Some Women (6 page)

“That was brutal.” At the end of class, Annabel stretched her aching arms through the sleeves of her camel-colored shearling coat—the one Henry had bought her for her thirty-fifth birthday. Another gift from her husband.
Her
.
Husband
. She hadn't allowed herself to contemplate not being able to call him that anymore, even though the divorce proceedings had commenced just days earlier.

Had Henry already stopped calling her his wife? Annabel hadn't bothered to ask. Whenever they spoke, which was still once or twice a day, there was always so much to go over. What time he'd be picking the kids up for dinner—for now they'd agreed that twice a week seemed fair. Plus every other weekend he'd take them to visit his sister, Lisa, and her family in New Haven. As it stood, Henry had rented a small apartment near his office on a monthly basis—until they finalized things, he'd said. What did that even
mean? Nothing would ever be
final
in her mind. Even if they signed a document saying that they were no longer legally committed, they'd still be bound to each other indefinitely through the kids.

Henry had insisted that they tell the boys something. He'd said it wasn't fair to him for them to think he was suddenly gone so often. In an effort to be concise, he'd proposed the following one-liner:
While Mommy and Daddy love each other and you very much, it's in everyone's best interest for us to be apart
. Annabel had agreed. Only when the time had come, she'd instinctively tagged a
for now
onto the end.

Before leaving, Henry had delivered the news that he wanted to take Harper and Hudson to Lisa's house for Thanksgiving. Suddenly it had hit her like a mallet to the head, that the clearly defined road map that had once been her life was about to be shredded into meaningless relics. There would be lonely, dead-end streets. Diverging paths. And just enough intersecting trails to make the whole thing as convoluted and muddled as possible. The ground felt unsteady beneath her feet. Everything had been stable and predictable for so long that now she was left to wonder what would change, go wrong, or surprise her next. Annabel had never been one to appreciate surprises. She felt dizzy, breathless, and choleric all at once. Henry was single-handedly obliterating everything she'd known. He'd robbed Annabel of her security and raided her inner peace like they were engaged in guerrilla warfare. She'd told him she'd think about his Thanksgiving proposal. Then she'd slammed the door behind him and called her lawyer.

“Completely brutal.” Piper sighed. “I wonder if it'll ever get easier.” She followed Annabel to the café next door, where they were seated at their usual table by the front window. They both
relished the sport of people watching and, before Annabel's divorce had devoured their conversations, they'd taken great pleasure in pointing out random strangers and concocting comprehensive backstories, which would have them occupied for hours.

There'd been the time when Annabel had chosen an attractive woman with dark brown hair slicked into a neat chignon. It had been raining that day, so she'd been wearing a tan trench coat belted at the waist. “Stripper,” Annabel had announced, chortling aloud. Because that was about as dirty as it got with her. She'd then gone on to explain that said stripper was taking her clothing off only to put herself through a master's degree program in education. So she could be a teacher. That was when Piper had given the woman a closer look and realized that she was, in fact, already a teacher. At Fern's school. This had launched them both into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“I hear it doesn't. My friend Amanda has been taking the noon barre class five days a week for about a year. She claims she's perpetually sore.”

“Well, that's great to hear.”

“I guess it means it's working. At least I hope it is.”

“What, now that you might have to dip back into the dating pool?” Piper's hand flew to her mouth. “I'm so sorry, Annabel. I didn't mean that the way it sounded.”

“It's okay.” Only it wasn't. The idea of having dinner with another man was terrifying enough. The very last thing she wanted to entertain was someone other than her husband seeing her naked. Just the thought of it was enough to make her slink down in her chair. Where would she meet someone anyway? It wasn't as if she was about to hit the bar scene or jaunt into Manhattan for a night
of clubbing with her girlfriends. She didn't even have single girlfriends anymore. Unless you counted Piper, who these days was closer to calling herself married than Annabel was.

Would she have to sign up for one of those ghastly dating websites? Annabel wouldn't. She couldn't. The whole thing would be far too humiliating. Plus, what would she even say about herself?
Annabel has no job and two young kids. She likes to shop and has currently taken up working out in order to get her fat ass into shape. Oh, and her ex-husband thinks she's a miserable person. Let's grab a cocktail, shall we?

“No, it's not. It was insensitive. I'm sorry.” Piper handed Annabel her cell phone. “If it makes you feel any better, I just got this text from my assistant. She was able to track down where Henry has made dinner reservations on Saturday night. It's a reservation for two at Nellie's Tavern.”

“He loves that place.” She shook her head in disbelief. Henry had taken her there for their fifth wedding anniversary. And their seventh. Not to mention for various birthdays. Annabel could predict his order faster than her own—filet mignon medium rare with a side of creamed spinach and an order of potatoes gratin. What she couldn't predict was whose mouth he'd be spooning that creamed spinach into. She shuddered involuntarily. “It's so strange.”

“What?”

“That he has plans I don't know about. I used to be able to see his schedule online. Until he changed his email password.”

“It doesn't mean it's a romantic thing.”

“I bet it is, though.” Her eyes stung with the threat of tears. It didn't take much lately for her to erupt into uncontrollable sobs. Fortunately, to this point, she'd avoided public blubbering.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm going to check it out and report back.”

“You'll take pictures?” Annabel despised the desperation in her voice. She'd never imagined it would come to this. She barely recognized herself anymore.

“This isn't my first rodeo, my friend.”

“Thank you.” She nodded gratefully.

“Don't thank me yet. I haven't found anything.”

“Yes, but you're trying. And that's more than anyone else has done for me.” She swallowed her anxiety. “Did you know that when you get divorced people immediately become allergic to you? It's like they're worried it's contagious.”

“I'm not surprised in this town. Try being the only never-been-married single mom in Eastport, Connecticut. Most of the women don't want to associate with me, for fear I'll sink my claws into their husbands. As if I'm some major dish.” She snorted.

“Speaking of which, did you see that hot little number in the back right corner of class this morning? When we did that leg-stretch thing against the wall, she could practically touch her nose to her knee. And she was prancing around like it was nothing during the cardio section.”

“No, I didn't. I'm afraid that if I look at anyone other than myself in the mirror, I'll topple onto the floor. If you haven't noticed, my sense of equilibrium leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Well, she couldn't be a day over thirty. Bitch.”

“She could be a lovely person, for all you know.”

“She could be.” Annabel watched as the door to the café opened, allowing a gust of cold air to stream through. “Oh, shit.
Don't look now, but she just walked in.” Piper turned around. “I told you not to look!”

“Yeah, sorry.
Don't look now
means
Look right now
to me.”

“And you call yourself a private investigator.”

“Actually, no, I don't! You're the one that came up with that idea, remember?” Piper focused on the woman, who was every bit as perky as Annabel had described. “Oh, my God, I know her!” She whipped her head back around to face Annabel. “That's Mackenzie Mead. She's married to CeCe Mead's son and she runs the marketing department at my company.”

“Oh yeah. I think I've seen her before in
Eastport Magazine
.” Annabel appraised the woman as a jeweler would a diamond. “She's even prettier in person. You should say hello.”

“Are you crazy? She has no idea who I am. Plus, I'm half an hour late to work. Don't even look in her direction.” Piper held the menu in front of her face.

“She'll never see you now!” Annabel smirked.

“Put your menu up too. Come on.”

“Why? She doesn't know me.” Annabel did as Piper said regardless. “This time, really do not turn around. She's coming this way.”

“Piper?” Mackenzie stood at the side of their table in black capri-length Lycra yoga pants with a figure-grazing white tank top under her distressed-leather, motorcycle-style jacket.

“Oh, hi. Mackenzie, right? I didn't see you come in.”

“We were in exercise class together just now.”

“Really?”

“I always stand in the back. I feel like such an uncoordinated fool in there.”

“
You
feel like an uncoordinated fool?” Annabel interjected, in an attempt to rescue Piper from her awkward discourse. “I thought you might be one of the teachers at first.”

“Ha!” Mackenzie laughed, and Annabel noticed how straight and white her teeth were. “I just started. I've always been more of a runner, but I wanted to find a workout that wasn't as hard on the body. I'm, um, trying to get pregnant.” She massaged her belly in a circular motion, and Annabel couldn't help but wonder if she already was. Women always said they were going to make major lifestyle changes in advance—give up things like coffee and alcohol. But, the truth was, most of it was crap. And anyway, Annabel's obstetrician had once told her that he'd heard of more kids conceived on drunken nights than at any other time.

“Good for you.” Annabel smiled. She remembered being Mackenzie's age, likely twenty-seven or twenty-eight, if she guessed correctly, when the future had held the promise of
everything
. Back when she hadn't given any thought to divorce agreements or custody battles over the children she didn't even have yet. She'd viewed the world through the rosiest glasses and had occupied a bubble that even the sharpest needle wouldn't have been able to burst. And she imagined Mackenzie's bubble was even sturdier, given the family she'd married into. At least she hoped it was, for her sake.

“Thanks. It's early yet. I have a hard time keeping my big mouth shut.”

“Your secret is safe with us.” Annabel signaled to Piper, who was staring silently at Mackenzie, no doubt thankful that Annabel had hijacked the conversation. “Right, Piper?”

“Oh yeah. Absolutely. My lips are sealed.”

“I really appreciate that. You know how my mother-in-law is.”

“I don't even know her that well.” Piper shook her head.

“Don't worry. I'm fairly certain no one knows CeCe that well. Except maybe her dog.” Mackenzie smiled slyly. “I know she thinks very highly of you, though.”

“Me?”
Piper pressed her palm to her chest.

“Yup. Remember when you and Lucy helped her and my husband with that big project a few months ago? She still talks about how sharp you were with your observations.”

“Wow, that's nice to hear.”

“Especially coming from the boss lady.” Mackenzie grinned. “Even Santa has a hard time making it onto her ‘good' list.” She held up her cup of steaming tea. “Gotta run to work. Will I see you ladies in class again?”

“I'm afraid so.” Annabel sighed.

“Well, nice to meet you . . .”

“Annabel.”

“And nice to see you, Piper. I'm sure we'll run into each other in the halls at Mead.”

“Absolutely.”

Mackenzie waved and weaved her way through the crowd and back out the door.

“Hello? Earth to Piper.” Annabel passed her hand in front of Piper's face. “Are you starstruck or something?”

“Honestly? Kind of. No one at the company really talks to Trevor or Mackenzie. I didn't even think she knew my name. Much less Lucy's. I mean, she really pulled that out of her ass.”

“She seems like a genuinely nice person.”

“See, I told you she wasn't a bitch.”

“That was when you didn't know who I was talking about!”

“Still, it'll teach you not to judge a book by its cover.” Piper rounded a brown eyebrow.

“That's unlikely. Nine times out of ten, the cover says it all. Speaking of which . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Did you see the look on her face when she was talking about getting pregnant?”

“No, why?”

“For God's sake. Aren't you supposed to be observant?”

“Apparently, according to CeCe Mead.”

“I'm telling you she's already got a bun in the oven.”

“Mackenzie?”

“No, Madonna.”

“Very funny.”

“Mark my words. That girl's eating for two.”

“You think?” Piper considered this for a moment. “That would actually be big news. Everyone at the office knows CeCe has been dying for a grandson. Plus, she's talked about it in every interview I've read with her.”

“And yet we're the first to know.” Annabel's lips curled smugly.

“Well, she didn't actually come out and say it.”

“She didn't have to.”

“Maybe you should be the one doing the sleuthing.”

“Believe me, I would if I could.”

“Okay, I have to get to work.” Piper stood up.