Table for Seven (38 page)

T
HE DECEMBER MEETING OF the Table for Seven Club was canceled. Audrey called Fran and Jaime and invited them to meet her for dinner at the Lemon Tree on the night the club would have met. The restaurant was owned by one of her regular clients, Heather, and her husband, Juan, who was the chef.

Audrey arrived at the restaurant first. Heather greeted her warmly, and sat her at a large corner table. Audrey sipped a glass of ice water while she waited for the others to arrive.

Fran got there next, looking wan and wearing a yellow dress that didn’t suit her.

“Sorry,” Fran said, sitting down across the table from Audrey. “One of those nights.”

“It’s okay. Jaime’s late, too,” Audrey said. “Is everything okay?”

Fran looked defensive. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You look tired,” Audrey said.

“That’s probably because I’m exhausted.” Fran pulled out her cellphone and began frantically scrolling through her text messages. Apparently not finding what she wanted, she dropped the cellphone on the table, and raised a hand to the waiter.

“I’d like a glass of the house Merlot, please,” Fran said.

“I thought we might order a bottle,” Audrey said.

“Sure,” Fran said. “Whatever you want.”

Audrey waited for Fran to cancel the glass of Merlot. When Fran didn’t call back the waiter, Audrey prompted. “Do you still want the glass?”

“What?”

“If we’re getting a bottle, do you still want the glass?” Audrey asked patiently.

“Oh, right. I guess it’s too late now,” Fran said, as the waiter appeared with her glass of wine.

Audrey stared at her friend, wondering what was going on. Fran seemed distracted and possibly even depressed. She looked terrible, too. Her skin was sallow and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked, leaning forward across the table and touching Fran’s hand.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Jaime said, arriving at the table out of breath.

“Hi, Jaime,” Audrey said, smiling up at her.

Fran glanced up and frowned. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

“There is a right and a wrong way to take that,” Jaime said, sitting in the empty seat next to Fran.

“You look like you’ve lost fifteen pounds since the last time I saw you,” Fran said.

Fran was right. Jaime had always been slim, but now she looked positively emaciated. She was, as usual, perfectly groomed—her blond hair sprayed into place, her makeup perfectly applied, her pink Lilly Pulitzer dress setting off her tan skin—but her eyes had a sad, haunted look and her face was hollowed out.

Audrey looked from one friend to the other, and finally said, “Okay, you two, what’s going on?”

Jaime and Fran exchanged uneasy looks.

“Actually, I do have some news,” Jaime said.

“Me, too,” Fran said, with a deep sigh.

“Okay, hold on. I think we’re going to need some wine before we get into it. Or at least, Jaime and I still need wine,” Audrey said, gesturing for their waiter.

“Give me two minutes, and I’ll be ready for a refill,” Fran said.

Audrey ordered a bottle of Chardonnay from Sonoma County, which the waiter promptly brought back to the table. He uncorked the wine, and poured a glass for Audrey, who took a sip, although she was now so worried by her friends’ general weirdness that she barely paid attention to the wine. She nodded to the waiter to go ahead and pour for the table.

“Have you had time to look over the menu?” the waiter asked, once the wine was poured.

“I have, but they haven’t,” Audrey said. “But I was going to suggest we try the tasting menu. Heather recommended it.”

“Fine with me,” Jaime said, pushing her menu to the side, and looking relieved to have the burden of making a decision lifted.

“Me, too,” Fran said.

Once the waiter had left, Audrey raised her wineglass. “Cheers,” she said.

“Cheers,” the other two said, and they clinked their glasses together in a dispirited way.

“What’s going on with you two?” Audrey asked again.

“You go first, Fran,” Jaime said.

“No, you,” Fran said.

“You’ve had a head start on the wine,” Jaime said, nodding to Fran’s mostly empty glass of red.

“And I need at least another glass before I can get into it,” Fran said.

“Me, too,” Jaime said.

“Oh, for God’s sake. One of you had better start talking!” Audrey said.

“Why don’t you start, Audrey,” Jaime suggested. “Tell us your news.”

“I don’t have anything to share. It’s the same old with me. Work, work, and more work.”

“How’s Kenny?” Jaime asked.

“We’re not seeing each other anymore,” Audrey said.

“That’s too bad. I liked him,” Jaime said. “Although I guess he wasn’t the most exciting guy in the world.”

“Exciting is overrated. But Kenny and I didn’t even have basic chemistry.” Audrey shrugged. “I’ve told you before, I’m not cut out for romance.”

“That’s not what Leland said,” Fran said.

“That’s right. I forgot about that, with everything that happened,” Jaime said.

“What are you two talking about?” Audrey asked.

“The night Leland died—right before he died—he said something about how you weren’t the type of woman who should be alone,” Fran said.

Audrey stiffened. “I think I’ve been getting along okay,” she said.

“He didn’t mean it as an insult. Just the opposite. I thought what he was saying was that you were the sort of person who would love well, and it would be a shame not to share that with another person. Isn’t that how you took it?” Jaime looked at Fran for confirmation. Fran nodded.

“How did my love life—or lack of a love life, I should say—become the subject of the dinner party conversation?”
Audrey asked. This idea, that the others had been talking about her, made her uneasy.

“It wasn’t,” Jaime said. “Leland said something about it to Coop. We just overheard him.”

“He said it to Coop?” Audrey asked more sharply than she intended.

Jaime nodded. “I got the feeling that Leland wanted to test out his matchmaker skills on you and Coop.” She smiled for the first time that evening and gave Fran a sly glance. “Didn’t you get that impression, Franny?”

Fran shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”

“Really? I thought Leland was being so obvious! I thought he was basically telling Coop to ask Audrey out,” Jaime said.

Audrey could feel her face flush red, and she stared down at her wineglass.

“I guess that just goes to show that no one’s right all the time. Not even Leland,” Fran said.

Jaime cocked her head to one side. “Why’s that?”

“Coop and Audrey went out on a date once. They didn’t hit it off,” Fran said.

“Seriously? I didn’t know that,” Jaime said, looking at Audrey.

“Actually, it was a bit more involved than that,” Audrey said.

“What?” Fran asked, finally looking focused and alert. “What does that mean?”

“I guess you could say that Coop and I had a bit of a fling,” Audrey admitted. She took a sip of her wine. “Although I’m not sure how Leland figured that out. I wonder if Coop told him?”

“You had a
fling
with
Coop
?” Fran asked, staring at Audrey.

“I don’t blame you. He’s really sexy. What happened?”
Jaime asked, her eyes round with interest. She took a sip of her wine and nibbled at a piece of buttered bread.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Their waiter appeared again, brandishing a tray with three small spoon-shaped bowls. “An
amuse bouche
from the chef to start your meal. This is a Thai lobster bisque.” He set the bowls down in front of them, said, “Enjoy,” and whisked off again.

“Mmm,” Audrey said, after tasting the soup. “This is excellent.”

“Audrey!” Fran said. Audrey looked up, surprised by the sharpness of Fran’s tone. “What happened with you and Coop?”

Audrey sighed. “Honestly, I wish I hadn’t brought it up. I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“But you did bring it up, so now you have to give us the details,” Fran said.

“No, she doesn’t,” Jaime said, glancing curiously at Fran. “Although, of course, we’d very much like to hear them, if you want to tell us.”

But Audrey was looking at Fran, frowning. “Fran, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, every time Coop’s name comes up—especially in connection with me—you start acting weird,” Audrey said.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. First, you told me he was gay. Then you basically told me he was a male slut. Then you insisted that he and I would have nothing in common. And now you look completely pissed off,” Audrey said.

“I’m not pissed off. I just don’t know why you’ve never
mentioned this fling before,” Fran said. Her face flooded with color, and she looked away.

“Do you have feelings for Coop?” Audrey asked quietly.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I’ve wondered whether you might have a crush on him,” Audrey said.

“Yeah, I actually wondered about that, too,” Jaime interjected.

“You did? You both thought that?” Fran asked.

Jaime nodded. “You get really animated when he’s around.”

“Oh, God,” Fran said. Her cheeks flushed. “I do?”

“Yes,” Jaime and Audrey said together.

“Great. That’s just great. I’m officially mortified,” Fran said.

“But is it more than that? More than a crush?” Audrey asked.

Fran didn’t respond. Instead, she sipped her wine, while still staring fixedly at the bread basket.

“Fran?” Audrey said gently. “Is that why you’ve been so against him and me getting together?”

“You’re not together though, are you?” Fran asked. “You said you had a fling. As in past tense.”

Audrey cleared her throat, knowing that what she was about to say might hurt her friend. But she didn’t see any way around it. “Actually, it was in the past. But Coop came to see me recently. I told him that I didn’t think it would work between us. But since that day, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. And I’ve been wondering if I pushed him away because I’ve been afraid.”

“Afraid how?” Jaime asked her.

Audrey lifted one shoulder. “Like I said, I’m bad at relationships. I don’t have a good track record when it comes to picking good guys. But I don’t want to go through life like that, afraid of becoming involved with someone. It’s no way to live,” Audrey said.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Jaime said. She squeezed Audrey’s hand. “You deserve to be happy.”

But Audrey was looking at Fran, who still seemed intent on not making eye contact with her. “What do you think, Fran?”

“Of course I think you deserve to be happy,” Fran said.

“No, I know that. But what if being with Coop is what makes me happy? How do you feel about that?” Audrey asked.

Fran finally looked at her then, and Audrey could see the pain in her friend’s face. “Does he make you happy?”

Audrey nodded. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Then you should be with him,” Fran said. Her eyes glittered with tears.

“Franny, what’s going on?” Audrey asked, leaning forward.

“It’s nothing,” Fran said. “Excuse me.”

Fran got up so quickly her wooden bistro chair nearly toppled over. She fled in the direction of the ladies’ room.

“Should I go after her?” Jaime asked anxiously.

“Give her a minute,” Audrey said, knowing that if it were her, she’d want the chance to compose herself—to get the tears under control, to be able to speak without sobbing—before anyone attempted to comfort her.

The waiter arrived with their first course and cast a concerned look in the direction of Fran’s empty chair.

“It’s okay, she’ll be right back,” Audrey assured him.

“Here we have a nice foie gras with a sour cherry reduction,” the waiter said, setting the three small plates down. He refilled their wineglasses, draining the last of the bottle. “Would you like another bottle?”

“Yes, please,” Audrey and Jaime said together, and then looked at each other and laughed.

“I think tonight the wine counts as medicinal,” Jaime said.

“I agree. Although we may be taking a taxi home,” Audrey said. “Unless we can talk Mark or Will into coming to pick us up.”

The smile vanished from Jaime’s face. “We won’t be calling Mark.”

“Uh-oh,” Audrey said. She realized it was the first time Jaime had ever opened up to her. Maybe they were friends, after all. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s wait until Fran gets back, so I only have to say it once,” Jaime said. “So, you and Coop, huh?”

“Maybe. I don’t know if he’s still interested,” Audrey said.

“I thought you said he wanted to get things started again?”

“He did. But that was a few weeks ago. And I turned him down. I don’t know if he’ll want to give me another chance,” Audrey said.

“Just tell him how you feel,” Jaime said. “Tell him what you told us.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Audrey said.

“You just said you didn’t want to go through your life being afraid,” Jaime said.

“Baby steps,” Audrey said. “First thing is to identify the problem. Then I’ll work my way up to doing something about it.”

Fran returned to the table at the same time the waiter arrived with their fresh bottle of wine. She sat down and waited for him to open the bottle and depart. Fran’s eyes were red, but she otherwise looked composed. The tears were gone, and she’d freshened her lipstick.

“Sorry about that. You didn’t have to wait for me to eat,” Fran said.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked.

“I will be.” Fran smiled weakly. “I guess I’m going to have to explain, aren’t I?”

“Only if you want to,” Jaime said. She tasted the foie gras and closed her eyes. “Oh, my God. This is heaven. It’s like meat butter.”

Audrey laughed. “Meat butter. That sounds like something Leland would say.” She sampled her foie gras and sighed happily. “Forget men. Maybe I should focus my attention on mastering charcuterie.” When neither Fran nor Jaime laughed—in fact, they both became unusually quiet, like a pair of hermit crabs snapping back into their shells—Audrey looked at them, bewildered. “Okay, you two. Spill it.”