Chapter 4
Marilyn
A year and a half later
Stomping the snow from my boots, I look around the small café as the delicious aromas fill my senses. At this time of day, most of the tables and booths are occupied. I’m relieved to see my friend already has a table. By the time I reach Jill, my gloves are off and stuffed into my pockets. While we don’t get a lot of snow in Indianapolis, we can still experience the arctic freeze that accompanies the new year. In the last twenty-four hours, the temperature has dropped into the low twenties, making the two-block walk from my office long enough to lose the feeling in my fingers and toes. Shrugging off my long coat, I lay it over the chair to my side and sit across from Jill.
It's hard to believe that we’ve been friends for nearly two decades. The talkative girls in grade school are still talking and laughing twenty years later. Only our surroundings have changed. No longer living in Riverbend, we both made it to the big city of Indianapolis. It isn’t New York or LA, but compared to our roots, it’s metropolitan, especially the northside where we both work.
Jill giggles as I take the seat. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Tax season is about to start, and I’ll be swamped.” I exhale. “The fun of a new year.”
Our conversation halts as the waitress approaches. “Can I get you something to drink?”
As I rub my hands together, I see Jill’s cup of hot chocolate. It’s definitely a day for warm drinks. Smiling, I reply, “Coffee, hot coffee.”
“Coming right up.”
Jill lifts her cup. “I can’t believe we both have jobs a few blocks from each other.”
I couldn’t agree more. While I’ve made new friends at Parker and Stevens and others from my gym and apartment complex, old friends are special. “And we haven’t met up since before the holidays. How is your family?”
“Good.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s always a fight over whose house we’ll stay at when we visit. I’d rather be at my parents’, and Todd wants to be at his parents’. The thing is, the Blakelys haven’t changed Todd’s room since he was in high school. Oh, they replaced his twin bed with a full.”
I scrunch my nose. “A full?”
Jill nods. “When you’re used to a king-sized, a full might as well be a twin. And we have to go back next weekend for Todd’s sister’s daughter’s birthday.”
“Where are you going to stay?”
“My parents’ house.”
“What about your old room?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s a perfectly fine guest room with a queen-sized bed. My mom has no problem with ‘out with the old and in with the new.’”
I laugh as the waitress arrives with my coffee. The ceramic mug warms my fingers. “I wanted to see more people in Riverbend,” I confess. “But since I could only get a few days off, Mom had a million things planned. I didn’t even get a chance to see Devan.”
“Oh, she and Justin have made their farmhouse so cute. Talk about ‘out with the old and in with the new.’ It looks totally different than it did when we were kids.”
“I saw it last summer. They weren’t finished with the kitchen yet. I know Devan spent her summer vacation painting and changing the landscaping. I’m not sure how I would feel about living in and changing my childhood home.”
Jill nods. “The Dunns have been super supportive, according to Devan. They want her and Justin to make the house feel like their home, not like they’re living in Devan’s old house.”
“I’m not sure my mom would be that open to change.” I lift the menu. “It doesn’t matter. Melissa is graduating high school this year, and Marcus is settled in Chicago. I don’t see my parents moving anywhere.”
“I can’t believe your little sister is graduating high school. I suppose that’s how Justin felt about Devan before they connected. I mean, in my mind, Melissa is still a little girl.”
I shake my head. “She’s all grown up. And she’s been accepted to Purdue.”
“Oh,” Jill exclaims. “Traitor.”
I can’t help but laugh. The state of Indiana is divided into two camps—IU or Purdue. It doesn’t matter whether the person attended one school or the other or they simply live in Indiana. Everyone has an opinion. And considering Jill graduated with her bachelor’s degree and master’s degree from IU, she has the right to favor her alma mater.
“According to Missy, the Mitchell E. Daniels, Jr. School of Business is the best in the state.”
Jill purses her lips. “She has a right to her opinion, even if it’s wrong.”
After the waitress takes our order, I ask Jill about her job. She’s the human resources manager for a law firm up the street, here in Carmel.
“I love it,” she says, her smile beaming. “I’ve been talking to Todd about going back to school.” She sighs. “I think I want to take the LSAT.”
“Become a lawyer?”
Jill nods. “I know by some Riverbend rule, I should be popping out babies by now, but honestly, Todd is so busy with his firm, neither one of us is ready for kids. After spending the last six months in the law firm, I want to do more.”
“I think that’s great.”
“And your job?” she asks.
“I love the firm. It’s growing, and I feel like I came along at the right time. Wealth management is the new must-have. The demographics of Carmel and, really, all north Indy is ripe for our services.”
“Well,” Jill says, “when Todd and I have any wealth to manage, we’ll come to you.”
We both grow silent as our lunches are delivered. Once the waitress is gone, Jill lowers her voice. “How was your date with the guy from the gym?”
“T.J.,” I say, shaking my head. “It was blah. I can’t even say it was bad. He was boring—oh, unless I wanted to talk about him.”
“I don’t know if I could date. Todd and I have been together forever. It would be awkward.”
“It is. I mean, T.J. is nice to watch on the treadmill, but it only took a drink and an appetizer for me to start making excuses for an early retreat.”
“Maybe you need to get to know him better.”
“In a twenty-minute span of time, I learned about his degree from Hanover College. He then spent a gap year abroad and speaks four languages. Oh, and his parents own a trucking company, so he’s a trust-fund baby and only works because it’s expected of him, not because he needs to.”
Jill stifles a laugh. “He had me at four languages. What about Bryce?”
I shake my head. “Ship has sailed. I mean, it’s awkward when we are put together on projects at work, but we’re both good with moving on. Sometimes you just know it’s not meant to be.”
It seems that I’m better at knowing when it’s not meant to be than when it is.
Forcing a grin, I go on, “I give up on the dating scene. I think I’ll get three or four cats and spend my nights with Ben and Jerry.”
“Ben and Jerry are good company, but I prefer H?agen-Dazs.”
“Because they speak other languages?”
We both laugh.
By the time our lunch is finished, we both need to head back to our offices. With my long wool coat buttoned, my gloved hands buried deep in my pockets, and my boots treading carefully on the frozen sidewalk, I make my way through the frosted air to Parker and Stevens. Each breath forms a small cloud of condensation. By the time I step into the reception air, I relish the warmth.
“Ms. James,” Klara, one of the receptionists, says, lifting a piece of paper. “You received a call while you were away.”
Removing a glove, I reach for the paper. “Thank you.” I stare down at the name and number. “Rich Dunn?”
“Yes, ma’am. That was what he said. He’d like you to call him back when you have a moment.”
Rich can’t be Ricky, can it?
“Is he a client?” I ask.
“His name doesn’t match with anyone in our system.”
“Did he say what he wanted?” I ask, still contemplating that Rich Dunn is actually Ricky Dunn.
“No. He only asked that I relay his message for you to return his call.”
“Thank you,” I say again, staring down at the name.
Rich.
Ricky.
No. It couldn’t be.
Curiosity gets the better of me by the time I make it back to my office. It’s a small room with a small window, but it is an office, complete with a door. That’s a step up from the cubicle I inhabited while working as an intern. The nameplate outside the door reads Marilyn James, Wealth Adviser. Whenever I see the plate, I smile. My love life may be nonexistent, but I have accomplished a few rungs on the ladder, climbing to success.
After hanging my coat on a coat tree, I settle behind my desk. If I knew for sure that the message was from Ricky, I could call him back on my cell phone. If this isn’t him, I don’t necessarily want a stranger to know my private number.
Dunn.
How many people have that last name?
The two of us haven’t spoken since Devan and Justin’s wedding.
Lifting the receiver, I hit the numbers on the paper.
The call rings twice, before I hear his voice.
“Marilyn, thanks for calling me back.”
Ricky.
I don’t know if I’m happy or agitated.
Why call me at work?