by Maria Geraci
Grace had to admit, it was funny.
Ellen began punching keys on her laptop. “Go ahead, Jessica, tell us about your latest boyfriend.”
“His name is Douglas J. Kirkpatrick, the third, and I’ve got plenty to say about him.”
Someone in the crowd moaned. “I’ve dated him too. You go first, and if there’s anything you’ve missed, I’ll fill them in on it.”
Jessica went on to give a detailed description of Doug. He was average looking, but he had lots of money and was charming and Jessica was thrilled that he’d singled her out from the other women at the bar where they’d met.
He sounded eerily familiar. Grace raised her hand. “Does this Doug like to wear a baseball cap and play rugby by any chance?”
“So you’ve dated him too! Man, this guy gets around, huh?”
“Not him, but a friend of his. Go on,” she urged Jessica.
“After about a month of some very intense dating, if you know what I mean, he tells me we have to lay low for a few weeks because he’s up for a promotion at his accounting firm. Did I mention he’s a CPA? Says he has to put in all these hours to impress his boss. When he stopped calling all together, I got suspicious, so I began following him around. Just to collect the evidence before I confronted him. He was smart, I’ll give him that. It took weeks to finally confirm what I knew all along: that he was dating the boss’s daughter.” Jessica paused long enough to retrieve a cup stashed beneath her folding chair and take a fortifying sip of whatever was inside. “So I walked in on them in the middle of a cozy dinner in some swanky restaurant on the beach, and guess what that asshole did next? He filed a restraining order against me!”
To call Doug an asshole was almost a euphemism. Still, Grace wondered what Doug’s side of the story might be.
“What we need now are four key words to describe this creep,” Ellen said, her tone all business. “From the description you’ve given us, I would say: charming, smart, ambitious, vengeful. Would you agree?”
Jessica took another sip from her cup and nodded.
“Okay, then let’s see what we have.” With a great flourish, Ellen made a show of hitting the final key on her computer. She gasped and looked over at Jessica in concern. “He’s an Iago!” she declared. She deepened her voice. “‘Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word.’ ”
“Is Ellen quoting Shakespeare?” Penny whispered to Grace.
“I think so,” Grace whispered back. “Othello, right? Kenneth Branagh, Laurence Fishburne. It was on cable a few weeks ago. Great flick.”
Jessica looked confused. “Iago? You mean, like the parrot from the Disney movie Aladdin?”
“No! Iago from Shakespeare’s Othello,” Ellen snapped, clearly horrified by the parrot reference.
The woman sitting next to Jessica shook her head. “Iago from Othello! It’s a good thing you got away from this guy when you did, sweetie. The whole thing could have ended in tragedy.”
The women began murmuring in agreement.
Got away from him? Hadn’t they heard the part about the restraining order?
Jessica went on to talk more about Doug. After a while, some of the women began getting out of their seats to use the bathroom or to stand up and stretch. Ellen noticed the shift in energy. “I think we have more than enough information on this Doug Kirkpatrick character. Thank you, Jessica.” Jessica looked miffed by the interruption, but she sat down. “We have time for one more review,” Ellen said, looking around the circle of chairs. “Who’s next?”
The woman sitting on the other side of Grace stood up. “Hello, everyone. I’m Karina,” she said softly.
“Hel-lo, Karina!” the group shouted.
“My last boyfriend was Matt Lakowski.” Her brown eyes darted around the room, waiting for someone to comment. When no one did, Karina let out a visible sigh of relief. “He’s . . . well, he’s pretty terrific, actually.”
“Stats?” Ellen asked.
“Oh, um, he’s thirty-four, divorced, and has a four-year-old son, Matty Jr. He’s a wonderful father.” She looked around the room again and Grace smiled at her in encouragement. “We dated for about six months before I broke up with him.” Karina spent the next twenty minutes extolling Matt Lakowski’s virtues.
“I don’t get it,” Ellen said. “So far, key words here are patient, kind, intelligent, honest. Why did you dump him?”
“The thing is . . . I thought I could do better. Matt’s a terrific guy, but he isn’t too exciting. His idea of a good time is renting a movie and making microwave popcorn.” Karina looked like she was about to cry. “I was wrong, though. He’s perfect. I’ll never meet anyone like him ever again.”
“Why don’t you just get back with him?” Penny asked.
“I tried. But he told me that our breakup hurt too much. And that he didn’t want to subject Matty Jr. to another failed relationship. He’s a terrific father, did I tell you that?”
“Yes, yes, you already mentioned that,” Ellen said, frowning down at her computer screen.
“I only brought him up because, well, he’s such a great guy. He deserves the best. And if any of you are lucky enough to ever go out with him, I hope you don’t blow it the way I did.”
“I’ve got it!” announced Ellen. “We were missing the key word, which in this case is dull. Your Matthew is a Colonel Brandon, from Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. He didn’t have his own child, but there’s the whole paternal thing he does with his ward’s illegitimate baby, or was it his baby? I can never remember since I don’t particularly like that book.”
Karina appeared insulted. “I never said Matthew was dull.”
“The definition of dull is ‘not too exciting,’ ” Ellen said.
Grace waited for Ellen to start quoting Jane Austen. But she didn’t. Since Ellen didn’t like Sense and Sensibility, she probably didn’t know it well enough to quote by heart.
“All righty,” said Ellen. “We have a great start here. So far we have five reviews, but we need more, so upload, upload, upload! I’ll read each one carefully to select the proper descriptor words, then put them into my program to come up with a match. I encourage each and every one of you to read these reviews. Memorize them. Information is power, ladies. If we don’t use what we know, then we only have ourselves to blame for heartache.” She snapped her laptop shut. “So, who’s up for Coco’s?”
Grace made certain to catch Ellen alone once the meeting had broken up. “Ellen, don’t forget, no more alcohol. Maybe you can put an announcement on the Yahoo! site.”
“Sure, no problem.” She lowered her voice. “Can you believe Jessica thought Iago was a bird from some Disney flick? What are they teaching in high schools nowadays? Wait, don’t answer. I know exactly what they’re not teaching in high schools.” She sighed. “I’d love to stay and help clean, but I need to get to Coco’s ASAP to reserve a table. You’re coming, right?”
“Sure,” Grace said, surveying the small mess left by the group. No one had bothered to put away their folding chairs, and there was still the matter of getting the shelves of the Hemingway corner back where they belonged. Penny and Sarah stayed to help.
“Is it just me, or is Ellen having way too much fun with this whole thing?” Sarah asked. “And I mean way too much fun not in a good sense. By the way,” she said, giving Grace a look that said enough about Ellen and on to you, “you were right. Your dentist is hot. You have to tell us what’s going on! Are you two going out?”
“What dentist? The one who tried to pick Grace up at the Wobbly Duck then pretended not to know her?” asked Penny. “And I agree about Ellen. This whole computer program thing of hers is wacko.”
“You know Ellen,” Grace said. “Intense is her middle name. But we’re all having fun, right? So what’s the harm? I kind of think the computer thing is cool. She’s even figured out a way that she can use this for a class.” She folded up a chair and leaned it against a stack of books. “And
for the record, Dr. Joe and I are just friends. That’s it.”
“How good-looking is this guy?” Penny asked Sarah.
“On a scale of one to ten, eleven.”
“Twelve,” Grace chimed in and they all laughed. They tried to get her to talk about Joe, but Grace kept steering the conversation back to the club and eventually Sarah and Penny got tired of asking questions that were being ignored.
Once the store was back in order, Grace turned out the lights and locked up. “Should we take our own cars or ride together?”
“Take our own cars,” Penny said. “I have a feeling I’m going to want to cut out early and I don’t want to hold anyone back.”
“Before we head to Coco’s, I want to tell you guys something,” Sarah said. Although she’d addressed both of them, her focus was on Grace. “Craig and I are definitely going through with the divorce. As a matter of fact, it’ll be final at the end of the month. That’s what dinner last night was about. We were working out some last-minute details. He’s getting remarried on New Year’s Day and I’m truly at peace with the whole thing.”
Grace thought she’d heard wrong. “How can he be getting remarried so soon?”
“He’s marrying Carla.”
“The ho he cheated with?” Penny said.
“They’re in love. They have been for a while, and honestly, like I said, I’m okay with it. Craig and I are going to remain friends.” Sarah’s voice sounded flat.
Friends?
Grace was ecstatic that Sarah and Craig weren’t getting back together, but for Sarah to be okay with Craig marrying the woman he’d cheated with just days after their own divorce was final, seemed all wrong to her.
Penny gave Sarah a hug. “If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it.”
Grace gave Sarah a hug too, because it seemed like the thing to do, but it felt wooden. The upside to all this was that now there was no need for Grace to tell Sarah about Craig cheating on her before the wedding. It certainly let Grace off the hook. But something here was very un-Sarah-like. How could Sarah be so blasé about the man she loved being in love with another woman?
If Grace were the type to misquote Shakespeare, she’d say something was definitely rotten in Daytona Beach.
16
In Vain Have I Struggled, My Feelings Will Not Be Denied
Chez Louis looked spectacular decked out in Christmas finery. Twinkling white lights and fresh evergreen garlands hung above the windows. The warm yeasty smell of freshly baked bread made Grace’s stomach rumble. This time she wasn’t leaving Chez Louis until she’d had at least half a loaf just for herself. Maybe that’s what she’d have for dinner tonight. A bottle of white wine and a loaf of bread, please.
She adjusted the collar to her red jacket and patiently waited for Felix to notice her. He was absorbed with the ledger in front of him when he automatically began the customary greeting. “Welcome to Chez—” He looked up, stopped mid-sentence, and broke out into a grin.
“Hey, Felix.” Or maybe she should call him Henry. Grace wondered what Felix would make of his comparison to a nineteenth-century libertine like Henry Crawford. Who knows? Maybe he’d be flattered.
“Grace, you look . . . you look wonderful.”
She wasn’t wearing anything as sexy as the black dress she’d had on for her last visit to Chez Louis, but she felt comfortably chic in the tailored cream-colored pants and brown leather ankle boots.
“Thanks.”
“I was hoping you’d stop by again.”
“I didn’t stop by, Felix. I have a reservation. Or rather, my brother does. Try Charlie O’Bryan.”
Felix’s face paled at the mention of Charlie’s name. “Is he with you?” He sounded as if he expected Charlie to pounce on him at any second. Which Grace had to admit was funny, because even though Charlie was certainly manly enough, Grace couldn’t picture him beating up anyone outside of a conference room.
“Don’t worry, Felix. Charlie wanted to kick your sorry behind after the way you cheated on me, but I told him it wasn’t that big a deal.”
Felix winced. “Grace, if I could take that night back, I would. I don’t know what got into me.”
She knew exactly what “got into him.” The funny thing was, Grace suddenly realized she wasn’t sorry she’d caught Felix cheating on her. If anything, she was grateful. There was no telling how much time Grace would have wasted on their relationship if she hadn’t had a solid reason to break up with him. Felix wasn’t the right man for her, just like Henry Crawford hadn’t been the right man for Fanny Price in Mansfield Park. She had Ellen’s theory on literary archetypes to thank for her realization. She’d told Ellen her boyfriend theory had been genius, but Grace hadn’t truly appreciated it until this moment.
“Felix, I think it all worked out for the best between us.”
He frowned, like he hadn’t expected that.
“Can you please show me to my table?”
He scanned the ledger in front of him. “I’m sorry, Grace, but Charlie doesn’t have a reservation and we’re—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re booked.” Grace thought back to their conversation this morning. She could have sworn Charlie said Chez Louis. They were meeting to discuss Charlie’s big idea to save the store. Grace had thought about asking him to change up the location, but why should she avoid Daytona Beach’s hottest new restaurant just because Felix was the manager? Especially now that she’d put their history in a new perspective.
“Can you try Mark Lockett or Andrea Jones? They’re the partners at Charlie’s law firm. Sometimes the secretary makes a reservation under their name.”
Felix rechecked the ledger. “Actually, there is a reservation under Mark Lockett’s name, but it’s for three.”
Charlie had mentioned there was someone he’d been conferring with about the store, someone who wanted to help, but he hadn’t given Grace a name.
“That’s us. We’re supposed to be meeting a third party.”
Felix snapped his fingers at a hostess. “Please seat Ms. O’Bryan right away. There will be two more guests as well.” He leaned over and whispered in Grace’s ear, “Call me. We have a lot to talk about.”
Felix couldn’t seriously believe Grace would actually call him. She pretended she didn’t hear him. She followed the hostess to her table, then sat back in her chair to admire the view. The tables were covered with crisply starched linen cloths. Lit tapers surrounded by freshly cut flowers made up the centerpieces. The sweet but sad sound of violin music played in the background. The atmosphere was beautifully elegant and she couldn’t help but wonder how her date with Brandon might have ended if they’d started out here instead of the Wobbly Duck.
She was perusing the wine list when the hostess seated a man in the chair across from her. Grace did a double take. “You’ve got the wrong table.”
Brandon Farrell smiled apologetically. “There’s no mistake, Grace. I’m sorry. I thought Charlie told you.”
“Told me what?”
“That I’d be meeting you for dinner tonight.”
“Charlie told me we were meeting with someone who wanted to help the store.”
“I do want to help. Look, the least you can do is hear me out.” Brandon hailed a server and ordered the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, along with a Seven and Seven. “But first I want to explain something. That night at the Wobbly Duck, I had an epiphany.”
Grace struggled not to roll her eyes.
“Doug and I have known each other since prep school and I knew he could be a jerk, but I didn’t realize until that night what an asshole he is. Which makes me an even bigger asshole because I’ve sucked up to him all my life. I’ve always been that guy who wants everyone to like him. The guy who doesn’t want to make waves. Dumping that pitcher of beer on my lap is the best thing anyone’s ever done for me, so thank you for that, Grace.”
“You’re welcome.” Any second now, Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out of the potted fern
to her left and tell her she’d just been Punk’d.
“You don’t believe me.”
Brandon’s drink and the bottle of wine arrived. Grace waited till they were alone again before saying, “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Brandon. You’ve already apologized and I’ve already accepted it. I get all that. I just don’t get what you want from me now.”
“I thought I just made it clear. I want another chance.”
“Brandon—”
“I know what you’re thinking. Poor little spoiled rich boy who works for his daddy. But it’s not like that. My parents are good people. They didn’t raise me to be a conceited moron. I achieved that all on my own. My mother would scalp me alive if she knew how I’d treated you that night at the Duck.”
She had to admit, Brandon sounded sincere. And there were the roses and the champagne to consider. If this was some sort of scam, it bordered on the Machiavellian.
“You want another chance? Okay. You probably have about ten minutes before my brother shows up, so go ahead, Brandon. Wow me.”
“You mean . . . now? Here?” He glanced around the restaurant.
“Sure. Dazzle me. Tell me in fifty words or less why I should go out with you again.”
“All right. I accept the challenge.” He threw back his drink. “I know this is going to sound corny, but I’ve thought of nothing but you since that night at the Wobbly Duck. You practically saved my life! I could have choked to death, but you were willing to do the Heimlich on me even though I was behaving like a total ass. Grace,” he said, reaching out to take her hand, “you make me want to be a better man.”
Grace pressed her lips together.
“What? Was that more than fifty words?”
“Brandon, you do know that last line is from the movie As Good As It Gets, right?”
“Damn. I was hoping you hadn’t seen it.” Then he smiled and Grace had to admit, it had the desired effect he was going for. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“A week ago, I would never have believed it if you’d told me I was going to be sitting in Chez Louis eating dinner with you. I could resist the roses and even the Dom Perignon, but quoting Jack Nicholson is the final straw. I give up!”
