visitation had started. Her cousin, Linda, fifteen years older, sat down beside her and hugged her tight. "You were always mom's favorite, you know."
Mattie blinked back the tears. "I never told her."
"What, honey?"
"That I loved her."
Linda didn't let go. "Don't worry. She knew. You were the only one who could get her to laugh. Remember? When we were all in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies and we completely forgot to add the flour to the batter? Or when we were baking, I don't remember what, and the broiler caught on fire?"
At this Mattie started laughing. "And she said not to use the baking soda to put it out because she was hoping insurance would pay for a new oven?"
"Good times," Linda chuckled.
Mattie nodded in agreement.
"Those are the memories that will get us through this."
Four hours later, when Nick arrived with his parents to pay their respects to their former long-time neighbor, he scanned the crowded room for Mattie. He had no idea what he'd do if he saw her. All he knew was that his parents insisted he join them. His mother called as soon as she got the news. In fact, he was on the phone with her when he saw Mattie's number pop up on his phone.
When he listened to her message, it took everything in him to not rush to her side.
But that wouldn't be appropriate considering she's a married woman and all, would it?
His suspicions of her marital status grew with each passing day.
She listed a woman named Claudia as her emergency contact.
False Start Page 14
