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.