Kitabı oku: «California Girls», sayfa 4
* * *
Zennie spent Saturday doing the usual errand stuff that kept her life running smoothly, but even as she checked things off her list, she couldn’t escape the feeling of a dark cloud hanging over her. She felt awful for her sister—no one deserved to be dumped like that, ever. Glen was a total jackass and Zennie hoped he came to a slow and painful end. Not that bad things happening to Glen would make Ali feel better. Only time would do that, but Zennie felt there had to be something to be done or said. Not that she had a clue. She wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely kind of person and of the sisters, Ali and Finola were the ones who were the closest. They shared a bond that had never extended to Zennie. Maybe it was because there was a large age gap between the oldest and youngest—seven years. Finola had helped raise Ali while Zennie had been much closer to their father.
Zennie almost texted Finola a couple of times Saturday morning, then told herself Ali was right. Finola and Nigel needed their week away. Not to be overly insensitive, but Ali would still be brokenhearted in a week when Finola returned.
After her three o’clock hot yoga class, Zennie went back to her apartment and got in the shower. She had a date with Clark that night—her own fault. She should have canceled. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a nice guy—he absolutely was—but he wasn’t anyone she saw herself with in the long term. Not that she ever did. She’d never been the girl who’d played with dolls and had done pretend weddings. She’d rarely played with dolls at all. She hadn’t ever imagined what it would be like to grow up, fall in love and get married. She just wasn’t wired that way. The whole two-by-two thing was great for other people but less interesting for herself.
She stood in front of her tiny closet and thought longingly of an evening spent home alone, binge-watching the new season of The Crown, but it would be rude to cancel this late, so she had to suck it up.
She pulled on her go-to black capris and a black tank top, then chose one of her three loose, flowy tops that worked in most social situations. She slid on flat sandals before returning to the bathroom where she suffered through the indignity of applying mascara and a little lip gloss. Honestly, men didn’t put on makeup before they went out—why did she have to? It was barbaric. Like preparing herself to be sold at some concubine marketplace.
The overly dramatic image made her smile. Zennie pulled her small bag out of her tote and headed for the door. The restaurant Clark had suggested was close enough for her to walk. As she wasn’t going to be driving, maybe an extra glass of wine would make the date more bearable.
Zennie arrived at the trendy Italian restaurant right on time. Clark was already there, speaking to the hostess. Zennie took a second to study him, to see if she could figure out why he wasn’t working for her.
He was good-looking enough. She’d never been all that into appearances, but he was certainly in the “Yes, this is nice” category. He was about six feet tall, with curly dark hair and dark eyes. He wore glasses and always had a faintly earnest expression on his face. He was intelligent, dedicated to his work and a good listener. She should have been excited about their date instead of impatient for it to be over. Which meant what? If there was nothing wrong with Clark, then she had to be the problem, but then she’d always been the problem.
He turned and saw her. His eyes lit up as he smiled broadly. “Zennie, right on time. How are you?”
He took her hand in his and leaned in to kiss her. Despite telling herself not to, she turned her head at the last second and his lips grazed her cheek.
“I’m good,” she said. “Thanks for the dinner invitation. I’m looking forward to it.”
He straightened and she saw some of the light had faded from his eyes. As if her not kissing him on the mouth had hurt his feelings. She wanted to roll her eyes and scream. What was wrong with everyone? Why did everything have to be about love and sex and pair bonding? Now she had to make him feel better or the evening would be a disaster. Better to make things right and get it over with. Then she could go home and watch The Crown.
“Sorry,” she said, linking her arm with his and leaning into him. “It’s been a crazy day. Ali got dumped. She’s devastated and I don’t know how to help.”
Clark’s whole body changed. He relaxed as he reached over and hugged her.
“She was engaged, right?”
Before Zennie could answer, the hostess appeared to take them to their table.
Once they were seated in a quiet corner, Clark leaned toward her. “What happened?”
“Nothing good. Apparently Glen didn’t even dump her face-to-face. He had his brother do it. They’re seven weeks from getting married and he does this? What’s wrong with him? Ali never had much confidence to begin with and now this happens. I’m not sure how she’s going to recover.”
She felt guilty using her sister’s tragedy to get through her evening and told herself she would be extra nice all week to realign her karma.
“She and Finola are so close. I wish she was here, but Ali didn’t want to tell her right before Finola was supposed to leave on vacation.”
“Finola is the one who’s on TV?”
She nodded. “She and her husband don’t get away very often, so Ali didn’t want to mess with that. I just wish I knew what to say. Maybe I should take up boxing so I can beat him up.”
Clark smiled. “You’d humiliate him on multiple levels. I respect that.”
Their server arrived and took their drink orders. When he left, Clark asked, “Is it hard having a famous person in the family?”
“I don’t ever think of Finola as famous. She’s just on TV. But I suppose she gets recognized, at least locally. Sometimes, when we’re out shopping or something, someone comes up and wants to talk to her, but not that often. I guess it could be because we’re all together. Finola has said people approach her all the time.”
“Would you like that?” he asked.
“God, no. It would make me insane.”
“Me, too. I prefer small groups of people I know well, rather than large crowds of strangers.”
“Same here, although family can be challenging. My mother has decided to downsize. She’s still living in the house where we all grew up so it’s been about thirty years since the last move. When my parents divorced nearly a decade ago, Dad took almost nothing. Partially, I’d guess, by design but mostly because he was going to be living on a boat.” She smiled. “No room for power tools there.”
“Barely room for a screwdriver,” he joked.
“I know. So Mom plans to relocate to a much smaller place by the beach and she expects us to go through everything in the house and figure out what we want, what she should give away and what she should keep. It’s going to be a nightmare.”
Their server arrived with their drinks.
“Family’s nice,” Clark said. “Even when they’re being a pain.”
She realized she’d spent the past twenty minutes doing all the talking.
“You never talk about yours,” she said, once again feeling guilty. Apparently it was the theme for the evening.
“I don’t have any. None that’s close.” He shrugged. “I lost my parents when I was a kid. I was raised by distant relatives who did their best, but had never wanted children. They did the right thing, which I appreciate, but I knew I was in the way.”
“That’s terrible.” No one should grow up feeling unwanted.
“It’s okay. I got through it. In a way, what happened shaped who I am today. I wanted to get out of the house and we lived close to the Memphis zoo. I went there almost every day. It’s where I got interested in primates. I started volunteering and knew I wanted to spend my life studying them.”
He took a sip of his vodka and tonic. “Having direction helped. I never really fit in at school so the zoo became my refuge. After a couple of years, I knew that I wanted to save orangutans. When I went to college, I already had a leg up on everyone else, thanks to my work with the zoo. I went back every summer and volunteered. When I graduated, I already had some experience, which helped me get a job. And here we are.”
Zennie had known that Clark worked at the LA Zoo, but she hadn’t known his history. Probably because she’d never asked. She’d never even tried to get to know him, she realized. Which begged the question—why had she gone out with him in the first place?
“Zennie, this is our fourth date,” he said suddenly.
Her stomach immediately tightened. What did that mean? What was magical about the fourth date? She so rarely got that far in a relationship that she didn’t have a lot of experience past dates one and two.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re right, it is.”
He looked from her to his drink and back. “Don’t take this wrong, but I get the impression you’re just not that into me.” His mouth curved up slightly. “Ignore the movie reference.”
She honestly didn’t know what to say. While he was nice and all, she wasn’t the kind of person to get all giddy about a guy. But how to say that without making it sound like she was blowing him off?
“I like you a lot,” he continued. “I think you’re great. Smart and interesting and pretty. But this can’t be one-sided.” His dark gaze met hers. “Don’t get mad, but is it possible you’re a lesbian?”
She sagged back in her chair and glared at him. “No, I’m not. Jeez, why do people ask me that? Is it the short hair? You know that’s a cliché, right? I’m not gay.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. The problem isn’t men, it’s me. I’m just not good at relationships. I don’t get the appeal. I have a great life. I have friends and my family and my work. So why do I need more? Why do I need to be paired up? I just don’t have that in me. As for the lesbian thing, I’ve thought about that a lot and I’m honestly not interested in women sexually. I went to college, I could have experimented and I didn’t. It’s not about wanting to be with a woman.”
“I’d wondered.”
“Now you know.” She leaned forward. “Not everyone has to pair up every single second. I get there’s a biological element to it, but that was established back when everyone died before they were thirty. I don’t think it’s necessary these days, but we still do it and maybe I don’t want to. I don’t think that means there’s anything wrong with me.”
“I don’t either.” His voice was annoyingly mild. “Have you had sex?”
She wanted to pound her head against the table. “Yes, I’ve had sex. With a man, before you ask. Really? You think a penis is going to make this better?”
“I just wondered.”
“It was fine. Nice, but a lot of things are nice.”
She waited for a smart-ass comment that the guy must have been doing it wrong and that he could save her or change her or convince her.
But instead he said, “It sounds like you’ve figured out exactly what you don’t want and I’m on that list.”
“What? Clark, no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Zennie, I started this by suggesting you’re really not that into me, and nothing you’ve said has changed my mind. I think you’re terrific and I wish this had worked out. I’m really sorry because I’m going to miss you, but I don’t think you could say the same thing about me, could you?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, he put two twenties on the table. “To cover the bill,” he said, before he stood. He hesitated only a second, then walked out of the restaurant.
Zennie sat there, not sure what had just happened. Obviously she wouldn’t be hearing from Clark again. Normally she was the one ending things, but he’d beaten her to it. She was okay with that, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she was in love with him. They barely knew each other. Now she could return to her regularly scheduled life.
As she got up and started for the door, she realized that in the space of twenty-four hours, both she and her sister had been dumped. Not that what had happened to her was anything when compared with what Ali was going through. Still, they were both now single. Their mother would be less than pleased, that was for sure. Her dream of grandchildren was fading by the second. Poor Finola—it was going to all be up to her. At least they could count on one of their relationships staying strong, no matter what.
Chapter Five
Sunday morning Ali started her day with yet another hangover, only this one was emotional rather than liquor-induced. After getting her new phone and going to two movies, she’d come home to face the reality of her broken engagement. She’d spent Saturday night looking at pictures of her and Glen, had played their favorite songs and sobbed until she was empty of tears. Then she’d slept on the sofa again, fighting dreams of standing in an unfamiliar church, surrounded by everyone she’d ever known, waiting on a man who never showed up. She woke up with a sore back and determination that she was going to be a grown-up, regardless of how much she didn’t want to.
She fixed herself breakfast using the groceries Daniel had left. While her omelet was no one’s idea of a thing of beauty, all the elements were there. She ate it, then filled her mug with coffee and opened the folder he’d dropped off the previous day.
There were a half dozen articles on what to do to cancel a wedding. One even provided a checklist. She read a couple, then closed her eyes and told herself it was okay. She could get through it—only, the concept was daunting. Basically canceling a wedding was the same as planning one, but in reverse. She was going to have to print out all her contracts, read them for terms, then contact her vendors. Payments would be due for some, regardless. She was pretty sure everyone had required a cancellation clause. Given that the wedding was nearly seven weeks away, the payments might not be too horrible, but still.
Because he made so much more than her, Glen had been paying for most of the wedding. Her parents had both claimed poverty and had offered her a thousand dollars each. She’d used that money to pay for her dress. As Glen had been the one to walk away from their relationship, she doubted he would be very willing to cough up any cash to pay for what remained. Regardless, she was going to have to figure out a way to make him cover at least half of what they still owed. She’d signed all the contracts in good faith and...
She groaned. She’d signed all the contracts. Not her and Glen, just her. She’d been the one to find the various vendors. Glen was always so busy with travel. So if he didn’t come through, she was going to totally be on her own. Not a happy thought.
She glanced at the to-do list and wished she hadn’t already wasted her first-of-the-morning groan. Item number two, after informing vendors, was to tell the guests.
Humiliation flooded her. All the people she loved most in the world were going to know Glen had dumped her. All her friends and his friends and everyone she worked with. She was going to have to come clean.
She pulled out her new phone and started a text to him.
What the hell happened?
After a second, she deleted that and tried again. We have to talk. We have a wedding to unravel.
She started to put her phone down only to realize he was answering her right away. She waited a minute or so, then gasped when she read his message.
I never wanted to get married. This is on you.
“No!” Ali came to her feet, glaring at her phone. “No way, you jerk.” She typed furiously.
This is not on me. You proposed. Until that moment, I hadn’t said a word about marriage. You bought a ring and you proposed. This is on both of us. There’s a lot to undo and you should help. I also expect you to pay for half of what’s left.
The three dots appeared and she waited.
I’m not going to help but I’ll send a check.
She supposed that was something. She hesitated for a second, then typed, Want to tell me why you ended things and why you couldn’t tell me yourself?
More dots followed by, I don’t want to be with you anymore and I didn’t want to listen to you beg.
“What? Beg? In your dreams, you sick bastard.”
She almost threw her phone again before coming to her senses in time. This was good, she thought. Better to suffer before the wedding than to have married him, popped out a couple of kids and then discovered he was a total asshole. Beg. As if.
Tears burned, but she blinked them away. Just send the check, she typed and tossed her phone on the sofa.
After pacing back and forth a few times, she managed to regulate both her breathing and her temper. There was lots of work to be done and she was the only one showing up. She would do the right thing and accept that she was building her character. Once everything was taken care of, she would find someone to make a voodoo doll of Glen and then stab it over and over again with a very sharp, very large pin.
She got a pad of paper, used her all-in-one printer to make a couple of copies of the checklist, then sat down to figure out what to do when. Contracts, vendors, guests and a thousand things more, she thought.
Two hours later, Ali had a rough idea of all the work that had to be done. She’d read a couple of the contracts and had learned that she was on the line for cancellation fees for sure. The venue—a building and garden high up in the foothills at the north end of the valley—would bill her for the full amount unless they could book the space within two weeks. Ali hoped all their talk about a waiting list was true. The same with the bartenders and the caterer. She wouldn’t be able to get anyone on the phone until Monday, so she was going to have to cross her fingers that it worked out.
The florist had a kinder, gentler contract. She could get back 75 percent of the total amount due for the flowers, which was about the amount of her deposit. Yay on that. She was stuck with the dress. It was bought, paid for and altered already. No way she could return that.
While there was more to deal with, the last issue Ali wanted to solve today was notifying all the guests. She didn’t want to have to make a bunch of phone calls, which meant doing another mailing. She had the addresses in a file on her computer, so in theory all she had to do was get something printed and send it out.
She searched online for ideas about how to do it and settled on something simple. A couple of minutes on the Vistaprint website later, she had postcards ordered. She paid for rush delivery, then made a note to swing by the post office to pick up stamps.
With that completed, she was ready to be done, at least in the short term. A girl should only have to face so much wedding deconstruction in a day, she thought grimly. She would pick it back up tomorrow. It was a beautiful Sunday. She should go do something, although she had no idea what. Normally she and Glen would have had plans. Or she would have hung out with Finola. If she’d known she would have a free day, she would have made arrangements to spend time with one of her friends. Well, that and maybe back the car over Glen.
Before she could figure out if there were any movies she still wanted to see, someone knocked on her door. She opened it and tried not to look as surprised as she felt.
“Again?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Daniel flashed her a sexy grin. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
He brushed past her as if he always dropped by on a daily basis and walked into her apartment.
“How’s it going?” he asked when she’d closed the door and turned to stare at him.
“I haven’t broken another phone, but only because I remembered in time. Glen is being a dick.”
“Not a surprise. I take he won’t help with undoing the wedding?”
She nodded. “I texted with him and he wasn’t exactly cooperative. He said he wouldn’t do any of the work but he did offer to send me a check.”
“Where are you on things?”
“I’ve made a few lists. Basically it’s planning a wedding in reverse. I’ve read the articles you brought. Thanks for that. They really helped. Now I get to plow through my contracts and figure out who gets what.”
She felt awkward sharing this with him, but figured it was okay—they’d almost been family.
“I also have to let all the guests know the wedding is canceled.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not exactly my idea of a good time.”
“Are you calling everyone?”
“God, no! That would make things worse. I don’t want to have to hear their pity or have anyone tell me they ‘just knew’ something was wrong.” She used air quotes. “I ordered cards on Vistaprint and will mail them out when they get here. I still have the database for the mailing labels.”
It occurred to her she should invite him to sit down, only that felt weird.
“Why are you here?” she blurted. “I mean that in a nice, curious way, but it is, you know, odd.”
“I’m worried about you. What Glen did is unforgivable.”
Which meant what? He was picking up the slack? Acting as a stand-in for her fiancé? Being the good brother?
“Daniel, you’ve been great. The smoothie from yesterday should put you firmly in line for sainthood, but I’m dealing. It’s hard, I feel sad and stupid and angry all at the same time. Eventually the anger will fade and I’ll start to miss him, although that hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“Still want him dead?”
“Not dead so much as mangled.”
“I can respect that.”
They looked at each other. She turned away first.
“So, um, did he happen to say why he didn’t want to marry me anymore?” she asked, hoping she sounded curious rather than pathetic. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming in his texts.”
Daniel shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t say anything other than it was over for him. I wish I knew more.”
“I know. And hey, you hit him, so that was nice. I’m sure when things calm down, he and I will talk and I’ll get some answers. Or not.”
“I’m sure you will. So, I want to help with undoing the wedding.”
“Thanks, but not necessary.”
“You shouldn’t have to do it yourself. Give me something easy, say the contract with the photographer. I’ll call them tomorrow and work things out. If I do a good job, you’ll promise to trust me with something more challenging.” His dark gaze seemed sincere. “I mean it. You don’t have to do this all alone.”
Which sounded really nice, especially when he looked all three-day scruffy with his beard and Sunday-relaxed in jeans and an LA Dodgers T-shirt.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Brother guilt?”
“That and because I want to.”
“Why on earth would you want to help me unplan my wedding?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Because I like you.” He held out his hand. “Give me that contract and no one will get hurt.”
He liked her? He liked her? What did that mean? Nothing, of course, she told herself. He meant in an almost sister-in-law way. Daniel was sexy and dangerous with his motocross business and his tattoos and swagger. She was the kind of woman who attracted the sucky Glens of the world. Besides, no and no. He hadn’t meant it any way other than to be nice. He liked her the way people liked cucumbers. They were acceptable and innocuous. She was like a cucumber.
Okay, that sounded strange, even for her. She sighed. The whole breakup had affected more than her heart, she thought sadly. She was starting to lose her mind.
“One photographer contract coming up,” she said.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ll get it later,” he said. “We need to go.”
“Go where?”
“The Dodger game. It starts in an hour so we have to hustle. Come on. Do you have a Dodger baseball hat? If you don’t, it’s okay. I have an extra one in the truck.” His smile returned. “We’re on the good side of the stadium—the third base line. The sun will be at our backs, so no squinting to see what’s going on.”
She stared at him. A Dodger game? She’d never been into baseball but it beat sitting home alone and moping.
“You’re being really nice to me,” she said, as she grabbed her purse.
“I know. I’m one of the good guys.”
He spoke lightly, as if joking, but his words hit her in the heart and the gut. She’d assumed Glen was a good guy. She’d assumed it so much, she’d allowed herself to fall in love with him and plan a future together. Only he’d betrayed her. He’d abandoned her and their future without even bothering to speak to her directly, which made everything worse.
She tried to shake off the thoughts. No more Glen suffering—at least not today. She’d been offered an afternoon watching baseball, which was an unexpected distraction. She needed to throw herself into the moment.
As they walked to his truck, she hid her smile. “So baseball. That’s the outdoor one with the bats, right?”
Daniel looked at her. “You’re kidding, right? Please be kidding. You understand the concept of the game.”
She smiled as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Of course I’m kidding. I know baseball is the one where they kick the ball.”
“You’re killing me, Ali.”
“Then my work here is done.”
* * *
Zennie arrived at the park a few minutes early. She used the time to warm up and stretch. She’d been a bit aggressive at yoga yesterday, stretching past her comfort zone, and was paying for it this morning.
She was also tired. She hadn’t slept well, probably because she’d been thinking about her abbreviated date with Clark. It wasn’t that she was going to miss him as much as the idea that there was something wrong with her. Which there wasn’t.
Right on time, Bernie pulled up in her sensible sedan. Zennie walked over to meet her.
Zennie Schmitt and Bernadette Schmahl had been roommates their freshman year at UCLA. Bernie had known she was going to be a teacher while Zennie had been equally determined to become a nurse. They were about the same height and size, they loved to work out and they both thought the old Monty Python TV show was the funniest thing ever. It had been roommate love at first sight for both of them. The only difference between them was their looks. Zennie was a boring blue-eyed blonde while Bernie was “the pretty friend” with high cheekbones and dark tan skin.
They’d stayed close after college and Zennie had been Bernie’s maid of honor at her wedding to Hayes. The two friends ran together every Sunday morning—sometimes just the two of them, sometimes in a group. The only time they’d had to take a break from running had been three years ago when Bernie had been diagnosed with uterine cancer. She’d endured surgery and chemo and had survived both. Now she was happy, healthy and moving on with her life.
“I appreciate you showing up,” Bernie said with a grin as they started their run with a slow jog. Their route would take them along the Woodley Park/Lake Balboa loop. It was just over five miles long and relatively flat. Not exactly challenging, but today’s run was about hanging out as much as it was about getting exercise.
The morning was still cool and the sky was clear. Later it would warm up but right now the low sixties felt really good.
“Why wouldn’t I show up?” Zennie asked.
“I saw the surf report. You could be out on the waves right now.”
“I’d rather be with you.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. Thank you. How are things?”
“Complicated,” Zennie admitted. “Glen dumped Ali.”
“What? No. He couldn’t. The wedding’s in what, two months? Hayes and I already got our invitation.”
“She found out on Friday.”
Zennie filled her in on what had happened. As she spoke, they picked up the pace.
“Ali is devastated and with Finola out of town...” She grimaced. “I spent Friday night at her place. I should probably call her later, to make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate that. I’ve never met Glen but now I have to hate him for sure.”
“You and me, both. I just had the fitting for my bridesmaid’s dress. It was a good one, too. Navy and a pretty style.”
Bernie grinned. “No lime green ruffle extravaganza?”
“Nothing like that.” Zennie grimaced. “It’s so awful. I swear, if I didn’t have Finola’s marriage to Nigel and your marriage to Hayes to believe in, I’d say the whole concept of falling in love and being happy is a hoax.”
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
Bernie shook her head. “You had a date last night. If you’re talking about love being a hoax, then it didn’t go well. What happened? I thought you liked Clark. I thought you two had a chance. He sounded adorable. Anyone who devotes his life to caring for animals has to be a nice guy, and you need a nice guy.”
Zennie groaned. “It was only four dates. How can you be this upset?”
“I want you happy.”
“I am happy. I love my life. Not everyone needs to be paired up. It’s not the law.”
“Fine. Be a freak. I’ll still love you no matter what. So how did you end things? Please tell me you were gentle. I’d hate to think you hurt poor Clark’s feelings.”
The question was oddly unsettling, Zennie thought as they picked up the pace. They always ran the middle three miles faster and used the last mile as a slow cooldown.
“I didn’t break up with him. He’s the one who said it was over. Actually what he said was that he could tell I wasn’t that interested in him.” She decided not to mention the lesbian thing. That was just too weird and embarrassing.
“No! Did you tell him he was wrong?” Bernie glared at her. “You didn’t, did you? Zennie, come on. What didn’t you like about him?”
“Nothing. I liked him. Just not that much. Look, can we talk about something else? How’s your work? How’s Hayes? Are you still thinking of getting a cat?”
Bernie laughed. “We were never thinking of getting a cat. I’m much more a dog person and we’re still talking about it. As for work, things are great. This week our main focus is money.”
“Isn’t six a little young to enter our capitalistic society?”
