Left to Chance

by Amy Sue Nathan

  I heard shuffling and movement in the family room a few yards away. I almost said hello, but heard whispering, which attracted my attention and forced my silence more than screaming would have. I kept my head down, as if searching for the bottom of Mary Poppins’s carpetbag. I closed my eyes to help open my ears.

  “She looks good.”

  “I’d look good too if I were living at luxury hotels and sleeping with a millionaire.”

  “Do you think she knows about Shayna? What about Beck?”

  “She must know. Don’t you think?”

  “Did you find your lipstick? Let’s go back.”

  I opened my eyes and lifted my head, but stayed behind the cubbies. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think straight.

  “Let’s go, ladies.”

  I listened as Josie herded her flock.

  “We were just getting our lipstick.”

  I heard rustling, cajoling, and tapering taps of footsteps.

  “You can come out now,” Josie said.

  I stepped into the middle of the room. Josie walked in from the family room. I was flummoxed; any words would spew out as gibberish. I completely lacked an eloquent way to explain what happened or how I felt. “They were talking about me! And about Shay! And Beck.”

  “I heard the end of it. I’m sorry.”

  “They were talking about my job and my clothes and—and—Simon. It was a big deal for me to show you all that picture of him. He wouldn’t have liked that but I did it because—Oh hell, I don’t know why I did it. And what am I supposed to know about Shay, because I don’t know anything about her! Or Beck.”

  “Calm down, you know a lot about Shay, and about Beck, I’m sure. Think for a minute. They probably are just talking about the wedding. It’s got to be a little hard for everyone, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “And you showed us the pictures because we’re your friends and you share things with your friends.”

  “I didn’t come back here for friends; I came back for Shay. Then I saw you today, and my cousin Maggie.” I thought about Cameron and Beck, but I didn’t say anything. “I remembered what it was like—you know—before.”

  “It can be like that again, you know. No matter where you live. Or with whom. You can just be yourself here.”

  Until yesterday I’d known just who that was. Or thought I did.

  I slipped my camera bag onto my shoulder. I wasn’t letting go of it again. “Shay’s off-limits. They wouldn’t like anyone talking about their kids.”

  “Don’t listen. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Tell me if there’s anything that I should know about.”

  “I’m sure if there’s something you should know, someone will tell you.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Then ask.”

  “Ask who? And what do I ask? What if it’s bad … like really, really bad?” I remembered the whispers when Celia had been diagnosed, but after that came offers of help and displays of compassion. Chance had good people. Really good people. Mostly. “I don’t know. I don’t have time for this, Josie. I don’t have the energy for this. Not now. Do you know what it did to me just to see…”

  “Who?”

  “My old house. And Celia’s.” Beck was a secret I’d always keep. I rested against the washing machine, as tired as if I’d run on the beach or away from the cemetery. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. If there’s something I should know, someone will tell me. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I can’t say anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘Excuse me, bitches, I heard you talking about me.’”

  “Why not?”

  Josie rubbed my arm and my emotions swelled. I wanted to hug her then turn and leave.

  “Are you two coming?” The voice drifted in from the kitchen. “We have a bunch of women here who tell me they’ve found their good sides.”

  * * *

  “I can’t believe Teddi Lerner is going to take our picture.”

  I ignored the third-person reference and peeked out the window of the family room to study the sunlight, but mostly to waste time. I pinpointed a good spot in Josie’s backyard for confronting the gossipers. Maybe I should just ask them. My stomach flip-flopped. I didn’t know if I was afraid to ask or afraid to know. And I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  “Where should we stand?”

  I feigned artistic and flailed my arms. “Maybe by the wall, over here. In front of the chairs. The lighting is divine.” No one laughed at the exaggeration.

  “Work your magic, Teddi.”

  “Make us all look thin and young.”

  “I wish we were at one of Teddi’s fancy hotels.”

  “They’re not mine.” No one acknowledged me. The women buzzed around the room. These were college-educated, professional women. Some were educated women who chose to stay home with their children—the children they were acting like, just because I took pictures of celebrities. Sometimes. And my photos were online and in magazines. Sometimes.

  “I need to stand on the right, that’s my good side.”

  “Let me go fix my makeup.”

  “You all look great, really. And we can fix anything afterward. Just get a little closer. Okay, ready…”

  “You have to be in the picture, Teddi.” I wanted to ask everyone to whisper so I could figure out who had been in the room with me.

  And then I just knew. Josie had seated herself between them on the sofa. She looked at me wide-eyed. She had them under her spell, at least for now.

  As would I when I colored their teeth yellow in Photoshop before posting to Facebook and Instagram. And tagging them.

  “Everybody look over here!”

  “We can use it for the Welcome Wagon page on Chance’s Web site.”

  “I want to be able to say Teddi Lerner took my picture.”

  “I want to make sure it’s printed in the Gazette.”

  Most of these women were sincere and excited, so I set the camera on an open shelf and set the timer. “You have ten seconds!” I said, and took my place across the room from Josie, scrunched on the end of the arm of the couch. After the flash went off, I clapped twice. “Let’s do it again, just in case.” But my voice trailed off as everyone stood and puttered, headed back to the food and the dining room, suggesting all the places this group photo would be appropriate. Even for me.

  “You can put it in your office as a reminder of home.” Others suggested my living room, my bedroom, my kitchen—as if my life were a Mad Lib and they were filling in “place in one’s home.”

  Fact was, I didn’t have a “my.” Not a mantel, dresser, nightstand, nor a coffee table. Not any that belonged to just me.

  * * *

  The women had appeared in a bundle, and they seemed to leave as one too, with waves and hugs and a few air-kisses, affection penetrating the needed space between us. We agreed to “do it again soon.” Some said “see you at the wedding.”

  The gossipy duo waved from across the room. I waved and smirked with a closed mouth. I wasn’t ready for a confrontation.

  “Sit and relax. I’ll be ready in a few,” Josie said.

  The hum of the dishwasher soothed me and I snuggled into the corner of the couch in the family room. Books packed the built-in shelves. I wondered if Josie had read any of them, or if they, like the book club, were for show.

  Josie plopped down near me. “Did you have a good time?”

  “I did. I’m glad you invited me. But…”

  “Don’t worry about them. Not now. You have time to ask them what they were talking about or figure it out for yourself. Or figure out if you care.”

  “But Shay—”

  “Don’t think about it.”

  “How can I not? Now I’m worried.”

  “That will get you nowhere fast. But tell me—is there anything to what they said about you and S
imon?”

  “You mean that I’m sleeping with him?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that, actually…”

  “Well, there you go! They just got a vibe when you were talking about him. I didn’t pick up on it—that you liked him, yes, but nothing more than that. My radar must be off tonight.” Josie adjusted invisible antennas on her head. “So—you and Simon Hester, the eligible rich bachelor, huh? Is it serious?”

  “Not really. Well, maybe it could be.”

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  “A few years.”

  “A few years! You can’t be involved with someone for a few years and not be serious!”

  “It’s not, though. We have fun. I’ve learned a lot about the business. He’s interesting.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “I’m not going anywhere…”

  “I don’t want to talk about him, okay? Not right now. I’m trying to figure things out.”

  Josie touched my knee with her hand. “I have a favor to ask you.”

  I sighed inside, disappointed because I hadn’t thought Josie wanted anything from me. What could it be? Family photos? Glamour shots? A free room upgrade? With her other hand Josie held out a small, black, rectangular key and pressed it into my hand.

  “I want you to drive Jason’s Prius while you’re here. He’s traveling for the rest of July.”

  “How is this me doing you a favor?”

  “The car can’t just sit in the garage for three weeks, and the other boys don’t drive yet. It’s better if the car is driven. You don’t leave until after the wedding, right?”

  “I can’t.” I laid the key on the couch in between us.

  “Yes, you can, and you will.” She pushed the key back to me.

  “This is too much.” I pushed the key back to Josie.

  “I’m not giving you the car, I’m lending it to you for a week. You can’t expect me to just show up and drive you everywhere you need to go, you know.”

  I shook my head and chuckled. “I guess not.” I reached out and took her hand. “I didn’t expect you to be there waiting for me. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I know that. And you wouldn’t have asked.” She picked up the key and closed her hand around it as if imparting a spell. “You just didn’t think this through. I mean, what it would really be like to be here.”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t thought any of it through.

  “It’s settled then.”

  “Wait. Jason won’t mind?”

  “You saw the pictures. He’s studying coastal conservation in Costa Rica. He won’t even know. And it wouldn’t matter. Evan and I bought the car and pay the insurance.”

  “And you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. I know this is small-town America but do you really want to walk everywhere?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “I might run every morning, but after that, it’s all A/C and four-wheel drive, baby.” She held up the key. “I am not as ecologically minded as my seventeen-year-old. Plus, we’re not in high school anymore!”

  “Then what am I going to do with all the shoulder pads I packed?” Josie laughed and I relaxed back into the cushions. “What can I do to thank you?”

  “Meet me at Perk in the morning. It’s on Main Street, and the scones are to die for.”

  “Are you sure that’s all you want me to do? No portraits of you and Evan? The house? Anything?”

  “Nope. That’s all. Is eight too early?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Josie started to stand and I pulled her back.

  “What if something’s really wrong with Shay? What if she’s sick?”

  “Stop it! You’re jumping to conclusions.” She placed the key in my hand and stared with a dare in her eyes. I didn’t hand it back. “Now, drive over there and tell Miles you overheard something and want to know if Shay is okay.”

  A faint light-headedness caused me to sway. I exhaled a long breath as sweat gathered at my temple and hairline. “I can’t interfere.”

  But for the first time in years, I wished I could.

  Chapter 11

  I AWOKE WITH THE same thought that had lulled me to sleep. Shay was fine. If she wasn’t, Miles wouldn’t be getting married on Sunday and Shay wouldn’t be enrolled in a summer art class, or clomping around in dyed pumps and rolling her eyes.

  A morning moon sat high in the sky to the south. I reached for my camera, always nearby, and bent my waist slightly over the railing, positioning myself to get a clear shot, one that captured the full awakening day. This was the moon I’d stared at from my bedroom window when I was a little girl, the one Celia stared at as well. It was the moon we’d walked home under as teenagers breaking curfew, and the one we’d sat out under on summer nights in Celia’s parents’ backyard as we’d all planned her wedding. This was the moon I’d stood under for my first kiss and the one that had lit the way as Beck left my apartment before dawn. And, this was the same moon that hung over San Francisco, the one Simon could see from the deck off the master bedroom. But it didn’t feel like I was standing under the same moon.

  Maybe it wasn’t the moon that was different.

  With the viewfinder crushed to my face, I loosened my grip, lightened my touch, and focused again on what was above and beyond me, to capture it and take it with me wherever I might go.

  I had agreed to a coffee klatch and had no idea what that meant. Not anymore. For me, coffee was room service on a balcony or a quick swig from a paper cup on my way to an early-morning shoot.

  I yawned. Thwarted anonymity, an unreconciled past, and reimagined friendships exhausted me. In less than a day and a half Chance had seeped back into my bones. Or it had seeped out of them.

  Back in my room, I stepped out of the robe and in front of the closet, again. My habit from living alone. The first time I undressed and walked around at Simon’s, he was taken aback, then turned on. It hadn’t been an invitation; I’d just wanted to choose a dress from a few I’d hung in his closet.

  I’d forgotten what it was like to see the same people every day, how someone might notice a repeating wardrobe. Rifling through my dresses I knew I wanted a new look for coffee and for the mall.

  I tugged the lone yellow sundress out off a hanger and waved it like a flag.

  * * *

  I pulled open the door to Perk. People sauntered out, thanked me, and dispersed as I scooted inside. The room was paneled in rustic wood; the floor was stained concrete. Copper lanterns hung from the ceiling and burlap sacks stamped COFFEE lined the floor under shelves displaying vintage kitchenware. A row of distressed leather couches ran the length of the room. I stepped into line. The worn décor was on-trend and continued to challenge my preconceptions of home.

  “Hey,” Josie said. She sidled up to me when there I was two customers away from the counter. “Sorry I’m late. I’ll grab a table—get me a soy latte?” She handed me a five, which I pushed away. “Great! Then I want a lemon blueberry scone too, since you’re paying. Get one for yourself, I don’t share.” She walked away.

  I approached the hip-high counter. The barista turned around.

  “Cameron?”

  “Teddi?”

  We laughed. “You work here?” That was a stupid question; he was behind the counter wearing a black apron with PERK UP embroidered in tan across his chest.

  “I do, a few mornings a week in the summer. What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll have a skim latte and my friend wants a soy latte and a lemon blueberry scone.”

  “You should get your own scone,” he said. “Sharing is discouraged by the town—guests.”

  He was going to say “townies.”

  I watched him pull the espresso shots, steam the skim milk and then the soy, and pour them into oversized matching Perk mugs.

  He set the cups and Josie’s scone on the counter in front of me. Then he
held up one finger and bent his head slightly as he reached back into the glass case filled with morning sweets. On the top of his hat was an embroidered emoticon smiley face. He looked up at me and grinned, his expression almost matching his cap’s. My left leg swayed as if someone had kicked it. I’d seen that cap before. But how?

  No!

  Cameron had been the one on the other side of the window, the one smirking as I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail and almost curtsied.

  He plated a scone and placed it in front of me.

  “A pink scone? Truly?”

  “Strawberry,” he said. “It matches your cheeks.”

  * * *

  “The barista’s hot,” Josie said.

  I sputtered into my steaming latte and placed it on the low table in front of us. Then I smacked her knee.

  “Do you know him? He lived next door to me when we were kids and now he lives with his sister in the Stillman house.”

  “That’s Deanna Davis’s brother?”

  “You know her?”

  “She teaches at Chance Elementary. Moved here a few years ago with her daughter. Where’s she been hiding him?”

  “You don’t know him?”

  “Contrary to popular belief, I do not know everyone in town. I know our friends.” Josie drew a circle with hands. “Our friends, my boys’ friends’ families, Evan’s friends from work. I know a lot of people but not everyone. Oh, and I know you if you want to buy a house. That’s how I met Deanna.”

  “So, she bought the house or Cameron bought the house?”

  “Cameron, is it?”

  “I told you, we played together when we were kids, then he moved away.”

  “What did you play? Doctor, I hope!”

  I smacked her knee again.

  “And now you’re both back. How convenient!”

  “I’m just curious about the house, that’s all.”

  “Not about Cameron at all?”

  “Not like that.”

  “I know you don’t want to talk about Simon, but ‘not serious’ must be something special if you’re not interested in him.” Josie tipped her head toward the counter and wiggled her eyebrows.

  I gritted my teeth. “Stop.”