Month of Sundays (4 page)

Her apartment building was quiet. Almost unnaturally so. She felt like the only tenant in residence.

She turned off the TV and sat in the dark, listening to the silence.

The next thing she knew, the sun was coming up and she hadn’t been to bed yet. The ringing telephone tore her away from her ruminations—thoughts of her old flame and questions about the sexy chef with a firm grip and a taste for tequila.

Assuming the caller was Jane wanting to know why she didn’t stick around last night, she took her time answering. She picked up the phone on the fourth ring just before the answering machine would have kicked in.

“Hey,” Jane said. “How was your Rocky Road?”

“It was Cherry Garcia and it was awesome, thanks,” Rachel said, stubbornly refusing to admit her evening had been less than satisfactory.

“If you say so. Be honest. How mad at me are you?”

“On a scale of one to ten, this one goes to eleven.”

“You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Oh, I think I can find a way.”

“Damn. You really are pissed.”

“I think I have reason to be, don’t you? The least you could have done was tell me what you had planned. Then I wouldn’t have looked like a complete idiot in front of a total stranger.”

An incredibly hot stranger.

“If I had told you Griffin was going to be there, would you have agreed to meet up with us last night?”

“Probably not.”

“See?”

“Regardless, I would have appreciated having the opportunity to make an informed decision.”

“If you don’t stop being so logical, I’m going to have to start calling you Mr. Spock instead of Rain Man. Okay, cross my heart and hope to die. I promise not to set you up on any more blind dates.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Jane chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“Thank you for trying and thanks for caring, but I’ve sworn off relationships for the immediate future and I’m seriously considering making the condition permanent.”

“You know what’s going to happen, right? Now that you’ve sworn off women, you’re going to meet the love of your life.”

Rachel flashed back to the night before. “Maybe I already have.”

“Who, Griffin? I’m not surprised. And you’re welcome, by the way. After you left, she kept going on and on about you. About how different you are from anyone she’s ever met. Being unaffected by celebrity must have its advantages. Women fawn all over the girl and she barely gives them the time of day. You ignore her and she’s chomping at the bit to see you again.”

“Is that why she invited me to her New Year’s Eve party?”

“She did what? Color me green with envy. All the big names are going to be there. I don’t know how you snagged the invitation or what you said when you two were having shots, but whatever it was, you must have made quite an impression.”

Rachel replayed her conversation with Griffin but couldn’t recall saying anything especially witty or incisive. Perhaps Griffin enjoyed a challenge as much as she did. Or was she looking for a pet project? If that was the case, she had better look elsewhere. Rachel didn’t feel like being anyone’s guinea pig.

“What do you have planned for today?” Jane asked. “Colleen wants me to paint the spare bedroom and I’m desperate to get out of it. Give me a reason.”

“Sorry. I don’t have anything exciting on tap. I’m going to clean my apartment, clean out my refrigerator, and watch an
I Love Lucy
marathon on TV.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Rachel’s stomach growled as soon as she opened her apartment door. Jane had a bucket of caramel popcorn under one arm and a bag of chocolate-covered potato chips under the other. Colleen was carrying a two-liter bottle of soda. Rachel turned her back on the mouth-watering junk food and returned to the task at hand.

“I’m joining a gym tomorrow,” she announced as she headed to the kitchen. “Who’s with me?”

“Not me,” Jane said, closing the door. “I don’t do manual labor.”

She and Colleen made themselves at home in the living room, where they curled up on the couch and watched Lucille Ball do pratfalls in a vat of grapes. Colleen put her head in Jane’s lap and Jane buried her fingers in Colleen’s auburn hair.

They were so cute together. They had been a couple for nearly twenty years and married for the past six. They had met as freshmen at Vassar and had been an item ever since. They were truly each other’s soul mates. Filled with love, their life together was nearly perfect. The only thing missing? The baby they were desperate to have. They had been trying for five years and had spent a fortune on in vitro fertilization treatments with no luck. They had experienced their share of false alarms but no pregnancies. Lately, Jane had begun to bring up the subject of adoption, but Colleen was steadfast in her determination to carry a child to term. To deliver a little miracle that was tangible evidence of the love she and Jane shared.

Rachel could hear her own biological clock ticking. The sound grew louder every day. Isabel hadn’t wanted kids. She said her life was complete without them. Rachel felt otherwise. One more thing upon which she and Isabel hadn’t been able to agree to disagree. Arguments over the issue had added more tension to their already strained relationship and may have contributed to its abrupt end.

Was Rachel supposed to apologize for wanting to be a wife and mother? Not a chance. She just hoped she’d eventually be lucky enough to meet someone who shared her desires.

Jane leveled her light blue eyes on Rachel. Her black hair was flecked with gray, lending her a distinguished air that her juvenile sense of humor often eradicated. Like a character in a gross-out comedy, she was endlessly amused by fart jokes. “Are you joining a gym because you want to or because you’re trying to land Griffin Sutton?”

“I’m not trying to
land
anyone. I want to get back in shape for me. No one else.”

“And the thought of making Griffin’s eyes bug out of her head doesn’t provide any extra motivation for you?”

Rachel’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, but Griffin was out of her league. She was like the inspiration photo you took to the salon when you wanted your stylist to give you a new haircut—a fantasy desired but rarely achieved.

“The only carrot on a stick I need is the thought of being able to climb four flights of stairs again without having to take a break at the halfway point.”

“So that’s why you stopped coming to visit,” Colleen said with a wink.

She and Jane lived in a fourth floor walk-up on the Lower East Side. Jane was an investment banker on Wall Street. The spate of scandals that had struck her profession had clouded her once rosy financial future, forcing her and Colleen to cut expenses. They sold their place on Park Avenue last year in favor of smaller, more affordable digs. Their new apartment was adorable, but the stairs leading to it were proving too taxing for Rachel’s over-stressed knees.

Colleen looked up at Jane. “I’m stuck in a cab all day, but you could do it, babe.” She poked a finger in Jane’s midsection. “You’re always saying you want a six-pack. Here’s your chance.”

“You said you loved my Buddha belly.”

“I love every inch of you, sweetie.” Colleen gave Jane a placating kiss to soothe any hurt feelings. “Even though I spend all day driving around the city, I can run circles around you. If we’re ever lucky enough to have a baby, are you going to have the energy to chase after a two-year-old?”

Colleen’s emerald eyes were so soft and nurturing Rachel was sure Colleen would make a wonderful mother. At the moment, those eyes were missing the positive energy Colleen was known for. Rachel wondered if the years of frustration had finally taken their toll. Jane picked up on it, too.

“Not
if
,” she gently corrected her, brushing a finger across the tip of Colleen’s button nose. “You mean
when
, don’t you?
When
we have a baby, I’m going to run rings around both of you.”

“That’s a sight I can’t wait to see.”

Jane bent to press a kiss to Colleen’s lips then turned to Rachel. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a workout partner.”

“Sweet.”

Rachel began to pull all the calorie-laden treats from her refrigerator.

“Damn, you
are
serious,” Jane said when Rachel tossed two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a box of Klondike bars into a trash bag.

“From now on, it’s frozen yogurt, fresh fruit, and celery sticks.” Rachel reached for the frozen Snickers.

“Give me one of those before you force me to go cold turkey.”

Rachel underhanded her one of the decadent treats. Jane nearly took it down in one bite. Then she let out an orgasmic moan. “Mmm, that’s better than sex.”

Colleen smacked her on the arm. “Speak for yourself.”

“I didn’t mean sex with you, babe. Nothing’s better than that.”

She dipped her index finger into the ice cream-filled center of the frozen Snickers and slowly slid it between Colleen’s parted lips. Then it was Colleen’s turn to provide sound effects.

“If you two need a room, there’s one right behind you.”

Jane grinned and pointed at the TV. “Maybe later. It’s time for the Vitameatavegamin episode.”

“I love that one.”

“Then get your ass over here.”

Rachel checked the expiration date on a box of frozen pizza. Even though the contents were still good, she tossed the container anyway. She quickly finished cleaning the refrigerator, took the bag to the trash chute down the hall, then crashed on the couch with her friends. Wrapped up in Lucy and Ethel’s zany adventures, she laughed her ass off and forgot all about her problems. In short, it was a perfect Saturday afternoon.

“You
are
coming to our Christmas party next weekend, aren’t you?” Colleen asked as she and Jane prepared to leave.

“Is Griffin going to be there?”

Jane’s eyes lit up. “Why do you ask?”

“The party’s covered dish. If a professional chef is going to eat my food, I want her to sample something other than bean dip or a half-assed salad.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re asking?”

“I’m not angling for a date, Jane. Scout’s honor.” Rachel crossed her heart and held up three fingers for emphasis.

“Too bad. Sadly, no, she’s not going to be there. She has to work. Sunday is her only day off. It’s part of her deal. She practically had to sell a kidney in order to meet us for drinks Friday night. Then you had to ruin it by turning tail and running. Now don’t you wish you had stayed?”

Rachel avoided answering the question by asking one of her own. “How many people are you expecting?”

“We sent invitations to fifteen people.”

“An uneven number. That means it’s going to be all couples except for me. Why do I have to be odd woman out?”

“I could arrange another blind date if you like.”

“No, thanks. How many have confirmed?”

“Ten have RSVP’ed so far, including you.”

“In other words, I need to make a dish substantial enough to feed an army. Or I could cheat and pick up a brisket from the deli on the corner.”

“Do it and die.” Jane pointed a warning finger in her direction. “Homemade means homemade.”

“Fine. I’ll make the white chili you love so much.”

Jane licked her lips in anticipation. “Extra jalapeños, please.”

“Do that and
I’ll
kill you,” Colleen said. “This one may love jalapeños, but they don’t love her.”

“I know. I was her roommate in prep school, remember? I always had to open a window after she ate Mexican food.”

Jane threw her hands up. “Hey,
she
’s right here and she can hear you.”

“We know, honey,” Colleen said. “That’s what makes it more fun. See you Saturday night, Rach?”

“I’ll be there. Without the extra jalapeños.” She gave each of them a hug. “See you Monday, gym rat,” she said to Jane’s departing back.

Jane flipped her the bird before she and Colleen turned the corner.

Rachel closed the door and took a look around. Her hermit’s cave exhibited a lightness it hadn’t possessed a few hours before. Though her cleaning jag had helped, she thought the different mood she was noticing was more a reflection of the change taking place inside her than a testimony to the power of Windex.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself again. And that felt pretty damn good.

On Monday morning, Griffin awoke to the sight of snow falling outside her window. She lay in bed and watched the fresh flakes blanket the city. Although the temperature outside was below freezing, her room was a comfortable sixty-eight degrees. Resisting the temptation to burrow under the covers and catch another forty winks, she tossed the comforter aside, put on workout clothes, and went for a five-mile run. Bitterly cold air pricked her lungs with each step. Snowplow drivers were out in force, their thick layers of clothing a far cry from the swimsuit-sporting beachcombers she was used to.