Nobody's Fool (5 page)

Speech escaped him so he just nodded while he absorbed the sensation of Jolie atop him. Without thinking, he curled his fingers in her hair, pushing it back away from her face, memorizing the texture of it, his mind a million miles away. “Great,” he finally answered.

“Our winners are Court Harrison and Jolie Kramer,” Erin blow-horned from about three feet away. “Let’s give them a big round of applause.” Half-hearted hand clapping was offered from the other competitors. Those not involved clapped slightly louder.

“You two can get up now,” Erin said, not bothering to lower the blow horn. “Game’s over.”

Her words managed to filter their way into Court’s head. Jolie hadn’t made any effort to get off him. He didn’t know what to think about that. He half sat up and she slid to his side and began undoing the ties.

“That was fun. When’s the last time you were in a three-legged race?” Then in the next breath she said, “Oh, no.” She’d discovered a red welt where the skin on Court’s leg had been rubbed raw. She stroked it with her fingertips. He sucked in his breath. The scrapes stung, but her touch added a whole new kind of heat. “We should put some ice on that.” She inspected the inside of his thigh as well.

If he didn’t put a stop to this soon, she was going to have something else to inspect. He got up awkwardly, pushing her aside. “I’ll be okay. It’s no big deal.” He offered her his hand and she got to her feet.

“Okay, everybody, next game. Let’s form lines, as many as we can, ten people in each, boy, girl, boy, girl. Sarah’s going to give the person at the head of each line a Life Saver. Everyone gets a toothpick. Put your toothpick between your lips. The goal is to pass the Life Saver from toothpick to toothpick, down the line. First team to get it to the last person in their line without dropping it wins. If you drop it, you have to start over.”

“Where did Erin come up with these games?” Jolie whispered to Court as they took up positions at the end of one line. Sarah handed them each a toothpick. “A time machine?”

“It’s good clean fun,” Court reminded her. The heads of each line were given their Life Savers and the game began.

They watched as a couple of the teams lost their candies and had to start over. “Our class seems to have a bit of trouble working together,” Jolie observed.

No one was taking the game seriously, except for some of the former jocks who considered everything in life a competition, moaning and groaning at their teammates’ incompetence. “Step it up!” one shouted like it was the last chance for a Super Bowl win.

More Life Savers landed on the ground and more teams had to start over. “At this rate we’ll run out of candy before anyone wins.”

“What’s the matter? Are you bored?” Court asked.

“Not at all,” she answered, surprised to discover it was true. She was enjoying herself in a way she hadn’t in, well, she couldn’t remember when. Playing these stupid games in the park on a fall day with her old classmates was surprisingly liberating. Perhaps she’d been afraid she’d lost the ability to have simple fun or to know what it was when it occurred.

Besides Val, she had a small circle of friends in New York and enjoyed Sunday brunches with them, movie or theatre dates, the occasional concert or Knicks game.

But on those social outings she sometimes felt like a lab rat in a controlled environment. Always concerned about her appearance, contributing something clever to the conversation, learning about the hottest new restaurant or boutique before anyone else. She couldn’t let go and be herself.

Although it had begun long before she’d arrived for the reunion, being here had brought her face-to-face with her own unhappiness and discontent. She was going to have to do some serious soul-searching and make some changes after admitting what she’d known in her heart for so long—the life she had wasn’t what she wanted.

Court turned away from her as the Life Saver made it through several successful exchanges without hitting the ground. Tom Kavenna slid it onto Annie Gilling’s toothpick and she turned to Court. He crouched in front of the woman’s petite frame and held perfectly still. The ends of the toothpicks touched, the Life Saver slid from one to the other. The rest of the line clapped and cheered. Court straightened and turned to Jolie, toothpick clenched between his teeth.

Jolie was ready. She stood on tiptoe as he bent down, matching the end of her toothpick to Court’s. The angle was right, the Life Saver slid the length of the toothpicks until it touched Jolie’s lips. Everyone in their line clapped and cheered and gathered around. Erin was there with her blow horn to announce their team as the winners.

Court picked Jolie up and spun her around. Self-control completely abandoned, she laughed like a kid again.

Even with all the others gathered around offering their congratulations, Jolie had eyes only for Court. He draped an arm over her shoulders and they moved toward the picnic tables where the food was laid out. Big smoking barbeque grills had been set up and the cooks were offloading hamburgers, hotdogs and chicken.

They filled their plates and found an open space at one of the tables. Jolie squeezed next to Court, his thigh pressed against hers. She couldn’t concentrate on her food. She sipped her soda and listened to the conversations around her with half an ear. She saw Chip trailing behind Sarah as they approached a nearby table and took seats with their backs to Jolie.

Make amends. Clean up the clutter in your life. Only then will you be able to move forward.
Pop psychology guru Caroline Gordon’s words washed over her. She’d been attending Caroline’s workshops after Jeff’s death and her own wake-up call.

She’d been struggling with her discontent before then, but after the memorial service she’d decided it was past time to make changes. Caroline’s in-your-face, no-nonsense approach appealed to Jolie, and her book outlined the steps Jolie needed to create the life she wanted. Sometimes she struggled to follow them, to put herself on the line, to risk rejection or being thought a fool, but she was determined to be her authentic self. That was the Jolie that had gotten as far as she had with Melina’s proposal. That Jolie hadn’t looked for an excuse not to try.

Jolie looked over at Chip and Sarah. She owed Sarah an apology. Chip, too, maybe, although she’d broken up with him face-to-face the same day Court had given her the locket. Still, she’d strung Chip along for months, knowing she planned to leave Illinois, and that hadn’t been fair to him. She took another sip of soda, but the artificial sweetness couldn’t wash away the taste remorse left in her mouth.

“Are you all right?” Court bent his head close to her so only she could hear him.

“I’m fine,” she responded automatically, still watching Chip and Sarah. She knew what she had to do.

That evening after she’d showered and changed clothes and pretended to eat dinner with her parents even though she was still full from the picnic, Jolie curled up on the porch swing and looked back through her tablet computer, which she used to create initial designs, double-checking the ideas she’d had after her discussions with Melina. Advances in technology made fashion designing easier than it had ever been, but sometimes she still preferred her pencils and paper.

Maybe it was learning Melina was Court’s client. Or maybe it was from being around Court again. Whatever the reason, Jolie was inspired in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Maybe not since high school.
When Court was there to tell you how wonderful all your sketches were?
She didn’t want to think that was so, that in abandoning Court she’d somehow also abandoned herself, her dreams, her inspiration. Whatever the reason, she was inspired now.

She had three new looks she thought were pretty good along with notes and preliminary sketches for several others. She set to work adding detail to the three. She’d moved on to a fourth sketch when Court plunked down next to her. The swing gave a jerk and Jolie grabbed for her tablet, which threatened to slide off her lap. The high-tech piece of equipment wouldn’t be easily replaced, especially since she needed to back up everything she’d just done.

Her heart had skipped a beat, but that might have just been from the shock. She gave Court a half-annoyed, half-pleased glance. “A little warning would have been nice,” she said, clutching the pad in both hands and securing it back on her lap.

“I said hello and asked if I could join you,” Court told her, setting the swing in motion with one long leg. “I took your silence for acquiescence.”

“You must have been whispering because I never heard a word.”

She looked down at the pad, letting her hair shield her face, trying to still the uneven beat of her heart and concentrate on the sketch she’d been working on.

“What are you doing?”

“Working.”

“On what? Can I see?”

She almost told Court he was as big a pain as ever, but she didn’t because it occurred to her that Court was the only person she’d ever shown her design ideas to until she went to college, and only then because she had to. Criticism, even when she knew it to be valid, made her cringe. But praise was almost worse. She either couldn’t believe it or she didn’t trust the source. Wasn’t it in her instructors’ best interest to see her do well? Her success would reflect back on them, wouldn’t it? She hadn’t believed them and somehow that had made her stop believing in herself.

Only Court had believed in her talent from the start. He had no vested interest in her success or failure. In his eyes she could do no wrong and somehow back then, she’d believed that of herself. Not that she was perfect, or that everything she produced was. But she’d trusted the effort, the process.

When she left Oak Ridge she’d disconnected herself from the only person who’d given her unqualified, unquestioning support. Why had she done that? Why had she run away from everything Court had offered?

Court asked, “Is it some top-secret design work? For the First Lady, perhaps?”

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled. “No, she hasn’t called yet. Of course you can see.”

She tilted the pad toward him and swiped through the four pages of ideas. She continued using her finger to swipe from one image to the next through the rest of the preliminary sketches. “These are some ideas I haven’t finished yet.”

“Can you go back to the first ones, but go slower.”

Jolie did so, allowing Court to study each in turn for as long as he wanted. He made comments on each. “I like the big buttons on this one.” “Are those zippers on the cuffs?” “Ruffles trimmed with leather? Has that been done before?” “I like the jacket. It’s got a soft biker chic look going for it.”

She powered down the tablet and tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy with Court next to her. “Those are fantastic,” he said. “What are they for?”

She debated answering, but only for a moment. This was Court, after all. “After you mentioned Melina last night, I got inspired.”

Court stopped the swing. “These are for her? For her line?”

Jolie hedged. “Well, she was the inspiration for them.”

“Jolie, these are really great. I think Melina would flip over them.”

Jolie let herself bask in Court’s unqualified enthusiasm, just a little. “Do you? I see Melina as someone who’s tough and strong, especially on the outside. That’s the persona she presents. But underneath, she’s still feminine. That’s why I like the juxtaposition of fabric. Jersey with metal buttons. A wool military-style jacket with lace cuffs and seed pearl detail.”

“I could show these to her if you like.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But according to the fashion design grapevine she has a designer lined up already.”

Sure she meant herself, but it wasn’t like she was lying.

Chapter Six

“Hi, Melina.”

“Joleee!” Melina squealed, her Eastern European accent pronounced. If they hadn’t been on the telephone she no doubt would have kissed Jolie on both cheeks. “You are calling about contract, no? Is not final. Not yet,” Melina acknowledged. “The lawyers, they work on the details. One day. Two days, maybe.”

“I understand. Actually, I have a favor to ask. Two favors, actually.”

“You sign contract to be designer for me, I do favors for you.”

“It’s about your agent, Court—”

“Court? Yes, he is divine man. I adore him. He do anything I ask. You want I fix you up with him?”

A bubble of laughter escaped from Jolie. Part of Melina’s appeal was how she often jumped to the wrong conclusions, sometimes with hilarious consequences. “No. I don’t need you to fix me up with him. I already know him. We grew up together.”

“What is favor?” Melina half covered the phone on her end and issued orders in her native tongue to someone.

“Could you not mention to Court that you know me?” Jolie continued when she had Melina’s undivided attention once again.

“Why is this? I do not understand.”

“It’s a long story. Court thinks he’s helping me. He might put in a good word with you for me.”

“What is good word?”

“A recommendation, so you’ll choose me to design your line.”

“I have already chosen you. I wait only for you to sign contract.”

Jolie closed her eyes. Conversations with Melina could be both exhilarating and exhausting. “Yes. But Court doesn’t know that. Just, if he mentions me, could you not tell him?”

“Why you not tell him? He is friend, no?”

Jolie thought of her past experience in the volatile fashion world. A couple of opportunities she’d become overly excited about that hadn’t come to fruition. How foolish she felt admitting she’d jumped the gun. “I’d prefer to tell him and everyone else as soon as I sign the contract. Not before, all right?”

“If you want I will say nothing. Saying nothing is easy.”

“Thank you, Melina. I appreciate it.” Jolie plunged ahead. “He might send you some ideas I’ve come up with for you. I’m not sure they’re right for your line, but since you were the inspiration for them I’d like you to see them

“This is also big secret?”

“I’ll explain everything to him when the contract is signed. Until then, I’m a bit superstitious about saying anything to anyone. I hope you understand.”

“Is no skin off my knee,” Melina agreed. “I will look at designs if he sends and I will say nothing that I am talking to you.”

“Thanks, Melina. I appreciate it.”

“Is not his business, anyway. He is for tennis only. Not fashion.”

Jolie hesitated. Melina’s offer would force her to choose between the career she’d made for herself and the possibilities designing Melina’s line would bring. Two of Jolie’s regular clients had asked her to design wedding gowns for them before. Chances were good she’d at least get a mention in the New York papers’ coverage of the weddings. Both women had agreed to be part of her publicity efforts in exchange for practically free gowns, since Jolie would charge them for the materials only. Her hope was that word of mouth would spread, she’d be asked to design for more brides and as her reputation grew, eventually she’d create her own line—and she’d have the security of her current job to fall back on while that happened.

But designing for Melina might help achieve the same goal even faster, assuming the line was successful. Melina might even back a line of wedding gowns. Especially if she ever decided to settle down with one of the men she was linked to romantically. Her current beau was Ricardo Estevez, the Latino hip-hop artist known as RickyE.

But Jolie would be required to relocate to Atlanta, at least temporarily. Jolie hadn’t wanted to commit to that but Melina had made it non-negotiable. She needed to be hands-on throughout the process.

“If Court send, I look at your ideas. I must go now.”

“Thanks, Melina. Goodbye.”

On Monday afternoon, Jolie parked her rental in front of 701 Litchfield Lane and stared at the charming ranch-style home painted forest green with white trim. A red tricycle and an orange-and-blue wagon were parked to one side of the garage door. A flagstone path wound its way to the generous front stoop, shaded by a white awning.

Jolie stepped out of the car and wiped the palms of her hands on her skirt. Ridiculous, she told herself. What did she have to be nervous about? Was she afraid Sarah would reject her?

Yes
, was the resounding answer. Jolie had spent so long avoiding taking chances, afraid to appear the fool, that fear had become a part of who she was. For months she’d been asking herself when she was going to grow up and stop seeking approval from the rest of the world.

The easy thing right now would be to get in the car and drive back to her parents’ house without talking to Sarah, without apologizing to her ten years too late. If Sarah slammed the door in her face, it would be no less than she deserved.

Clean the dirt out of your closet!
Caroline Gordon’s command echoed in Jolie’s head.
Baggage you’re not even aware you carry can weigh you down. Examine your past, make amends where need be. Only then can you truly move forward with your life.

Jolie gripped the bouquet of flowers she held tight, marched up the path and knocked. A fall wreath hung just below the half-moon window.

The door opened and Sarah appeared with a toddler on her hip and another hanging onto the hem of her skirt. She didn’t glare and Jolie hoped that was a good sign. But she didn’t look particularly welcoming, either.

Jolie forced a smile to her lips. “Hi, Sarah. I was wondering if we could talk for a minute.”

The child tugged on Sarah’s skirt and murmured something Jolie couldn’t hear. The other one sucked on a bottle and stared at Jolie with Chip’s bright blue eyes.

“If it’s not too inconvenient,” Jolie added. “I know you’re busy—”

Sarah shifted the child to her other hip. “No, it’s okay. It’s almost naptime anyway. Come on in.”

The Sobeleski’s living room was filled with worn but comfortable-looking furniture and the usual detritus created by two young children. A half-finished puzzle covered the coffee table and building blocks and small vehicles were scattered across the floor.

The older child set up a whine as he trailed behind his mother, still clutching the material of her skirt in one small fist.

Sarah spoke to him in soothing tones.

“Have a seat.” Sarah nodded towards a beige sectional sofa. Jolie sank into the sofa cushions, feeling a sinking in her heart as well.
This could have been me
, she thought with twin reactions of horror and regret.

What if she’d married Chip and stayed in Oak Ridge, settled down and created a family? She’d be married to her high school sweetheart—God, what a cliché! She’d have missed out on the glamour and excitement of New York, the trips to LA, the opportunities she now had with Melina. She’d be stuck.

She watched as Sarah tucked the little boy up next to her in the padded rocker and cuddled the baby. She glanced up. Jolie felt foolish to be caught staring.

“These are for you,” she said belatedly, holding out the bouquet of flowers. Sarah nodded in acknowledgment, and Jolie laid them on the coffee table.

“Your children are beautiful,” Jolie continued. Sarah’s son snuggled closer to his mother. The baby’s eyelids were drooping. The bottle was almost empty.

“This is Chad,” Sarah said, indicating the boy. “And Chelsea.” She kissed the baby’s forehead.

“You’re so lucky,” Jolie said.

Sarah’s look was one of suspicion, as if she wondered if she was being mocked.

“No, really,” Jolie added to reassure her.

Sarah sat back. “Why are you here? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

“No, we’re not,” Jolie agreed. She could hardly argue with the truth, could she? “I came because…because I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what? Flirting with Chip?”

“No—I…” Chip had been the one doing the flirting. Did Sarah truly not realize that? Somehow that possibility made Jolie feel even worse. She’d had a purpose in coming here. She should say it and get it over with.

“Look, Sarah, I know this is probably too little too late, but I want to apologize to you anyway. My friends and I—” No, leave them out of it. They weren’t her friends anymore, and hadn’t really been true friends in high school. She’d chosen the behavior she’d shown toward Sarah and had no one but herself to blame. “I was cruel to you in high school. In junior high, too. I was a self-centered, selfish bi—” Jolie glanced at Sarah’s son and stopped herself short. “I was caught up in a popularity contest and too insecure to do anything besides what others expected me to do. I hurt you, I know I did. We were all terrible to you, and if I could take it back I would—”

“But you can’t,” Sarah cut in. She didn’t sound angry or upset. She was almost smiling.

“No, I can’t.”

Now Sarah did grin. “You know I’ve dreamt of this day or some version of it for a long time.”

“You have?”

“I never thought it would happen, but sure. It’s every fat girl’s dream to have the popular kid who made her life hell show up and apologize.”

“It—it is?”

“I don’t know about everyone, but it certainly was mine. Of course, in my dream you’re fifty pounds heavier and I’ve stolen your job and your boyfriend.”

“You’re not angry.”

“You expect me to be, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what I expected,” Jolie admitted.

“The truth is I owe you.” Sarah wiggled out of the chair, the baby in her arms. Chad had fallen asleep while they’d been talking. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

Jolie gazed at the sleeping boy. She could see Chip in the color of his hair and the line of his jaw. And of course those vivid blue eyes. She bit her lip, wondering how different this little boy might look if she were his mother instead of Sarah. Except, of course, she’d never have married Chip. She’d never loved him. He’d been the star of the football team, the most popular boy in the senior class. That’s why she’d dated him.

Sarah returned and let the recliner out so Chad was almost lying flat. She covered him with a small blanket.

“He thinks he’s too big to take a nap.” She signaled to Jolie. “Let’s go in the kitchen.” She picked up the flowers and Jolie followed behind. Jolie sat at the table while Sarah arranged the flowers in a vase. The kitchen was warm and homey with childish drawings held by magnets on the refrigerator door. The counter clutter included plastic cups and a box of animal-shaped crackers.

Sarah set the vase in the middle of the table. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Diet Coke?”

“Diet Coke.”

Sarah filled glasses with ice, poured the drinks and joined Jolie at the table.

“I meant what I said before. I really do owe you.”

Jolie shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh, yes I do. If it weren’t for you, God knows where I’d be today.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For as long as I can remember I had a crush on Chip. What girl didn’t? He was this blond, blue-eyed, charming kid everybody adored in grade school, remember?”

What Jolie remembered was the way Chip made the other kids, especially the girls, miserable with his mischief at that age, but was always respectful and polite to adults, especially teachers. He’d been a charmer all right.

“He was in my English class sophomore year and history senior year. I worshipped him from afar, obviously. He never so much as looked at me, especially senior year.”

Jolie winced. “Sarah if it helps at all—”

Sarah held up a hand. “No, let me finish. I hated you, because you had Chip. Everyone knew he was crazy about you.”

This confession session was more painful than Jolie had anticipated.

“He was crushed when you dumped him, you know.”

Jolie glanced away from Sarah’s gaze and blinked. The thought had barely occurred to her. How could she have been so unthinking back then? What was wrong with her?

“You probably don’t remember, but I’d slimmed down quite a bit by our senior year.”

“I don’t remember. I’m sorry—”

Sarah waved away her apology. “It doesn’t matter. Chip and I started at the community college that fall. By then, if I do say so myself, I was looking pretty good. So good, in fact, that Chip didn’t realize it was me he was flirting with in class.”

“Oh, Sarah—”

Sarah shrugged. “Who could blame him? He’d been with you senior year. Before that I was just the fat blimp people made fun of.”

A lump lodged itself in Jolie’s throat hearing Sarah talk about herself like that.

“What I’m trying to tell you is you’re the reason I changed. All the jealousy and the resentment I’d built up, I guess I channeled it into something positive. I wanted to be you.

“Oh, I don’t mean the shallow, cruel superficial part of you. I mean, the part with the great figure. I wanted Chip to notice me, the way he noticed you and all the girls like you.”

“But, Sarah, that’s just what’s on the outside.”

Sarah smiled and nodded. “I know. But I also wanted the confidence that went along with it. I think maybe that’s what I really envied about you.” Jolie almost laughed. Confident? If only she knew. “Besides, looks are all men are interested in at first. That’s what Chip was attracted to.” Her smile faded as she gazed at Jolie. “Still is, actually.”

“Sarah, I never flirted with Chip. I’m not interested in him. I never was.”

“I know that, but Chip doesn’t. Please don’t tell him. He still looks in the mirror and sees Brett Favre’s better-looking brother staring back.”

Jolie giggled at that revelation and Sarah joined her.

“Do you understand now? Knowing you helped me become a better me. You drove me to take care of myself, to take pride in myself and be confident enough to go after what I wanted. You don’t owe me an apology, Jolie. In a big way, I owe you.

“I love Chip. He’s a good guy. We’ve got the kids and this house, a pretty good life. I’m happy.”

Done with her speech Sarah sat back, and at that moment Jolie hated Sarah for having such contentment.
What about me? What do I have? What do I want?
If only she knew. If only she could figure it out. Ever since her return to Oak Ridge, it seemed like everything was backwards or out of balance somehow.