A Million Little Things--A Novel

by Susan Mallery

  She wanted to stomp her foot, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead she smiled tightly, murmured a quick, “Thanks, Lucas,” then escaped into the kitchen.

  The bag of groceries he’d brought contained three massive steaks, a large container of blue cheese potato salad and, kind of surprising, two jars of organic toddler food. Root vegetables with turkey and quinoa.

  Kirk walked into the kitchen. He took the jar from her. “See. He’s not all bad. You like this brand.”

  “Maybe.”

  Lucas walked in with Jack on his hip. Jen was grateful that the guitar had been left outside. She would put it away and bring it out only when Jack was rested. Teaching him about music would be good, she thought reluctantly. She was sure she’d read somewhere that music appreciation helped with math skills.

  “Someone has a dirty diaper,” Lucas said, handing Jack to his father. “Uncle duty only goes so far.”

  Kirk laughed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He reached for his son and carried him out of the room. Jen found herself alone with Lucas and unsure what to say.

  “Thank you for the steaks,” she began. “And the salad and baby food.”

  “I hope it’s the right one. I know you want him only eating good stuff, so I asked a lady at the grocery store.”

  “Did you also get her number?” The words popped out before she could stop them.

  Lucas leaned against the counter and raised an eyebrow. “She was married, Jen. I don’t date married women. Plus, she was too old.” His mouth twitched. “Probably thirty.”

  “How depressing for you.” She faced him. “Why do they have to be so young?”

  “They’re uncomplicated.”

  “Whatever do you talk about?”

  “Who talks?”

  Her smile was involuntary. Fine—if he was going to sass her, she could sass right back. She folded her arms across her chest. “Great. So there’s six minutes filled. What do you do the rest of the time?”

  He winked. “I share my life’s wisdom.”

  “You’re full of crap.”

  “Maybe, but I’m having a great time.” He lifted a shoulder. “One day they’ll stop taking my calls, but until then, it’s good to be me.”

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

  “Nope. That would require an emotional depth I don’t have.” He flashed her a winning smile. “Don’t try to reform me. It’s not going to happen. I like my life and don’t see any reason to change.”

  Which was all fine and good, but she didn’t like that he was so different from her husband. What if he tried to lead Kirk astray? What if Kirk was intrigued by all those young possibilities?

  She glanced toward the hallway, then back at Lucas.

  “I don’t understand why you have to date twenty-year-olds, but that’s not my business. What I need to know is that you’ll take care of him. If something bad happens.”

  Lucas’s smile faded. “You have my word, Jen.”

  Which could have reassured her, only she didn’t know what his word was worth.

  Chapter Three

  Mischief in Motion was a well-known Pilates studio in town. The storefront was light and bright and probably appealing to people who, you know, liked exercise. Zoe had done her best to avoid anything that would make her sweat so she’d never ventured inside. Until today.

  Not only did she have to work on her muscle mass, as demonstrated by the attic incident, she wanted to see if Jen’s mom was still a regular. She and Pam had always gotten along, and Pam kind of reminded her of her own mother. These days, a little maternal TLC seemed like a good thing. And if a little Jen-focused advice was shared, as well, all the better. To be honest, Zoe had no idea what to do about her friend. They were drifting apart and she didn’t know how to make that stop.

  Wearing her newly purchased discount store Pilates workout gear—aka black leggings and an oversize T-shirt, she went inside to register for the class.

  There were four women there already, along with a perky redhead behind a small reception desk. Zoe had a brief impression of scary-looking equipment, too many mirrors and very fit clients. She thought of her own jiggly thighs and told herself that everyone would be so focused on themselves, they wouldn’t notice her at all. And if they did, they were probably too polite to say anything. Besides, she was here to get in shape and everyone had to start somewhere and—

  “Zoe?” Pam spotted her and crossed the room. “What are you doing here?”

  “I, ah, wanted to start working out some, ah, more than I am and I’d heard you mention the class so I thought I’d try it. Is that okay?”

  Pam smiled, then hugged her. “Of course it is. I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?”

  “Good.” Zoe hugged her back, allowing herself a second to feel the Mom-goodness that flowed from Pam.

  “Come on. Let’s meet everyone.”

  Pam led her around the studio, introducing Zoe as, “My daughter’s friend and mine, too,” which made Zoe feel good. She did her best to focus on names and faces rather than trim thighs and killer abs. She would get there—eventually.

  Nicole, the owner of the exercise studio, was an attractive blonde who couldn’t be thirty. Pam mentioned something about Nicole’s son and new husband. Talk about having it all, Zoe thought, determined to be inspired rather than depressed by so much success in one fit package.

  The class started on time. By minute three, Zoe knew that she was going to die—right there on the wooden framed reformer. She would simply stop breathing or rip herself in two, by accident, of course.

  Nicole offered her a kind smile. “It takes a little getting used to. Just do the best you can.”

  Zoe nodded because she was too out of breath to speak.

  It wasn’t that they were doing anything especially vigorous. Instead it was the slow and controlled movements that left her gasping. She was expected to hold positions for counts of ten, then lower slowly. Or stand on some stupid moving platform with straps whose only purpose seemed to be to kill her.

  Fifty minutes later, she rolled off the reformer and onto the ground. Other people stood and maybe she would too, one day. But for now, she had to wait for her muscles to stop shaking.

  Pam crouched next to her. “You okay?”

  “No.”

  Pam laughed. “I know it’s hard at first. Everything is confusing. You might want to try a few private lessons first, to get the basic movements down. The classes move at a pretty fast pace.”

  “Uh-huh.” Wow—two syllables. Zoe was so proud.

  She sat up, then pushed to her feet. Her thighs shook but she managed to stay standing.

  Pam’s lips twitched.

  “It’s okay,” Zoe said, still breathing hard. “You can mock me. I get it.”

  “You’ll do better next time.” Pam put her arm around Zoe’s shoulders. “Do you have time for lunch? I’d love to get caught up.”

  “Sure. That would be great.”

  Pam plucked at her fitted black tank top. “We’re not exactly dressed for a restaurant. Let’s get takeout and go back to my place instead.”

  “Perfect.”

  As they collected their bags, a little dog popped her head out of Pam’s oversize tote.

  “Lulu!” Zoe dropped to her knees, then winced as her leg muscles complained. Ignoring them, she held out her hands and the adorable hairless dog jumped into her embrace.

  “Hey, you,” Zoe said, snuggling with the odd creature. Lulu was part canine, part fashionista, part alien and all rock star. Today she had on a white lightweight sweater with tiny purple buttons down her back.

  Lulu gave her cheerful kisses, then settled in for a good cuddle.

  “You bring her to class?” Zoe asked.

&nb
sp; “I take her everywhere. She’s quiet and enjoys getting out. So what are you in the mood for, lunchwise?”

  * * *

  Pam’s condo was big and bright, with a view of the Pacific Ocean. The building style was modern, which could have clashed with Pam’s more traditional furniture, but the warm woods and comfortable fabrics blended nicely with the sharp edges and sleek design.

  Pam lifted Lulu out of her tote before washing her hands and setting the small dining table by the patio door.

  “It’s still a little cool to eat outside,” the other woman said. “We’ll do that next time.”

  Zoe liked the sound of that—the promise of another meal together. She washed her hands, then helped by putting out napkins and taking the take-out cartons from Wok’s Up out of the bags.

  “I have iced tea,” Pam said as she opened the refrigerator. “Diet soda, oh and that organic juice Jen likes Jack to have.”

  “Iced tea is fine. Thanks.”

  They sat across from each other. Lulu settled in her bed by the sofa.

  “This is nice,” Pam told her as she reached for her carton of Honey-Spicy Shrimp. “I’m so glad you came to class today.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to be sore. Drink a lot of water and take ibuprofen. It will help.”

  “I promise.” No way Zoe was going to forget that. She wanted to be able to move in the morning. She glanced around at the condo. “This place is really nice. Do you like living here?”

  “I do. It took me a bit to settle in. It was an adjustment for both of us.” She nodded at Lulu. “John and I lived in our house for over twenty years. But this is better. Manageable. I like being close to everything. Plus, now that I’m traveling more with my friends, it’s easier to leave a condo than a house.”

  “I know Jen loves the house.”

  After Pam’s husband had died, she’d moved into the condo and had given the large family home to Jen and Kirk. Zoe couldn’t remember all the details, but she was pretty sure that Pam had bought the condo from a girlfriend who’d gotten married and moved into her new husband’s place.

  “She does,” Pam said. “I’m glad it stayed in the family.”

  Zoe scooped chicken fried rice onto her plate. “The garden is so pretty. I’d like to do something like that at my place. Maybe a few raised beds. I’m not sure.”

  “Jen mentioned you’d bought a house. Are you liking it?”

  “I am. It’s different. I’m responsible for everything, which is strange after always being a renter. But it’s good.”

  Except for the killer attic, she thought.

  Pam looked at her. “How are things otherwise?”

  A simple question. The expected response was to say things were just dandy. Perfect. Happy. Or, you know, fine. Which was what Zoe planned to say. What came out instead was, “Everything is a mess.”

  Pam’s expression turned sympathetic. “Tell me.”

  “I just... I don’t know. I’m so confused.” She put down her fork. “Chad and I broke up a couple of months ago. Or rather I broke up with him. I feel good about the decision. It was the right thing to do.”

  “But?”

  “But it’s hard. We were together nearly five years.” She had the wherewithal not to mention how it had started, or the problems they’d had, instead adding, “He’s divorced, with two kids. I suddenly realized I’d met them exactly twice. Twice! He kept telling me that they needed to adjust, but I started to think he was really waiting for them to grow up and be on their own.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. I feel like I’ve wasted so much of my life on him. I’ve made choices because of him. Some were good, but some I’m really questioning.” She stared at her plate for a second, then looked back at Pam. “I bought my house thinking we would live in it together. I assumed that was where we were going. My house has three bedrooms. Three! I bought bedrooms for kids I’ve met twice. And my job—I’m not sure that was right. Quitting teaching. I make more money now, but I don’t love what I do. And I’m home alone all the time.”

  She drew in a breath. “I had stupid breakup sex with Chad a few weeks ago and when it was over, I felt sick to my stomach. I’m done with him. Done. But I reacted out of loneliness. I want what everyone wants—someone to love, a family. I don’t want Chad back, but I resent the time I wasted. It was such a bad decision.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” Pam told her firmly. “You loved him and believed in him. When you figured out what was wrong, you dumped his sorry ass.”

  Zoe smiled. “Thank you for that.”

  “You did. You moved on. Now keep moving on. Are you dating anyone?”

  “No. I want to, but I’m kind of stuck. I don’t meet any guys. I was with Chad for so long, I’ve kind of forgotten what I’m supposed to do. I guess I could go to a bar or something.”

  Zoe held in a shudder at the thought. “What’s worse than not dating is that I’ve isolated myself. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. Last week I got stuck in my attic. The door slammed shut and I couldn’t get it open. I didn’t have my phone with me. All I could think was that I was going to die and no one would miss me for weeks.”

  Pam’s mouth twitched. “Weeks? Really?”

  “Okay, days. But I could still be dead and Mason would eat my liver.”

  “Mason is?”

  “My cat.”

  “Cats do love liver. Tell me about your work.”

  “I translate manuals into readable English. Sometimes the translation from foreign languages is difficult to understand, or the manuals are written by people who are seriously technical. I take that gibberish and make it understandable.”

  “So what don’t you like?”

  “Being by myself all the time. The company relocated to San Jose. Because of Chad, I didn’t want to go. They offered to let me work at home rather than lose me and I said yes.” Zoe dropped her head to her hands. “I’m such a fool.”

  “Do you want to go to San Jose now?”

  “Not really. But I really miss being in an office.” She raised her head. “I think about going back into teaching, but I’m not sure.”

  “What grade was it?”

  “Junior high English.”

  Pam winced. “That had to be tough.”

  “I know, right? Sometimes I think about getting my master’s but I’m not sure about that either. I’m lost and confused and I miss my mom.”

  Pam reached across the table and squeezed her hand, then released her. “Of course you do. How long has she been gone?”

  “It was a year last month.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s hard. For what it’s worth, the good memories are always with you.”

  “Thanks. I like thinking about her. I always feel like she’s close by.” Zoe swallowed. “Sometimes I think she’s really disappointed in me.”

  “She’s not,” Pam said firmly. “It’s not wrong to love someone. What gets us in trouble is when we make bad decisions based on that love. But you got yourself out of the relationship and you’re moving on.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Are you close to your dad?”

  Finally a subject that wouldn’t embarrass her. “I am. He’s great, but you know, a guy. There are things I can’t tell him.”

  “Sure, because then he’ll want to fix things, and possibly beat the crap out of Chad.”

  Zoe smiled. “He could probably do it. My dad’s in good shape.”

  Pam grinned. “There’s a visual for you to hang on to. For the rest of it, stop thinking and start doing. The next time a nice, appropriate man asks you out, say yes. Look into getting your master’s. Figure out if you want to go back to teaching or not. As for being alone too much, make plans with your friends. What do you and Jen do together?�
�

  Zoe bit her lower lip. Talk about an awkward turn in the conversation. Jen was Pam’s daughter. Zoe couldn’t say that Jen had become...

  Pam sighed. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Jen has become something of a killjoy.”

  Zoe stared. “You know?”

  “Everyone knows. I can’t decide if I feel sorry for her or if she needs a good smack on the back of the head. I worried about my kids, maybe more than most, but nothing like this. She is obsessed with Jack.”

  “The not talking,” Zoe murmured.

  “The organic food. The cleaning products. Every time I go over, she asks me the last time Lulu got a bath. The only thing wrong with her son is that she won’t leave him alone for five seconds. He’s not talking because he doesn’t have to.” She paused. “Is that too harsh?”

  “Not to me.”

  “Well, I can’t say any of that to Jen. She would never forgive me. You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”

  Zoe made an X over her heart. “I won’t, I swear.”

  “Good. Now, how do you feel?”

  Zoe considered the question. “Better. I need to stop wallowing and start doing.” She leaned forward. “I’m having a barbecue on Sunday. Would you like to come?”

  “I’d love to. What time?”

  * * *

  Pam parked her SUV, collected her tote and headed into the offices of Moving Women Forward. MWF was housed in a small business park on the edge of Mischief Bay, about three thousand square feet that had been donated by a former client. Because of the cramped and shared office space, Pam did as much work out of her condo as she could. But every week or so, she had a meeting at the offices, either with staff or clients.

  She greeted their volunteer manning the reception desk, then walked back to Bea Gentry’s office.

  Bea, the director of the organization and one of the women who had recruited Pam two years ago, was about Pam’s age. She dressed in pantsuits and always wore a cameo on her lapel. Bea’s oldest boy and Pam’s youngest son had been best friends through high school.