Circle in the Sand (16 page)

“Listen,” Christine says as if she’s about to reveal a stock tip. “I got an email
on my blackberry from Kenneth Boiler. He loved our ideas and wants to meet.”

Sage glances at me the way you do when your drunk brother-in-law spews profanity at
the dinner table. But I couldn’t care less that her boss is inconsiderate. She plasters
on a smile and says, “Great, news. We’ll have to put our heads together on Monday.”

“Monday?” Christine leans forward, hands resting across a small, brown purse. “I was
thinking tomorrow.”

“I, uh, have that meeting with Mr. Klein tomorrow in San Diego.” She had mentioned
the meeting, but I wondered if it was only an excuse so she wouldn’t have to stay
at Sophie’s party and face Jax.

“That’s right. What time are you meeting him?”

Sage lets out a sigh. I’m guessing she’s thinking about Sophie and the party, her
grandmother, even the ex-con. She doesn’t want to come racing back here. Her mouth
falls open, so I decide to intervene.

“So this is the amazing Christine I keep hearing about.”

“Amazing?” Sage’s boss shoots a glance at me that says I’m full of shit and tells
me this might not be easy.

“Yep. Hi, Christine. I’m Ned.” I reach out and give her the two-handed handshake.
“Sage has told me so much about you.”

“Funny, she never mentioned you.”

Over her shoulder, a few feet away, I catch a guy watching us. He’s talking to another
couple but his eyes are fixed this way. I give Christine a squinty-eyed smile. “I
figured that. She always says she hangs on your every word, trying to glean everything
she can from you.”

Her pause says she hasn’t quite made up her mind about me or what I’ve said. “Really?
So what else has she told you about me?”

My eyes dart to Sage who appears to be frozen in fear like Han Solo. “Only that she
admires the hell out of you. And that she knows she won’t have you for long because
you’ll probably shoot right to the top of JP Morgan Chase.”

Bingo. Christine rotates in her chair, her shoulders relax, and she lets a smile take
over her face. “So, how did Sage find such an intelligent and giving man as you?”

Before I can answer, the guy from behind her walks up and touches her back. She stands
immediately. Sage and I follow.

“David, there you are,” Christine says. Her thin arm hooks through his as I walk around
the table to stand next to Sage. This gives me a chance to gather up my confidence.
It’s one thing to flatter a heartless bitch, it’s another to stare down a fucktard
womanizer. On second thought, it might be the easiest thing in the world.

Christine makes introductions, ending with, “And of
course
you know Sage.” I see what she means about the tone. Her smoker’s voice and curt
personality make it difficult to determine whether that comment has hidden meaning.

I force myself to take the handshake David offers me, but I can’t glare at him because
he’s not even looking at me. His eyes are trained on Sage.
Dick
. Until now, I’ve never wanted to punch someone in the face I didn’t know. This guy’s
my height, but has a good twenty pounds on me. He appears to be early forties, wearing
a suit that’s outdated and sideburns that don’t work. His eyes disturb me, similar
to a young, confused Dennis Hopper.

When we finish the game of awkward smile exchanges, Christine says, “Ned was about
to tell us how he and Sage met.”

It is at that moment I realize that we never talked about a story. We know practically
everything about each other, but didn’t bother to come prepared with anything. Sage
grabs my hand and squeezes an
oh shit
. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. She pulls out a grin and tilts her head to the
side to touch mine, as if that answers the question. Instead of panicking, I’m suddenly
filled with excitement, a sense of power that allows me, us, to be whatever the hell
I want us to be. I let out a short laugh, as though I’m remembering our
special story
.

“I’ve known this one most of my life,” I say gesturing to her with my eyes. “She was
always a pain in my ass. Yeah, she’s hot and intelligent, but she can be a handful.”
I turn to check Sage’s reaction. I’ve never treated her this way before. The eye saucers
taking up the majority of her face confirm that I’ve stunned her pretty damn good,
which only fuels me on. “I knew she had her eye on me for a while…and I guess she
finally broke me down.” Her nails dig into the skin on my hand as I enjoy the surprised
look on Christine’s face. David now appears bored, glancing around for an escape.
But when Sage speaks up, he turns his eyes to her.

“Ned tends to exaggerate a bit,” she says with a nervous air.

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her body close to mine. “Don’t be embarrassed,
baby.” I give her cheek a soft kiss and say, “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that
you finally convinced me we should be together.” Then I look at David and say, “Seriously,
I am damn lucky. And I need another beer. It was nice meeting you two.” I pull us
away toward the drink hut, pretty freaking proud of myself, even after Sage says,
“You dumb ass. That was so over the top.”

“I know. Wasn’t it awesome?”

Later that night I leave her side for the first time to get her sweater from the car.
She’d been nervous about being alone, but David and Christine have disappeared for
the last hour. On the way back, I see her in the living room talking to a gorgeous
pregnant woman in a long flowing dress. I stand off to the side on some stairs that
lead to another seating area in the house. Sage reaches out to touch her tummy, looks
happy at first and then, I’m not sure what I see.

The younger Fitzgerald daughter, bright-eyed, a beacon of a smile, and the longest
eyelashes you’ve ever seen, passes me heading up the stairs. Holding a tray, she misjudges
the final step and a third of the items on her tray slide off to the ground. They’re
round, crusty-looking things, maybe some sort of a dessert tart. We both bend down
to retrieve them, but she only stares at the pile on the floor. “Oh, no,” she says
looking up at me with glossy eyes.

“Are you worried you’ll get in trouble?” I grab a couple of napkins from her tray
and use them to scoop the tarts up in my hand.

She nods, looks around to see if anyone has noticed.

“I’ll tell you a secret. Have you heard of the five-second rule?”

She shakes her head, looking interested.

“The five-second rule says that food you drop on the ground is still okay to eat,
as long as you get it in five seconds.” I pour the pastries back on her tray. “That’s
why I got these so quick for you.” I take the napkin, then push them all around so
they are in nice rows. “But it is a secret, so don’t tell anyone.”

“It’s not dirty?” she asks with a head tilt.

“I bet your parents made sure this place was super clean before the party, huh?”

“Uh, huh.”

“And it seems like hardly anyone has been over here anyway. So definitely five-second
rule.” I give her a wide smile and she returns an even bigger one. I take a tart off
the tray, pop it in my mouth. “Mmm, yummy.”

She giggles, then as if she were a professional, she quickly brings it back to a grin
and walks off with her head held high.

She reminds me of Sage as I walk back over to find the pregnant woman has gone. Sage
turns and I see that little girl all over again. Bright eyes filled with tears. “What’s
wrong?”

“Can we go, please?”

“Was it that David prick?” I glance around putting on the tough guy routine.

“No, I just want to go.”

We’re both silent in the car the whole way home. Sage stares out the window into the
darkness. Even though it was my initial reaction, I don’t think she was upset about
Christine’s husband. It was right after she was talking to the pregnant women.

Back at her house, I follow her in without asking if she wants me to. She goes straight
to the kitchen, fills a pan with water and puts it on the stove. “Want some tea?”

“No, thanks.” I lean against the counter. “What happened back there?”

She avoids my eyes as she busies herself with straightening things that don’t need
it. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. I’ve been overwhelmed with everything that’s been
going on.”

“The stuff with your grandmother?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it? You’ll work that out.”
Damn
. I feel bad because the part about her dying will not be worked out. “Sorry, I meant…”

“I know what you meant. It’s not only about my grandmother.”

“God, please don’t tell me you’re crying over the delinquent.” I go to her, put an
arm around her shoulder. She leans into me, the same way she’s done before. But shit,
she needs me. I can sense it, see it in her eyes that something’s wrong. “Just tell
me. Maybe I can help.”

She gazes up at me. “I guess when I saw Melinda and touched her stomach…it really
got to me. I’m starting to see there are no givens in life.” She’s fighting hard to
keep the tears from forming, but shaking her head isn’t working. She continues in
a weak voice, “And when my mom got sick…” then rests her head back down, seemingly
too heavy to hold up.

I understand, now. When Sage’s mother had the hysterectomy, she was so terrified of
facing the same fate. Especially before she was able to have children. Understanding
is one thing. It doesn’t mean I know what to say. “I’m sorry, Sage.”

The water reaches a slow sizzle. She pulls away toward it, dabbing the corner of her
eye with her finger. “Don’t be. I’m taking care of this. You know the Douglas family,
always the planners.” A Barbie smile emerges as she prepares her tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gives me a determined stare, one that tells me we’re talking about something big.

“What did you do?” I can’t picture Sage with a swollen belly, shopping for tiny clothes.
The career woman raised on the Warren Buffet Bible. I take a step closer. My eyes
shoot to her stomach and freeze there. She follows my line of sight.

“No, Ned. I’m not pregnant.”

I let out the breath I was holding, instinctively reaching out to her and we hug.
“But I want to be,” she says. “So badly. And I don’t want to take a chance I won’t
be able to. So I’ve stored some of my eggs.”

I turn toward the fridge. “In here?”

“Stop, I’m being serious.” She pulls back, demanding my attention. “I’m really scared.
My aunt and my mother both got it.”

“It sounds like you’re doing everything you can to stay on top of this.”

“I am. But if something were to happen… I don’t want to miss my chance to be a mother.”
A single tear runs down her cheek. I wipe it with my thumb. “I feel so alone sometimes.”

Sage was practically raised by robots, so she has always come to us—mostly the girls—for
emotional comfort on the rare occasion she needed it. Looking at her now, it rips
me up to see her scared and in pain. I’ve made this mistake before, but I will do
anything to take that away, if only for a moment. “Sage, you’ll never be alone.”

CHAPTER 19 -
SAGE

I’m sitting at a rickety, wrought-iron table sprinkled with white bird shit, staring
across at an ex-con and seriously fantasizing about him fertilizing my frozen eggs.
Yep, this is exactly how I’d pictured my future when a twelve-year-old me visited
the New York Stock Exchange for the first time.

Travis and I are on the patio at Juan’s, me with a large cup of black tar, him scarfing
down a taco plate. He insisted on paying. He offers me a bite. I shake my head, and
he continues eating. I watch his forearms and strong hands as he moves them around
his space, wondering about all the beautiful things they’ve created before this new
life of his took over. I examine his dark eyes, which don’t seem to be as sad as that
first day we met. But they don’t hold the eagerness I’m used to seeing in men that
look at me. I’m still trying to acclimate to this flirtationship that we’ve developed.
Not quite dating, but something more than friends.

About two weeks ago I’d come to San Diego to meet with my new client. On the way home,
my car took control and steered me right over to Jax’s house. I told myself it was
probably best to clear the air with her, talk things over, and if Travis happened
to be there, well, I’d just smile and say hi. Turned out Jax was at work. Travis answered
the door, hair slightly damp, barefoot, wearing jeans, and again his shirt was AWOL.
The cool breeze caused a chill on my skin. His face, dusted with black stubble, made
my fingertips tingle. He didn’t invite me in after my reason for visiting was voided.
Did I want to leave a message for Jax? Yeah, tell her the guy sleeping on her couch
is an idiot.

“I’ll call her later,” I said then lingered a moment. That’s usually all it takes,
but I could see he wasn’t biting. “I was going to grab some coffee before I head back,
want to join me?” The words tasted awkward in my mouth. I wondered how they sounded
to him.
Please, sir, may I have another
? He stared at me for a second, then shook his head. I hoped my face didn’t look as
red as it felt. Suddenly I was hot, but not with embarrassment. Anger flushed over
me. Not only had this guy turned me into the pursuer, but he’d stuffed me into self-realization
mode, and I hate that. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying being pursued!

“You seem like a nice lady…”

Lady? What was I, seventy? I attempted to prepare myself for the brush off, but I
wasn’t quite sure how.

Travis grabbed the side of the door with one hand. “Let me lay this all out on the
line for you. I’m on probation for driving under the influence.” I folded my arms,
attempting to look unaffected even though it had shocked me. “My car hopped a curb
and ran into a nineteen-year-old sign spinner dressed as Freddy Krueger for the local
Halloween store.” My mouth fell open, and I quickly closed it as he continued. “He
had his back turned, didn’t even see us coming. He’s fine—only a few cuts and bruises—but
he was knocked out. It could have been worse, so much worse, but does that really
matter?”

Was I supposed to answer that question? I opened my mouth again, hoping something
would come out on its own.

“I got credit for time served, have to do community service, got my license taken
away; shall I continue?”

I cocked my head. “There’s more?”

“I’m doing you a favor. Don’t let your tidy little life get mixed up in this mess.”

Now he’d pissed me off, treating me as if I didn’t have a brain of my own. “Are you
always such an ass when you’re doing people favors?”

“It would seem so.”

“Why is it okay for Jax to be nice to you and help you but not me?”

Deadpan stare.

“Oh, because she’s caring and generous and I’m a trust-funding snob? Whatever, screw
this, I’m out of here.”

I flipped a fast one-eighty, then strode briskly back to my car parked at the curb.
My biggest fear being an ankle giving way in my heels, and not the guy on a bike who
whizzed by me as I stepped off the curb. “Crap!” I halted in place, drew my arms instinctively
to my face. The guy swerved around me but an oncoming car caused him to swerve back,
overcorrecting right toward my car. His beach-cruiser handle bars clipped my side
view mirror. I heard him say, “Shit,” yet he kept going. I stood in the street watching
him pedal away, getting smaller as he cruised down the street. This is what happens
when you park on a freaking public street! When I turned to check the mirror, I found
Travis standing next to me.

“Are you okay?” His hand on my arm made me jump. He pulled it away in reaction, chose
to examine the mirror instead. “It was probably already a little loose,” he said handling
the wobbly metal edge. “I can fix it.” Without a glance my way, he walked past, heading
back to the house. “Wait on the porch,” he shouted back.

I was in no position to argue at that point, so I did as I was told and flopped down
on the porch swing, somewhat pouty, and stared up at the cloudy sky. Travis disappeared
into the house, came out a moment later wearing a shirt—I guess he does own one—holding
a sweatshirt and a tool box.

“In case you’re cold,” he said, tossing it to me. He certainly was a polite ass.

I didn’t move when I saw he was done. He joined me on the swing, setting the toolbox
on the porch. We both faced forward.

“Sorry,” he said to the street.

“Thank you,” I answered to the grass. “For the mirror, I mean.”

We were quiet for a long time. I had no idea what he was thinking about, then something
struck me. “You said ‘us.’”

He turned his body to me. I noted a fresh scent that I guessed was his hair. “What?”

“The sign spinner. You said, ‘didn’t even see
us
coming.’ Who was in the car with you?”

What appeared to be a cocktail of reluctance, anger, and embarrassment entered his
eyes and poured over his face before he answered. “That would be my ex-fiancé. I don’t
want to talk about her. But all that shit I told you about me…it’s all true. And there’s
more.”

He tried to look away, but I tilted my head, gave him a curious look until he met
my gaze again.

“Nothing like that, personal stuff, you know? I think that’s why I treated you that
way. It’s just not a good idea for either of us.”

“To be friends?”

He turned his attention back to the street. “Are you sure you’re not using me as a
distraction from whatever problems you’re trying to avoid?”

“I thought you said I had a tidy life? Besides, what do you know about my problems?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. But I know you’re pissed at Jax. And about your grandmother
being sick.”

“There’s way more to it than that.”

“So you should understand that I’m another issue.”

I stared ahead for a long time, considering what he was saying. He was right. I just
met this guy, so why the hell would I put in this much effort for someone so risky?
Two thoughts had poked at me. First, there was something about Travis that kept pulling
me to him. And second, if Jax trusts him and I trust Jax, then maybe that should be
enough. And if all that were true, then I shouldn’t be pissed at Jax about my grandmother
either. Finally I said, “I don’t see it that way. You are
not
what you did. You made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you should be banished from the
nice list.”

It was obvious he was resisting a grin. “I don’t know,” he said.

“You might be right about me looking for a distraction, but are you saying you’re
not interested?”

“I didn’t say that.” This time he let his smile through, but it disappeared as quickly
as it came. “But I also don’t want to take advantage of the situation…or make a bad
decision. I can’t afford that.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
“Why don’t we settle on friends?”

I stayed a while longer that day, both of us quietly next to each other. Then I filled
him in on my grandmother’s request. We stared at the street more, not in an awkward
silence kind of way, but more peaceful. We exchanged numbers, and I left. He’d walked
me to my car. Nothing happened, leaving me disappointed as I drove off wondering how
long he’d want to keep this friends thing going. But when I arrived home, a text popped
up on my phone.
Talk to you soon
.

And we did.

A lot.

We texted almost every day, sometimes spoke on the phone, about anything and everything,
but it was all very innocent and casual. That didn’t mean my thoughts were.

Now, as I sit here and watch him eat, I can’t help pondering what those lips taste
like. I may never find out, but his presence alone brings comfort.

“So have you signed the papers with the lawyer yet?” Travis says after taking a swig
of water.

Not only was I giving all of my grandmother’s money away, she wanted me to start immediately.
This meant I had to be given power of attorney over her money and was added to her
checking account. “Yes. Signing those papers was more difficult than I’d imagined.
The whole thing was so surreal.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t like I was gaining my grandmother’s estate. It felt more like I was saying
goodbye to her, signing her death warrant.”

Travis wipes his mouth with a napkin, reaches over and touches my hand resting on
the table, sending a warm flow up my arm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But
it says something that she picked you.”

“Yeah, that she wants to torture me.”

“Maybe she wants you to get something out of this whole thing.”

I open my purse and pull out a small notebook. “What I’m
getting
so far is that I don’t know anything about her. Look at this list I made of possible
donation areas.” I set the open notebook down in front of him and watch while he reads:

Grandmother: France, art, cancer

Possible areas of donation: Museums, Cancer Research

He looks up at me in confusion.

“Pretty pathetic, huh?” I say.

“It’s sad that you and your grandmother don’t know each other very well, but you don’t
seem to be getting the point of this.”

I lean back in my chair, fold my arms. Travis met my grandmother once when he went
with Jax to Oak Grove looking for some community service hours. I don’t see how one
visit makes him an expert. “And you do?”

“The letter you mentioned, do you still have it?”

I point to the notebook. “In the back.” The letter is folded, slipped in between the
last page and the back flap. He flips to the end, grabs the letter and opens it. I’d
already read it to him on the phone. Rose sent it to me right after she told me about
her will. An actual letter in the mail! The tone was half old Rose, half new Rose.
She wanted to thank me for agreeing to her request, which I actually don’t remember.
Did I have a choice? She said she wished things could have been different between
us, but didn’t mention that we could still try to make up for lost time. It was as
though she saw the end right in front of her. It made me remember the times when I
was so young all I wanted from her was a hug and a treat. Or even a loving smile or
a “how’s my little sweetie pie” comment the way other grandmothers did.

“Listen to this part,” Travis says holding the letter. “Sage, I know this won’t be
easy at first, but I have faith that in the end you’ll be better for it. I hope this
undertaking will open your eyes to a world beyond what we’ve been living. Beyond what
I so selfishly engrained into your father, and then into you. If you need answers,
look inside yourself for direction.” He looked up at me, waiting for a connection
that wasn’t there. “Don’t you see?” he said after a moment. “She wants you to pick
things that mean something to you, not to her.”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Sure you do. It’s just difficult to face because it’s different from everything you’ve
known.”

“You’re right. This whole thing makes my brain hurt. But it’s not only that.
She’s
different now too. My grandmother never spoke or wrote in that way before. It scares
me.” And it makes me sad. It hurts me that impending death, and not her family, has
brought such a drastic change in Rose.

My eyes meet Travis’s and tell him that this is the part where he holds me, makes
me believe everything will be all right. But my
friend
gives me the closed mouth
buck up
grin instead. Then he says, “My father became a very different person before he died,
too. But he was very bitter, pushed us all away until the very end.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing I’m being selfish and self-absorbed. Since the beginning
most of our conversations have been about my problems. “That must have been so difficult.”

“It was, but it was much harder on my mother and little brother.” He waves it off
like it’s an intrusive fly, which makes me understand exactly why we never talk about
his problems. “So back to the issue at hand,” he says. “I think you need to come up
with a new list of possible donation areas.”