Month of Sundays (28 page)

“I can’t believe Veronica made watermelon pass for ahi tuna,” Rachel said as Griffin refilled their wine glasses. “How did she manage that feat?”

Griffin leaned back on the couch and wrapped her arm around Rachel’s shoulder. “That’s what molecular gastronomy’s all about. Changing not only how food looks but how it tastes as well. Traditionalists say it’s a parlor trick more about style and technique than heart and it doesn’t serve as a true barometer of someone’s ability to craft a meal.”

“What do you say?” Rachel laced her fingers around Griffin’s.

“The results can be fascinating when properly executed, but I’d much rather consume a meal than a science experiment. And I’d much rather spend more quality time with you than watch Veronica notch yet another victory.”

“She won the trip to France? Damn. I was hoping you had bagged that one so we could take a real culinary trip.”

“There’s always next week.”

Griffin grabbed for the remote, but Rachel slid it out of reach. “If we don’t watch the episode to the bitter end, I won’t be able to hold up my end of the conversation around the water cooler tomorrow.”

“I hope you’ve been working out,” Veronica said onscreen. “The camera adds ten pounds, you know.” She flopped on her bed and folded her hands behind her head. “Now hurry up before Sal drinks all the beer.”

On TV, Griffin went to the bathroom to change into a borrowed swimsuit. As soon as the door clicked shut, Veronica pushed herself off her bed and tiptoed across the room. With one ear cocked toward the bathroom, she opened Griffin’s notebook and flipped through the pages, stopping long enough to commit several of the entries to memory. Then she carefully placed the book as she’d found it and resumed her former position on the bed.

Griffin pounded her fist on the arm of the chair. “I knew it. I knew I couldn’t trust her. She’d do anything to get a competitive advantage.”

Rachel placed a calming hand on her thigh. “Did she use any of your recipes on the show?”

“No, she was too smart for that. If she had used one of my recipes, I would have known right away what she had done. I wouldn’t have had to wait until the episode aired to find out. Now I won’t be able to…”

She trailed off.

Rachel smiled. “I knew you made it to the final round.”

Griffin remained noncommittal. “You said it. I didn’t.”

“I won’t say a word. I promise.”

Rachel turned back to the show. On the screen, the chefs were splitting a case of beer while they sat in a bubbling hot tub. Everyone laughed uproariously after Sal told a sidesplitting joke. Veronica put her left arm around Griffin’s neck. Her right hand slipped beneath the surface of the bubbling water. Veronica whispered something in Griffin’s ear and jerked her head in a gesture that seemed to say, “Follow me.”

Veronica climbed out the hot tub. Griffin followed suit.

Griffin reached for the remote again. “Uh, I think we’ve seen enough.”

“No,” Rachel said firmly. “We haven’t.”

“Screw the party out there,” Veronica said on the TV screen. She was lying on her bed in the room she shared with Griffin. She crawled off the bed and pinned Griffin against the wall. “Let’s start one in here.”

Rachel gasped when Griffin’s and Veronica’s mouths met in a passionate kiss.

“Wait, Rachel,” Griffin said. “I can explain.”

Rachel held up a hand to silence her. Then she placed the same hand over her mouth. Her fingers trembled against her lips.

On TV, Griffin pushed Veronica away. Veronica landed on the bed, laughing in delight as she bounced on the firm mattress. Griffin took a step toward her. “You’re breaking my heart. Are we going to do this or not?”

Then the screen faded to black as Veronica said in voiceover, “It looks like the angel and the bad girl are together again.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rachel said when she finally regained her ability to speak.

Griffin looked stricken. Rachel assumed her face bore a matching expression. She had felt this level of betrayal only one other time in her life. She had hoped she would never feel it again.

“What you saw?” Griffin said. “That isn’t how it was. That’s not what happened.”

Rachel shrugged off Griffin’s hand on her arm. “Are you actually going to try to convince me that I didn’t just see you and Veronica playing tonsil hockey after she felt you up in the hot tub? I have six million viewers I can call to the witness stand to back me up.”

“For what it’s worth, the kiss happened before we got in the hot tub, not after. And she kissed me. I did not kiss her. As for the rest of it, I know what it looks like, but nothing happened.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about the kiss?”

“Because the kiss didn’t mean anything. Veronica made a pass at me and I turned her down. End of story. Rachel, I promise you—”

“Griffin, your promises don’t mean anything to me. I wish I could say the same about you.”

“Rachel, don’t.” Griffin walked toward her, spewing apologies as she held out her arms in supplication. “Before I met you, domestic bliss wasn’t on my agenda. Now the only thing I want to do is make you happy. I didn’t get to that point overnight, but I’m here now and there’s nowhere else I want to be.”

Rachel backed away from her. “Too little, too late.”

“Rachel—”

“Just go, Griffin. It’s over.” Rachel wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from falling apart. “Please. Leave.”

“Rachel—”

“Go!”

Griffin left without another word. As soon as the door closed on her latest search for a love that would last a lifetime, Rachel collapsed on the floor in tears. This time, she didn’t think she’d be able to get up.

*

Griffin pulled out her cell phone and punched in Tucker’s number. “Drop whatever you’re doing. I’ve got a project for you that supersedes everything else.”

“Let me guess. Is it about tonight’s episode?”

“I need you to get your hands on the original footage.”

“I don’t know if the producers will hand it over without a court order.”

“Get my legal team involved if you have to. I want that footage and I want it yesterday.”

“You got it, boss. I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who works at the production company. Let me work my phone tree before you call the guys in the suits.”

“Tucker, if you pull this off, I will buy you a pair of shoes for every day of the year. Do you understand?”

“Not necessary, boss. There’s no charge for this one. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.”

“Thanks, Tuck.”

Disconsolate, Griffin walked the streets for hours. How, in a city of millions, could she feel so alone?

Rachel wanted to call in sick for the foreseeable future, but she settled for one day. Pep talks from Jane, Colleen, and her mother got her out of bed each morning. She stumbled through the ensuing days but somehow managed to make it through them. Griffin called several times a day for two weeks, but Rachel let the calls go to voice mail. The messages were always the same. Griffin pleading for Rachel to trust her. To believe her version of events when Rachel’s own eyes had seen something entirely different.

History had repeated itself. Just like Isabel, Griffin had betrayed her in the worst way imaginable. Rachel had allowed herself to trust again. She had allowed someone into her heart again. What had it gotten her? Hurt. Again.

As she worked through lunch, she tried to concentrate on her client’s tax return instead of her own problems. The client had been granted an extension, which meant she had until October to submit the filing. She sorted through the additional information she had requested to see if she had everything she needed to complete the form without having to wait another three months. Her desk phone rang just as she located the receipts she had been waiting on since April.

“Rachel Bauer.”

“Ms. Bauer, this is John at the security desk. I have a package for you from a Ms. Trixie Cerrito. Would you like to pick up the package yourself or would you prefer to have someone from the mail room deliver it to you?”

For a long moment, Rachel couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. Trixie Cerrito was Griffin’s porn name. Griffin was here. Or had been. And she had left something she wanted her to have.

Rachel had spent the last two weeks trying to excise Griffin Sutton from her heart. Why hadn’t the procedure worked? The mention of Griffin’s name still made her heart beat faster. She still longed to hear Griffin call her Puddles. To have her hold her in her arms one more time.

“Ms. Bauer?”

“Sorry. I’m on my way.”

She locked her computer and took the elevator downstairs. When he saw her coming, John placed a manila envelope on the counter. Rachel broke the seal with her finger. A folded piece of stationery, an unlabeled DVD in a clear plastic case, and three tickets to the live finale of
Cream of the Crop
rested inside the envelope.

Rachel waited until she reached the sanctuary of the elevator before she unfolded the slip of paper. The letter inscribed on it was brief. Not much longer than a note. The note was written in Griffin’s familiar slanted script.

Puddles,

I don’t make a habit of lying to people I care about, and I care about you, though I don’t have the words to adequately express the depth of my feelings for you. Please watch the enclosed DVD and compare the original, unedited footage to what you saw spliced and diced on TV. I’ll be waiting for your call. Not to say, “I told you so,” but to try to tell you everything I stubbornly left unsaid.

If I don’t hear from you, I hope to see you in the audience during the finale of
Cream of the Crop
. Whether I win or lose, I can’t imagine doing either without you there.

Trixie

When the elevator doors opened, Rachel sprinted through the maze of cubicles. Griffin had taken a risk by revealing she had progressed to the final round. She had taken an even bigger one by opening her heart. Rachel wanted to trust her. She wanted to believe in her. Did she have the proof in her hand that showed she could?

“Slow down, Bauer,” Mike Andrews said after she nearly bowled him over. “Where’s the fire?”

Rachel unlocked her computer and placed the DVD in the appropriate drive. She spread her shoulders to block the screen and plugged in her headphones to prevent the playback from being overheard.

The footage was raw, devoid of the underlying score and dubbed-in voiceovers that had been in evidence on the broadcast. A timer in the corner let Rachel know the sequence was unbroken.

On the computer screen, Veronica looked over Griffin’s shoulder while Griffin sketched in her chef’s notebook. After making a smartass comment about the sketch, Veronica asked Griffin to serve as chaperone while she took a dip in the hot tub with the rest of the contestants. Griffin dragged her feet until Veronica finally managed to convince her.

Rachel itched to hit the fast forward button, but she let the scene play out in real time.

While Griffin changed clothes in the bathroom, Veronica rifled through her notebook.

So far, nothing has changed.

Then Veronica resumed her position on the bed and Griffin came out of the bathroom. On TV, the footage had skipped from the bedroom to the hot tub. Rachel leaned closer to her computer screen as Veronica backed Griffin against the wall and kissed her. Griffin pushed Veronica away.

“You said you needed a chaperone while you were in the hot tub,” Griffin said. “Are we going to do this or not?”

Veronica tried to goad her into changing her mind. “Domestic bliss has made you boring.”

“You’re breaking my heart.” Griffin walked toward the bed and dragged her out of the room. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The cameraman trailed Griffin and Veronica outside to the hot tub, where they remained for less than fifteen minutes before Sal told the joke that had been shown on air. Veronica’s left arm wrapped around Griffin’s neck. Her right hand disappeared beneath the roiling water. Then she leaned over and whispered in Griffin’s ear.

“Boner alert. We’ve played nice long enough. Let’s get out of here.”

Griffin nodded. “Right behind you,” she whispered.

Veronica climbed out of the hot tub. Griffin followed her. Rachel watched them head to the communal kitchen, where they made grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches and played catch-up for twenty minutes before going to sleep in separate beds.

This version of the episode was considerably less exciting than the edited one but a great deal more satisfying.

Rachel stared at the computer screen long after the footage ended. Griffin had been telling the truth all along, but she had refused to listen. She had been quick to believe the lie and hesitant to accept the truth.

She owed Griffin an apology. And so much more.

She reached for the phone but thought better of picking it up. Even if she apologized for the past, it wouldn’t change the future. As in her and Griffin’s respective visions of it couldn’t be more different. She planned meticulously for everything. When she wasn’t working, Griffin flew by the seat of her pants. She liked stability. Griffin’s life was anything but stable.