“Grace,” he said earnestly, “moments like this don’t come along often. When they do, you’ve got to grab them. Either you go big, or you go home. That’s all there is to it.”
“Okay, fine. But how?”
Luke picked up his beer bottle and took a swig.
“You have to borrow some money. There’s no other way. But I’ve got—”
“No!” I held my hand up flat, cutting him off before he could say anything more. “Thank you,” I said more gently, “but no. I won’t borrow money from you. You’ve been great, Luke. You’ve been a lifesaver. And this day has been . . .”
I took in a breath and lifted my head, examining the clouds in the clear May sky, searching for words that might express all I was feeling, coming up short.
“Amazing. More than amazing. And it might not have happened without you, so thank you. Thank you so much. But what to do next is my problem.”
“Okay,” he said. “Fair enough. But can I just make two more observations?”
“Sure,” I said, spearing a tender, delicious bite of souvlaki with my fork and dipping it into cucumber sauce before popping it into my mouth. “Go ahead.”
“Number one,” he said, leaning in and raising an index finger to begin the countdown. I started to laugh.
“Do you always talk in lists?” I asked, giggling and taking a sip of beer.
“Do you always interrupt?” he countered, grinning.
“Yeah, pretty often. If you’re going to hang out with me, you’d better get used to it. You were saying?”
“Number one,” he repeated. “As problems go, this is an awesome one—”
“Isn’t it? I still can’t believe it! Did you see the way they were—” Luke cleared his throat and shot me a look. “Sorry. I got excited. I’m actually feeling a little giddy. Go on. You were saying?”
“Number two—you don’t have to solve this problem tonight. Tonight, just bask in the glow and enjoy your success. You were terrific today, Grace. Really. I’m so proud of you. And, by the way, if I haven’t mentioned it before,” he said, lifting his beer bottle and tilting it toward me in a silent salute, “you look terrific too. Where’d you get that awesome dress?”
“What? This old thing? It’s just some rag I bought off the rack. But do you know what’s great about this dress?”
“Hmmm . . . Let me guess . . .” Luke tapped his chin, pretended to think. “One hundred percent cotton, machine washable?”
“Yes, but more importantly, it moves. In fact, I’d say that this is a dress that’s just made for dancing. Or would be, if only I knew how to dance. Such a waste. Especially with the Fairy Dogmother’s Ball just a couple of weeks away.”
I heaved a sigh, picked up my beer glass, and took a drink.
“Say, Luke? You don’t happen to know of any place around here that gives classes, do you?”
Chapter 32
Monica
The crowd was light on Sunday night and I was worn-out from catering the wedding the day before, so when Bob showed up to have dinner around eight, I sat down to join him. Over his objections, I insisted on picking up the bill—a small token of thanks for putting up with rotten Alex and helping him have such a great season—then ordered insalata caprese, linguine with clam sauce for two, a bottle of Pinot Gris, and proceeded to drink and talk way, way, way too much.
“I shouldn’t be jealous,” I said, filling my glass for a third time. “And I’m not. I’m not!” I insisted, responding to Bob’s doubtful look.
“Okay,” he said, twirling linguine onto his fork, a skill I had taught him earlier in the evening and which he had quickly mastered. “Good. Because it would be terrible to be jealous of Grace. She’s your best friend.”
“Right. Which is why I’m not jealous. I mean, so what if she hit the ball out of the park her very first month in business? So what if Luke is clearly mashed on her and bent over backward trying to help and she doesn’t even get it? So what if she’s doing so great that she doesn’t have time to work here and left me short a waitress? So what? I can always find another waitress, but I’ll never find another friend like Grace.”
“No, you won’t. What you, Nan, and Grace have is very special.”
“Right. Which is why I’m thrilled that her condo has shot up in value since she bought it and she’s going to be able to take out a second mortgage, even though she isn’t getting a paycheck now, and that her rich aunt Rickie in Milwaukee was willing to cosign so she could borrow fifty grand to get her business off the ground without having to grovel to the bank for financing like the rest of us poor slobs. Good for Grace. I’m happy for her. I am!”
“I know you are,” Bob said, swallowing his linguine. “Because you, of all people, know how much Grace has gone through.”
“Yes,” I said, twirling a single noodle around my own fork. “So sad. Tragic, really. But . . .” I sighed. “At least Jamie really loved her. She might not have him, but she has that.
“Nobody has ever loved me. Ever. Not my parents. Not Vince. Certainly not my rotten step-kids,” I said, reaching for my wineglass. “Never.”
“Well, I can’t speak for Zoe, but I think Alex loves you.”
“Ha! If he does, he’s got a pretty weird way of showing it.”
“Teenagers usually do. And anyway,” Bob said, “never is a pretty long time. How old are you?”
“Forty-three,” I said.
