Chapter 2 #2
Brianne’s smile was warm and held a hint of approval that relaxed all the pieces inside me that wanted to look cool in front of her or impress her. Bypassing my hand once more, she grabbed me into a quick side hug.
“I think we’re both going to do great things, Simone.
” She released me, then scurried over to her desk and pressed a few buttons on the phone before grabbing a manila envelope from the bottom drawer.
It was then that she looked at me and furrowed her brow, searching around me as much as she was staring at me.
It brought the awkward sensation rushing back.
I replayed our conversation in my head to find the moment I’d said something wrong.
Something in my welcome or my words had just landed with her, and an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, turning the coffee from refreshing to bitter. What had I said wrong?
“Where’s your luggage?” She went to the front door and opened it, scanning the patio. “Did Ethan explain that there’s lodging upstairs? And that you’re required to live in it?”
“Oh, that. He said there was lodging but I don’t have a lot of clothes right now.
” I fiddled with the edge of my shirt. After Ethan had left, I’d changed into a spare set of clothes in my office and called a rideshare before I could change my mind.
Going back to my house to pack hadn’t occurred to me.
“Ethan told me he’d explain everything after the board meeting. ”
Brianne was staring at me like I had just told her I planned to raise pet hyenas.
My palms were getting clammy, and the hairs on my arms lifted as a sudden wave of heat settled over me.
The lobby hadn’t been this warm when I walked in, had it?
A trickle of sweat formed at the base of my neck and trickled down my spine, landing at the small of my back.
“That wasn’t the way that conversation was supposed to go.” She twisted her lips, as if trying to decide what to do. Whatever I was missing, it was important. Finally, she shook her head. “We can discuss it with Ethan when he gets here. I wonder why he didn’t explain the situation more fully?”
“I think that’s my fault.” My cheeks felt like they were on fire.
I’d started early stages of menopause a few years prior.
One of my least favorite side effects was my fun new ability to flush bright red whenever I was embarrassed, awkward, or uncomfortable.
Since that was most of the time, I walked around splotchy and red faced.
“My husband and I are going through a separation and Ethan caught me at a, well, let’s just call it a bad moment. ”
Brianne set her hand on my arm, the gesture putting me at ease again. I smiled at her understanding gaze, her compassion filling me as if she’d hugged me a third time. I really liked this woman.
A new aroma filled the room, the soothing scent of caramel and vanilla and some kind of spice. Something dinged in the kitchen, and Brianne chuckled.
“That must be for you.” She took the iced coffee from my hand, and I followed her to the kitchen where a tall mug sat on a matching coaster, a swirl of steam surrounded the mocha foam layered over the top.
A Bayou Bliss. The non-caffeinated drink my mother used to make for me.
“Oh wow, I haven’t had one of those in ages. How did you know?”
Brianne didn’t answer. She leaned against the cabinet while I took my first sip.
It was like being transported back to my childhood, when I’d read books or sung songs behind my mother’s desk while she greeted customers and answered phones.
It was my lone treat, every day after school, and I hadn’t had one since.
As a child, it had seemed so exotic, having a special drink that was all mine. Sipping it now, I recognized the flavors my mom always claimed came from a “magical place far away” as chai and chocolate with a hint of caramel. And something else. Something very Louisianan.
“Chicory.” I laughed at Brianne’s raised eyebrows. “It’s a decaf chai latte with chocolate, caramel, and chicory. I didn’t know that growing up.” She lifted her lips in disgust, and I laughed again.
“I’ve never had a taste for chicory personally.” Brianne gestured at the empty cup in the sink. “I like my coffee with a touch of milk and a hint of sugar and not a thing else. And not one minute after two pm, or I will be up all night.”
“Hah, I don’t think much would keep me up at this point.
” Weariness settled over me the moment I said it.
The combination of the drink and being back at a place I used to call home was smoothing out a part of me long coiled tight.
And with that weariness came a deep sadness, as words I didn’t know I’d had stored up came tumbling out.
“Last week, I caught my husband cheating on me when I came home early from work. He had a health condition a year ago, a rare disorder that led to emergency surgery and a lot of recovery. Apparently, his physical therapist was really good at her job because he was screwing her in my house.”
The words hung in the air, the room somehow getting quieter. My lip trembled. Even a Bayou Bliss couldn’t fix this.
But Brianne seemed to know what to do. She gestured to the small, round table in the kitchenette, where we both took a seat.
She shoved a plate of cookies in my direction. “How long were you married?”
“Twenty years.” I drew in a shaky breath, trying to release the lump in my throat.
“Kids?”
“One son.” I broke off a chunk of a small, pink cookie and fiddled with it just to give my hands something to do. “He’s almost twenty.”
“I see.” To my relief, Brianne didn’t pry. Without me saying it outright, she’d understood that Jeff and I got married because I was pregnant and filled in the blanks. And it warmed my heart that her voice was laced with kindness instead of judgment.
“Are you married?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a female friend, and though I’d known her all of half-an-hour, it somehow felt natural sitting at the table sharing things with her.
“Twenty-five years this May.” Love and joy shined bright in her eyes. A new kind of sadness, raw and envious, pulsed in my heart. Had I ever looked like that when I mentioned Jeff to someone? Probably not. “We’ve got a brood of our own. I’ll introduce you one day.”
“I’d like that very much.” My stomach grumbled like a lion in search of an antelope. “You know, Brianne, I don’t think I’ve had anything other than sugar to eat in at least a day. And I’ve been sleeping in my office for a week.”
“Well then, why don’t we go upstairs so you can have a nice lunch and settle in?”
“As long as I don’t have to cook.” When Jeff first got sick, well-wishers and colleagues sent casseroles and food delivery gift cards by the dozen.
We were still finishing off the contents of our freezer, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a meal of my own.
Which is a good thing, because I wasn’t exactly an ace in the kitchen.
My throat was warm from the drink, and clogged from my random, pitiful thoughts. The one place I should have been an ace was in my therapy clinic. And I hadn’t even done that right.
Looking at this put-together woman in front of me, the same age as me but with a life I could tell she enjoyed and work that fulfilled her, I felt like a tiny, messed up possum.
It wasn’t just my appearance. I could manage disheveled hair and my wrinkled clothes.
It was how I felt on the inside. Like my soul was as hungry as my stomach.
Somewhere in the past year, while caring for Jeff and trying to hold together the last dregs of my failing practice, I’d gripped onto everything with my fingertips while letting the rest of my body hang loose.
And just the offer of a supportive friend was enough to bring it all to the surface and make me realize everything I’d lost. And everything I’d let go of.
Right there in the lobby of the company that I now owned, with businesses I knew next to nothing about and a complete stranger in front of me, I broke down and gave in to the ugly, black despair I’d ridden on for far too long.
Tears erupted like a geyser. A sob escaped my throat, a strange sound that didn’t hold my voice, like a cork popping on champagne then ricocheting off the wall.
“Hunh.” I clamped one hand over my mouth at the odd sound, searching the space as if a customer had suddenly appeared and I would lose this business, too. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, honey.” Brianne took my hand and led me through the kitchenette and out a door in the back. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
The backdoor led to a small, fenced-in yard.
Overhead was another balcony, with a spiral staircase a short distance to my left.
There were no stairs inside the building, which meant this was the only way to the second floor.
Given that was supposed to be my new digs, it was reassuring to know I’d have some privacy.
Brianne fished a key from the envelope she’d retrieved earlier and unlocked the door. She stepped aside and gestured toward the doorway. “Welcome home, Simone.”