Still The One
Page 16
"Oh, Janie, I can't believe you really came." Amber jumped up and down like a child of six rather than like a mother of a six-year-old. She'd been doing that crazy little jig since she and Jane had played together in kindergarten.
"What do you mean? You twisted my arm, begged, pleaded, and then sicced the town on me. It's bad enough to have my parents badger me, but the Ladies Bridge Club too? With all that, how could I possibly miss this momentous occasion?"
"Hey, don't give me that New York attitude. No boredom allowed. This is our ten year reunion! Aren't you excited?"
"Obviously, not as much as you."
"It'll be fun. You won't be sorry you came," Amber vowed.
Jane sighed. "I'm already sorry. To think I gave up the first weekend in June to come here and be humiliated."
"What do you mean humiliated?" Amber frowned.
Jane held up the name tag. "Look at this."
"What's wrong with it?" Amber looked affronted. "I spent a lot of time designing those."
"Oh, Amber. Don't tell me you're responsible for this. How could you do this to me?" Jane shook her head in dismay. "Brought low by my best friend!"
"Well, you said you lacked a love life. I thought this would help."
"I said I had a lackluster love life," Jane corrected. "There's a difference." She rolled her shoulders to loosen the tension. "Now I really need some caffeine and sugar. You just changed the status of my headache from passive to active."
"What are you complaining about?" Amber grabbed the pin from Jane's hand and, ignoring her protests, fastened it to the right lapel of Jane's red linen blazer. "There."
Amber stepped back and studied the name tag. "I was worried the print wasn't large enough to easily read, but it's good."
Jane looked down at her chest. "You can probably read it from Mars," she muttered. "Without a telescope."
"Quit grumbling and come on." Amber took her arm and guided her to the refreshments. "Your blood sugar must be low. You always get cranky when you're hungry."
"I'm not cranky," Jane protested. Nevertheless, she picked up a gold paper plate and a black napkin. There must be something symbolic in this, she decided, as she followed Amber around the table. She'd been following Amber's lead since they were kids. Amber was the impulsive adventurer who leaped right into the middle of life, wanting to be surprised, while Jane was the careful analyst who always looked before leaping. Well, almost always, Jane mentally corrected.
"You've got to try these cookies. I made them from Aunt Judy's recipe." Amber placed two golden brown mounds studded with chunks of pecan, chocolate, and raisins on Jane's plate.
Jane shook her head in amazement. "I've seen you in the kitchen, but I still can't get used to the idea that you're a domestic goddess." Jane bit into the cooky. She rolled her eyes and moaned in delight. "No wonder Steve married you a week after he met you."
"I didn't know how to boil water when I met Steve. Believe me, that was not what captured my husband." Amber smiled archly.
"Ah, sex reared its lusty head, huh?" Jane took another bite.
"Let's just say that women who think the way to a man's heart is through his stomach don't know much about anatomy."
That comment startled a laugh from Jane. "Amber, you're terrible."
"Nope. I'm incorrigibly honest."
"Whatever you say." Jane finished the cooky. "These are fantastic. How do you stay so thin when you cook like this?"
"Hey, you try running after a six-year-old bundle of energy masquerading as a boy. You'd be skinny too. Not that you're fat," Amber added with a grin. "Go grab a couple of chairs before they're all taken, and I'll get us two coffees."
"Anyone ever tell you that you're bossier than ever?"
"Yep. My husband. Practically every day. Still drink your coffee black?" At Jane's nod, she shooed her with both hands. "Go save our seats."
Jane complied. The reunion was a great excuse to catch up with Amber. Some of Jane's tension fell away, leaving her feeling more relaxed than since she'd arrived. Maybe the weekend wouldn't be so bad after all.
On the other side of the room, folding chairs had been set up in semi-circular rows beneath the old-fashioned high windows.
"It's safe to say that there's plenty of chairs to go around," Jane said over her shoulder. "The reunion hasn't exactly drawn a crowd."
"Hey, this is just registration." Amber came up behind her. "Wait until later. Nearly everyone responded to the seventy invitations we mailed." She handed Jane a white foam cup.
"You're kidding." Jane accepted the steaming coffee. "You told me that not everyone would attend the reunion." That had been the deciding factor in her own acceptance of the invitation. Before she could question Amber further, her friend jumped up.
Setting her plate and cup on the chair next to her, Amber said, "Let me get you some more cookies."
"I haven't finished these," Jane protested, but Amber was already rushing away. Jane watched as her friend seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to select a few cookies. She frowned. What was going on here? When she returned, Jane asked again about the reunion attendance.
"Oh, uh, well, I guess I did say the attendance would be light," Amber stammered. "But at the last minute, I, that is, the reunion committee, received several calls. Apparently, a lot of people changed their mind." She stuffed a cooky nearly whole into her mouth.
"Like who?" Jane asked, feeling the muscles at the back of her neck clench tighter.
Amber chewed and pointed at her mouth, earning another frown from Jane. Surely Amber would have told her if he had decided to come. After all, he was the most famous alumnus the small high school could boast. He'd gone into the world and made millions, or at least that's what the town gossips maintained. Jane had never seen his name in the news or in the papers. Not that she had looked. Much. Of course, that didn't mean anything. There were more wealthy men and women who weren't household names than the other way around.
When Amber had swallowed, Jane persisted. "Like who?"
"Oh, just people. You know, those of us who stayed in town will be here with spouses in tow. Though I hope no one brings their kids. My mom is taking little Stevie to the lake for the weekend." Amber shrugged and concluded weakly, "That's all I meant by a good turnout. Reunions are always popular. Most kids who deserted their hometown for the bright lights of the big city like the chance to reconnect with high school friends."
Jane broke a cooky in half and absently crumbled it as she studied her friend. Amber's explanation was a little too pat.
"You know how it is in a small town." Amber laughed. "Anything out of the ordinary draws a crowd. This is high class entertainment for us local yokels." Amber added a packet of artificial sweetener and a tiny tub of cream to her coffee then stirred with a plastic spoon. "Even Steve is looking forward to coming," she rattled on, "and you know what he thinks about the social life here."
"Yeah, I guess a guy like Steve, raised in the mean streets of Beverly Hills finds small town entertainment a bit tame," Jane said, careful not to crack a smile.
"Mean streets?" Amber giggled. "I'll have to tell that to Steve."
Jane resolved not to say any more about the whole matter. She could always steal quietly away if he showed up.
"You should have seen Steve's ten-year reunion a couple of years ago. I swear, I think everyone, including husbands, wives, and children, showed up. We ran out of food after the first hour, when I thought there was enough to feed an army."
"Sounds as if his school was a lot bigger than ours."
"There were about six hundred in his graduating class."
"That's a far cry from our seventy-three."
"I could teach you how to make these cookies," Amber offered. "They're easy."
"You're really into this domestic thing, aren't you?" Jane stared a bit wistfully at her friend, wondering what it was like to be a stay-at-home mom, baking cookies and making name tags for some committee or other.
"Call me ol
d-fashioned, but I love my life. Sometimes, though, I do wonder what it would be like to live yours. It seems so exciting, living in the Big Apple. Who would ever have thought that you'd become a famous textile designer. That's far out."
"It's not that exciting. And I don't think you could call me famous. No one knows who I am except for those in the industry." Jane shrugged. "My life's okay, I guess."
Only to Amber would she confess her growing dissatisfaction. She'd fought so hard for her independence that she didn't want to admit to anyone that her life wasn't perfect.
"When I first went to art school in New York, I thrived on the excitement of the city. It was new and completely different from anything I'd ever known. There was so much to see and do and learn that I didn't have time to think about, uh, other things." Jane's eyes flitted away. "About anything else. But now?" Her voice cracked. "I'll tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone else."
Amber made a crossing motion over her heart and a zipping motion over her lips.
"Lately, I find myself thinking about a home and children. And when I do, I don't visualize raising a child in my loft in the city. I think of mom and dad's house here where I grew up. The tree house in the backyard. The swing on the front porch. I never knew how much I loved this place until I left."
"Sounds as if the old biological clock has started to make itself known," Amber said, nodding. "I can understand your wanting the traditional family, but you didn't say anything about a husband. Don't you imagine a man as the father of those children."
Jane's shoulders drooped. "That's the trouble. I can't see any man in that picture."
Well, that wasn't precisely true. She did see one man's face, but he had to be the result of a case of arrested juvenile imagination. He would never do. Even if she knew where he was.
"So you've begun to think about something other than career?" Amber grinned. "I must say, better late than never."
"Fat lot of good it does me," Jane grumbled. "I'm beginning to wonder if I'll end up alone. Statistics aren't exactly in my favor." She dropped the remainder of the cooky she held onto the plate. Her appetite had departed.
"I try to convince my mother and grandmother that I'm perfectly happy with my life, but I guess I'm not, or I wouldn't be confessing my deep dark secret to you." Jane scowled. "And if you breathe a word of this, I'll never speak to you again."
"I won't tell anyone. Go ahead and pretend to be Ms. Single Success to your heart's content. Now, as for thinking there's no man for you, don't be ridiculous. There's a wonderful guy out there just waiting for you," Amber said loyally.
Jane smiled. "Thanks, you're a pal, but in another forty years, I might be an old maid like Earleen Mushmak, dried up and as sour as one of Granny's homemade pickles."
Amber choked on her coffee. "Please. Don't say things like that when I have a full mouth."
"You don't think that's a possibility?"
"Somehow, Janie, I can't picture that short crop of auburn curls as a straggly gray bun. And I bet you wouldn't be caught dead in an ankle-length, flowered dress or no-nonsense shoes."
"Well, that part is certainly true." Jane smoothed her hands down the short red skirt. She looked at her feet arched by the red high pumps.
"You're not even thirty yet. You've got plenty of time to find the man of your dreams," Amber said. "All it takes is a chance encounter." She lifted her coffee cup in a salute. "Here's to chance encounters."
"I'll drink to that," Jane said, clicking her cup to Amber's. The first swallow of coffee reminded her that people in Louisiana tended to make their coffee rather strong. This batch was stout enough to keep Sleeping Beauty awake despite the wicked witch's curse.
"Maybe you'll get lucky this weekend."
"I don't think that's a possibility." Jane laughed at the idea. "I can't think of any of my former class mates who could be called the man of my dreams."
"Are you sure about that?" Amber asked, opening her eyes wide. "Wasn't there a certain boy?"
Jane's suspicions rose anew. She'd shared everything with Amber from the time they were toddlers. Well, practically everything. He had been her secret. "I don't know what you mean." She hoped her fair skin wouldn't give her away with another blush.
"Well, just in case you do meet some wonderful guy, he'll be able to tell immediately that you're available, thanks to your specially designed name tag," Amber crowed.
Jane groaned. "Is that why I'm wearing this?" She grabbed her lapel and shook it. "This is an embarrassment."
"That is not embarrassing. That's a stamped work of art. I even used the school colors of black and gold. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy coming up with a one-liner to put on that many name tags!"
"Why didn't you just put my name on it and leave it at that? Or say I own my own design business. Anything but this."
"But that wouldn't have accomplished anything. Come on, be cool. This will be a fun weekend." Hands on hips, she said, "You're a businesswoman. You know the value of advertising."
"Is that what this thing on my chest is supposed to be? A walking ad? To sell me?"
"Kind of. At least all the single guys will know you're available. You might renew an old friendship, and it could turn into something romantic."
"Sure. That makes sense. And we could date each other on the weekend. Right? We'd alternate dates in New York and dates here!"
"Don't be sarcastic, Janie. You don't know what will happen this weekend. It could be something totally surprising."
"Amber Chalmers, it's bad enough when my family gets on my case about not being married. As if an unmarried female of twenty-eight was somehow unnatural. Maybe it is in Louisiana, but not in New York."
"Since you just confessed your deep dark secret to me, it's too late for you to play the outraged feminist now," Amber said dryly.
"I was suffering from cooky poisoning earlier," Jane grumbled. "I am an outraged feminist."
Amber's eyes narrowed. "You can try that Gloria Steinem speech on your mother and granny, but it won't wash with me, and I bet it goes in their right ears and out their left."
"You're right. But at least it's a good speech. If I say it enough times, maybe I'll begin to believe it. But if you say otherwise, I'll tell Steve how you used to practice French kissing on your Cabbage Patch doll."
"Oh, that's low. You wouldn't!"
"Don't push me. I'm desperate. With my sisters married, and still working, I have to listen all the time about how the two of them successfully balance marriage and a career. As if I'd ever been offered that opportunity."
"So if the younger sisters can do it, so can you?" Amber asked.
"Yeah. That's about the size of it, but the older I get, the harder it is to find a good prospect."
"I know you've had relationships," Amber said.
"I can count my so-called serious relationships on my index fingers." She'd come close, but something always held her back, kept her aloof from the men who sought to woo her. She could honestly say there'd never been a serious romance in her entire life unless you counted her secret fling in high school. And she didn't count that. She tried not to even think about it. Except sometimes. Late at night. That's when he sneaked into her dreams.
"Jane Louise! You don't look a day older," a woman squealed, interrupting her solemn thoughts.
Jane certainly hoped she looked different. After all, she'd paid a small fortune for the hair style she currently wore not to mention the red linen suit, royal blue silk tank, and red patent shoes. She smiled uncertainly at the woman. She couldn't place her. The voice was familiar, but she didn't recognize the spiky blond hair and the expensive tanned, toned body, nor the exquisitely made-up face.
"It's me. Felicia Banks!"
Jane's mouth dropped. "Felicia?" This woman didn't look anything like her chubby brunette friend from high school. She and Amber echoed in unison, "Felicia Banks?"
"Of course, who else?" The woman grabbed her and hugged her within an inch of her life.
"Toned, tight, and terrific," Jane read Felicia's name tag. "Good tag. It certainly fits."
Felicia read Jane's and burst into laughter. "Yours is too funny."
"Yeah. Too funny." Jane gave Amber a sour look.
"Felicia, what on earth happened to you?" Amber asked. "I mean, I haven't seen you since graduation. You look terrific. How did it happen?"
Felicia laughed then proudly told them about her chain of fitness salons in Texas.
The three women gave brief versions of the past ten years. Jane found herself enjoying the conversation.
"So you're a hot shot designer," Felicia said. "I'm impressed. But, how on earth do you stand it in New York?"
"I like it there," Jane said. For several minutes, she defended her adopted city. "I could well ask how Amber stands it in Vernon. Or you, Felicia in Houston. That's not exactly a small village. Isn't it the third or fourth largest city in the United States now?"
"Something like that or so they claim," Felicia said.
"It's all in what you get used to," Jane summed up.
"Well, we might both be big city girls now, but," she pointed at Jane's name tag, "I see we've both come back to our hometown to go husband-hunting."
"I am not husband hunting!" Jane protested. She was mortified. She'd known everyone would think the same thing when they read the stupid tag. "This was Amber's idea."
"Hey, if you're not looking for a man, that's fine with me. I only came because I'd heard that eight of the boys from our graduating class are single. And I'm hoping they're all going to be here."
Amber laughed. "Felicia, don't tell me you're still as boy-crazy as you were in high school?"
"Hey, I'm still the same simple girl. The only difference is that now I have the face and the body to compete with you cheerleader types," Felicia answered.
"Did you have anyone particular in mind?" Jane asked, laughing.
"I'm open to any and all prospects. You see, I tend to believe that, like wine, people improve with age. I mean. Look at me." Felicia twirled. "By this age, men will have made their mark in the world so the struggle years are out of the way. I can't wait to see the guys."