“According to the book, coffee’s safe. But you only want to go to places where there are a lot of people, and you don’t have to stay long if you don’t like him. And you’re never supposed to let him know your address.”
“How on earth did you remember all that?” she asks, still staring at Dean Francis.
“It was on Meena’s handout.”
We laugh, but Dorothy looks way more nervous than excited. She doesn’t take the phone I’m still trying to hand her.
“I’m pretty sure you can just chat awhile if you like. You know, to get used to the whole idea and see if he feels like someone you even want to meet.” I set her phone on the table in front of her. “But Meena also said you want to meet relatively quickly so that you can eliminate people you don’t have chemistry with.”
“Chemistry? Oh my God . . . I didn’t really think this through,” Dorothy says. “It seemed a bit of a lark: the makeup, the dressing up, taking photos. I honestly never considered what might happen if someone expressed interest.”
I feel an odd swirl of affection and protectiveness toward this woman I’ve known for so long but only recently begun to understand. “What do you want to do?” I ask.
“I’m not sure.” She looks up, and I see fear and nerves but also an odd gleam of excitement in her eyes. “How do I wave and . . . and chat?”
I click through to the instructions, and she scribbles down notes. She may be hyperventilating. But, I think, possibly in a good way.
“Okay. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you after work.” I get up and sling my purse over my shoulder.
“Right. Have a good day.”
I glance back when I reach the kitchen door, but Dorothy’s attention is completely focused on the screen in front of her, the excitement winning out over the fear. I pull the kitchen door closed behind me and get into the car, unable to ignore the irony; my seventy-five-year-old mother-in-law is chatting with an attractive, available man while I slog my way toward the end of a marriage that was riddled with lies.
If that’s not irony, I don’t know what is.
Jazmine
I arrive at the office after a working lunch to find Erin grinning like a loon.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Louise called me.” She grins.
“Louise? My Louise?” I ask, referring to the woman whom I will always love and respect, but for whom, I realize, I no longer pine.
“Yes, she heard that I am”—she does air quotes with her fingers—“‘knocking it out of the park.’”
It’s my turn to grin. “Oh, I just told her that to rattle her chain.”
“You did not.”
“Okay. I may have told her that you’re doing a good job. I believe I even used the word ‘impressed.’ But the corny baseball analogy? That’s pure Louise.”
Erin’s face lights up.
“You can stop going all Cheshire Cat on me. Compliment given and received. Can we get down to work now?”
She holds on to the grin for another few seconds, then nods. “Right. Rich Hanson is waiting for you in the small conference room. All pertinent files and notes on the tennis center are on your desk.” She points to the stack. “I’m reminding you this one last time that I have to leave at two thirty for a dental appointment. I tried to change it, but I couldn’t make it happen. Your calls will be transferred to the front desk.”
I nod.
“Most importantly, you’re due to pick up Maya from Chastain Park at four o’clock. They’re finishing early today because the younger players are at a tournament.”
“Got it. Thanks. Anything else?”
“No. But I did order those mini desserts you like. And I’ll bring them in with coffee right before I leave. Early. Before my dental appointment.”
“Yes, I heard that part.”
“Please, give me your phone.”
When I don’t hand it right over, Erin takes it out of my hand. Her thumbs fly over the screen. “Okay—there’s an alarm set now for three thirty. So you can get to Chastain by four.”
“Got it.” I give her a look. “I’m not really loving being treated like a child here, Erin.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I know what happens when you’re completely focused on something, and I won’t be here to drag you out of the meeting.”
“Boy, you’re getting to be almost as big a pain in the ass as Louise was.”
Erin looks as if I’ve just handed her a winning lottery ticket.
“Oh, no. Don’t get all excited again. That wasn’t meant as a compliment.”
“Sorry.” She shoots me a grin. “It’s a little hard to tell sometimes.”
I find Rich in the conference room. Graphs, charts, spreadsheets, and athlete photos are spread across the table.
“Hi.” He motions me toward the chair next to him. I’m barely seated before he launches into what might actually be rehearsed opening comments. “So, I was thinking we should put together all the info on the tennis center itself. Once Larry approves those details, we can move on to . . .”
“No.” I stop him as I settle back into my seat. “Larry’s a big-picture guy. He’s not going to care about the details of the facility remodel or the exact tournaments we want to host. Or even the specific talent we’re looking to attract. If we give him too much up front, I’m afraid we’ll lose him.”
“So, you’re saying the way to get Larry all the way on board is with the sizzle, not the steak.”
“Exactly.” I’m surprised at how quickly he gets, and accepts, my point.
We consider each other. “That’s . . .” we both begin.
“You first,” he says politely.
“No, you,” I say, eager, possibly for the first time, to hear what he has to say.
“All right.” He nods, smiling almost to himself. “I was going to say that that’s the exact opposite of what I expected you to say.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I open my top folder and drop my gaze to it.
“Never,” he says so quietly I almost miss it. Then he clears his throat and speaks up. “What I meant was, I just assumed you’d want to bury him in facts and numbers so that he can’t say no.”
“He’s not going to say no,” I reply.