Everything's Relative

by Jenna McCarthy

  “So, if you don’t have plans for Thanksgiving,” she said, high on post-sex bonding hormones, “Jules is planning this ridiculous spread at the house, and you’re welcome to come. I mean, you know, if you don’t have any better offers.” They were in Rob’s gigantic California king bed, their limbs entwined like the roots of a tree. Lexi still couldn’t get over how different Rob was from every other man she’d ever been with—and not just because she was sober now, either. She felt so close, so connected to him, that it alternately overwhelmed and terrified her.

  “Oh, wow, that’s really sweet,” Rob said. Lexi thought she heard some hesitation in his voice. “But actually I have a fishing trip planned that week. Some of the guys from my unit go every year.”

  “I didn’t know you liked to fish,” Lexi said, trying to hide her disappointment.

  “Yeah, well, it’s a once-a-year thing,” he replied.

  Lexi felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Sweet? It was sweet of her to want to spend a holiday with him? It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might say no. They were a couple, weren’t they? Thirty seconds ago she would have said that they absolutely were, but now she wasn’t sure.

  “Where do you guys go?” she asked.

  “Catalina,” he said. Lexi had never been to Catalina Island. She’d never even been on a boat.

  “That’ll be fun,” she said coolly. It took every ounce of strength she had not to ask about his friends, who they were and why she hadn’t met them yet. The only thing that mattered was that he would rather spend Thanksgiving with them than with her. Or was that even what was going on here? Maybe it was all a big lie. Maybe he just needed a break from her, or maybe there was another woman in the picture. Why hadn’t he mentioned this little trip—or these friends—before? It certainly seemed like something that would have come up. And if she hadn’t asked him about Thanksgiving today, was he going to tell her at all? Lexi felt like everything she knew about him, and their entire relationship, was suddenly questionable.

  It was her own fault, too. She’d gotten soft, complacent. She’d rolled over like a dog and exposed her soft, vulnerable underbelly and, in doing so, allowed herself to forget one of the most basic tenets of the human condition: Other people only looked out for themselves. Well, two could play at that game.

  “We can celebrate Christmas together,” Rob said now, pulling her in for a hug. He was obviously trying to change the subject, to deflect, and Lexi could feel her heart hardening. “Hey, what do you want for Christmas? Do you like picking out your own presents or being surprised? Wait, why did I even ask you that? I’m surprising you; you don’t get a choice. I know exactly what I’m getting you, too. At least, I know one thing.”

  Rob was blabbing on and on, but Lexi wasn’t listening anymore. It was all a distraction tactic anyway, his way of diverting her attention away from the fact that she wasn’t important enough to spend a holiday with. Lexi let out a gentle, fake snort.

  “Alexis?” Rob whispered. She didn’t reply. He stroked her hair tenderly and Lexi fought back tears of anger and shame. How could she have been so stupid? She should have known that nothing this good could ever last, at least for someone like her.

  Jules

  “Do you have the day off?” Jules asked Lexi. She was curled up on the couch with an unopened magazine in her lap, staring off into space.

  “I’m going in at eleven,” Lexi said in a monotone.

  “Want any breakfast?” Jules asked, trying her best to sound casual.

  “I’m fine,” Lexi said.

  “Well, there’s some fresh fruit in the fridge and Shawn brought home some bagels yesterday if you get hungry.”

  Lexi said nothing.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Jules asked again. Lexi had been unusually quiet for several days and downright curt when she did speak. Jules was worried that it had something to do with Rob, but she knew better than to come out and ask. She was hoping Lexi would snap out of it, because she really needed to talk to someone about Billy McCann. She had just gotten an email from him saying he was planning a Thanksgiving visit, and now she had to tell Brooke. She wouldn’t mind having some reinforcements around when she dropped that little bomb, but it didn’t look like that backup was going to come in the form of her testy little sister anytime soon.

  “I said I’m fine,” Lexi said angrily. “You want me to learn how to say it in a different language or tattoo it onto my forehead or something?” Jules’s heart ached for her sister, but she had no idea how to help her.

  Her phone rang just then. She didn’t recognize the number so she let it go to her voice mail.

  “I’m going to go walk the dogs,” she told Lexi brightly. “You want to come?”

  “No, thanks,” Lexi said. Jules sighed, grabbed her keys and phone, and headed outside.

  It was a brisk fall day, sunny and clear. Jules slid her sunglasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose with one hand as she dialed her voice mail with the other. She was expecting a telemarketer or even a wrong number—only a handful of people had her cell phone number—so she was only partially paying attention as a man’s voice began to speak.

  “I’m calling for Jules Richardson. The name’s George Kaplan. My colleague Derek Stanford forwarded the query for your book. I’d love to speak with you about it. Please give me a call at your earliest convenience. Thanks.” He left his number at the end.

  It was a three-block walk to the first dog’s house but Jules couldn’t even think straight. She plopped down right where she was, on the curb four houses down from her own, and tried to quiet her pounding heart with the deep breathing she’d learned in yoga. It was a fruitless exercise.

  She was shaking as she replayed the message. This George person hadn’t said he was interested in the manuscript, but why else would he be calling? Probably not to tell her that he wasn’t interested, she thought. She felt like a tourist who’d been dropped down in an unfamiliar country where she didn’t speak the language or know the customs. Should she call him back right away? Would that look desperate? You are desperate, she reminded herself. She took a deep breath through her nose and slowly exhaled as she dialed Mr. Kaplan’s number.

  “Hi, this is Jules Richardson calling for Mr. George Kaplan,” she said, willing her voice not to shake.

  “One minute please,” a woman said.

  “George Kaplan.”

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Kaplan, this is Jules Richardson. I just got your message about my manuscript and I’m returning your call.” Short, professional, to the point; nailed it.

  “Ah, Jules,” he said in a booming voice. “May I call you Jules? After reading your manuscript I feel as if I know you so well, it’s almost as if we’ve met. But of course we haven’t . . . Isn’t that right?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Jules replied. What a strange question to ask, she thought.

  “Well, Jules, in any case I’ll cut right to the chase. I’m extremely interested in meeting with you to discuss your manuscript. I don’t always insist on an in-person meeting right away, but in your case I feel I must. When would be a good time to get together? I usually take new client meetings in the evenings and save nine-to-five for my existing clients. Would that be okay?”

  New client meetings? Was he offering to represent her? Jules was so wound up by that possibility that it didn’t even occur to her to question the suggested meeting time. Heck, if he’d suggested they meet at the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Jules would have convinced herself that this was how all “new client meetings” went down.

  “I’m free most evenings,” Jules told him. “You pick, please. I’ll work around your schedule.”

  “Well, next week is Thanksgiving and I’d love to get this all hammered out before then, so how about tomorrow or Thursday? I’ll have my assistant Laurel check my calendar and call you back with a time a
nd place. Sound good?”

  “It sounds great, Mr. Kaplan,” she said. “I’ll wait for Laurel’s call, then.”

  “Please, call me George,” he said.

  “Okay, George,” Jules said. “I look forward to meeting you.”

  “Likewise,” George said. And then he was gone.

  She dialed Shawn’s work line with trembling fingers and told him about the call.

  “So did he offer to represent you?” Shawn whispered.

  “I think so!” Jules squealed. “Shawn, I was so nervous I’m not even sure what he said at all. His assistant is going to call me with a meeting time, that’s the only part I remember clearly. But I know he said something about wanting to wrap it up—or something like that—before Thanksgiving, and that’s next week! You don’t think he means finish the manuscript, do you?”

  “Of course not, honey,” Shawn said. “He wants you to sign his contract or agreement by then, that’s all. Oh, Jules, I’m so proud of you! I mean it. Can we celebrate tonight? I’ll take you out anywhere you want to go. I mean it, anywhere. Even the Thai place I hate.”

  Jules laughed. “Let’s celebrate when something is signed,” she said. “And, Shawn, don’t say anything about this to my sisters yet, okay? I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “You know I don’t believe in that crap, but my lips are sealed until you give me the green light,” Shawn promised.

  “I love you,” she said. It came out a croak because of the gigantic lump in her throat.

  “I love you more,” he said. She could hear him smiling when he said it.

  The sidewalk felt like a bed of clouds beneath her feet as Jules led her dogs around the neighborhood, lost in thoughts of maybe actually becoming a bona fide, published author.

  Brooke

  “She says she’s just not feeling well,” Brooke whispered into the phone. Lexi was still asleep in the office, and Brooke didn’t want to wake her.

  Brooke had been surprised when Rob called her at first, but now she was downright worried. She’d noticed Lexi acting sullen and withdrawn, of course, but she hadn’t realized Rob was getting the silent treatment, too.

  “Well, she’s blown me off all week,” Rob said. “I offered to stop by with chicken soup or even to take her to the doctor, but she said she just wants to be alone. Will you call me if there’s anything I can do?”

  “Of course,” Brooke assured him.

  “Thanks, Brooke,” Rob said. “Oh, Frank said to say hello.”

  “Tell him I said hello, too,” Brooke said.

  Frank. What was she going to do about him? He was certainly a nice enough guy, and not bad looking, although he was a little short for her tastes. It was just that there wasn’t a single spark between them. Zero. Maybe it was because he was so quiet, Brooke thought. She certainly wasn’t the chattiest gal on the planet herself, and she thought she probably needed someone . . . bigger than her, someone with a little more spunk. Maybe that was why there was no chemistry between her and Frank: It was like going on a date with herself.

  But still . . . she was positive that Jules and Lexi would consider him a suitable man, and wasn’t that really all she needed at the moment? The inheritance deadline was only two months away, and it wasn’t like she had any other prospects on the horizon. He seemed to like her, but Brooke didn’t think it was right to play with his emotions like that. Even for millions of dollars. She hadn’t done it consciously, but she had put Project Billy on hold ever since she’d met George. Oh, if only—

  The ringing of the phone cut into her thoughts. She looked at the screen: George Kaplan. It wasn’t even work hours yet! Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Hello?” she said, trying to sound her sexiest.

  “Jules, George Kaplan, how are you?” Right. You’re Jules. Try not to forget that.

  “I’m wonderful, George, thanks,” she said. “You?” The familiar feelings of guilt began to bubble to the surface, but Brooke tried to push them away. She was doing this for Jules, to spare her the humiliation if George passed on her manuscript. That and because she had a massive crush on the guy, but she knew that was pointless, not to mention beyond her control, so she refused to let that part weigh too heavily on her conscience.

  “Exactly the same,” George boomed. “And I’m calling to see if we might be able to discuss how wonderful we both are this evening, in person? If it’s not too last-minute, that is.”

  “Of course not,” she lied. “I mean, of course it’s not too last-minute. I’d love to see you this evening.”

  “Great,” he said. “How about seven o’clock at Kushiyu? Bring Shawn, of course.”

  “Shawn’s working again tonight, but I’ll be there,” Brooke told him.

  “Great,” he said. “Looking forward to it.”

  She checked her watch; if she called in sick right now, she might be able to leave a message and not have to talk to the Little Me director personally.

  “Hi, Marcy, this is Brooke Alexander,” she croaked after the beep. “I seem to have caught that bug that’s been going around, so I’m going to stay home today and get some rest. Hopefully I’ll be back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know either way. Thanks.”

  It was a thirty-minute drive to Burbank Town Center, but she couldn’t risk running into any of the preschool parents if she shopped in the neighborhood or even nearby Woodland Hills or Sherman Oaks. And she needed to shop; even the perfect little black dress was big on her now, and besides, she’d worn that the last time she’d seen George. She needed at least one other weapon in her arsenal.

  She brought four dresses into the first fitting room and was shocked to find that she felt—and looked—fantastic in all of them. What an incredible luxury it was to be able to try on clothes and actually like what you saw in the mirror. Brooke made a vow never to take that for granted again. She settled on a royal blue sweaterdress that hugged in all the right places and would look fantastic with her knee-high brown boots.

  Now all she had to do was show up and find a way to tell this guy she was wildly interested in that she wasn’t who he thought she was at all. Piece of cake.

  Lexi

  “Did you invite Rob for Thanksgiving?” Jules asked. She was pouring a cup of coffee at the counter, her back to Lexi sitting on the couch, and Lexi was glad her sister couldn’t see the pain she was sure was painted all over her face. Her heart ached at the sound of Rob’s name.

  “He’s got other plans,” Lexi said. The words crashed out of her mouth on an angry wave. Jules turned and looked at her, then turned back around, busying herself with stirring her coffee.

  “Oh,” Jules said brightly. “Well, we’ll have fun anyway.”

  Yeah, Lexi thought. Stuffing herself sick and trying to hide a broken heart was a regular old barrel of monkeys.

  Brooke bustled into the kitchen. “Guess who ran ten miles this morning? Come on, guess!”

  “Brooke, that’s amazing,” Jules said. Brooke beamed. Lexi tried to arrange her face into something resembling a smile.

  “It wasn’t even hard,” Brooke said. “I mean, the beginning part was hard—it always is—but honestly, I think I could have even kept going today. I could hardly believe it myself.”

  “You’re awfully dolled up,” Lexi pointed out. Brooke was dressed in a sweaterdress that was bordering on sexy, and she was actually wearing makeup.

  “Oh, I have a little work thing tonight,” Brooke said, smoothing down her dress. “Do I look okay?”

  “Fabulous,” said Jules. “Really great. And actually I have a thing tonight, too—” Jules was cut off by three sharp knocks on the front door. “Expecting anyone?” she asked her sisters.

  Brooke and Lexi shook their heads.

  “I’ll get it,” Brooke said. She swung open the front door.

  “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Alexis Alexand
er?” Lexi didn’t recognize the voice and couldn’t see the face it belonged to. She slowly got up from the couch as Brooke tried to step outside with the woman. What could this be about?

  “I’m Alexis Alexander,” she said, trying to edge around Brooke, who was blocking the doorway. The woman was wearing a pale blue dress that had QUALITY CLEANING sewn onto the pocket. She held out a large, flat black suitcase with handles.

  “I work at The Perk sometimes, and I found this out by one of the Dumpsters,” she said. “It had your name on it and, I don’t know, I just thought you might want it back. Seemed like you put a lot of work into it and it was probably pretty expensive. I’ve actually had it for a while. I threw it in the back of my car and I was going to call you, but I forgot about it until I saw it in there this morning.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lexi said, edging into the doorway next to Brooke. “I’ve never set foot in The Perk and I’ve never seen that thing before in my life. Is this some sort of a scam? What do you want?” She planted her hands on her hips, ready for a fight.

  “She’s probably got the wrong house,” Brooke said, trying to pull the door shut. Lexi stopped it with her hand.

  “Then how does she know my name?” Lexi demanded. “Can I see that?” she asked the very confused-looking woman.

  “Look,” the woman said, handing over the case, “I was doing my job and it was going to get thrown away. I thought I was doing something nice by returning your sketches. Sorry I bothered you.” She turned and rushed down the front path, shaking her head. Lexi brought the case to the couch and sat down, shaking.

  “Alexis, wait—” Brooke started, but Lexi was already unzipping the portfolio. She gasped when she saw the picture she’d drawn of the three girls and the woman. She flipped through the book, which was filled with page after page of her private drawings, each slipped into its own protective sleeve.