Table for Seven (29 page)

“Big deal, Coop swam around with some sharks. That’s nothing compared to what I faced down this summer,” Will said.

“Which is what?” Jaime asked.

“Disney World,” Will said grimly. “Apparently, in August, all of Europe heads to Florida and makes a beeline for Disney World.”

“So? What do you have against Europeans?” Audrey asked, smiling at him.

“Nothing, right up until they make me have to wait an hour to ride Space Mountain,” Will said. He smirked. “Speaking of which, I have the best vacation photo ever of Fran riding Space Mountain.”

“Please tell me you didn’t bring that with you!” Fran exclaimed.

“I wish I had. It’s great,” Will said.

“You were able to take a picture of her? How? Isn’t that the ride that’s really dark?” Jaime asked.

“They take the photo while you’re on the ride, and then sell it to you on your way out,” Will explained. “And as soon as I saw the one of Fran, I knew I had to have it. She has her eyes shut and is screaming in terror.”

“For good reason,” Fran said.

“You’re afraid of roller coasters?” Mark asked Fran, looking incredulous.

“It’s a normal thing to be afraid of,” Fran said defensively.

“They make those rides for little kids.”

“They go really fast and turn you upside down. The whole thing is terrifying,” Fran said.

“Actually, Space Mountain doesn’t turn upside down,” Will said.

“Are you sure? I could have sworn I was upside down at one point. It was when I started screaming,” Fran said.

“Positive,” he said. “And you were screaming before the ride even began. You started when they were just checking your seat belt.”

“I can’t help it if I have a deeply ingrained sense of self-preservation,” Fran said.

“I don’t blame you. I hate roller coasters, too,” Jaime said, standing to collect the salad plates.

“Do you need help?” Fran asked, standing.

“Sure, you can help me bring out the tapas. You all got my email, right? Instead of making a main course, I made several small plates,” Jaime said.

“Show-off,” Fran teased her.

“I’ll help, too,” Audrey said. She looked around at the men. “Don’t all hurry to get up and help us out.”

“Cooking and cleaning is women’s work,” Will said, grinning at her.

“Watch out, Will,” Kenny said. “Audrey will stab you with her stiletto. Those things she walks around on are lethal weapons.”

“I HAVE SOMETHING TO tell you guys,” Fran said, keeping her voice low, once the three women were alone in the kitchen.

“What?” Jaime asked.

“I’m leaving Will,” Fran said. A burst of nervous excitement cascaded through her. It was the first time she’d said the words out loud.

Audrey had been stacking salad plates in the sink. Jaime was taking the chicken rillettes out of the refrigerator and peeling back the plastic wrap that covered the serving dish. But at Fran’s words, both friends turned and stared at her with matching, dropped-jaw expressions.

“What?” Audrey asked.

“Fran,” Jaime said, reaching out and touching Fran’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay. This is what I want,” Fran said.

“What’s going on? Is Will … is he …,” Audrey began, but couldn’t seem to complete the thought.

Fran shook her head. “He’s not cheating on me. At least,
not that I know of. But, no, I seriously doubt it. Infidelity is not in Will’s nature.”

“Then
why
?” Audrey asked.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I’m just not happy. Will’s not happy, either. He spends all of his time in the garage, completely checked out of life.”

“Have you talked to a marriage therapist?” Audrey asked.

“No. We have in the past, but it was a waste of time and money. The truth is, we’re just not in love with each other anymore,” Fran said. Her initial burst of excitement faded at the bleak reality. “We lay in bed every night, side by side, like we’re brother and sister. I can’t remember the last time we kissed, much less the last time we made love. It’s not like we fight all that often, but it’s not like there’s anything else there. We just stagnate.”

“You’re friends, though, right? I always thought Will was your best friend,” Audrey said.

Fran felt sadness wash over her. “Maybe at one time. But it’s been so long, it’s hard to remember. Now he’s just the guy who sits in the garage, ignoring everything that’s going on in our lives.”

“But a separation? That’s a really big step,” Jaime said.

“I know, trust me,” Fran said. She paused to take a sip of her wine, and then leaned back against the counter. “And I know it seems sudden to you two. But trust me, I’ve been thinking about it for months. About how we can’t keep going on like this. Without passion, without any spark between us. We both deserve more.”

“But why can’t you rekindle that spark with Will?” Audrey asked. “Spend time together, go out on dates, meet him at the front door wearing Saran wrap.”

Both Jaime and Fran laughed.

“I’ve never seen how wearing Saran wrap is supposed to be sexy,” Fran said.

“It seems like it would be hot,” Jaime said. “Not sexy-hot, but just hot.”

“And hard to get out of,” Fran added.

“I’m serious. Maybe if you try harder—if you both try harder—you can get back what you once had,” Audrey said.

“I have tried. We’ve tried. But how can I make myself feel something for him that I don’t? Whatever we once had, it’s just … gone,” Fran said, shaking her head.

“So, you’re giving up?” Audrey shook her head. “Just like that, you’re giving up?”

“It’s not a matter of giving up.”

“You just announced you’re leaving your husband of, what? Seventeen years?” Audrey continued.

“Sixteen next July.”

“Fine. Sixteen years. You’re leaving a sixteen-year marriage because you’re
unhappy
. Do you have any idea how selfish that sounds?”

Fran blinked. She’d expected surprise, shock even, at her announcement. But not anger. “Marriages end, Audrey. People fall out of love. It happens all the time.”

It probably would have happened to you and Ryan, if he hadn’t died so young
, she wanted to add, but managed to stop herself.

“What about Iris and Rory? Have you thought about how this will affect your daughters?” Audrey demanded. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were narrowed into two angry slits. Fran almost took a step back from her. She had never seen Audrey this angry, and certainly never at her.

Jaime, who had been listening in what seemed to be shocked silence, said, “I think what Audrey is saying is that
this is a big decision. It’s not something you should rush into.”

Fran crossed her arms, as though this would repel her friends’ disapproval. “Do you seriously think this is some sort of a whim? Of course I’ve thought about it. I haven’t thought about anything else for months. I know that the girls will be upset for a little while. But I think it will be better for them to eventually see that it’s important to have passionate, loving relationships in life. That when it comes to love, they shouldn’t settle.”

“Bullshit,” Audrey said.

“Excuse me?” Fran asked, staring at her.

“I said,
bullshit
. Kids don’t care if their parents are happy or not. All they care about is if they’re together.”

Fran suddenly remembered this very sentiment stated in a conversation they’d had, months earlier, when they’d been talking about Allison Hart and her divorce—which, Fran had recently learned, had been finalized over the summer. Fran also remembered how disgusted she had been with Allison—with her affair, with how she had frittered away her family’s stability.
Is that how everyone is going to view me?
she wondered.

“I don’t know. I think that if the parents are fighting a lot, and there’s a lot of tension in the house, the kids might actually be relieved to not have to live with that anymore,” Jaime said.

“I thought you said that when your parents divorced you would have preferred they stay together than be happy,” Audrey said.

Audrey had always had an annoyingly good memory.

“Did I say that?” Jaime asked, her brow creasing. “I guess so. But I was a kid then. With a kid’s perspective. If Will and
Fran are in turmoil …” She trailed off with a wave of one hand.

“But Will and Fran aren’t fighting. Are you?” Audrey asked, cutting her eyes at Fran.

Fran shook her head. “No.”

“No,” Audrey repeated. “Fran’s just going to tear her family apart because she’s bored.”

Fran’s shock at Audrey’s anger fell away, quickly replaced by a white-hot fury that pressed in her chest and burned at her throat.

“I didn’t say I was
bored
. I said I was
unhappy
. There’s a big difference,” Fran said, spitting out the words. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by your reaction. You’ve always overly romanticized marriage.”

“No, I haven’t!” Audrey’s arms were crossed now, too, her body language mirroring Fran’s.

Jaime stood off to the side, glancing nervously at the swinging doors that led off to the dining room, clearly worried that they might be overheard. Fran glanced in that direction, too, but thought they were safe—the men’s lively voices and laughter were muffled through the doors. If she couldn’t hear what they were saying, they certainly couldn’t hear her.

“You always talk about marriage as though it’s some sort of fairy tale. And they lived happily ever after. But they don’t always. And I would think you, of all people, would know that,” Fran said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Audrey demanded.

Fran shook her head. “Do you seriously not remember what it was like when you were married to Ryan? Or have you deluded yourself into thinking that you had a happy marriage?”

Audrey flinched as though Fran had slapped her, and the blood drained from her face.

“You don’t know anything about my marriage,” Audrey whispered.

“I know that Ryan was an alcoholic. I know that it was normal for him to start drinking at lunchtime and not stop for the rest of the day. I know that there were nights when he didn’t roll in until two or three in the morning, and you had no idea where he was,” Fran said.

Even in her anger, Fran knew she was crossing a line. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“You’ve never even admitted that the reason he probably died that night was because he’d been drinking. People don’t just drive into overpasses. At least sober people don’t,” Fran continued.

“Fran,” Jaime murmured. She touched Fran’s arm. “That’s enough.”

“Yes. That’s enough. I know my husband better than you did. I know what his faults were. Just because I don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean I didn’t know what was going on. But, unlike you, I would never have thrown away my marriage. I would have fought for it. Fought for him,” Audrey said. She gave Fran a long, level stare. Fran felt something between them break away. A fault line cracking open.

The doors to the kitchen swung open, and Mark and Kenny came in.

“You’re taking a long time. We thought you might need some help,” Mark said.

Mark seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, but Kenny’s eyes sought out Audrey and he frowned with concern.

Audrey turned to Jaime. She was still very pale and her red lips were set in a thin line, but when she spoke, her voice was composed. “Thank you for having us over, Jaime, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave early.”

“Leave? But we haven’t had dinner yet,” Mark said. He slung an arm around Jaime’s shoulders. “Jaime’s been slaving over the food for days. You have to try the roulettes.”

“Rillettes,” Jaime murmured.

“Right. Rillettes. You have to try the rillettes,” Mark said.

“No,” Audrey said abruptly. She looked at Kenny. “I’m sorry, I have a terrible headache. Would you mind taking me home?”

Fran stood back, her arms crossed, her head still buzzing with anger, as Audrey and Kenny made a quick departure—Audrey collecting her bag from the living room, Kenny returning to the dining room through the swinging doors to make their excuses to Coop, Leland, and Will. Jaime turned and looked at her reproachfully.

“Maybe you should go after her,” Jaime said softly.

“No,” Fran said. She shook her head in defeat. “Just let her go.”

“What’s going on?” Will asked, pushing through the swinging doors with Coop in his wake. “Kenny just came in and said that he and Audrey are leaving. What’s that about?”

Fran looked at her husband’s round, boyish face. His cheeks were flushed—a by-product of the wine, Fran knew, drinking always made him turn red—but his eyes were bright and inquisitive as he looked at her for more information. She gave him a warning look, one that was meant to communicate,
Not now, I’ll tell you later
. Will nodded, and she knew he’d understood. They’d always been able to have complete
conversations like this, without a word ever being spoken. Maybe all married couples did, after years of practice negotiating the minefields of children and in-laws.

Fran’s throat suddenly felt thick and sore, and tears stung at her eyes as she pictured herself in the life she’d have post-Will. Living alone in a small, neat house, spending her evenings reading quietly, cooking meals for one. She thought she’d be okay with the solitude, and having the girls with her half-time, and even the inevitable fallout among their friends, like what had just happened with Audrey. But she realized—maybe for the first time, really realized—that it would mean giving up the intimacy of a husband. Someone she could exchange one look with and communicate an entire conversation.

But then she looked at Coop—who, if possible, was looking even more sexy than usual; he had lost weight on his trip, and was lean and darkly tanned—and she felt a rush of excitement when his pale eyes met hers. She’d never have that stomach-swirling feeling again with Will, or turn jelly-legged when he kissed her. How could she go through life never feeling that again? Even if Coop wasn’t her future—and even in her most lust-filled fantasies, Fran knew he probably wouldn’t be—there was at least the chance of something else. With someone else. The chance of a life that was exciting and full of passion. Something other than the vanilla pudding life she was now living.