February, six years ago
Frank Mason switched off the office lights and held open the glass door to the twenty-second-floor elevator lobby while I grabbed my coat and bag. He looked at me with fatherly affection in his twinkling eyes.
“Great work today, Millie. Alain says your copywriting skills are excellent, and he’s looking at giving you first crack at the sports center ad campaign. You’re enjoying it, right?” He locked the office door behind them.
“It’s a lot of fun,” I replied, pulling on my winter coat. “I’m so grateful to you for creating this opportunity for me. Really, it’s amazing. Thank you — again.”
We stepped into the elevator, and Frank gave me a light punch on my arm. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, kiddo. I’m proud of you — Ange and I both are. We’re just happy to be able to give one of you kids a leg up into the working world. God knows I haven’t been able to do that for either of my offspring. Obviously, Ben was a lost cause, being so into theater and music.” He laughed. “You’d think maybe Bonnie would’ve wanted some work experience with me, given she’s looking at interior design, and here I am running an architectural firm. But apparently sports centers and hospitals are not good enough.”
I nodded as we stepped into the building’s foyer. Outside, in the dark evening, downtown Chicago was deep in snow. I tugged my thick wool scarf around me, silently thanking myself for the grippy boots I’d changed into, leaving my impractical office pumps under my desk.
“Yeah, I think Bonnie’s interior design ambitions definitely run more towards dressing homes in gorgeous, shabby-chic decor than programming healthcare spaces.”
We walked out into the street, the cold hitting us like a wall of ice.
“You need a ride to your place? My car’s right there.” Frank gestured to where his Lincoln was parked down the street, covered in a dusting of snow. “I’m meeting Ange for our date-night dinner in about fifteen, but your place isn’t far, so I can take you.”
I shook my head with a smile and a shiver, despite my thick coat. “No, I’m good. I’m meeting both your ‘offspring’ at our favorite diner, just around the corner. I haven’t seen Bonnie in a week, and Ben’s play has the night off.”
Frank put a hand on my shoulder. “Good. We still worry about all you kids, even though you’re all now adults. God knows we’ll worry about you till the day we die.” He crossed the street with a little chuckle.
I called after him, “Drive safe! And say hi to Ange from me!”
Frank gave me an affirmative wave, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. I scurried in the snow to the end of the block, and Frank gave me a friendly farewell beep as he cruised past. The beautiful, teal-green car didn’t look like it was built for this kind of weather.
I hurried into the retro-style Va-Va-Voom Diner, kicking gray-brown slush off my chunky boots onto the large entrance mat. The place was a beacon of joy and sunshine on this dark night, decked out in creamy vanilla and pale turquoise fixtures, classic 1950s style, with dozens of framed photos of convertible Cadillacs on the wall. The long, stainless-steel trimmed counter had rounded corners and padded cream-leather stools, and the booth tables matched perfectly. I’d been in the diner often enough to wave hello to the owner, Greta. She waved back and pointed to the booth where Bonnie was already studying the menu.
“What looks good tonight?” I slid into the banquette, pulling off my coat and scarf.
“Oh, hey girl.” Bonnie flashed her teeth at me through bright red lips. “Everything. I need comfort food, and I’m going to eat it all. How was work?”
“Amazing, honestly. I love it. And I thought it’d be weird working at your dad’s firm, kind of like working with my own parent, but it’s really not. I mean, he doesn’t get involved in the marketing or media buys — he lets Alain have free rein on that — and he’s way too busy designing buildings to worry about me. I don’t even have any meetings with him. So it just feels like a regular job that I got on my own merit.”
Bonnie shrugged, turning back to the menu. “Well, you did. I mean, Dad introduced you to Alain, and passed on your resume, but Alain wouldn’t have given you the job if he didn’t think you could do it.”
“I guess. But having the boss encourage him to hire his daughter’s best friend definitely helped.” I frowned at my friend. “What’s up with you? You seem a little... I dunno. Grumpy.” I reached across the table and put my hand on Bonnie’s. “Where’s my cheery Bonnie?”
Bonnie sighed, squeezing my hand and pulling away. “I dunno. Winter, I guess. I hate this weather, and it’s so goddam dark all the time. Plus, you know... my course is finished, and I’m still stuck at home, trying to get my folks’ rich friends to pity-hire me to decorate their houses, and failing to do even that, while you and Ben are both doing so well in your careers. Feels kinda rough right now.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “I get it. And I know this time of year can be hard on you. But soon it’ll be spring, and people will start up with their renovations. You’re super talented, and I’m sure you’ll be able to make a design business work. I keep telling you, you just need to get better at promoting yourself on social media. People need visual proof of your aesthetic, otherwise they won’t hire you, when compared with some designer with a gorgeous photo feed.”
Bonnie gave me a small smile. “I guess. I’ll be fine. I probably just need to get laid.”
I laughed. “There’s my girl.” I turned back to the menu. “Hmm... gotta do the bacon-cheddar burger and fries again.”
A tinkle of the bell on the diner door and a fresh blast of cool air made me look up. Ben was stamping his feel on the mat, pulling a gray woolen beanie off his thick, dark-blonde crop. He was wearing a long, snow-dusted dark coat that suited him perfectly, giving him that artsy, theater director vibe. As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine and he gave me his easy, wide smile.
Ben always had that talent of lighting up a room, somehow. Well, Bonnie did too, of course.
Ben hung his coat on a peg near the entrance, and stopped at the counter on his way to our table. He chatted for a moment with Greta, who giggled like a teenager at something he said, despite Greta being at least sixty-five years old, before coming to sit at our booth.
“Flirting with Greta, as usual, I see,” Bonnie said to her brother, digging him in his ribs with her elbow as he sat next to her, opposite me.
“You know it,” he replied, grinning at me. “I can’t resist a woman who can cook like that.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that right? What about Amber — is she a dab hand in the kitchen? Somehow I don’t see her as a cook.”
Ben’s expression faltered. “Erm... well. Amber has many talents. But no, she’s maybe not so into cooking.”
Beside him, Bonnie curled her lip into a fleeting sneer that Ben didn’t see. “Also not into theater, or music, or movies, or reading... or anything you like,” she muttered.
I’d witness Bonnie doing her absolute best with Amber over the past three years, but it had been an uphill battle to find any common ground — except for the occasional conversation about new clothes or cosmetics. As for me, I’d barely managed to get to know Amber at all. She didn’t seem interested in me. On the rare occasions we’d all been together in Lake Bluff, or at the drama parties back at Northwestern, or even during those three weeks last summer at the Oregon beach house, Amber had all but ignored me.
Ben turned to his sister, his brow furrowed. “Oh-kay, mean girl. I know you’re not that crazy about Amber. But she’s a very entrepreneurial, and very skilled, cosmetologist. I respect her passion for her business, and you should too. I admire her... single-mindedness.”
Bonnie scoffed slightly, but said nothing more as Greta came over to take our order. We gorged ourselves on giant cheeseburgers and cones of skinny fries as I quizzed Ben about his new three-person play, which had opened a week ago in the small but achingly hip Den Theater, not far from Ben and Amber’s chic loft. The play was about two male best friends in love with the same woman, and the deterioration of their friendship over the escalating rivalry. It was riveting, and disturbing, and surprisingly sad. Bonnie, the Masons, and I had, of course, been in attendance on opening night and had cheered and whooped in a full-audience standing ovation as the curtain fell. Amber was conspicuous by her absence, as she was away in Arizona at some retreat for female direct-to-consumer small-business owners. When we’d taken Ben for celebratory drinks after the show, Ben looked lighter and freer than he had in months. And I was sure it wasn’t just because opening night had gone well.
I was slurping up the last of a highly unnecessary chocolate milkshake when Ben brought up Amber again.
“It’s Amber’s twenty-sixth birthday next week — plus, you know, Valentine’s Day — just after the play closes, and she’s back from Scottsdale. I was thinking of taking her to Grand Rapids for a long weekend as a surprise. They have this winter festival, plus it’s beautiful countryside for snowy hikes. I thought it’d be really cool. What do you think? A good idea?” He looked across the table at me, his eyebrows quizzical.
A pang tugged somewhere deep inside, between my heart and stomach. Why didn’t I have a lovely guy to take me for long weekends to winter festivals? I hadn’t had a boyfriend since I broke up with Chris, and that was nearly eighteen months ago. And that had barely even been a real relationship.
I shrugged one shoulder.
“Well, I mean... I would love something like that, sure. A great idea in theory. But in practice, for Amber... do you think she’d definitely be up for an outdoor winter festival? I mean, it would be very pretty, and look great on Instagram, but also very cold and snowy, and she’d need to have the right kind of warm gear. And you’d have to stay somewhere... you know. Really nice. Fancy.”
Bonnie was nodding into her ice cream sundae, crunching on a triangular wafer. “Millie’s right. Plus, Amber’s not really the kind of woman who likes surprises, is she? Didn’t you surprise her with a night at the Ritz-Carlton, and spend a frickin’ fortune on the room, and she insisted on switching to a better one because there were, like, ten things wrong with the room you booked?”
Ben turned abruptly towards his sister. “What the hell is this? Rag on Amber night? She’s my partner, Bon, we live together. I know you’re never going to be best buds, but you could be a bit kinder.”
Bonnie stuck the rest of her wafer defiantly into her melting scoop of vanilla. “Partner? Gimme a break,” she replied, with no small amount of scorn. “You may live with her, but she’s no partner to you, Ben. A partner would be someone who cares for you, and supports your dreams. Someone you can actually do stuff with that you both enjoy. The two of you have zero in common, she doesn’t give a crap about your theater career, and she’s proven herself pretty controlling on more than one occasion.” Bonnie paused, seeming to make a decision. “She even suggested to me that you should work at her uncle’s shipping company — like you’re seriously gonna give up the theater to push around paper for a bigger paycheck. I guarantee, Ben, that if you didn’t have a steal on rent on that awesome apartment, she wouldn’t even be living with you — not unless you joined the corporate rat race.” She spread her hands. “I’m sorry — I just say it how I see it.”
“Well, fuck, Bonnie.” Ben stared into his empty coffee mug. “That’s about the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me. Like you’ve always made the greatest decisions about guys.”
I reached my hand across the table. “I think we just both want you to be with someone who deserves you, and appreciates the things that you care about.”
Ben’s gaze lifted to meet mine, a fire glittering in them that I hadn’t seen since the night he saw the texts from Rufus. “You’re just as bad, Mill,” he said, almost under his breath. “Talking about being with people who deserve you? The only guys you’ve ever wanted have been assholes, and any good guys who do get close to you, you push away. Seriously, you’re one to talk. Both of you.”
He suddenly slid out of the booth and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out two twenties, way more than his share of the check, and dropping them on the table. “I can’t listen to this. I gotta go home — I’m out. See you both soon, I guess.”
I reached out for him again, but he shrugged me off. “Ben, don’t. You don’t have to leave like this. We are honestly just looking out for you. And you’re right, we haven’t made great choices, ourselves, either of us.”
Bonnie was sliding out of the booth too, trying to hug her brother. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Please don’t run off. Besides, I’m crashing at your place tonight, remember?”
Ben sighed. “Honestly, Bonnie, I just wanna be alone tonight. You know we’ll keep going over this if you come back to the loft. Let me just head home by myself — you stay at Millie’s, or go home. Mom and Dad are in the city tonight, so they can take you.”
With that, he was gone, pausing only to grab his coat and scarf from the hooks, not even getting them fully on by the time he was out of the door.
Bonnie sat back down. “Well, damn. That was a shitshow.” She widened her eyes at me. “Sorry you got dragged into the middle of that. We’re both really suffering this winter, I think.”
I twisted my mouth, and leaned sideways to see through the plate glass window if Ben was gone. Below the glare of the neon sign hanging in the window, his long coat and jeans were visible. He was pulling on his beanie hat against the cold.
“I feel awful. I’m gonna go after him.” I started to shuffle out of the booth, but Bonnie stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Let him go, Mill. He wants to be alone, and there’s nothing more we can say. We’ve both apologized already. Plus he only got mad because he knows we’re right — Amber isn’t the woman for him, and he hasn’t ever really been happy with her. Let him go mull over what we’ve said. Maybe he’ll finally start coming to those conclusions himself.”
Ben had moved away, and was now out of sight. There was nothing but a neon glow in the slush on the street outside.
I resumed my place at the table. “I guess you’re right. Okay, so are you staying at my place tonight, then? Both my roommates are home, so I can only offer the couch.”
Bonnie pulled her mouth down in an exaggerated grimace. “That lumpy-ass couch? Christ, no. The last time I slept on that thing I had a backache for a week. No, I can get a ride home with my folks.”
I put up my hands. “Well, don’t say I didn’t offer my hospitality. Where are your folks having dinner tonight? Can they come pick you up from here?”
Bonnie was already pulling out her cellphone. “Yeah, they’re eating at Doc B’s tonight. So that’s, what, only ten minutes from here? It’s in the opposite direction to home, but they won’t mind.” She pressed a button and held the phone to her ear. “To be honest, they’ll probably prefer to take me home themselves, with the weather being like this.” Her gaze flicked away. “Hey, Dad. Are you having a nice dinner?... Good... No, no, I’m fine. I’m with Mill at the Va-Va-Voom Diner, near your office. I was gonna crash at Ben’s, but he’s gone home and honestly, I was hoping to get a ride home with you. I know it’s a bit out of your way... Oh, sure, he’s fine. Just... you know. Being Ben. So is that okay?... Thanks, Dad. You’re the best. See you soon — love you.” She ended the call. “All set. They’ve paid the check, so they can come now — they’ll be here in ten.”
“Cool. I’ll wait until they get here.” I grinned at my friend and sat back in my seat. “So, tell me more about this need of yours to, and I quote, ‘get laid.’” I used finger quotes theatrically. “What are you planning on doing about that?”
Bonnie laughed as we fell into conversation about our respective dating prospects — zero currently for me, a couple of possibilities for the more open-minded Bonnie, who’d recently installed a new dating app. It was nearly ten p.m. when we realized it had been almost forty minutes since Bonnie’s call to her folks.
“Okay, where the hell are they?” Bonnie pulled out her phone again. “Dad will be driving, so I’m calling Mom.”
She tried her mom’s cellphone, and then hung up. “Going to voicemail. Guess I’ll try Dad again. Maybe they took their sweet-ass time leaving the restaurant, and the journey’s just taking longer because of the snow.”
I nodded. “Absolutely. They’ll be here any minute.”
Bonnie tried making a call to her dad, holding eye contact with me as she waited. It was getting quiet in the restaurant, and I could hear the ring on the other end. It kicked into a muffled, low-toned voicemail message. Bonnie shook her head at me. “Hi Dad, erm, it’s been a while and you’re still not here, so give me a call if you’ve got delayed or something, okay? See you soon. I hope.” She put the phone on the table. “That’s so weird. It’s weird, right?”
I gave her arm a reassuring pat. “They probably got talking to someone on their way out of the restaurant, and your dad is now driving, so he’s not answering. And maybe your mom’s phone has been on silent all evening. Let’s give them another twenty minutes before we start wondering.”
Bonnie pursed her lips. “You’re right. It’s just not like them, that’s all.”
I tried to distract Bonnie over the next little while, with talk of my new sports center campaign at work, but it was tough not to talk about the office without making Bonnie think of her dad. By the time the clock above the diner counter displayed 10:25, and it had been over an hour since Bonnie had called for the ride home, I began to allow myself to get worried. Bonnie tried both her parents’ cells again, and neither picked up.
Bonnie was right — this was not at all like Frank and Ange Mason.
“Try Ben’s cell? Maybe he’ll know something, or be able to help?”
Bonnie shook her head. “He’s home tucked up in bed by now — his phone will be off. And even if I could call him, I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily. What’s he gonna do? It’s not like they’d’ve called him to let him know what’s going on, and not me.” She bit her lip. “Shit. And the diner closes at eleven, so we’ll have to get out of here either way.”
I nodded. “Well, we’ll stay here until eleven, then. And if they still haven’t shown up, and we haven’t gotten through to them, we’ll go to my place and leave messages telling them to come pick you up from my place. It’s only a few extra minutes’ drive.”
Bonnie frowned. “Sure. Yeah... okay. It’s a plan.” She stared at the phone on the table in front of her, as if willing it to buzz.
Her telepathy didn’t go unanswered. The phone started buzzing and singing a tinkly tune, and Bonnie snatched it up, her gaze fixed on mine. “Dad?”
Her eyes widened. I was able to make out a deep voice on the other end, but none of the words. Bonnie’s face was unreadable — she was staring at me, but not seeing me. Seeing something else. And she wasn’t saying a word.
After what seemed like several minutes, but might only have been thirty seconds, Bonnie eventually spoke. “Thank you. Yes, I will.” Her voice was quiet and strangely thick. She ended the call and put the phone down, slowly, on the table.
“That was the hospital. Mom and Dad got into a crash on their way here.”