Authors: Tara McTiernan
That's when she saw Sharon, standing just outside of the door to the bathroom, the door itself still swinging shut. Sharon was staring at her.
Vodka Martini
Sharon stepped out of the bathroom stall feeling as if she was in a shadowy closet. After the glittering gold and green of The Birdcage, the famous bar's decor making her think of shimmering leaves in summer sunshine, the bar's ladies room was ridiculously black: black marble floor, walls, sinks, toilets - even the ceiling tiles had been painted black. The lighting was so low it was hard to see where she was going.
The darkness also made it harder for Sharon to stay awake. After the shaking and her nervous high from the afternoon's drama had subsided, she felt herself struggling to stay engaged in the conversation. As every minute ticked by, she felt the lure of home and her soft bed growing stronger. Although she'd been faced with how empty her life had become in the car earlier, she was glad she was going home now to a quiet mess-free house. It had been too long of a day.
The bathroom was eerily silent, typically chatty Chelsea sitting quietly in her stall. And she'd been that way all night. Every question, even about her job hunting, had been answered too succinctly for the girl Sharon had grown to know well: a girl who loved to talk. Whenever they'd gone to the bathroom together in the past, Chelsea would continue the conversation between stalls, burbling happily away.
Sharon finally located the ebony soap dispenser which was hiding on the equally black marble sink and she squeezed - surprise! - white pearly soap into her hand and put her hands under the automatic faucet to start the water flow. Lathering her hands under the cool water, she broke the silence. "So, Chelsea, that was really nice of you to think of your old boss. I'm sure Lucie will impress her at Bianca's dinner party."
There was a pause and then Chelsea called back, "Yeah? I hope so."
"And the book proposal, too. That's so great that you know all that."
There was a sigh from Chelsea's stall and then a flushing noise before the stall door swung open. Chelsea, looking miserable, crossed to the sink. "I guess. I'll try to help. I don't know how much use I'll be."
"Hey, any help is good help."
Chelsea only shrugged, squeezing soap onto her own hands.
Sharon was dying to bring up the subject of Molly, but she knew Chelsea would scorn it. Still, all she could think about were the things Lucie alluded to when Sharon made her confession about that afternoon's events. Sharon had to know what happened, the true story of Lucie and Molly, but Lucie was clearly a proponent of discretion. However, Lucie was now in danger of losing her business. Maybe that would be enough to make her talk. Sharon had a definite plan to message Lucie and try to make plans, just the two of them. If they got together and their conversation was one on one, Lucie might open up. Sharon hoped so, needed some kind of lead that might suggest a solution, because Molly was now not only out to get Lucie, she also had her sights set on Sharon.
Sharon tried to think of something else to talk about, something that would cheer Chelsea up. Chelsea was clearly depressed about being unemployed. Even worse as far as her friend was concerned, she was single with no knight in shining armor on the horizon. Then it hit Sharon. A date with a handsome stockbroker! "You must be psyched for that guy that Bianca's setting you up with! He sounds hot.... plus, he's got your number one requirement?"
Chelsea's eyes grew wide. "What?"
"Money! You always say that he has to be successful. If he works with John, I'm sure he is?"
"Oh. Yeah. That's true."
"Boy, you are enthusiastic tonight," Sharon said, rolling her eyes and picking up a folded black towel after finding it by feel where it was piled with the others in the corner of the counter.
Chelsea only sighed. Then she brightened, looking at Sharon with renewed interest. "What about you? Bianca's setting you up? And what about Dean? I thought for sure by now you two would be seriously dating?"
"Whoa, Nellie. Which question do you want me to answer first?"
"Dean! What happened?"
"I should've known you wouldn't let that slip by. When I was talking about him earlier, I was shocked you didn't chime in with your usual hearts and flowers."
"Talking earlier?"
"You were checked out, staring at your drink."
"Oh," Chelsea said, looking away as she reached for a towel. "Anyway, what happened?"
"Nothing. Just like I told you. He was just being polite. Apologizing."
"No. Dean likes you. A lot. I swear. You've got to believe me."
"No, he avoids me like he owes me money. I haven't even seen him in weeks."
"Then go next door! Say, 'Hi, how are you? Let's hang out!' I bet he's dying for you to do that."
"Are you kidding?"
At that moment, Chelsea's iPhone chirped. She scrambled for it. Pulling her phone out of her purse and holding it up, she said, "Uh...oh. This text is important. I better answer. It's....it's about a job!"
Sharon nodded. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you at Bianca's party."
"Yeah, okay, see you then," Chelsea said, already avidly typing with her thumbs.
"Bye," Sharon said, turned and walked out through the bathroom door, able to locate it in the murky darkness due to its golden curved handle. Stepping into the bar, she was surprised that the large room had emptied out almost completely, only the bartenders remaining, clustered in a corner and talking in low voices.
But no, there were two people standing at the top of the stairs across the room. It was Bianca and Kate. They were starting down the stairs, Kate going first. Bianca made a strange downward waving movement.
Then Sharon heard Bianca call, "Kate! Watch out, you're going to fall!"
A crashing thundering noise followed, the floor under Sharon's feet shaking slightly. What happened? Sharon stared, trying to wrap her head around what she'd just seen. It almost looked like Bianca...no. It was her imagination. Bianca didn't push Kate? Was that Kate, that clattering sound? At that moment, in the distance, there was a tiny yelping scream.
Bianca, poised at the top of the stairs, looked as if she was listening, her head turning slightly so that Sharon could see her profile. Was that a smile on Bianca's lips? Then Bianca's hands flew up and she turned and looked around, first at the bartenders and then at Sharon.
Sharon, hearing the scream from the stairwell, felt her muscles contract, ready to dash forward, see what happened, help. But it was Bianca's face that immobilized her. The smile she thought she'd seen was gone. In its place was a bizarre expression, an odd combination of fear and triumph, Bianca's usually heavy-lidded almost-sleepy eyes were blazing and wide as they honed in on Sharon from across the room.
Chardonnay
Lucie took the stairs slowly; grateful for the numbing effect of the two glasses of wine she'd had. Her hip still hurt her, but instead of a sharp jabbing pain, it was blanketed, dull.
The wine wasn't the only thing she was grateful for. When she left the rental kitchen and on the drive all the way from Stamford to Greenwich she'd racked her brain, but still had not had one clue about what to do about Molly's campaign against her business. Her whole life suddenly felt hopeless and desperately sad. Fail - that was all she'd ever do.
But then Sharon shouted her name while she was making her way down the sidewalk toward The Vault, and from that moment on, things got better. She was able to talk to Sharon for one thing, who was as wry and witty and straightforward as ever, which was a relief and a pleasure. Joking with Sharon as they made their way into the restaurant, the weight that made her feel as if sandbags were resting on her shoulders had lifted.
Then there was the general enjoyment of the conversation, being distracted with the others' lives. Particularly, seeing Kate happily pregnant and hearing about her baby-oriented spending spree was fun. Lucie had spent enough time gazing covetously at stenciled cribs and tiny darling outfits and fuzzy stuffed bears to know a lot about what she wanted to have someday when she had children, and she passed on all her opinions to Kate who studiously wrote them down as if they were commandments rather than suggestions.
Finally, the amazing turn of events when Chelsea suggested Lucie put together a book proposal for her old boss, Edie. With an "in" like Chelsea and her help with putting together the proposal, Lucie might actually have a chance at a published cookbook, one of her brightest dreams. She was already fantasizing about the dedication page and what she should say about her mother. Maybe the whole introduction could be about Mere! Then, to make things even better, Bianca offered to showcase Lucie's cooking for Edie at her dinner party. Assuming Edie was the Francophile that Chelsea said she was and Chelsea could find out Edie's favorite dishes, Lucie's book seemed like shoo-in.
Halfway down the stairs Lucie paused, letting the growing throb in her hip dissipate. She remembered her most recent conversation with Erin yesterday morning, her rough-around-the-edges step-sister saying it like it was as usual.
"Look at you. You're a massive gimp! You can't even cross the floor without taking a break," Erin said, standing in the commercial kitchen supply store where they'd gone to shop and watching Lucie make her stop-start way around the merchandise.
Lucie turned and blushed. "Is it really that bad?"
"Yes! It's worse than bad. How can you even work? You should be in a wheelchair!"
"Stop it. You're exaggerating."
"Not by much. Really, I think it's time you got some help in the kitchen."
"I want to be the one that does the cooking. That's my plan and I'm sticking with it, but I could hire a prep chef? I will."
"Why don't you let me help? Come on!"
Lucie looked at Erin. Erin, who could burn water, in the kitchen whipping up dill sauce over poached salmon? Not a chance. "Erin. We've talked about this."
"But I'm a quick learner! You could teach me! And then I could have my own catering business!"
"Please, let's not fight again," Lucie said, feeling exhausted. Having Erin work for her was like being on a big hamster wheel: run, run, run... and go nowhere. And, on top of that, she had to hide the fact that Erin worked for her from her father and Flo. She didn't know how much longer she could keep it up, but she couldn't figure out a better solution either.
Erin was right about Lucie's hip, though. Her father was, too. Lucie couldn't keep on like this - she had to see that physical therapist, not just for her father's sake, but for her own. What was she so afraid of? If she didn't get better, at least she'd know it really was as hopeless as she felt it was. She didn't really have any knowledge about the limits of her disability other than the physical therapy she's struggled through and quit prematurely in her twenties. Her feelings about whether or not her hip would heal were just that: feelings. She would have to go for it.
She also decided at that moment that she would go home and wait up for Ryan, start work on the book proposal while she waited. They had to talk sometime and she didn't have another job until next week, the last-minute mystery cancellation on Monday for this Saturday's dinner party solved, Molly the likely culprit. Lucie had time to wait up, would drink cups of tea to stay awake if she had to, but she would see Ryan walk through the front door whenever he finally got home from the bar. She would start the thaw; force it if she had to. She loved him, believed in him, and she had made him doubt that. She would remove those doubts tonight.
Lucie started down the stairs again, taking one step at a time, slowly, slowly. She was almost there when she heard a tumbling sound behind her, something that sounded awkward and large rolling down the stairs right at her. She jerked and turned, but not in time to see what it was before it slammed into her, knocking her down.