Chapter 9 Esme
ESME
With Grady’s help, I managed to finish all the centerpieces just in time for the Morrison wedding.
They were delivered to the venue on time.
The bride seemed pleased with them, as did the mother-in-law, which meant I could breathe.
They also gave me a nice fat check, which also helped with my anxiety.
It wasn’t enough to fix all my problems, but it meant I could make the mortgage that month.
To celebrate, my girlfriends suggested we all meet for dinner at The Pelican. So Robbie could do his STEM homework, Grace offered to babysit Madison to give me a chance to get out of the house for some fun. A little after six, I opened the door to find Gillian and Grace on the landing.
“Hey, guys,” I said, holding out my arms. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Trevor came to say hello, wagging his tail. He loved Grace.
“Is Madison okay?” Grace asked, sounding concerned as she knelt to give Trevor some love.
“Yes, she’s fine. Excited to see you.” I stepped aside and Grace breezed in, backpack over one shoulder, already pulling a little bag of nail polish from her jacket pocket, Trevor following behind.
“Grace, hi.” Madison’s face lit up. “You brought nail polish?”
“Totally. I have a new color to show you. It’s pink and sparkly.”
“Yay,” Madison said.
Grace settled in next to Madison on the couch. “Does your arm hurt still?”
“A little. But Mommy gives me happy pills to make it better,” Madison said.
“Happy pills?” Grace laughed as she unzipped her backpack. “Aren’t you happy enough?”
“I am very happy most of the time,” Madison said, nodding her head and smiling. “But my arm hurts without the pills.”
“Tell me everything,” Grace said. “What was it like to go the hospital?”
Madison started chattering away about the entire experience, while Grace painted her nails. Trevor plopped down under the coffee table, with just his tail sticking out.
Gillian and I exchanged a glance. “You doing okay?” Gillian asked me.
“Much better now that she’s home,” I said. “It was kind of an ordeal.”
“You poor thing. Come on, let’s go meet the others. I bet you could use a glass of wine and one of The Pelican burgers.”
“That sounds really good,” I said.
Gillian squeezed my arm. “Kids are set. Let’s go.”
“Grace, call or text if you need anything,” I said. “We’re only a few minutes away.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” Grace looked over at me, her long blonde hair falling over her cheek.
I grabbed my coat as Robbie appeared from his room, physics book tucked under his arm.
“Robbie, Grace is here,” Madison said, as if he couldn’t see that for himself. “And she brought polish for my nails.”
Robbie made a face. “That stuff smells awful.”
“It smells fancy,” Madison said. “Like me.”
“I don’t think that’s what fancy smells like.” Robbie dropped onto the other end of the sofa, cracking open his book.
Gillian and I left as the debate started about whether fancy had a smell and, if so, what did it smell like. We closed the door to Madison declaring that fancy smelled like pink cotton candy.
We headed down the back stairs to the alley.
I breathed in the cool, damp October air, catching scents of salt and eucalyptus and woodsmoke.
The sky had gone that deep purple twilight that only happened this time of year, when the days got short fast. Streetlights flickered on one by one as we walked.
A few shop windows still glowed along the street, but most had closed for the evening.
“So,” Gillian said. “You’d tell me if you needed money for the hospital bills, right?”
“Wrong.”
“Alex and I have the means, and we want to help.” She glanced at me sideways. “You should let us.”
Gillian had done fine before she married Alex, running her dance studio here in town, but now she was legit wealthy.
Her husband had retired from high tech a billionaire.
It must be nice. Not that I was jealous.
No one was happier for Gillian than me. But sometimes, every so often, a little ugly voice would nag at me. Don’t you wish you had what she had?
“That’s the first step to ruining a friendship,” I said. “Never mix love and money.”
“You’re the most stubborn person ever,” Gillian said.
“I know.” Proud too. I hated being the poor one in our friend group.
Seraphina was a rich and famous romance author.
Delphine had inherited money when her husband died and ran a local art gallery in addition to making pottery, which sold well.
Lila’s new husband, Vance Prescott, had made a small fortune when he sold the wine app he’d created while working as a sommelier in Paris.
Which left only me, broke in a lonely bed meant for two.
“I thought about calling my parents, but I just can’t,” I said.
I heard the edge in my own voice and softened it.
“My father would write a check tomorrow, but it would come at a cost. They’d insist I come home.
Admit they were right that I couldn’t make it on my own.
” I pulled my coat tighter. “They want me back under their roof where they can manage my life because they think they know so much better than I do about what my kids need. Every time I think about calling, I hear my mother’s voice telling me I threw away a perfectly good marriage.
She doesn’t believe in divorce. Blamed me for everything, even though it was Jeff who let me down, not the other way around.
” I exhaled. “I’m going to do everything I can to avoid asking for help. ”
“You ask me first, okay?” Gillian said.
“Come on,” I said, picking up the pace to avoid further discussion of my finances. “I’m starving.”
The Pelican was nearly empty that evening.
Gillian and I shook off the cold as we came through the door.
Our favorite hunky, albeit grumpy, bartender, Hunter Sloan, was behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, a rag in one hand.
He looked up and then headed our direction with menus in hand. “Ladies. Your usual booth’s open.”
“Thanks, Hunter,” I said.
He glanced toward the door, then back at us. “Seraphina coming tonight?”
“Yeah, why?” I asked.
“She left her scarf here last night,” Hunter said, glowering. “Here with some guy in a suit. A date maybe?”
“Really?” Gillian asked. “Are you sure it wasn’t her agent?”
Hunter’s expression shifted from brooding to nonchalant. He lifted one shoulder as if it were neither here nor there.“Maybe. They seemed pretty intense.”
“Definitely her agent,” Gillian said.
“Oh. Sure. That makes sense.” He set the menus down a little too carefully, like he needed something to do with his hands. “Good. Great.” He cleared his throat. “What can I get you?”
Gillian asked for a club soda. I ordered a glass of white wine.
Lila arrived next, slightly flushed from the cold, her dark hair up in a ponytail.
“Hey, friends. Am I late? My client meeting went longer than expected.” She wore a soft cashmere wrap the color of uncooked oats, dark slim jeans, and a pair of ankle boots.
A delicate gold necklace sparkled around her slender neck.
“Not at all. We just got here,” Gillian said.
“New client?” I asked.
“Yes. A friend of Alex’s,” Lila said. “Gillian, please thank him for me, by the way. She wants her entire house gutted and decorated. Every room. It’s going to be huge for me.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear that,” Gillian said.
Delphine and Seraphina came in together. Delphine must have come from the gallery, wearing a white linen blouse with the sleeves rolled once, tucked into high-waisted charcoal trousers, high black pumps and her hair in a bun. A structured black leather bag hung from one arm.
Seraphina shrugged out of an oversized camel coat.
Underneath, she had on a fitted black turtleneck and a pair of jeans with strategically placed holes and black cowgirl boots.
Her long red hair was wild and a little messy, which suited her author vibe.
She slid into the booth and immediately held up one finger.
“Hang on. I just had an idea and if I don’t write it down this second I’ll lose it forever.” She pulled out her phone and started tapping furiously, blue ink smeared across the side of her hand from pinky to wrist. The sign of a left-handed writer.
I glanced down at my lap, wishing I’d taken more care of my appearance before coming out.
I’d thrown on a pair of old jeans paired with a white tee and canvas tennis shoes earlier in the day and hadn’t even thought about changing.
The Morrison wedding and caring for Madison had eaten up every spare minute.
My friends always looked so put together.
Unless Seraphina was on deadline, in which case she wore her ugly writing sweater and a pair of leggings that we all teased her about.
I glanced down and noticed a fine dusting of yellow pollen along one sleeve of my tee.
When I tried to brush it away, it smeared into the fabric.
“I should never wear white,” I said, showing them the stain.
“It’s not even noticeable,” Gillian said.
“Liar,” I said, smiling back at her.
Hunter appeared at the table, club soda and white wine in hand. He set them down with a nod, then turned to the others. “What can I get you three?”
“Red wine,” Seraphina said, not looking up from her phone, typing faster.
“She’s writing an idea before she forgets,” I said to Hunter, not wanting him to think her rude.
“I get that,” Hunter said.
Really? Why was that?
“Red wine for me too, please,” Lila said.
“Same here,” Delphine said. “Something bold. Any recommendations?”
“Yeah, actually,” Hunter said. “Vance brought in a bottle last month from Washington state. So good I ordered a case. You ladies want to get a bottle?”
“Sure,” Lila said, smiling like a fool in love. “If Vance picked it, we know it’s good.”
“Vance knows his stuff,” Hunter said.
“He does,” Lila said. “I’m so smitten with my clever husband.”
“We know,” Delphine said, rolling her eyes.