Homecoming (9 page)

“It’s been hard on her,” Mary Beth agreed. “He was fourteen years old. They tell me that’s old for a Lab.”

“He was a good boy,” Jill said, realizing she was using the playful voice she always used with Boomer.

“You should get a dog,” Skip said. “You could use the company.”

“I’ve got cats,” she reminded him. “Two.” Walking over to the mantle, she took down a photo. “You’ll never see them, so here’s a picture of them in Santa hats.”

“It’s time to get a girlfriend when you start dressing your cats up in costumes,” Skip snickered.

“Becca was the costume arranger. Where I grew up, cats stayed outside. The thought of dressing them up or celebrating their birthdays would have made you the laughingstock of the whole town.”

“All sixty of them?” Kathleen teased.

“Six hundred,” Jill corrected. “I counted them all when I was there a couple of months ago.”

“How’d that go?” Alice asked. “I know you were worried.”

“It went well. Very well, as a matter of fact. My old friend and I will probably never be close again, but I reconnected with his parents. I’m going to stay in touch.”

“That’s great,” Alice said. “They have a big family, right?”

“Uh-huh. Seven kids. I found out the youngest works at Hollyhock Hills. Have you guys been there?”

“Yes,” they answered, almost in unison. “Who hasn’t?”

Jill raised her hand. “Until the wedding, I’d never been near the place. Lizzie, my friend’s little sister, works in development for them.”

“They have a great restaurant,” Kathleen said. “Given how you love food, I’m amazed you haven’t been.”

“Now you’re talking,” Jill said. “I thought it was just a farm. If there’s a good restaurant, I’m all over it.”

“That’s a good place for a special date,” Skip said. “I took Alice there for our tenth anniversary.”

Alice looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You did not! I went to a conference there, but you certainly weren’t with me.”

“I did,” he insisted. “We had a great meal. The side doors were open, and it was warm…”

“Our anniversary’s in January, you idiot! If you were there, you were with someone else, so you’d better think twice about reminiscing about your lovely dinner.”

You could see him gulp from across the room. “Maybe I saw a photo of the place. You know how suggestible I am.”

“You’re a dunce,” Alice muttered, heading back to her seat. “Let’s play cards before I have to call my divorce attorney.” She glared at Skip. “He’s on speed dial.”

They played until near midnight, with Kathleen and Alice coming out just ahead of Becky and Jill. She walked everyone to their cars, lingering at the last one—Karen and Becky’s. Karen always zoned in on troubling emotional issues, and she asked gently, “Are you really going to write to Becca?”

“I feel like I should. Boomer was very important to her. It feels awfully cold to ignore her loss.”

“She’s not over you, Jill. Be careful in reaching out. You don’t want to send the wrong message.”

“I won’t ask her to call me to reminisce,” Jill promised. “But I don’t want her to think I don’t care at all. That’s just not true.”

Karen leaned forward and gave her a hug. “You’re a good person. Just don’t make her think there’s still an ember burning if there’s not.”

Jill jogged back to the house, the crisp spring night chilling her in just a shirt and jeans. She started to check the doors and the windows, and by the time she’d finished, both David and Goliath were brushing against her shins. “Oh, here are my brave boys,” she said, bending to scratch behind their ears. “I’d tell you two about Boomer dying, but you’d probably laugh. All you did was torture that poor guy, when he just wanted to be your friend.”

They went to their food bowls and chomped on some kibble, unmoved by the loss of their former step-brother. While it was fresh in her mind, Jill went to the den and wrote a brief note about Boomer’s death. It was a tough line to straddle, but she thought she’d done a good job of making clear she had empathy for Becca’s loss, yet didn’t want to discuss it further. Breakups truly sucked.

***

Jill took advantage of the first sunny, warm Saturday of the spring to dust off her bike. She could have been riding for two months now, but found she always delayed until it was reliably warm. Maybe she was a wimp, but she hated to ride when her hands were freezing.

She zipped down quiet city streets, heading for the path that ran along the lake. It was in rough shape, and was supposedly being renovated, but it was still nice to just pedal hard and not have to worry about cars. Her competitive juices were flowing by the time she’d reached the end of the path, and she crushed it for as long as her lungs held out, then took a breather and turned to do the loop again. Pushing herself to her limit was the fun part of exercising. She’d never been the kind of person to take a long, slow ride to admire the scenery. Her thing was to push until she could hardly breathe, slow down to catch her breath, then crank it again. By the time she’d gone down and back and down again, sweat was dripping into her eyes, and her T-shirt stuck to her back.

It was still early, just nine, and she hadn’t stopped for coffee before taking off. Coffee always made her have to pee, and searching for a restroom was a drag. After taking her phone from its waterproof case, she searched for espresso, finding a highly rated place only a few blocks away.

She’d cooled off a little by the time she arrived, but was still a sweaty mess. After hanging her helmet off the handlebars, she started to lock the bike, but noticed a guy carry his into the shop. So she followed suit, hefting it onto her shoulder as she maneuvered through the doorway.

The place was remarkably large, and she realized it was actually the lobby for the office building, with an espresso bar in one corner, window seats and small tables spread out across the space. She did a double-take when she saw Lizzie sitting on the floor in the corner, pointing and laughing at her.

Jill rolled her bike over and looked down at her. “Something funny?”

“You,” she said, her sparkling eyes roaming all over Jill’s body. “So butch and bedraggled. Is this your weekend look?”

“Pretty much.” She grasped the hem of her shirt and fanned it away from her body. “I love to sweat.”

“Where’d you ride from? Canada?”

“Just my house,” she said, smiling at the question. “I did the lakefront path a few times. It’s so nice early in the morning, before it’s filled with kids and strollers.”

Lizzie blinked up at her, the interested smile of a moment ago now gone. “Why haven’t you called me?”

“Why haven’t you called
me
? I gave you my number, but you didn’t give me yours.”

A skeptical look settled on her face. “You could have gotten my number in two seconds if you wanted it.” A flicker of what looked like insecurity flashed across her face. “I thought maybe I’d freaked you out when we got together for drinks.”

“Don’t be silly.” She leaned her bike against the wall and folded her legs to allow her to settle next to Lizzie on the floor. She’d probably need a fork-lift to get back up, but she didn’t want to stand over her. “Why would you even think that?”

Lizzie’s gaze shifted nervously, her attention locked onto her keyboard. “I told you some pretty personal stuff. I kinda thought you’d call to at least touch base after that. If you want to be friends, that is. Maybe I read you wrong.”

“I definitely want to be friends,” Jill said, adding some force to her words. “And I’m sorry I didn’t give you a buzz. Now that it’s warm, I’ve gotten into all of my spring things and haven’t taken the time to follow up.” She twitched her head towards the counter. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

A little of Lizzie’s devilish side showed when she said, “I looked you up on the UVM salary chart. You can afford to buy me a cappuccino.”

“I hate working at a public university,” Jill grumbled. “It sucks to have everyone know exactly how much you make.”

“You make almost three times what I do,” Lizzie said, slapping her bare knee. “Three times! And I guarantee I work more hours.”

“I could make even more if I worked at a for-profit company,” Jill admitted. “But money isn’t my primary motivator.”

Lizzie bumped up against her shoulder. “Only people who make a lot say that. It’d be your primary motivator if you were drowning in bills.”

“You’ve got a good point.” She struggled to her feet, trying not to show how stiff her knees had gotten in just a few minutes. “I’ll buy you three cappuccinos if you like.”

“One will do. Make it a decaf this time.” As Jill walked away she called after her, “A piece of lemon pound cake wouldn’t go uneaten.”

After delivering two cups, Jill went back to carry two plates, one with pound cake and one with something that looked like an apple tart, but was supposed to be a Danish. “I think this is about a thousand calories,” she said, holding it up like she was weighing it. “I probably burned that much, right?”

“If you came from Canada. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. Unlike my poor sisters, who fight every calorie, you must burn them efficiently.”

“They’re a couple of years older than I am. Maybe twenty pounds will leap onto me in a few years.”

“Nah. If you’re fit at forty, you’re going to stay there. Your mom’s thin, isn’t she?”

“Uh-huh. My dad too. I lucked out.”

“What are you up to today? Are you going to keep riding?”

“No. I think I’ll cut my grass and plant some flowers. I’m going out tonight, so I’ll try to squeeze in a nap.”

“Out…with a woman?”

“Yeah, but not that kind of out. I’m going to some friends’ house for dinner and some kind of board game.” She almost asked Lizzie to come with her, but quickly had second thoughts. Karen and Becky shouldn’t have to set another place at the table due to Jill’s guilt at ignoring her social obligations. “Want to come over and help me plant?”

“I’m not in the mood to garden today.” She patted her laptop. “And even if I was, I’ve got to finish writing a grant by Monday. I hate being a responsible adult,” she groused.

“Then we’ll have to get together and do something you like. What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Mmm…” She took a sip of her coffee as she half-closed her eyes. “I like to go see the Lake Monsters.”

“You’re a baseball fan?”

“Uh-huh. And I watch basketball a lot. Hockey too. Men and women for that. Women only for basketball.”

“Really?” Jill sat back against the wall and looked at her carefully. “We should go to a game sometime. There’s no problem getting into women’s games, but I can get prime seats for men’s hockey.”

“I bet you can have whatever you want, up there in your ivory tower, rubbing elbows with the provost.”

“No,” she said, chuckling. “I give money to the Victory Fund. I’m allowed to buy priority season tickets to basketball and hockey, but I never do. Most of my friends are couples, and I can only buy two seats.”

“So you don’t go?”

“No, I still go, we just don’t get the good seats.”

“How about your girlfriend? Was she a sports fan?”

“Not a bit,” Jill said, shaking her head. “We didn’t have that much in common, to be honest. She liked to read and cook and putter around the house. I like to go out and socialize.”

Lizzie’s gaze narrowed as she let it linger on Jill, moving up and down her body for a few seconds, like she was considering her for a task and wanted to make sure she was fit for it. “Do you ever go to clubs?”

“Once in a while. But I don’t have many friends who like live music, so it’s rare.”

“You’ve got one now,” she said decisively. “How about First Friday?”

“The gay thing at the club in South Burlington?”

“Yeah. Sometimes the band is horrible, but it’s only five bucks. And the DJ afterwards is usually good.”

“It’s a deal.” Jill found herself shaking on it, then wondering why she’d agreed to go to a small, crowded club where she’d probably be the oldest person by decades. Oh, well, they’d still let her in. There were laws against age discrimination.

Lizzie finished her cappuccino, then easily rose, as if pulled by an invisible wire. She offered a hand when Jill struggled to follow.

“I would have gotten up eventually,” she joked. “I might have had to get on my hands and knees first, but I would have gotten there.”

“It’s time for you to go play in the dirt, while I go finish this grant.”

“You’re not going out later?”

“Oh, sure. That’s all in my schedule. If I’m finished by four, I can take a nap.”

“Just what I was going to do,” Jill said. “I love afternoon naps.”

“Me too. My friends are coming to pick me up at ten, so I should have time to grab some dinner.”

“Sounds like my night, but mine will start at six,” Jill said. “That’s the difference between thirty and forty.”

Lizzie gave her a long, assessing look. “You don’t look anywhere near forty. Jon was almost your age, but more than one person asked if he was my dad.”

“If anyone thinks I’m your mom, we’re not going to hang out. That’s a promise.”

They went out into the sun, with Lizzie holding the door for Jill to carry her bike out. “Hey,” she said, seeming a little hesitant. “I was in a weird mood when we went out for drinks. I probably made it sound like I was some sexually obsessed whacko.”

“Not a bad thing to be,” Jill teased.

“No, but that’s not who I am. I definitely enjoy sex, and I definitely know what I want, but I’m not out screwing all of Burlington or anything.”

Jill put a hand on her arm. “I didn’t think that, Lizzie. And if you did, more power to you. You’re young and you’re single. If you’ve got the energy, why not burn it off?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged. “I think I was trying to shock you, and I might have been too successful.”

“I wasn’t shocked,” Jill said, even though she had been. “I tend to think I’m the wildest person to come out of Sugar Hill. It’s nice to know I have some competition.”

The cocky smile was soon back in place. “Oh, you’ve got competition. Lots of it.”

Jill’s friends Carly and
Samantha were planning a trip to Boston over Memorial Day weekend, and they were after her to go with them. “I know you love my company,” Jill said at dinner one night. “But I can’t help thinking you like my car as much as you do me.”