Chapter 4 Elyse
ELYSE
Paige and I arrived for our scheduled lunch at Cat's Bites at the same time and I pulled into a parking spot right next to her sunshine yellow Jeep in the library parking lot.
I was happy to have the opportunity to see her face.
She'd been so busy with the growing popularity of her writer's retreats and getting her book ready for publication that we hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, even at Tuesday morning ladies league.
I came around the back of my Audi and stood behind her as she grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. "How are you doing there, stranger?" I asked.
She turned around with a huge smile on her face. "Oh my gosh, Elyse, it is so good to see you. I'm so glad we were finally able to find some time to get together today."
We hugged, and after we separated, we walked through the parking lot toward the cafe.
Paige held the door open for me, and as I walked in, Cat's head popped up from the kitchen.
She threw us a quick wave and pointed toward the booth in back where our group typically sat.
Even though lunchtime at the cafe was hopping, Cat knew we were coming and the hostess walked us straight back to the table that was reserved for us.
I threw my orange backpack down and sat at one end while Paige slid in across from me.
"So, tell me what you've had going on," she said as she arranged her napkin on her lap. Our nine-inch difference in height aside, Paige and I were a lot alike, especially when it came to food. For starters, neither of us wasted any time preparing to eat it.
"Okay, I'll start, and then you can catch me up on the retreat. From what I hear, things have been going pretty well."
"A lot of it is thanks to Jenna. She's been baking up a storm," said Paige.
"Last week, she made her famous almond croissants, and that's all I heard about all weekend.
They were disappearing from the kitchen left and right.
She came back on Sunday with twelve wrapped up for my retreaters to take home. How sweet is that?"
"Jenna is a rock star. I'm excited to see how far she can go with her talent. She deserves all the success she's seen."
"As do you," I added.
"We'll get to that in a minute," Paige said. "Tell me what you've had going on over the last week or so."
"Well, to be honest, not much other than planning your book launch party."
"Yay! I can't wait! But that's not exactly what I meant." She lowered her voice. "Have you had any more clients?"
I look down at the table wondering how much I should share with my friend. I didn't love delving into private information about my relationship but I needed someone else's opinion. "Well, last week I finished up with some idiot at Frenchy's with his little twenty-year-old side piece."
"We'll take care of him," Paige laughed, then sat back in the booth. "I have to admit, this is a career move I did not see coming from you, Elyse. But it seems like you're really enjoying it."
"I am. I definitely didn't expect this to take off the way it has, and I've been having so much fun playing Nancy Drew, but it seems as if my enthusiasm isn't necessarily a common thread in my household."
"Oh no. Drew isn't happy."
"He's not. He's worried about me. I understand where he's coming from, but at the same time, I'm really having fun with this."
"What's his concern?"
"I'll get caught by one of the philandering husbands or nefarious neighbors and get hurt."
Paige's concern was evident on her face. "We're all worried about that, Elyse, but we have to assume that as an adult, you're making safe decisions and you aren't putting yourself at unnecessary risk."
"I am being safe. I really am. Nobody knows what I look like. I'm not a friend in real life to any of these women. And my name is never Elyse out there. They're sharing information, but never publicly. I have a private Facebook page that all requests get funneled through."
"Well that's good," said Paige. "What do you think you're going to do?"
"I am not feeling compelled to stop at this point," I said. "I am enjoying it. I'm being safe, and as far as I'm concerned, I am performing a service to the women of this community."
"I don't understand why people feel the need to cheat. If you're unhappy in your relationship, you should be talking it out with your partner, not hopping in bed with the next one."
"You and I see eye-to-eye there," I say, "but that's the way of the world. People want to have their cake and eat it too."
"Please be safe. That's all I ask. What are you going to do about Drew?"
"I'm not really sure," I replied and sat back in the booth.
My hands fiddled with the edges of my napkin.
"We don't usually have any contentious topics between us.
We typically see eye to eye and everything else we can usually talk through.
But we've reached an impasse on this topic.
And while I understand his concern, I'm not ready to truthfully say I'm going to stop anytime soon. "
"Well, you always have my support, Elyse. I just want you to be careful."
With that, Cat popped out of the kitchen and slid into the booth next to Paige. "What's up buttercups?" she asked as she slid her yellow bandana off her close-cropped hair and swiped it across her face. She sat back in the booth and put her feet up next to me. "It's been a busy one today."
I look around. "I can see that. I'm so happy for you."
"Half these people are coming in asking about those croissants Jenna made again last week."
"Yeah, no kidding," said Paige. "I think I could probably sell out the next year's worth of retreats just based on the feedback I got about them."
"I'm adding a ham and Swiss croissant to the lunch menu."
Paige's eyes lit up. "Let's talk about adding those to the retreat lunch menu."
Five minutes later, Cat returned to the kitchen, leaving Paige and me in our little bubble of truth-telling.
"I love my job, Paige. You know I do." I looked up from my drink to meet her attentive gaze. "And I... I'm holding out for the day when the store can hopefully be mine."
The words felt both terrifying and exhilarating to say out loud. I'd only ever confessed this dream to Drew, and even then, only after too many glasses of wine on our anniversary last year.
"When Meredith mentioned retirement last month, I nearly passed out trying to keep my poker face intact. Twenty years I've been there, watching that place grow from a dusty little corner shop to what it is now. I've put my heart into every display, every recommendation, every book club."
Paige nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "You'd be amazing as the owner, Elyse. Everyone knows it."
"But to be honest, lately..." I hesitated, tapping my fingernails against the glass.
"I've been consumed by an overpowering need for something more in my life.
And instead of focusing on the things that I don't have.
.." I gestured vaguely with my hands, encompassing all the invisible lacks in my life: children, career advancement, perhaps even purpose, ".
..I decided it was time for me to look for something that made me feel good.
Made me feel like I was being helpful. Making a difference. "
Paige leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "And taking pictures of cheating husbands does that for you?"
I huffed out a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears.
"It's more than that." How could I explain that each photo felt like justice, like putting one tiny thing right in a world where so much was wrong?
"Every day at the store, I smile and nod while women—usually women who've spent their entire lives taking care of everyone else—ask me for an escape.
For just a few hours away from their reality. "
"Beach reads," Paige supplied.
"Yes. And lately, every time a customer comes in asking for a good book to take to the beach, or walks up to the counter holding a book with a bright blue cover with palm trees all over it, I just can't help but groan silently and think, 'Not another beach read.'"
I surprised myself with the sudden vehemence in my voice. I hadn't realized how much it had been building up inside me.
"Because?" Paige prompted gently.
"Because those books are selling a fantasy that's ruining these women's faith in humanity, Paige.
The handsome husband who turns out to be loving and faithful, even after some silly misunderstanding?
The career woman who gives it all up for love and never regrets it for a second?
" I shook my head. "Other than a select few, they don't exist. Meanwhile, their real-life husbands are at Frenchy's with someone half their age while these women are reading about fictional men who would never do that to them. "
I took a long drink of tea, suddenly parched.
"I'm tired of selling women fiction when I could be giving them the truth. When I take those pictures, I'm doing something real. I'm saving a woman years—maybe decades—of living a lie."
"Like someone could have done for you," Paige said quietly.
The words landed like a slap, though I knew she hadn't meant them that way. Frank's betrayal was ancient history, but the scar tissue still pulled tight sometimes.
"Maybe," I admitted. "Though I was lucky—Frank wasn't exactly subtle with his little side family. But some of these guys..." I whistled low. "Academy Award-worthy performances, every day for years. You should see how fast they crumble when confronted with evidence."
Paige reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I get it, I do. But is it worth putting your safety at risk? Worth making Drew sick with worry? I'm not judging, I'm just playing devil's advocate."
I sighed, feeling the familiar twist of guilt in my abdomen. "It's the only time I feel like I'm not just... existing. Not just selling people the same ten beach reads with different covers. Not just waiting for Meredith to retire. Not just killing time during Drew's business trips."
"And if one of them recognizes you anyway? If they follow you home? Not every betrayed husband just packs up and leaves like Frank did."
I straightened my shoulders, finding my resolve again. "I'm careful, Paige. I stay in public places. I vary my disguises. I never confront them myself. It's not nearly as dangerous as Drew thinks it is."
The thought had occurred to me, of course it had. But the possibility seemed remote compared to the certainty of how alive I felt while I was on the hunt.
"Then I'll deal with it," I said with more confidence than I felt. "But I can't go back to just... watching life happen from behind the counter at Back in the Day Books. I need this."
Our food arrived then, saving me from Paige's concerned gaze.
As I picked up my sandwich, I couldn't help but wonder if she were right—if I was risking too much for this feeling of purpose.
But then I remembered the mother of four whose husband had been stealing their grocery money to wine and dine his girlfriend, and how she'd cried with relief when she finally understood why their bank account was always empty.
Beach reads could wait. Real life couldn't.