“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“But…” Rebecca grinned at her while holding up a finger. “I’m finding it to be unexpectedly satisfying.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, the girls aren’t bad. There are a couple that send me flashing back to the cheerleaders in my high school, but I’m getting to know them and they’re okay. A bit too focused on what they look like rather than how they feel, but I can deal with that. There are two others that are much more…down to earth? I guess that’s the best phrase. One just wants to be healthy. She’s a tiny bit chunky, but I think that’s more genetics than anything else, and she’s working really hard. Plus, she’s one of those women who’s just…nice. You want to be around her.”
“And the other?”
“She’s working hard, too, which surprised me, given that her fiancée signed her up for the class without asking her first.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “He did? What a prick.”
“Not he. She.”
“Her girlfriend signed her up?” Zoe’s tone registered disbelief. “How do you know she didn’t ask first?”
“My client said as much. She said her fiancée signed her up, so here she was.”
“Man, I can’t decide if I feel sorry for her or think she’s an idiot.”
“Me neither.”
They shifted back and forth between Zoe’s calls and Rebecca’s clients, laughing the whole time. Rebecca found herself having a really good time, though…it didn’t feel much like a date, and she wasn’t sure why or what to do with that.
With a glance at her watch, Zoe said, “I need to get going.”
“Don’t forget your coffee,” Rebecca reminded her.
Zoe stood and gave Rebecca a grateful smile. She took a step away from the table, stopped, then stepped back. Palms on the table, she leaned forward and said easily, “So, can we agree that there’s, like, zero spark here?”
Rebecca blinked at her.
Zoe waited her out, her expression completely friendly and open. “I mean, right?”
A beat later, Rebecca inhaled slowly and let it out. “You’re totally right. I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out why I’m having such a great time talking to you, but it feels like…”
“You’re talking to your sister?”
“Yes!” Rebecca burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, that’s exactly it.”
Zoe’s smile was wide, inviting. “I like you, Rebecca not Becky. I think we’re gonna be friends for a long time.” With a wink, she headed to the counter to get her coffee.
It was a weird, awesome feeling to know you’d made a new friend at thirty-five years old. So different from being a kid, being an age when you were actively looking for somebody to connect with, when you needed a friend. But in her thirties? Rebecca didn’t need any more friends. She had plenty. That being said, she was keeping this one. She knew it immediately.
“Where’s your phone?” Zoe was back, very large cup in hand. Rebecca pulled it out. Zoe rattled off her number. “There. Now you can text me any time. And then I’ll have your number, too. Okay?” Zoe’s brown eyes were soft.
“I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Rebecca said, one corner of her mouth quirked up.
“Same.” Zoe held up her cup in a makeshift salute. “Catch you later, Rebecca not Becky.”
Rebecca watched her go as she sipped the last of her latte. Instead of being disappointed that yet another date hadn’t worked out, Rebecca felt lighter somehow. Content.
“It was the weirdest thing,” she said to Sherry later as she lay on her couch in her living room, phone pressed to her ear. “Like, we had this fantastic conversation. She’s interesting, but she also listened. She was funny. And curious. She told great stories. But…”
“She didn’t do it for you.” Dishes clattered as Sherry must have been emptying the dishwasher.
“She didn’t do it for me. And I didn’t do it for her either, apparently.” Rebecca had taken a bit to absorb that. “Isn’t it funny, how we are? I mean, she didn’t do it for me, but I didn’t like hearing that I didn’t do it for her. You know?”
Sherry chuckled. “Absolutely. Nobody wants to be unattractive to somebody else. To anybody else. I know I want everybody to think I’m hot. Always.”
“Well, everybody does think you’re hot, so you’ve got no worries there.”
“Oh, thank God,” Sherry said, and Rebecca could envision the playful smile on her face. “So, I think the takeaway here is, you can find a nice girl through internet dating. You did tonight.”
“I found a friend, not a girlfriend. World of difference.”
“But still. I think this should renew your faith, at least for a little bit longer.”
“Maybe.”
“God, you’re stubborn.”
“So I’ve heard.”
They talked for a few more moments before hanging up. Rebecca clicked on the television, still feeling a bit wired. “This is why I shouldn’t drink coffee after seven,” she muttered to herself, flicking channels. A network that specialized in older movies was showing Fly Away Home and Rebecca stopped to watch for about the thirty-fifth time.
Her thoughts drifted back to her coffee date, to Zoe and how much fun she’d had. She picked her phone back up, scrolled to the number Zoe had punched in, and sent a text.
Had a great time tonight with a new friend. Let’s do it again soon.
She added a smiley and sent it. A reply came almost immediately.
Same! I Facebook stalked you on my break. Accept my friend request, damn it. I’m getting a complex. The wink that followed took away any tinge of creepiness the text could have held. Rebecca chuckled to herself, then opened Facebook, found the friend request, and accepted it. Deciding to do a little stalking of her own, Rebecca scanned Zoe’s timeline, noted her friends, and scrolled through a few photos, but before she even realized she was doing it, she’d typed the name Spencer Thompson into the search bar.
She popped up instantly, not hard to find at all, and Rebecca clicked. Her timeline was not private, which Rebecca knew wasn’t smart and wanted to mention something next time she saw her, but how? How could she let Spencer know she should change her settings without admitting she’d been to her page? Hey, Spencer, I was being a creeper and searched you out on Facebook and noticed your page isn’t set to Private. Don’t you know how many weirdos there are in the world that might photo stalk you? Yeah, there was no way. Instead, she took advantage of the openness and wandered.
Spencer was fairly active. Not ridiculously so. Not like some people. Not like Sherry, who posted endless photos of her children and the details of every single thing they did on any given day, from winning a soccer game to eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, complete with commentary. It looked like Spencer posted every week or two, and most of her photos were of things, not people, though there were a few exceptions. Lots of photos of jewelry, it seemed. Rebecca wondered what that was about, remembered overhearing Spencer and Lucy talking about necklaces or something. There was what looked to be a family photo with Spencer, two people who were most likely her parents, given how much she looked like the older woman, a woman who must be a sister, and a young man of maybe twenty-five. A brother, must be. There was no caption. Lots of photos of dogs of varying sizes, colors, breeds, none of which seemed to be hers. And when Rebecca came across the photo of Spencer and another woman, it was as though her fingers suddenly had minds of their own and wouldn’t let her scroll on past.
They stood in front of a pavilion. Maybe it was a picnic or an outdoor party? The taller woman had her arm wrapped possessively around Spencer’s shoulders, the woman’s smile wide.
Martina Daniels, the tag said.
This had to be the fiancée.
Rebecca zoomed. She had dark hair cut in a very professional-looking bob sort of style. Large brown eyes. She looked happy, standing there in black capris and a cream tank. She also looked…wealthy. Re
becca tilted her head, wondering why she thought that. Her clothes seemed fairly expensive. Her sandals definitely were. She glimmered with jewelry—a heavy gold watch, what looked to be diamond earrings, a gold chain with a charm on it that was slightly obscured by her collar and Rebecca couldn’t quite make out. None of her jewelry looked like anything Spencer might have posted a photo of. That was something Rebecca noted right away. The other thing she noted was Spencer’s smile. It was faint, more a ghost of a smile than anything else, an obligatory expression, something she maybe felt she was supposed to do.
“Oh, my God, McCall,” Rebecca said, loudly, and quickly clicked off Facebook altogether. “What the hell are you doing? Stop it. Just. Stop.”
She tossed the phone onto the coffee table and out of easy reach. Shaking her head in irritation at herself, she picked the remote back up. Fly Away Home had ended while she was stalking Spencer and about to stalk Spencer’s fiancée, so she flicked quickly through channels until she found an episode of Snapped.
“Perfect. Let’s watch overwhelmed women kill their spouses. That oughta cheer me right up.”
I am officially ridiculous.
When Snapped failed to lasso all of her attention, she stretched for the phone and texted Zoe again, who texted back immediately.
I need a drink. Meet me?
“Yes,” Rebecca said with relief.
Something else—someone else—to focus on was the perfect solution.
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, you,” Spencer said as she swiped her membership card through the card reader at the front desk of BodyFit.
Lucy looked up and her perpetual grin grew wider. “Hi, Spence. How’s life?”
Spencer parked a hand on her hip and slumped to one side. “Seriously, are you ever not crazy cheerful and happy?”
Lucy made a thinking face, then said, “Yeah, not really.”
Spencer grinned at her. “The world needs more people like you. Hey, I have something to show you.” She set down her bag, opened her purse, and took out a baggie filled with colorful beads. The bag flat on the counter, Spencer ran her hand over it so the beads were in a single layer. “I found some of these in packages I already had, and a few I bought because I thought they might work. See anything you like?”
Lucy ran her fingers over the beads, a soft “ooh” coming from her lips. “I like this one. And this one. This one here is very close to the color of the bridesmaids’ gowns.” She rested a fingertip on a rich mauve-colored bead.
“What are we looking at?”
Rebecca’s voice was so close to Spencer, she gasped, then gave a soft chuckle. “You startled me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder into those deep blue eyes.
“Sorry,” Rebecca said and started to step away.
Spencer’s guilt hit instantly, and she grasped Rebecca’s wrist, tried not to notice the warmth, the softness. “No, no, it’s okay. Stay.”
Rebecca held her gaze for a delicious moment before moving her attention to the baggie. Spencer held on for a second or two longer than necessary, then let her grip slide away and felt unexpectedly sad about it.
“Spencer is making me necklaces,” Lucy said, her voice bright, but her eyes focused on Spencer.
“Oh, yeah? You make jewelry?” Rebecca seemed honestly interested.
“I dabble,” Spencer added with a shrug. Rebecca was still standing close. Spencer liked it, liked feeling her body heat, liked the sweet scent she gave off that Spencer couldn’t pinpoint.
“Dabble?” Lucy looked at her like a third eye had appeared on Spencer’s forehead. Turning to Rebecca, she went on. “She doesn’t dabble. She creates. She’s making me necklaces that reflect the colors of my wedding. I’m going to give them to my bridesmaids so they have something that nobody else has. Only the three of them.”
Spencer felt her face flush. “I mean, they’re not expensive. I just use glass and metal.”
“Stop trying to make light of what you do. You make gorgeous stuff.”
“Thanks, Luce.” Spencer was keenly aware of Rebecca watching. Listening.
Rebecca reached for the baggie, sifted the beads through her long fingers. “Great colors in here,” she said.
Lucy moved closer, stood on her toes, and pointed to the mauve bead. “This one.”
“Oh, nice.”
Spencer grinned at the two. Her friend and her…was Rebecca her friend? A strange question that came out of nowhere. And one Spencer didn’t know how to answer, especially when Rebecca looked up from the baggie and snagged Spencer’s gaze with her own. Held it.
Spencer felt her heart rate kick up a notch. Or seven.
God.
Then, suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, Rebecca blinked rapidly, seemed to make a concerted effort to tear her gaze away and force her eyes to the clock on the wall. “Yikes. Almost time for class. Better get ready.” And then she very nearly race-walked away.
“She’s growing on me,” Lucy said, her eyes still on the baggie of beads.
Spencer nodded, her attention still pointed in the direction Rebecca had walked. “Mm-hmm.”
“Come on. We’d better get changed.”
Spencer followed Lucy to the locker room, where Lucy continued to talk about the necklaces. Spencer had to admit it was incredibly flattering to have somebody be so enamored of her work. It was one thing if it was her family. They sort of had to like her stuff. Or Marti, though she always seemed indifferent and had never asked Spencer to make her anything. It was quite another for it to be somebody as new to her as Lucy was. It was flattering, yes, but it also made her feel more pride than she had in a long time, and that was a nice feeling.
Once dressed and out in the gym area, they joined up with Willow and Bella. Before they finished their greetings, Rebecca joined them.
“Hello, ladies. No Brittany today, so it’s just the four of us. I guess I’ll have to divvy up her workout and give you each a little extra.” She winked, and each of them let out a relieved sigh, then laughed when they heard each other. With an amused shake of her head, Rebecca said, “Let’s stretch it out.”
The foursome eased right into their usual stretching routines, and for the first time, Spencer realized she could do things more easily than when she’d first started the class. For example, the first step of the stretch was for her to bend at the waist, touch her hands to the ground, and walk them forward until she was very nearly in a push-up position. Next, she was to bring her left foot forward to meet her left hand, while the right foot stayed back. The first few times she’d done this move, she barely got her foot to her waist. She then had to scootch it in little skids to get it where it was supposed to be. Now? One step. Push-up position, left foot to left hand, done.
“Your flexibility has really improved,” Rebecca said quietly, as if she was in Spencer’s head and reading her thoughts like a magazine.
Spencer grinned at the praise, and as she turned to meet Rebecca’s eyes, she felt a warm hand on the small of her back.
“Keep your back flat here. Don’t arch.”
Spencer nodded, did as she was instructed.
“Perfect.”
Rebecca moved on down the line and Spencer again tried to ignore her disappointment when the hand slid away. What is going on with me? She furrowed her brow. Better yet, what’s going on with her? Spencer was getting whiplash from the changes in demeanor. First, Rebecca hated her. Then she seemed to tolerate her. Then she hated her again and in addition, wouldn’t touch her. Then she liked her once more and touched her a lot. Switching legs in her stretching, Spencer mentally shook her head. I’m so confused.
The rest of the class went along in similar fashion. Rebecca was friendly and pleasant, and if Spencer didn’t know better, she’d think Rebecca was trying to touch her any time a chance popped up. Adjusting her stance in a stretch or tilting the angle of her elbow as she lifted weight or—Spencer’s personal favorite, if she was telling the truth—shifting her hips during a move.
> Standing at her locker now, Spencer recalled the feel of Rebecca’s hands on her hips, moving them to the left, her voice very close to Spencer’s ear. “Keep your hips straight. Don’t twist.”
Rebecca was causing her to gaze into space way too often.
Spencer shook herself, literally, and forced her brain back to the present. Lucy had left, Spencer moving way too slowly for her to stick around and wait. She’d given Spencer a funny look but then gathered her things and headed home, so Spencer didn’t dwell much on it. Sucking in a large breath, she released her ponytail and brushed her hair, finished getting her things together, and finally—finally—closed her locker.
Her determination to stop daydreaming and concentrate on the other important things in her life was short-circuited by the sight of Rebecca sitting alone at her desk, staring off into space. Spencer had to walk right past her, and almost had when Rebecca shifted her focus and made eye contact.
Spencer lifted one hand in a casual wave.
“You’ve continued going to spin classes,” Rebecca said, out of nowhere.
Spencer stopped and gave a nod. “I have.”
“Good for you. Sherry’s tough.”
There were five spin instructors, and Spencer wondered if she should find it interesting that Rebecca knew which one she preferred. “She’s brutal. Kicks my ass every time. Every. Time.”
Rebecca laughed. “Well, it’s doing you good. I can see it.” A beat went by and Spencer watched, fascinated, as Rebecca’s face slid from casually friendly to nearly mortified, seemingly by her own words. She held up a hand. “I’m sorry. That was…was that too personal?”
“Not to me,” Spencer said. “A girl can never hear that enough, really.” She punctuated that with a scoff. “It’s not like anybody else tells me.” And then it was Spencer’s turn to grimace. “Now I’m getting too personal.” They stayed like that for several seconds: Rebecca seated at her desk, Spencer standing, both of them looking slightly uncomfortable. So it was a bit surprising that Spencer couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. “Do you not want to go home either?” The question was out of her mouth before she even knew she was going to ask it.
The Shape of You Page 12
