by Elle Casey
I smile back and grasp his much larger, outstretched hand in mine. “Yes, and you must be James.” Thankfully, he’s not one of those guys who tries to prove his manhood by crushing knuckles, nor is he the type to act as though he’ll bruise me by having no grip at all. I’m impressed already.
“Yes. Welcome.” He looks around the room as our hands disconnect. “To our very colorful home.”
“I saw the before-picture. This is a pretty big change.” I’m testing him to see how he really feels about Leah’s work. I get the impression a guy like him doesn’t take to change all that easily.
“Night and day,” he says. His voice goes softer. “I never realized how bland my life was until Leah came into it.” He winks.
I laugh, relieved to find he’s truly accepting of her influence. “No one could ever call life with Leah bland, that’s for sure.”
Walking over to a bookshelf, I take in the titles. There’s Shakespeare’s Complete Works, The Count of Monte Cristo, and David Copperfield among others I know Leah would never read. “Looks like she didn’t get rid of everything.”
James joins me there. “She knows what’s important to me and what’s not, and she works around the things I like to keep.” He takes a sip of his whiskey before continuing. “I don’t expect her to, but she does.”
“Leah was always pretty sensitive.” I don’t tell him that she was always up for taking on a hopeless case and doing everything within her power to fix it, whether it be a person or a business. I still remember the used bookstore she turned into a tiny coffee shop place with both used and new books. She didn’t even own it; she was just an employee. But it’s still standing today, even with all the other independent shops in town closing up. “She has a knack for not just color but … harmony I guess you could say.”
James bursts out laughing, startling me. “Harmony? Oh boy … I’m not sure I can agree with that one.”
I frown, but my next question is cut off by the sound of a door opening and then Leah’s voice. “Hello, family! I’m home! James? Can you help me with this?” Banging ensues.
“Duty calls,” he says in a stage whisper, putting his glass on the bookshelf and leaving the living room for the front foyer.
I follow behind, hoping to help.
Leah’s halfway through the door, carrying the baby, a carseat, a giant diaper bag, and another bag of groceries. “I was going to bring Cassie over to Jana, but Jana was running late, so I offered to keep her a little longer.”
“How’d you get all this in here?” James asks, relieving her of everything but the baby.
“Emile downstairs helped me. He’s so nice.”
“He likes your tips, I know that,” James says under his breath.
“You won’t miss the tip money, but it’ll make a big difference to him,” she says, coming into the room. There’s a note of censure in her voice.
“Yes, dear,” James says, not without humor. I get the impression that this is a conversation they’ve had before and they’ve agreed to disagree. Or James has let Leah have her way. It makes me like him even more. Gorgeous, generous, and understanding? Leah’s hit the jackpot.
Leah grins at me. “Are you ready for dinner? I got take-out. I’m still a terrible cook.”
“You’re not wearing your takeout dress, though,” James says, earning a frown from Leah.
“Shush,” she says, quelling whatever inside story it is they’re sharing.
I grin, not quite getting the joke but wanting her to know I don’t expect her to cook for me. “I love takeout, especially in Manhattan. What can I do to help?”
“Unpack it. Jana will be here any minute.”
“She’s eating with us?” James asks, banging away in the front hall closet as he puts things away. “It’s Friday night. I thought she had a life.”
“She does, but she wanted to meet Sarah.” Leah winks at me. “No pressure, but you’re going to meet my brother, too.”
My jaw drops open. “Brother? Since when do you have a brother?”
She grins super big and lifts her shoulders. “Since this year! I’ll tell you all about it at dinner.” She leaves the front hall, expecting me to follow. “Let’s set the table before they get here.”
I hold the baby as Leah expertly dresses the table. It goes from boring oak to a carnival of colors in five minutes. She takes Cassie from me and puts her in a highchair near the far corner. A few toys on the tray keep the little girl busy.
“You like?” she asks, standing back to admire her work.
“I love.” I shake my head in amazement at her talents. “I never realized you were so good with color before.”
“I know, right?” She leans in closer and talks in a whisper. “I think James’s bland stuff sent a shock through my system or something. Woke up a part of my personality that was in hibernation.”
“Are you talking about me again?” he asks, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He leans in and kisses her on the neck.
She giggles and spins around in his arms, lacing her hands behind his neck. “Always. I talk about you all the time with anyone who will listen. Everyone’s getting sick of hearing your name.”
I turn away as they kiss, embarrassed by the passion I see there. No wonder she got pregnant right after they moved in together. Now I really feel the need to cut this visit short. I’m obviously right in the middle of a honeymoon period in their relationship. Talk about a lame houseguest. Just call me Sarah The Wet Blanket.
“Okay, enough of that,” he says, smacking her on the butt lightly. “We have a guest we’re making uncomfortable and I’m hungry.”
Leah separates herself from her man with a sigh. “Fine. I have appetizers, by the way. Let me just find them…” She picks up the bag of groceries from the floor and places it on the corner of the table. “Somewhere in here…I have some … springrolls…”
James retrieves his glass from the bookshelves and walks back over to us. “Can I get you something to drink, ladies? Wine? Scotch? Juice? Water?”
I respond as Leah pulls out a few white boxes from inside the grocery bag. “I’ll just have some water, thanks. I can get it if you show me the way.”
He points to the kitchen. “Water’s in the fridge. Flat or sparkling, take your pick.”
“Glasses are next to the sink,” Leah says as I walk past her. “Pour me an orange juice, would you?”
“Sure, no problem.” I’m glad they’re not waiting on me. It already feels weird enough that I’m here after inviting myself. I should probably say something about not staying long so James doesn’t think I’m one of those people who come without a return ticket.
I raise my voice to be heard in the other room. “So, I was thinking I’d stay for maybe three or four days with you guys, if that’s okay?” Taking out two glasses, I wait for the reply. It comes as I’m waiting for ice to drop from the automatic dispenser in the fridge door.
Leah shows up in the entrance to the kitchen. “Just a few days? I thought you were going to stay longer.” She sounds genuinely bummed.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t impose.” She turns her head to the living room. “Right, James? She’s not imposing?”
“Not at all,” he says loudly so I’ll hear.
I sigh and then immediately wish I hadn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Leah asks, coming into the kitchen.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. You know I can smell a lie from a mile away.”
I finish filling my glass with water and turn around, glancing out to where I know James is waiting and probably listening. “It’s no big deal, really.”
Leah lowers her voice to a whisper. “Tell me.” She reaches into the fridge and takes out the juice, pouring herself a big glass of it. “I’m all ears.”
“It’s nothing, really, I promise.” I desperately want to play my situation off as no big deal, but I keep trying to picture where I’ll go f
rom here and I can’t. There’s just this big, black void in front of me and it practically sends me into a panic attack thinking about what that means.
Leah lifts her glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I touch my glass to hers, wishing I’d gone with the whiskey.
“Now, either you spill your guts or I’m going to cry real tears right here in the kitchen.”
I smile. She’s so crazy. I’d forgotten how much I loved that about her. “Cry real tears? Why would you do that?”
“Because! We used to be close friends. You told me everything, and I told you everything. You’re not allowed to keep secrets from me, remember?”
My head drops to my chest as guilt assails me. “I’ve been a terrible friend. We haven’t talked in ages.”
“Friendship is a two-way street, Sarah. Did you get calls from me? No. Mostly because my phone was dead, but still. I could have called, but I didn’t. And you want to know why?”
I lift my head, now more concerned about her than myself. “Yes, I do.”
“It was because my life was complete crap and I didn’t want you to know that. I was ashamed and stressed. The more I thought about it, the worse it made me feel, so I just stopped dealing with it altogether. I got evicted, did I tell you that?”
I nod, reaching out to squeeze her upper arm. “Yes, you did. And I get it. I really do. And now I feel twice as bad that I never called.” Tears well up in my eyes. I’m a completely selfish asshole. My friend needed me and I wasn’t there, and now here she is giving me a place to stay.
She points a finger in my face. “No! No crying, you hear me?”
My smile trembles a little. “No crying? Why?”
“Two reasons.” She holds up a finger. “One, because you’ll make me cry, and I’m not wearing waterproof mascara, and I’ll get ugly in front of my boyfriend, and I try to avoid that at all costs since I’m going to be really fat soon…” She holds up a second finger. “And two, because you have no reason to cry. Whatever your issues are, we’ll talk them out and resolve them, and then they won’t be issues anymore.” She grins.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. Try me.” She folds one arm under the other and takes a sip of her drink, waiting expectantly.
“But James is out there…”
“He’s taking care of the baby, he won’t hear a thing. Spill it.” Her tone is more demanding. “You have five minutes before everyone gets here, and I want to know what’s going on before you meet my brother.”
Chapter Five
I’M FEELING PRESSURED, BUT THE temptation to come clean is too much to resist. Besides, I know my friend; she might be this person living in Trump Towers now, but that hasn’t changed the fact that she’s a pit bull. Once she gets her teeth clamped onto something, there’s nothing that will shake her loose until she gets what she wants. And right now, she wants an explanation for my presence. I guess I owe her that much.
“I just … I’m at loose ends.” I shrug, hoping that’ll be enough. I should have known better, though.
She nods, her expression intense. “Go on.”
“You know I’ve been teaching art at the high school for years.”
“Yes, and I know you used to love it.”
“Maybe in the beginning, but not so much for the past several years.”
She frowns. “That’s too bad. You’re so talented, though.” She looks over her shoulder. “I was kind of hoping you’d paint me something for me to put over the couch.”
“I’d be happy to!” The idea that I could pay her back for her kindness is a huge relief. “It’s not that I don’t want to paint anymore, it’s that I’m tired of teaching painting. I just want to …” I look down at my glass. What I want isn’t possible. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Tell me.” She leans down to catch my eye. “Come on, what will it hurt to tell someone?”
I shrug, fighting tears. “I don’t know. Maybe if I don’t say it out loud I won’t have to deal with it?”
“Ha, that’s funny. Like that ever worked in the history of the human race.”
I laugh softly, enjoying the lightness she brings to my day. She has always been like that — an unstoppable force of nature.
“I promise I won’t laugh,” she assures me.
I don’t know why, but it’s that promise from her that makes it possible for me to say my dream aloud. “I want to paint. Just paint.”
She nods, matter of factly. “Excellent plan.”
I laugh again. “It’s not a plan, though!”
“Of course it is. You have the what, you have the why, you have the who. All you need to tell me is the where and when, and it’s a done plan.”
“I also need a how, and that’s a problem, along with all those other … adjectives or adverbs or whatever those were.”
The doorbell rings and then the sound of the door opening comes right after.
“Poop, everyone’s here.” Leah frowns. “Just when we were getting to the juicy part, too.”
I squeeze her forearm. “Don’t worry, we can pick up where we left off later when everyone’s gone.”
“Or sooner.” Leah grins at me before turning around and leaving the kitchen.
I follow behind, hoping that comment doesn’t mean what I think it means. I’m about to grab her and make her explain herself, but I’m brought up short by a guy who has to be this mystery brother Leah mentioned earlier. He looks just like her, save for the fact that he appears to be cut out of cardboard. Stiff is the perfect word to describe him. Same hair, same freckles, but none of the carefree spirit that Leah has coming out of every pore.
“Hello,” he says in a formal tone, leaning in to kiss Leah on both cheeks.
She throws herself into his arms, forcing him to hug her. “Hello, brother of mine!” She leans back and pats his head. “Nice ‘do. I see you’ve given the gel a break.”
He grins for a second and then his face goes back to being expressionless. “Thanks. Thought I’d try something new for a change.”
“Fluffy. I like it.” She grins.
He frowns. “Fluffy? No, not fluffy. Fluffy’s not good.” He turns around as if searching for a mirror, his hand going up to hover above his head.
Leah grabs him by the arm and drags him away from the front door. “Stop worrying about your silly hair and come inside to meet my best friend of all time.”
“Of all time? Oh boy.”
They stop at the entrance to the kitchen. “Ralph, meet Sarah. Sarah, this is Ralph. My brother.”
Holding out my hand, I grin. “I can see the resemblance. Nice to meet you.”
He takes my hand in a limp grip. “Nice to meet you too, Sarah.” He lets me go and frowns with curiosity. “Where do you live? Around here?”
“No.” How do I describe where I live? Technically, I think I live in my car at this point, since this place isn’t my home and I don’t have an apartment anymore. As if I weren’t depressed enough already. “I’m from Boston, but I’m in between moves right now.”
He nods. “Nice. Planning to stay in Manhattan?”
Leah grabs him by the arm and steers him into the living room. “That’s what we’re going to figure out tonight.”
The door opens again and a woman walks through. I recognize her as the girl in the picture with James. She looks up and grins at me.
“Hey! You must be Leah’s friend.”
I move forward to greet her and help her with her bag. It looks like she’s got about fifty diapers in it the way some are bulging out at the sides. “I am. I’m Sarah. And you’re … Jana, is that right?”
“Yep, that’s me!”
The foyer fills up with everyone hugging and exchanging greetings. We then move en masse into the living room where Leah makes sure everyone has a drink before we sit down at the table.
“So, what do you have planned for the weekend?” Leah asks Jana as she scoops some fried rice out of a box and puts it on her plate. “S
kiing maybe?”
“No, I thought I’d stick around this weekend for a change. Maybe go to a museum or something.”
“That sounds like fun,” I say, picturing myself doing the same. It’s been a while since I’ve laid eyes on the masters, live and in person. Mere photographs of paintings don’t do them justice.
“You could go with me if you want,” she says, smiling. “I’ve been to just about all of them, but I like to go to the big ones again every couple years or so. They have a special French impressionist exhibition at The Met.”
“That sounds great.” I almost feel like I have the start of a plan now. I’ll recharge my batteries by soaking up the glory in those brushstrokes.
“Perfect,” Leah says. “Not that I’m trying to get rid of you or anything, but I had planned to take Cassie to that group play-date thing over at the gym on Saturday, so … yeah.” She grins at Jana. “Thanks for entertaining my buddy while she’s here.”
“No prob. Maybe she’d like to go out for drinks after?”
I shrug, feeling bad about leaving Leah behind for the fun stuff. “Maybe.”
“I’ll join you.” Leah looks at James. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nope. I’ll be home by six.”
“Perfect.” Leah passes me a box of Chinese food. “So then what?”
I take the food from her and wait for more explanation.
“What are you going to do after your visit with us?” she asks.
My face starts to burn red. I can’t tell if she’s putting me on the spot on purpose or just being an airhead. “Uhhh, I’m not sure.”
Leah looks at James. “Sarah is an amazing painter. She’s been teaching for years, but now she wants to just paint for herself.”
I open my mouth to complain, but Ralph starts talking first, cutting me off.
“That’s so cool. I wish I could paint. I can’t even draw stick figures.”
“Me neither,” says Jana. “Cassie draws better than I do.” Jana leans over and puts several cut-up noodles on the baby’s tray.
“Do you have a studio?” James asks, pausing as he’s cutting up a spring roll.
