When the waiter returns to take our orders, I go with the herb omelet and crispy potatoes while Derrick chooses the trout amandine. We both order mimosas. The live music lends a festive air and floats above the buzz of conversation. Sunlight streams through the plate glass windows and glints off the mirrored bar.
“So, who are you looking at right now? Any athletes you’re hoping to scoop up?” Derrick asks.
“I don’t do a lot of ‘scooping,’ but there’s a pitcher at a local community college that I feel has been underrated.”
“And what is it about him that makes you think otherwise?”
I tense briefly before I reply, but I can see from his expression and his tone that it’s a real question and not an assault on my observation skills or knowledge of the game. “Scouts and agents have dismissed him because he doesn’t look like a pitcher and his windup is a little bit jerky. His fastball rarely hits ninety, but he’s got a great changeup and a killer curveball. A lot of people are so fixated on the radar gun that they overlook someone with skill and finesse.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes. If I can find a spot for him at a ball club with a pitching staff that will take advantage of his strengths and help him develop, he could be big.”
He looks at me with surprise. “I didn’t realize there was so much nuance involved. So much long-range planning and strategizing.”
“Well, there are those who go for the obvious and prefer to sign players who are already in demand. But I’m not always those players’ first choice.”
“Because?” He waits, practically daring me to say it.
“Because I’m a woman. And although I’m at a well-known agency and have handled some very successful athletes, that is a strike against me in many players’ eyes. I have to work harder than most men. Be smarter.”
I wait for him to laugh or pass it off as my imagination or knee-jerk paranoia, but he nods. “I see it in the legal field all the time. One of the women who mentored me when I was starting out was absolutely brilliant. I learned so much from her. But she had to prove herself over and over again. She had this poster of Ginger Rogers on her wall that I’ve never forgotten, not that I knew who Ginger Rogers was at the time. Had to look her up. It said, ‘Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did. She just did it . . .’”
“‘. . . backwards and in heels,’” I finish.
“That’s the one.” His smile is slow and appreciative. “I started watching old musicals after she explained it to me. I don’t admit it to a lot of people, but I kind of liked them. And there’s never been any question in my mind that Ginger had the harder role.”
Our mimosas arrive, and I cover my surprise at Derrick’s admission by taking a long sip, then another. Derrick is a good listener and an even better interviewer, and by the time our food arrives, we’ve covered a lot of ground.
“Thea and Jamal told me that your daughter is a gifted tennis player. Like her mother.”
“Oh.” I meet his gaze. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they felt they had to tell you every little thing about me.” My cheeks flush with heat. “I gather they covered the accident and . . . everything?”
He nods, takes a bite of his trout, and chews thoughtfully. “You’ve dealt with a lot. And managed to raise a child and succeed in a male-dominated profession. It is impressive.”
“We all have to play the hands we’re dealt.”
His eyes close briefly. “Not everyone manages to deal with their hand. Some people fall apart or abdicate all responsibility.” His voice rings with something deeply personal. “My father fell in love with drugs early on, and he never loved anyone or anything as much, including me and my brother. We were raised by a mother who fought for every single thing she achieved. Somehow, she got a nursing degree. Fed all three of us. Made sure my brother and I took our studies seriously. Stayed out of trouble. Got college scholarships. I have a huge amount of respect for strong, determined women.”
“That’s good to hear.” I’m getting why Thea and Jamal are so adamantly Team Derrick. “A lot of men don’t see things that way.”
“A lot of men aren’t as smart as they think they are.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I finish off my omelet and potatoes. Derrick is not Fred Astaire, and I’m definitely not Ginger Rogers, but I’m enjoying the dance and surprisingly glad that neither of us seems worried about who’s leading.
“It’s nice to see a woman who isn’t afraid to eat.”
I laugh. “That’s good news, because we’re going to be ordering dessert.”
“We are?”
“Um-hmmm.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it would be downright criminal to leave here without sharing an order of their profiteroles.”
“I’ve never ordered them here, but I’ve always had a weak spot for profiteroles.” His grin is infectious.
“Prepare to be dazzled, then. I’ll try to make sure you get a bite or two.”
Sara
When I get home from work on Monday, I find Dorothy in the living room reading, which is still a surprise. The book is The Body: A Guide for Occupants, which we picked up at Between the Covers over the weekend and are planning to share.
She looks up and considers me for a moment as if she, too, is still surprised to be reading in public. “I’ve never been into nonfiction, but I do love this author’s voice,” she says. “I’m not sure how I feel about knowing so much about all the stuff that’s stuffed inside me.” Her voice carries something unexpected.
I look up and meet her eyes.
“I heard from Mitchell today.”
“Oh?” Something inside me deflates. I’ve been meaning to reach out to Meena, who’s the only happily divorced woman I know, but at the moment just getting through the workday and acting normal takes all my energy. Plus, once I have a referral I’ll have to make an appointment. Tell a total stranger what my husband has done. Admit how completely I’ve been deceived and then discarded. I’ll have to fight for the house. Fight to get back the money he’s already stolen. Just thinking about it is exhausting.
“Yes. He apologized,” Dorothy says. “He told me that he didn’t mean to do what he did. That he panicked and that everything got away from him and he was very sorry.”
It takes everything I have to keep my expression neutral. Even though this is almost exactly what he said to me. As if the whole having children with another woman, living a secret life, and stealing from his mother and his wife to keep that life secret was just some sort of accident.