Month of Sundays (19 page)

She downloaded the five-page attachment and waited for the file to open. She looked at a photo of Griffin’s parents first. She had already seen Griffin’s mother, so she quickly moved on to her father.

Dr. William Sutton, tanned and handsome with a face that inspired trust, looked like a cross between Gary Cooper and Robert Redford. Griffin’s brothers were all tall, blond, and male model gorgeous. Her nieces were beautiful, already heartbreakers or soon to turn into them. Their skin tones varied from gold to brown.

Duncan’s wife was African-American and both their daughters had piercing gray-green eyes and gorgeous café au lait skin. Kieran—or was it Pearson?—was married to a woman from India; their three girls were a beautiful bronze. Logan and his partner were parents to a four-year-old girl they had adopted during a trip to China. And Pearson—or was it Ryan?—and his two girls seemed to have spent so much time in the sun they were baked a permanent brown.

She took a closer look at the photos of Griffin’s brothers and their families, conveniently labeled with everyone’s names. Underneath each picture was a list of the girls’ hobbies and interests. The list was, predictably, wide-ranging. With the final exam on Saturday, she had less than a week to prepare. Failure was not an option.

When the doorbell rang, she stashed the photos in her desk and got up to answer the door. Griffin stood in the hallway rubbing her shoulders as if the weight of the world rested on them.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Is there something on your mind?”

Griffin leaned over and picked up the picnic basket resting next to her foot. “Nothing four days of down time won’t solve.”

“Next weekend, you’ll have all the time you want.”

“But after that will be a different story.”

“What do you mean?”

Griffin paused. “When we return from vacation, I’ll be out of touch for a while. In fact, we’ll be seeing even less of each other than we are now.”

“I didn’t think that was possible considering we see each other only one day a week as it is.”

“I can’t get out of it. It’s a work thing.”

“I guessed as much.”

More and more, Griffin reminded her of Isabel. The
old
Isabel. The one who had been so focused on climbing the corporate ladder she didn’t have time for anything else. Griffin’s long work hours limited their time together. Her responsibilities to the restaurant, her employers, and her staff always came first.

Rachel felt disheartened. She wanted to be in a relationship with someone she could depend on. Someone who was present in every way. It became clearer a little more each day Griffin might not be that person. Like Isabel, Griffin’s priorities could change one day. But what if they didn’t? Did she want to spend months or maybe even years coming in second to someone else’s career? Once was enough.

Griffin seemed to sense her uncertainty.

“We’re not going to solve anything today, this week, or next. Let’s have lunch, take some time off, and have a good time. In a few weeks, we’ll sit down and talk and try to figure things out.”

“All right,” Rachel said.

Even though Griffin hadn’t made a commitment to their future, at least she seemed open to the idea. Rachel’s mood brightened. Though it may be incremental, they finally seemed to be making progress.

Outside, she enjoyed the feel of the sun on her skin as she and Griffin walked hand-in-hand to the small park down the street from her apartment. They found an empty spot and spread a large flannel blanket on the grass.

Griffin placed a picnic basket on a corner of the blanket. She cocked an ear toward the pier, where a five-piece band was playing a mixture of cover songs and original material.

“It’s not Central Park, but it’ll do in a pinch,” Rachel said. She opened the wine while Griffin served lunch.

After a trip to Mexico, when Griffin’s handmade tostadas and albondigas soup left Rachel shouting, “
Olé
,” they had arrived in Cuba. The picnic basket was packed with shredded flank steak, black beans, yellow rice, and plantains. The meal looked heavy but was practically vegetarian in comparison to their protein-laden trip to Brazil when they had visited a churrascaria. The waiters had circled the dining area carrying huge skewers laden with steak, sausage, fish, or chicken and kept (re)filling their plates until they were forced to throw in the towel and say, “
No más
.”

Rachel flipped through the pages of her organizer. “Next week marks our return to the States. Then it’s two months of regional fare I actually recognize. But if you’re not going to be here, I guess I’ll be eating it by myself.”

“You won’t even know I’m gone.”

“I doubt that.”

She stared at the bright red circle around July 29. The day would mark their last official date. The end of the journey on which they had embarked in January. Fighting a wave of nostalgia, she closed the organizer and set it aside.

After they finished eating, Griffin lay on her back and pulled Rachel on top of her. “Tell me about our vacation.”

“I thought you didn’t want to know any of the details.”

“It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and I’ve changed mine. I want to know what you’ve been working on so feverishly these past few weeks. Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get to the airport.”

“The airport? We aren’t driving?”

“Are you kidding? Traffic will be terrible. I’m staying as far away from the freeway as I can.”

“So our destination is a plane flight instead of a car ride away. How will I know what to pack?”

Rachel laughed. “We’re going to the beach. No matter which one we end up on, I think warm weather attire would be most appropriate.”

“Will I need a passport?”

“Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

Griffin snapped her fingers. “I know where we’re going.”

Rachel froze. Had Tucker spilled the beans? “Yeah, where?”

“Atlantic City for a little fun in the sun, a little gambling, and a lot of salt water taffy on the boardwalk.”

Rachel began to breathe again. “That sounds like a wonderful way to spend a weekend, but it isn’t how we’ll be spending ours.”

Griffin’s smile grew broader. “I’m not going to stop trying until I figure this out.”

“Good luck.” Rachel rolled off Griffin, grabbed the picnic basket, and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my apartment. It isn’t the beach, but it’s definitely clothing optional.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

Rachel looked over her shoulder. “I was counting on it.”

Griffin scrambled to her feet, hurriedly folded the blanket, and jogged to catch up with her. She slipped an arm around Rachel’s waist. “What if I forgot my sunscreen?”

“Don’t worry,” Rachel said, already imagining how they would spend the rest of the afternoon. “You won’t need it.”

*

“This is good practice for when the baby starts pre-school.” Colleen organized her handmade flash cards. The cards were more elaborate than Rachel expected for a task as simple as theirs. Then again, Colleen had time on her hands.

She had developed preeclampsia, the dangerous condition in which an expectant mother’s blood pressure soared and her extremities swelled from fluid retention. To protect her and the baby, Colleen’s doctors had put her on bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy. She was going stir crazy being stuck in her apartment all day so she volunteered to help Rachel “study.” With only one day left before her flight to California, Rachel was running out of opportunities to bone up.

“Okay,” Colleen said, sounding like the enthusiastic host of a children’s TV show. “Let’s start with this one.”

As Colleen held up the first picture, Rachel took a deep breath and tried to remember all the information she had crammed into her head the past three days.

“That’s Kieran the pediatrician, his wife Deepika the engineer, and their daughters Amber, Layla, and Maya. Kieran’s the oldest brother. He and Deepika met when Kieran did six months of volunteer work in Mumbai after his final year of medical school. They’ve been married for twenty-one years. Amber is a freshman majoring in internal medicine at Johns Hopkins. Layla is an aspiring actress. She’s the president of her high school drama club and, last year, she won the role of Mimi in a local production of
Rent
. Maya, the youngest of the three girls, is a serious Janis Joplin aficionado.”

“She’s my favorite.” Jane turned away from the Yankees-Red Sox game long enough to offer her two cents.

“You would say that.” Jane was such a Joplin fan she once strained her vocal cords trying to duplicate the famous rocker’s trademark raspy delivery.
The quietest week of my life.

“Okay, next one.” Colleen put Kieran’s flash card on the bottom of the pile and pulled out another.

“That’s Pearson the bicycle cop. He’s the middle brother. He’s married to Kelly, a former Miss California. They’ve been together for twenty years and married for sixteen. Their daughter, Tracy, prefers motorcycle helmets to tiaras.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Jane said. “
She’s
my favorite.”

“I don’t think you have a say. You’re doing great, Rachel.” Colleen flipped the cards again.

“That’s Ryan the general contractor. He’s the second oldest. He’s been married for eighteen years to Shannon, who’s a stay-at-home mom. Their daughter Shayanne is a few weeks away from starting her first summer job.”

“Which is?”

Rachel’s mind went blank. “Let me think.”

“It’s not too late for cue cards,” Jane said.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’ll give you a clue,” Colleen said. “Mind the…”

“Gap! Yes, she’s going to be a clerk at the Gap this summer. Her sister Brandi is a standout on her high school track team. Her specialty is the fifteen hundred meters, and she already has three of the fastest times in state history. Her parents are thinking scholarship, but she’s aiming higher: Olympic gold.”

“Nice save.”

“Thanks, but I can’t afford to have a slip up like that this weekend. I’m not going to have you around to give me helpful hints.”

“That’s what Griffin’s for. Just make sure you’re standing next to her at all times.”

“She’s going to be pulled in so many directions she won’t have time to babysit me. Besides, this is something I want to do on my own.”

She indicated she was ready for the next set of photos. She had only two brothers left. By process of elimination, she had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. Colleen held up the next picture.

“That’s Logan the real estate agent. He’s the youngest brother. He and his partner Daniel, a documentary filmmaker, have been together for seven years. Their daughter Diamond is four and the baby of the family. She got her unusual name because she’s ‘the shining jewel in her fathers’ eyes.’”

“Cue the hearts and flowers,” Jane said with light sarcasm.

“Two more months and you’ll be just as bad if not worse.” Her heart skipped a beat when Colleen flinched and rubbed her stomach. “Okay?” she whispered, trying not to alarm Jane.

“I’m fine. He’s really active tonight. If the Jets need a field goal kicker, I think I’ve found their man.” Colleen lifted her shirt and Rachel could clearly see the outline of a tiny heel poking against the side of her stomach. She lowered her shirt and held up the last photo. “One more left.”

“That would be Duncan the graphic designer. He’s married to the former Tara Marshall. Tara, who gave Griffin her first kiss way back when, is an architect who owns her own firm. Duncan and Tara have two daughters. Nicole is an avid reader whose goal is to read two books per week during summer vacation.”

“She sounds like someone I know,” Jane said. “What was your record?”

“I read a hundred books the summer before I started tenth grade.”

“Then you discovered girls and everything went to hell in a hand basket.”

“Whatever.”

Clearing her throat to get Rachel’s attention, Colleen tapped her finger against the third face in the picture she was holding.

“That’s Lindsay. She’s Griffin’s eight-year-old doppelganger. She’s into surfing and she wants to be a—drum roll, please—chef when she grows up.”

“If the next thing out of your mouth is Lindsay’s a left-handed lesbian,” Jane said, “I’ll need to see the results of the kid’s DNA test.”

Colleen put the flash cards away. “I think you’ve got this.”

“I had a good teacher.”

When the Yankees hit into an inning-ending double play, Jane stood and stretched her back. “Come on, Rach. Let me show you the baby’s room. We’ve made some changes since the last time you were here.”

Even though Jane had kept her abreast of every brush stroke and design update, Rachel dutifully followed her down the hall. Jane obviously wanted to discuss something other than non-toxic paint, antique cribs, and interactive mobiles.

Jane picked up a stuffed animal and hugged it to her chest. “I’m scared,” she said in a voice so low Rachel had to strain to hear her. “If something goes wrong, I could lose one or both of them.”