“
I
’
ve known Bridge since high school,”
Vera said, leaning back in her chair and settling her delicate hands over her stomach, “
but we didn
’
t sta
rt seeing each other until Bev hired him to install the shelves in the back of the store.”
“
I remember,”
I said. I
’
d been in the sixth grade at the time and had thought it funny how Bridge kept coming back to make sure the shelves were level.
“
Yes,”
she sa
id. “
Anyway, not long after you went away to college, he asked me to marry him.”
I blinked. “
He what?”
No one had told me this part. “
Anyway, I wasn
’
t sure what to do,”
Vera said. “
So, I did a Tarot card reading, and the reading said no. And I told Br
idge I couldn
’
t marry him.”
Her voice was starting to waver. I stayed quiet until she was ready to go on.
“
He asked me why not, and when I told him about the reading, he got angry. We didn
’
t speak for years, and now, when we see each other...Well. We
’
re ci
vil.”
I waited a minute before asking my next question.
“
Did you love him?”
She smiled a faraway smile, as if reliving an old memory. “
Yes.”
“
Then why did you pay attention to the Tarot reading? Why didn
’
t you just marry him anyway?”
“
Listen, honey, if you
go into it with intent, the Tarot will read whatever way you want it to. That Tarot reading didn
’
t say no. I did.”
She sighed and leaned her head back on the chair, staring at the ceiling. “
I was scared. When Bridge and I fought, I could never feel right
again until we
’
d made up. It scared me, needing one person so much that if they ever up and left...”
She gave a small laugh. “
I guess you weren
’
t the only one who
’
d noticed the Penis Teflon.”
I sat back in my chair. “
Do you think that
’
s what I did with Pet
er? Pushed him away because I was scared?”
Vera shrugged. “
Only you know that for sure. What do you think?”
I sighed. “
I don
’
t know.”
“
Well,”
Vera said, pushing herself up from her easy chair. “
I
’
ll leave you to yourself to figure that out.”
I got up and p
ulled her into a hug, resting my cheek on her shoulder like a little girl.
“
Thanks, Vera.”
She patted my back, pulled away, and cupped my chin in her hand. “
You tell me what you find out, okay?”
I smiled. “
Okay.”
I watched her leave, shutting the door care
fully behind her and tucking her hands into the crooks of her elbows as she headed back in the direction of the house. I waited a few minutes, then followed her out, closing and locking the door behind me before dragging myself up the outside stairs to my
apartment. I brushed my teeth, thinking about Bridge and Vera and how I was almost sure they both still loved each other, and how Bridge
’
s pride and Vera
’
s fear had cost them eleven years that might have otherwise been happy.
Or that could have led to pain
and loss and heartbreak anyway, like Mags and Jack.
I spit and rinsed and looked at myself in the mirror.
“
It
’
s all a big, stupid crapshoot,”
I said to my reflection. My reflection didn
’
t seem to be buying that line.
“
Oh, what the hell do you know?”
I sai
d, turning out the light in the bathroom and heading for bed.
“
Portia! Ian!”
Beauji
’
s mom, Wendy, clapped her hands after opening the front door. “
We
’
re so glad you could make it!”
She took Ian
’
s bottle of wine and the baby gift basket I
’
d brought and grin
ned up at us.
“
Oh, you didn
’
t have to bring anything, honey, but thank you.”
She motioned with her head toward the living room. “
Everyone
’
s in there. I
’
ll be right with y
’
all.”
I felt Ian
’
s hand on the small of my back as we moved into the house, and I was
glad I decided against jeans and went with the sheer blue summer dress the Mizzes had given me when I got into town. I had to admit it was gratifying when I caught Ian tugging at his collar after he picked me up.
Beau Sr., Davey, and Beauji were in the li
ving room, all crouched over the bassinet where, judging by the relative quiet, baby Miles was sleeping.
“
Well, hello, you two.”
Beau Sr. popped up when he saw us. He engulfed me in a hug, kissing me on the cheek a
nd lifting me off my feet, then reached out to shake Ian
’
s hand.
“
I have to thank you two again for taking care of my baby.”
He glanced over at Beauji and winked, then turned back to Ian and me. “
Not at all,”
Ian said. “
Glad we could help.”
“
Bridge couldn
’
t make it tonight, so Daddy sent him five pounds of peaches,”
Beauji said, waving us over to the empty spaces on the couch next to her. “
I think y
’
all got the better end of the deal.”
Davey grabbed Ian
’
s arm as he was about to sit down. “
I have to warn you
, man,”
he said, glancing quickly over his shoulder toward the kitchen, “
Wendy
’
s a huge fan. She
’
s read all your books and she actually changed her dress four times in the last half hour.”
“
Really?”
Ian said, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“
Don
’
t look at me,”
I said, smiling back at him. “
I had no idea.”
Beau Sr. stepped forward and clapped Ian on the shoulder. “
She
’
s promised to behave herself, but my lovely bride is known for behaving however she damn well pleases.”
My lovely bride.
Hearing Beau Sr. talk abou
t his wife was like standing next to a blazing hearth in winter. I smiled at Beauji, who rolled her eyes affectionately.
“
So it
’
s a decent bet she
’
ll be making you sign a pile of books,”
Davey said.
“
Or posing for endless Polaroid pictures she can show off
in town tomorrow,”
Beauji added.
“
My bride,”
Beau Sr. said, leaning in toward Ian, “
is an enthusiastic woman.”
That was an understatement. Wendy had been famous for doing the cheers from the bleachers along with Beauji and the rest of the squad at all the
home footba
ll games. And some of the aways.
Ian grinned. “
It
’
s no problem. I
’
m terribly flattered, really.”
Wendy entered the room at that moment with a tray of hors d
’
oeuvres. She watched Ian as she toured the room with the platter, finally breaking afte
r he complimented her on the stuffed mushrooms. She put the platter down and placed one hand on his arm.
“
I
’
m just such a huge fan,”
she gushed. “
I read
Clean Sweep
at least five times, and I just think you
’
re one of the most talented writers I
’
ve ever rea
d.”
“
Thank you, Wendy,”
he said, putting his hand over hers. “
You
’
re very kind to say so. I do hope you
’
ll allow me to sign your copy while I
’
m here.”
“
Copies,”
Davey coughed into his hand. Beauji smacked his leg. Wendy grinned and clasped her hands togeth
er.
“
Oh, really? Would you?”
she squealed, practically hopping up and down. “
That would be oh so wonderful! They
’
re right down here, in the den.”
Ian started down the hallway and Wendy practically skipped after him, turning back to squeal in excitement at
us before following him. I didn
’
t realize how big my smile was until I turned to Beauji and saw hers. Davey and Beau Sr. looked at each other.
“
I don
’
t know about you, son,”
Beau Sr. said. “
But I need me a drink.”
“
Right behind you. Portia?”
“
Gin and tonic
,”
I said.
He blew a quick kiss at Beauji. “
And I
’
ll be bringing the nursing mother the stiffest ginger ale in the house.”
As the men left, I stood up and looked down over Miles, sleeping in his portable bassinet. Beauji got up and stood next to me. “
Is he
or is he not the most beautiful baby ever?”
she asked.
“
He is,”
I said. Although it had only been two weeks, he was distinctly less puggish looking. That had to be a good sign.
Beauji bit her lower lip and spoke quietly. “
I got Jack
’
s phone number and ho
me address.”
I straightened up and turned to her. “
You
’
re kidding.”
Beauji shook her head.
“
I found him in the online white pages. He
’
s living in Tuscaloosa.”
She leaned over the bassinet and picked up Miles
’
s baby bag, pulling a little yellow piece
of paper from the front pocket.
“
You don
’
t have to call him, but if you decide you want to, which I predict you will, it
’
s there.”
I stared at her, all the warm fuzziness of the last few minutes practically obliterated by the small square of yellow paper
in my hand. Beauji clasped her hand over mine and looked into my eyes.
“
You
’
re going to be just fine, darlin
’,”
she said. “
Now put that in your pocket and don
’
t you think about it again until you
’
re ready. We
’
re going to have a good time tonight.”
I gave h
er a small smile as the rest of the party flooded back into the room on cue. Davey pressed my drink into my hand and I sipped it gratefully.
“
You seemed a little quiet at dinner,”
Ian said as he shut the car door behind him. “
Is everything all right?”
“
Yea
h,”
I said. “
You were great with Wendy. I think you made her year.”
He started up the engine and shrugged. “
It was nothing.”
“
Not to her, it wasn
’
t.”
I watched the trees and the houses float by as Ian drove us out of the neighborhood and toward town. “
You
don
’
t like attention, do you?”
“
What makes you say that?”