When We Fall (8 page)

“Okay, well, since you put it that way, I guess they're probably not the best buddies I envisioned.” Charlotte wondered if
she
was more like the best buddy Allison had envisioned, but she wouldn't dare say something that desperate.

“Fair enough!” The doorbell rang and Charlotte sighed, resentful of the interruption just as she was finally getting somewhere with Allison. “Let me go get that.” She placed her neatly pressed linen napkin on her chair and rushed out of the room.

Two minutes later, Charlotte walked back into the kitchen with an irritated expression on her face and her sister trailing behind her.

“Oh, hi.” Allison stood up. “I didn't know you were expecting someone else.”

“I wasn't.” Charlotte frowned at Elizabeth. “At least, not for another two hours.”

“Sorry, sis. Must have gotten the times mixed up.”

“Right, whatever.” Was it really so much to ask her sister to buy a desk calendar, or—heaven forbid—use the brand-new iPhone Charlotte had given her to schedule appointments?
Like the rest of the world.
“Allison, this is my sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Allison. She grew up in Wincourt and just moved back with her son, Logan, who's in Gia's class. Coincidentally, she and Charlie are old friends from summer camp.” Charlotte
deliberately left out the part about Allison's dead husband. That was Allison's information to share, if and when she felt comfortable.

“It's so nice to meet you.” Allison extended her hand and Elizabeth shook it somewhat reluctantly.

“Yeah, you too.” Elizabeth forced a smile just as the phone rang.

“For God's sake, is there never any peace and quiet to be had around here?” Charlotte picked up the receiver. “Hello . . . Hi, Sabrina . . . I'm just tied up. . . . You're kidding. . . . Okay . . . Hold on. . . .” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and whispered to Elizabeth and Allison, “I have to take this. I'll be super quick.”

Charlotte slipped out of the room, loath to leave them alone together, and twenty minutes passed before she returned to find Allison and Elizabeth sitting at the kitchen table engrossed in a lively conversation—Elizabeth in Charlotte's chair, eating her salad and a slice of quiche. Why not?

“We thought you'd skipped town.” Elizabeth smirked. She was sitting cross-legged on Charlotte's elegant linen chair, coiling Gruyère cheese around her fork like a toddler.

“Nope, I'm here.” She bristled, hoping Elizabeth would get up. Or move over. Or, better yet, come back later. She turned to Allison. “I'm so sorry. Sabrina and I were supposed to go on this girls' trip to Canyon Ranch after Christmas and now she can't make it. I doubt the resort will give us a full refund. Not to mention that I could
really
use a few days away. The whole thing is a nightmare.”

“Nightmare,”
Elizabeth deadpanned, and Charlotte glared at her.

“That's a bummer. A spa trip does sound really nice,” Allison empathized.

“Why don't you come?” The words fell out of her mouth before she could even think about what she was suggesting. But it really was the perfect solution. “It's not a long drive and it's only a few days. What do you think?” Charlotte smiled sanguinely.

“Wow, I don't know. . . .” Allison looked at Elizabeth and then again at Charlotte, who realized she was probably wondering why she hadn't asked her sister first.

“Come on! It'll be so much fun. . . .”
And it'll drive Sabrina completely mad.

“The thing is, my parents leave for their house in California after New Year's, and they're there into March. I know my mom has to come back for a few days for a friend's surgery, but it's not until the end of January. I don't have anyone to watch Logan.”

“He can stay with me.” Charlie strolled into the room sporting a bathrobe and an unshaven face. Charlotte couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been eavesdropping or notice how cute he looked in his bathrobe. She blushed on his behalf. “Sorry for the casual attire. I had a six a.m. conference call.” He kissed Allison on the cheek. “How are you, Lizzy?”

“So much better now that you're here,” she mocked, and he ignored her.

“I could never impose in that way.” Allison shifted awkwardly in her chair, likely waiting for Charlotte to weigh in. But what could she say? The shock of Charlie offering to care for someone else's child when he barely managed to care for his own had unexpectedly sidetracked her.

“Don't be ridiculous. It'll be fun! I need some more testosterone around here anyway.”

“I'd have to ask Logan. I don't know what to say.”

“Say yes,” Charlie urged.

“Is it okay with you?” Allison turned to Charlotte.

“I guess.” She nodded her head vaguely. “I mean, yeah. That's great.”

“Then it's settled. Allison will go on the trip with you.” Charlie picked a mushroom out of the salad with his fingers. “And I'll play Mr. Mom for the weekend.”

“H
onestly, I'm not sure what to make of the whole thing.” Allison reached across the table to pluck a hard-boiled egg from her mom's chef salad. “Charlie's great. He's really been going out of his way to help me out. And Charlotte's certainly been the most welcoming of any of the moms at Logan's school. It's just that there's this weird vibe whenever they're in the same room together.”

“What do you mean by ‘weird vibe'?” Allison's mother narrowed her light gray eyes in contemplation and pierced a hunk of cucumber with her fork.

“I can't put my finger on it. I haven't really spent much time with both of them, but the little time I have spent . . . I don't know. It's like there's a tension in the air. Maybe it's just me, but it's like he barely acknowledges her existence. And I think she's insecure about it.”

“You can't blame her for that.” She lifted the cucumber to her mouth and Allison watched her nibble at it like a gerbil. Her mother was possibly the most refined person she knew.
There was no shoveling food, like the gentleman at the next table who was inhaling the Italian Combo in the manner of a starved puppy dog, lapping up the oil and vinegar trickling down his chin after every ambitious bite.

Far from it. Caroline Taylor, born Caroline Harper in Kennebunkport, Maine, to a reverend and a schoolteacher, never left the house without makeup, though you'd never know she was wearing any. Her hair was always neatly styled, nary a gray strand in sight. And her outfits were unfailingly age appropriate and typically designer. She never spent money unnecessarily, but she did appreciate the finer things. Good food, luxurious fabrics, and a home appointed with antiques that together were worth more than Allison's house itself. She'd always been of the mind-set that shopping sprees were ridiculous, insisting that a smaller closet full of items that might be more expensive but would stand the test of time was far more valuable than a large closet packed with junk. She also subscribed to the theory that you should never shop for a specific event, unless it was your wedding. If you saw something you liked and it fit you well, you should purchase it without regret. Then, when an engagement did come along, you wouldn't have to buy something at the eleventh hour that wasn't right.

“Yeah, I suppose. Maybe it's hard for me to understand because Jack and I were never like that. Sometimes I think about where we'd be today. Ya know?” Allison smiled politely at the lady lunching on the other side of them, who was, quite clearly, eavesdropping on their conversation—unfortunately for her, it was odds-on the least salacious dialogue within earshot.

“Of course. Though I hardly think you'd be like Charlotte and Charlie. You and Jack had something very special, Ali. Like your father and me. Most people don't have that. Or if they do, they eventually find a way to destroy it.”

“You know what's funny? I feel like all of my friends' parents were married when I was growing up here, and now it seems like every mom in Logan's class is either divorced or already on husband number two. Or three.”

“It's ridiculous. People split up these days like they're throwing out the trash.” Her mother shook her head. “Marriages take work. They're not always easy street.”

“I've never once seen you and Dad have a real fight.”

“Ha!” She laughed. “Then you must not have been paying attention. We've fought plenty, believe me. Oh, how we've fought. But remember, love and hate are closer than love and indifference. Not that I could ever hate your father, but you get my point. If someone doesn't stir up passion inside you—both the good kind and the bad—then it's not a true relationship. At least in my opinion.”

“I guess that's what it is with Charlotte and Charlie. It's not like they're going at each other.” She took a bite of her tuna fish sandwich and finished chewing before continuing. Among the many things her mother had taught her, proper manners were at the tippy-top of the list. “It's more like they're strangers.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“Should I feel weird being friends with both of them?”

“I don't think so. As long as you don't get caught in the middle. I know Charlie is an old friend and that he's a
connection to Jack. But girlfriends are important. Do you like this Charlotte? Is she someone you see yourself becoming closer with?”

“I definitely like her, and I think there's a lot more to her. Under the surface. I told you she invited me on this trip to Canyon Ranch, so I'll see how that goes.” Allison sipped her cold lemonade, savoring its tangy bite. “That's the other thing. When she invited me, her
sister
was sitting right there. I mean, how awkward is that? And then when Charlie said he'd take Logan while we're gone, I thought Charlotte was going to keel over from shock. Very quickly, the whole thing reached an unrivaled level of get-me-the-hell-out-of-here.”

“Sounds like she could use a real friend.” Allison's mother crunched a piece of yellow pepper. “This salad is enormous. Do you want some?”

“Sure.” Allison handed her mother her plate. “Taste the tuna. It's delicious. I wonder what they put in there. The flavors are amazing.”

“Carrots, onions, and sweet relish. Now you have the secret.” Dempsey appeared at the side of their table, seemingly out of nowhere. “Are you ladies enjoying yourselves? Mrs. Taylor, may I say you look beautiful as always?”

“You may.” Allison's mother blushed like a teenager in the face of her first crush. “And I've told you to call me Caroline, what, a million times now?”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

“Of course. I come in here three times a week. Dempsey is a gem. This is my daughter, Allison. She and our grandson, Logan, just moved back to Wincourt.”

“Ali and I go way back.” He pushed his wavy dark brown hair out of his beguiling blue eyes. “We went to high school together.”

“You never told me that!” Allison could see her mother's wheels start to spin.

“To be honest, I didn't make the connection until now. Taylor's not exactly an uncommon last name.”

“Right.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “Ali and I were just talking about how nice it would be if she had more
friends
up here.”

“Mom! I'm sure Dempsey has plenty of friends.”

“Actually, no. I'm kind of a loser.” He laughed easily. “I'm kidding. But I'd love to get together sometime.”

“Um, sure, yeah. Maybe once I'm settled in.” Allison fidgeted with her straw, poking at the bobbing ice cubes in her lemonade.

“Whatever works. You know where to find me.” He took Allison's mother's hand in his, dotting it with a kiss. “Caroline, always a pleasure. If you ladies need anything, give a shout.”

“Thank you.” Her mother smiled bashfully and watched as Dempsey disappeared behind the counter.

“What happened to ‘girlfriends are important'?” Allison whispered, leaning across the table so no one else would hear.

“I didn't say a few handsome and single men in the mix could hurt, did I?”

“I'm not ready for that.” Allison waved her hand dismissively.

“Ali, I'm not suggesting you marry him. Dinner wouldn't be the end of the world, though. We don't mind babysitting.”

“Don't
mind
?” She sniffed. “You'd have me out every night if it was up to you!”

“Can I help it if my grandson is scrumptious and perfect?”

“Well, we agree there.” Allison picked at the homemade potato chips next to her sandwich. “I can't believe you and Dad are leaving for California in early January and you won't be back until the middle of March.”

“I know. But remember I'll be back in late January for Loretta's procedure, so that'll break it up a bit. We thought about cutting it short—”

“No, don't be silly. It'll be good for me to have time to concentrate on painting. I've started a new piece. But aside from that, I've been so busy with the house and back-to-school stuff that I've been ignoring the bread and butter. Actually, yesterday I got commissioned by some Brazilian billionaire's wife to do—in her words—an ‘interpretive portrait' of them and their kids. I'm not sure what that means exactly. Anyway, I'm sure we'll survive while you're gone.”

“But will
we
? Finally we have Logan next door and now I have to be without him for so long. I told your father we can always come back early if we want. That's what airplanes are for.” She paused in advance of her next thought. “You don't think he's adorable?”

“Who?”

“What do you mean ‘who'? The pope.” She flailed her arms in the air. “
Dempsey.
He's more than easy on the eyes, if you ask me.”

“
Mom.
”

“What? I'm just saying . . .”

“I know what you're saying!” Allison crinkled her nose. “But he works at a sandwich shop.”

“I know I didn't teach you to think like that.”

“That came out wrong. It's not that there's anything wrong with working in a sandwich shop. It's just that he was so smart in high school. I looked him up in the yearbook after running into him last time. He had a three-point-nine GPA. He went to the University of Pennsylvania for undergrad and then to Wharton business school. Don't you think there's something off about going through all of that schooling only to work behind the counter slicing turkey?”

“Did you happen to notice the name on the awning outside?” Her mother smirked meaningfully.

“Yeah, DJ Gourmet. So?”

“
So
, that ‘DJ' stands for ‘Dempsey James,' my darling daughter. He has six other locations within a sixty-mile radius. I'd say his years at Wharton were well spent.”

“Oh wow. I had no idea.”

“Not that it should make a difference.”

“I know—” Allison started to speak and her mother interrupted.

“Shhh. He's coming back over.” She put a finger to her mouth, which instantly curled into a wide grin as soon as Dempsey arrived.

“These are for you.” He set a frothy cappuccino in front of each of them. “I know it's your mom's favorite, but I wasn't sure about you, so I took a little liberty.” He beamed at
Allison and a flush inched up the back of her neck, slinking its way to her cheeks.

“Thank you.” Instinctively she batted her eyelashes, which—apparently—was cue enough for her mother.

“You know, I really have to run.” She shot up from her chair. “I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week and there are so many preparations to be made. It would be a shame to waste the cappuccino. Dempsey, if it's not too much of an imposition, maybe you'll take my place?” She nudged him toward her chair. And before he or Allison could get a word in edgewise, they were seated on either side of the table smiling awkwardly at each other. “I'll call you later, sweetheart.” She dipped down to kiss Allison on the cheek and, on her way out, mouthed, “You'll thank me later,” over Dempsey's shoulder.

“I'm so sorry.” Allison rolled her eyes.

“Sorry for what?” he asked breezily, tipping back in his chair. “Your mom's the best.”

“True. It's just that sometimes her best intentions aren't best for
everyone
.”

“I think that's what mothers are for. The very reason why they were put on this earth.”

“I guess.” She laughed, feeling the tension release from her body. “So you make a killer cappuccino, huh?”

“Only one way to find out.” He motioned to her cup and she took a small sip.

“Oh my God, that's . . .”

“Killer?”

“Something like that.”

“I aim to please.”

“I bet you do.” The words fell out more flirtatiously than she'd intended. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Ali, relax.” He put his hand on hers. “It's just coffee.”

“I know.” She nodded nervously.

“With any luck, the first of many.” He picked up his cup and clinked it against hers. “To friends.”

She smiled and for the first time, their eyes locked. “To friends.”