The only women who left without buying anything, she noticed, were the size twelve-and-ups. Which was surprising, given that Edie herself wore sixteens. It might be true that Edie couldn’t afford anything in her own shop, Pru thought, as another woman struggled to button the largest-sized blouse she’d been able to find. But it was also true that she couldn’t fit into any of it. There were plenty of non-single-digit-sized women in the city who worked hard, who had money, who appreciated style. Didn’t they deserve such beauty, too?
“YOU’RE, LIKE, GLOWING,” JOHN SAID, THE FOLLOWING day. Pru was sitting at a table she liked because someone had carved AG + SW?? into the top, and darkened it with pencil. She liked to think about who would do such a thing, and whether the question marks had been added afterward, or if they were the whole point? She thought of it as the table of yearning.
John was wearing an apron tied in the back, and listened patiently as she babbled on about the event, the pleasure she’d taken in making the women feel beautiful. It was good to have something positive going on. She felt like he’d only ever seen her whining, or making a fool out of herself.
“A woman spent almost fifteen hundred dollars on one outfit that I put together for her,” Pru said, pressing her finger into the sugar left on her plate. “I hate to say it but, man, it felt good.”
“I know what you mean,” John said. “Last week I sold a hundred and twenty cups of coffee.”
She wrinkled her nose, and did the math. “That doesn’t sound like it’s going to keep you in business long.”
“It won’t. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I can’t keep doing this.”
“Maybe you have too many freeloaders here. Like me. We just hang around all day and never buy anything.” She meant it lightly, but her heart sank. She’d come to rely on John’s company in the mornings. What would happen if he closed the Korner?
“Maybe I should start offering women’s fashions,” he said. “Listen, I think you’re on to something.”
“I know,” she said. “Three months of freelance, and nothing near the jolt I got last night. But, retail?”
“Why not?”
“I’ll be honest. I have snobby feelings about it. At least in nonprofit, you know, you can feel like you’re doing some good in the world.”
“Not to hear you talk about it. I don’t know, but I think you ought to listen to this feeling.”
She drank her coffee, thinking. Edie had said that she’d hire her, anytime. She wouldn’t make much, of course. In fact, the money she’d gotten from the one writing job was more than she’d make at Edie’s in a month. But Edie had also offered to let her keep a percentage of her sales, so Pru had told her she’d think about it.
She dragged herself homeward, slowly. Despite Whoop’s recently improved behavior, she still dreaded going back to the aloneness of her apartment. The other night she’d found a blue sock of Annali’s shoved behind a door, and felt a heave in her chest. It had been almost a month since she’d seen her. Patsy and Fiona were always complaining about how kids weigh you down. But what, she wondered, was she staying light for? To be available to bring Rudy organic trout from Fresh Fields?
Her cell phone rang just as she was about to open the front door. It was McKay wanting to know if she’d had dinner. It seemed that Bill was out of town and McKay had finally consumed the last edible thing in the house. Her spirits lifted considerably as she agreed to meet him for tapas and cocktails, and she turned and sprinted gaily down the rest of the steps.
Okay, she thought, so being single and childless had its merits. For dang sure.
“WE’RE THINKING OF MOVING,” MC KAY ANNOUNCED, when the waiter had brought their drinks.
Pru looked up in alarm. McKay and Bill, not right next door? “What do you mean? Where? When?”
“Just in town. Don’t worry. We’re just looking to buy something, that’s all. We’re getting tired of renting. And our place is a little small. We’re not going to adopt now, but you know, Bill does keep going on about it . . .”
Her heart rate had shot up at his words. “But—but—”
“We’ll still be nearby. Don’t worry! We’ll try to stay in Adams-Morgan.”
She shook her head. First John, talking about selling the café, then McKay and Bill, possibly leaving the neighborhood. And becoming daddies, without her! She was going to be left behind, she could feel it. “You’ll end up out in the suburbs, I know you will. No one can afford to buy here anymore. I’ll have to take a train out to see you, and it’ll be too much of a hassle, and you’ll make new friends. Before you know it, we’ll never see each other anymore.”
“That’s a cheerful thought. Thanks for that.”
“But you’re leaving me!”
“We’re not leaving you! I promise.”
“No one’s doing what I want them to do. You’re going, Patsy’s coming . . .”
“Is she really?”
“Oh, yes.”
“When?”
Pru sighed. “They want to do Thanksgiving at the beach house. They’re flying lobsters in from Chad, or something fabulous like
