“Good luck,” Ali said automatically. “Let me know how it goes.”
“Sure thing.”
Ali stood there, unable to move. No one had asked her to interview. No one had said a word. She was working by herself right now but in her previous positions, she’d had people working for her. When Paul went on vacation, she was the one who took over for him. She’d been doing that for two years. Wasn’t she the more obvious replacement? Ray was gruff and moody and he frightened people. Not exactly great management material. So why not her? Was it because she didn’t have a degree? She wasn’t sure of Ray’s academic status, but she thought maybe he might have a few years of college. Or was it something else? Her age? The fact that she was a woman? Or was it because she’d never once talked to anyone about wanting to grow in her career? She’d never expressed any desire to take on more responsibility.
She didn’t have an answer and she wasn’t sure where to get one. All she knew was that just when she’d finally found a little peace, everything had turned crappy again.
* * *
Saturday morning Finola risked the grocery store. She figured the busy shoppers wouldn’t really care that she, too, was buying bread and cantaloupe—they had schedules to keep and lives to live. Her mother had gone to work—weekends were always busy at the mall in general and the boutique in particular. Young women looking for clothes to make them feel powerful would be on the prowl and Mary Jo’s successful store was a go-to stop.
In an effort to distract herself and to avoid spending the day alone and moping, Finola texted her sisters, inviting them over to lunch. There was just enough time between their answers to make her wonder if they were texting with each other first. She told herself she was being paranoid only to have them reply at exactly the same time using nearly the same phrasing.
Can’t wait. Want to see you.
So excited. Want to see you.
She didn’t know what was up with that, but honestly, it was more than she could deal with so she ignored it. That was her new mantra. Just ignore it. Maybe not as spiritually healing as finding the good in the world or inviting in kindness, but for now it was working and that was enough for her.
She’d shopped with the idea of company. She had ingredients for curried chicken sandwiches, along with green salad fixings and everything she needed to make her famous basil ranch dressing.
She spent the morning getting everything ready, then went for a walk in the neighborhood. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, a baseball cap and dark glasses, she figured she was fairly unrecognizable. Three miles later, she was slightly out of breath and feeling much better about herself. She showered and dressed, then checked on the food. She’d just finished setting the table when Ali arrived.
“Hey, you,” her baby sister said, hugging her tight. “How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.”
“I’ll bet. I still hate Nigel so much and I’m never listening to a Treasure song again in my life. I hate her, too.” Ali rubbed Finola’s arm as they walked into the kitchen and took seats at the table there. “Are you doing okay being back here? Mom would drive me crazy but you two get along okay.”
“It’s not exactly where I saw myself, but it’s helping. Turns out, having a different last name is a good thing.”
“As long as you’re safe,” Ali told her, looking concerned.
“I am. Word was bound to get out. Treasure is a paparazzi magnet, so’s everyone in her circle.” Finola fought against tears. “I just don’t understand why he did it. An affair is one thing, but an affair with her? Did he have to? It’s so public and everyone knows. They’re all talking about me and judging me. I hate it.”
Ali hugged her. “Of course you do. I’m sorry. I wish I could do something to help.”
“Having you here today is nice.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Zennie arrived. She breezed into the house looking tall and fit, as per usual. There was something about her air of confidence that always made Finola feel as though she had to work harder. Not a competition, exactly, more of a challenge. Zennie could be stunning, but she never bothered to try. She wasn’t interested in makeup or dressing up or being noticed.
“How’s it going?” Zennie asked, hugging them both. She looked at Ali. “Still getting through it?”
“I’m managing. Every day is easier.”
In that second, Finola realized she hadn’t bothered to ask how Ali was doing. In a way they were going through similar circumstances, although a case could be made that a broken marriage was a lot bigger than just a broken engagement. Still, Ali was her sister and it wasn’t as if she’d even bothered to check on her. How had that happened?
“Have you heard from Glen at all?” she asked, as if she’d been worried about her all along.
“Nothing. He sent me that check and that’s it.”
“Bastard,” Zennie grumbled, setting her bag on the floor and joining them at the table. “He’s a nightmare. He should definitely pay for at least half the wedding. Maybe all of it. He’s the one who proposed and he’s the one who walked.”
Finola hadn’t realized Glen hadn’t helped pay for the canceled wedding. “Do you want to talk to a lawyer? I could get you a name.”
“No, it’s done. I took care of everything myself. I, ah, managed to negotiate a decent deal on most of the contracts. Now I just have to pay off my credit cards, build up my savings and I’m good.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.” She smiled at Finola. “Thanks for inviting us to lunch. I feel as if we haven’t been together in a while.” She rolled her eyes. “Cleaning out Mom’s house doesn’t count.”
Zennie sighed. “It’s going to take forever.” She looked at Finola. “You could do it in little bits every night. I mean, you’re here already.”
“Thanks, but no. I think it should be a group activity.” Finola ignored the fact that she’d ducked out the last time they were supposed to be finishing up the bonus room. “If it’s just me, Mom will want me to take everything and that’s not happening.” She leaned toward Ali. “She’s trying to pawn off that hideous old clock on me. I keep telling her you’re the only one who wants it.”
“She’s giving away my clock? No! Why would she do that? I’m going to have to talk to her. That should be my clock. I swear, I really am going to have to steal it.” Ali looked at Zennie. “So, what’s new with you?”
If Finola hadn’t been looking at her sisters, she wouldn’t have noticed anything going on. But there was something between them. As Ali spoke, Zennie’s mouth twisted, as if she were being called out on something. Zennie hesitated before speaking.
“What?” Finola asked, glancing between them. “You know something I don’t.”
Zennie smiled at her. “So, funny thing. I’m pregnant.”
The information was so unexpected, Finola couldn’t quite understand what Zennie was saying. “You’re what?”
“Pregnant.”
“But you’re not even in a relationship.”
“Yes, there is that. I can explain.”
Pregnant? Zennie was having a baby? Finola thought of the gift she’d had for Nigel—the sexy toys and baby booties. They were supposed to have gone to Hawaii together. She was supposed to have been pregnant by now. They were supposed to have been happily married to each other forever.
“You remember my friend Bernie,” Zennie began.
“What does she have to do with any of this?”
Zennie explained about Bernie and the cancer and the artificial insemination. “I’m their surrogate. I’ll carry the baby and when it’s born, they take over. Oh, Mom doesn’t know. I’m going to tell her but I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
Finola couldn’t believe it. “Are you insane? Who does that? My God, it’s a potential legal nightmare. What if they break up? What
if one of them dies? What if there’s something wrong with the baby? Will you be stuck with it? Did you even think this through? I know she’s your friend, but you’ve made a huge mistake. Are you sure you’re pregnant? Do you have to keep it?”
Finola stopped talking when she realized both her sisters were staring at her with similar looks of confusion and distaste.
Ali spoke first. “This is a great thing. It’s a wonderful gift to give someone she loves. I think Zennie’s amazing for taking this on.”
“Then you’re as much of a fool as she is.”
Ali flinched. Finola immediately felt guilty.
“I’m sorry. That came out too harshly. All of it. I’m just surprised. It’s a huge step and there are legal ramifications to be considered.”
“Yes, there are,” Zennie said, her voice cool. “Hayes is a lawyer. We went over all of them and it’s covered. I might not be as calculating and self-absorbed as you are, but I’m not stupid. I know there’s a chance it could go badly but there’s also a chance everything will work out. I love Bernie and I want to help her and Hayes have a baby. It’s fine not to agree with my decision, but I would appreciate it if you’d at least respect it and not be so negative.”
They were both looking at her with such disapproval, Finola thought, feeling uncomfortable and a little attacked.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was a bit of a shock.” She cleared her throat. “Congratulations. You must be very excited.”
“I’m still getting used to the news,” Zennie admitted, relaxing a little. “It’s a lot to take in. Bernie got me a book to read.”
“What to Expect When You’re Expecting?” Finola asked eagerly, wanting to change the mood and not be the bad guy. “It’s the one everyone talks about whenever we’re doing a pregnancy segment on the show. It’s supposed to be brilliant.”
“That’s the one. The information is month by month, which makes it easier to read. So far I’m afraid to get started but I really should.”
Ali smiled at her. “I’m so impressed you’re doing this. It’s the most selfless act, right up there with donating a kidney.”
Zennie flushed. “It’s not like that.”
“It kind of is.”
Finola wanted to scream that she was impressive, too, and Ali had always liked her best. When they’d been kids, Ali had been her shadow. Ali had been the one to admire her and tell Finola how she was going to be a famous journalist, that she would go into dangerous places and do incredible investigative journalism. That had been Finola’s dream, too. When she’d gotten the job at the LA affiliate, she’d hoped to start digging deep into complicated stories that would change people’s lives. Instead she’d been the weekend anchor and then she’d gotten the job on AM SoCal and well, it had been a while since she’d reported on anything.
“I hope everything goes well for you,” Finola said, fighting a sour taste in her mouth.
Zennie smiled. “I’m sure it will. Now what’s for lunch?”
They ate the sandwiches and talked about everything from work to their mother’s determination to downsize to a beach cottage.
“Her commute to work is going to be awful,” Ali said. “Now she only has to go from Burbank to Sherman Oaks, but getting into the valley from the beach is going to be a nightmare.”
Finola had to agree. The whole “going against traffic” thing didn’t exist—not in LA.
“Maybe she’s going to quit her job and do something else,” Finola offered. “She never wanted to go into retail in the first place. Managing the boutique had never been her dream.”
Ali looked doubtful. “Do you think she wants to get into acting?”
Mary Jo had always talked fondly about her brief acting career, when she’d been young. She’d moved to Hollywood like so many other young women, hoping for a big break. Instead she’d gotten walk-ons and the occasional line in a movie. But at one of those jobs, she’d met a handsome young actor named Leo and they’d fallen deeply in love. They’d married quickly and Finola had come along. Leo’s career had taken off and Mary Jo had been happy to take care of her daughter and go on location with Leo. When he’d unexpectedly passed away, Mary Jo had been devastated.
Finola knew all that secondhand. While in theory, she’d been around for some of it, she didn’t remember her biological father. She had no flashes of memory or bits of recollections. She’d seen the pictures her mother had kept and had listened to the stories and watched his movies, but for her, Leo was nothing but a story her mother told and an actor she saw in old movies.
“She doesn’t talk to me,” Zennie said cheerfully. “Maybe she could get a job managing a boutique by the beach. There are lots of stores there. She has her theater group she hangs out with. They might be able to help her find something closer to home.”
“I’ll let you discuss that,” Ali said with a grin. “I’m not brave enough to have that conversation with Mom.”
“Not me,” Zennie said, pointing her fork at Finola. “That would be your job. You two are the tight ones.”
“That’s right.” Ali shrugged. “You and Mom, Zennie and Dad and me by myself.”
Zennie bumped shoulders with her. “We all love you, little Ali.”
Something flashed in Ali’s eyes, then disappeared. “Yeah, that’s what I hear. Anyway, let’s not plan her life for her. I say we leave her to figure it out herself.”
“Good idea,” Finola said quietly, thinking how estranged she felt from her entire family. It was as if she only knew them from a distance.
When her sisters left, she cleaned up the kitchen, then walked into her bedroom. Her room was a mess, with her computer open on the table and clothes scattered everywhere. She told herself she should clean up but instead collapsed on the bed and rolled onto her back. She pulled an old, tattered teddy bear to her chest and wrapped her arms around it as tears spilled from her eyes and rolled into her hair.
She wasn’t a bad person, she told herself. She wasn’t. She was smart and funny and kind. The problem was there was so much going on and she just couldn’t seem to get her mind around how everything had changed. With Nigel, of course, but also with her sisters. She couldn’t believe Zennie was a surrogate for one of her friends. It was an insane decision and one that had so many opportunities for disaster. Seriously, what had she been thinking? Only Zennie was certainly at peace with her decision and Ali was acting like Zennie had just walked on water. It was disconcerting and uncomfortable and strange.
Finola told herself it was okay for Ali to admire Zennie for this and that it was no reflection on her as a person. But she knew in her gut she could never be as selfless. She just couldn’t. If she was going to have a baby, she was going to keep it herself.
Without wanting to, she remembered what her stepfather had said. That regardless of what had happened, some of the failure of her marriage was her fault. She didn’t want to believe that, only she couldn’t seem to dismiss his point. The stupid concept kept coming back to her, as if daring her to admit some of the fault was hers. But even if she did admit the premise had some merit, what could she have possibly done to deserve Nigel cheating on her like that?
She sat up and swung her feet onto the floor. What if, she thought reluctantly, not wanting to entertain the idea but unable to let it go. What if Nigel had cheated with a normal person? How would this all be different? What if he hadn’t cheated at all? What if he’d just left her?
Pain ripped through her, but she ignored the searing across her heart as she tried to figure out how she would feel under those circumstances. What if Nigel had just told her he was unhappy in their marriage and wanted out? Then their situation wouldn’t be about him or Treasure or betrayal. It would be about her.
It would be her fault.
She held the bear closer. No, she told herself. It wouldn’t be. He was still the one who... It was him. All
him. It had to be. She was just...
She thought about what he’d said about scheduling sex and felt herself flush. As for the rest of his complaints, that she was too busy and too focused on her career, the same could be said about him. His work mattered more than anything. They were successful, driven people.
But Nigel had been unhappy. She didn’t want to think about that, but the words refused to go away and she couldn’t stop hearing them. And if she accepted the premise that without Treasure, without cheating, it was all on her, where did that leave them? Were there any pieces to pick up or were they past the point of redemption? Had they gone all this way only to end up with nothing?
Nigel was the only man she’d ever loved—she couldn’t have lost him. And yet, it seemed she had.
Chapter Eighteen
Ali sat in the dark. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but it felt later. Or maybe it was just her mood. She knew she should get up and get ready for bed. Or go eat ice cream.
No, she amended, still not stirring from the sofa in Daniel’s huge living room. She shouldn’t eat ice cream but she probably would. Maybe a nice sugar rush would distract her from the hamster wheel that was her current thoughts. She wouldn’t mind the spinning so much if she was thinking something nice about herself, but she wasn’t. Words like loser and stupid and insignificant kept tumbling around and around.
She pulled her knees to her chest and told herself she was fine. Or would be fine. That these feelings would pass and she would be—
A light clicked on in the hallway. Seconds later Daniel walked into the room.
He was in silhouette so she couldn’t see much more than the shape of him. He looked big and strong, as if he could easily handle whatever life threw at him. He was so together. He had a beautiful house and a great business and a wonderful future to look forward to. By contrast she was homeless, stuck in a dead-end job with an employer who didn’t think she had any potential. And if she kept eating ice cream she was going to be even more overweight than she was now.
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