by Mara Jacobs
She took a deep breath and began, “About nine years ago I met a man. He was working on a political campaign for one of our clients. He came on pretty strong.” She stopped. Alison and Katie had “so what?” looks on their faces. “You have to understand, at that point, men weren’t coming on to me at all, let alone strongly.”
“I find that hard to believe. Sure you were really big, but you were – are – a very confident woman who created her own business and surrounded by tons of men – politicians, athletes, movers and shakers,” Katie said.
Lizzie smiled wryly. “When was the last time you saw a professional athlete or a politician with a huge fatty on his arm?”
“Hey there are men out there that like that. Chubby Chasers, I think they call them.”
“Alison!” Katie chided.
Lizzie half-heartedly laughed at Alison. “I suppose there are, but they weren’t traveling in the circles I was.”
“So, this guy was coming on strong…” Katie said, leading Lizzie back to a story she didn’t want to tell. Had never told the two women to whom she told everything.
“Right. It really shook me at first. But when he asked me out, I said yes. We went out a few times. On our third date…”
“Ah yes, the pivotal third date,” Alison said knowingly.
“What? What’s the third date?” Katie asked, not having been on a third date in seventeen years.
“That’s usually the date that ‘it’ happens,” Lizzie explained.
“That’s when you fuck,” Alison said at the same time.
Katie frowned at Alison and motioned for Lizzie to continue.
She took a sip of her lemonade, another deep breath, and continued. “Well, it went really well. We went back to my place. Things got pretty hot on the couch, we took it to the bedroom…and…and…” she stopped. Katie and Alison waited. Lizzie tried to just get through it. To recite what happened as if it hadn’t been her in the room. Hadn’t been her who’d suffered the incredible humiliation. “When we undressed, he lost his erection.”
“Jesus,” Alison said as Katie gasped.
Katie collected herself first. “There could be a thousand reasons for that,” she said. “He could have had too much to drink. He could have been tired. Lots of reasons. It’s happened to Ron. He was too tired.”
Lizzie had told herself that at the time of course. And the next day, as she ate an entire Pepperidge Farm white cake. But she knew the truth. “It wasn’t that he couldn’t get it up, Kat. He was rock hard on the couch. I had him in my hand, I knew. It was when…when…when he saw me that he…he”
“Became a limp dick – both figuratively and literally,” Alison said. Lizzie could have kissed her friend for lightening the moment.
“What did he say?” Katie asked.
“What could he say? He was embarrassed, tried to assure me it wasn’t me. But not too convincingly.”
“Well of course not. Because if it’s not you it’s him, and no man’s going to admit that,” Alison said.
Lizzie shrugged. “Whatever. We kept our distance and I put the thought of men and sex out of my mind.” She took another sip of lemonade, leaned back onto the chaise and tilted her head to the sun. “Until I met Davis Cummings,” she said quietly.
“Yes, Davis Cummings,” Alison said. “Don’t think that we didn’t put together you’re mentioning this new guy in the Red Wing’s front office and you starting to lose weight.”
“He was what got me thinking that there was something missing from my life, I admit. I mean, I meet this guy and on paper he’s perfect for me. And I knew I didn’t have a shot at being with him. So I start thinking about my life and what I’d accomplished and what I’d missed. That’s when I decided to get my life back.
“Nothing may ever happen with Davis. And that’s okay. I didn’t lose weight for him, I did it for me. He – or the thought of him – may have been the impetus. But if not Davis, then someone else.”
“So, again, why Finn?” Katie asked.
“Because with Finn, if we get naked and he goes soft, it will hurt, but it wouldn’t be the same as if it were Davis or someone who I really want a future with.”
Katie and Alison seemed to accept her answer, or at least decided to give her a reprieve. Her thoughts returned to that long ago night when a man’s lack of erection robbed her of her sexual self-confidence.
She let the sun pound down on her face and allowed herself to just…feel bad. It was a relatively new practice, and one she hadn’t quite mastered. She was anxious for the sauna to be ready so she could sweat all these damn emotions right out of her.
It took five days before Finn called. Five excruciating days for Lizzie, wondering whether her plan was dead before it had even truly begun. Wondering if she should call him. If she could call him. It had taken her thirty-five years to ask a man out, where would calling someone who hadn’t called you after a date fit in with that timetable?
When he did call the following Monday, it wasn’t with explanations or apologies, just an invitation for her to join him Saturday at his strawberry farm. They agreed on late afternoon and he said he’d do something on the grill for dinner.
“This is it, I can feel it,” she told her friends. “Dinner at his place, it’s going to happen Saturday.”
“What about the son? How does he play into all this?” Katie asked.
She’d thought about that of course, wondered if the son would impede her plan. But Finn’s asking her to his place could only mean one thing. And she was certain he wouldn’t want his son around for that. “Maybe the mom has him most of the time. Or maybe she has him on the weekends and Finn has him during the week.” She shrugged and pulled her tablet from her bag. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he won’t be in the picture Saturday night.” She flipped the pages until she came to the checklist she’d started when Finn had called. “I scheduled manicure and pedicure appointments already. Is there any place around here I can get a bikini wax?”
She spent her time until Saturday hanging out with her mom and dad, who were still waiting by the phone for word to come about Zeke’s squadron arriving.
Afternoons were spent at Alison’s place trying to get more sun on her Michigan winter-white body. “I know it doesn’t cover up the stretch marks, but they don’t seem to glow as much when they’re tan.”
“Oh, Lizard, they’re not that bad,” was Alison’s weak reply.
“You’d think that when you lost weight the stretch marks you got when you gained weight would go away, like it was reducing itself or something. Some kind of karmic reward. But nooooo, I get them when I gain and I get them when I lose. It’s a double dose.”
Her office was running smoothly, with the exception of one of her clients being pulled over and being charged with a DUI. At Lizzie’s insistence that she fly back to Detroit to handle it, she was met with a strong refusal from the account executive who handled the client.
“I’ve got it under control. I need to handle this so that LeVar and my other clients know they’re in good hands with me.”
“Okay, James, you’re right, it’s your show to run. Just remember, the public will forgive a sinner as long as he admits he sinned. I have a file of already prepared statements for something like this. Cybil knows where it is if you need help with it.”
“Oh that’s right. The file of prepared statements for events you have no idea are going to happen?” James teased.
“Don’t laugh, you’re using it now, aren’t you?”
James laughed. “You got me there.”
James had worked for her from the start and was just as good at the nuts and the bolts of the business as she was. Her forte was, as it always had been, just plain being nice. She had a winning way with people and when she decided to woo a client, it was really no harder than shooting fish in a barrel.
In fields such as politics and professional athletics, filled with barracudas and back-stabbers, her genuine congeniality was a breath of fresh air. Besides, she’d always been
a firm believer that you caught more flies with honey than vinegar.
The next day, when she read the write up in the papers and online, and saw the coverage on Sports Center, Lizzie couldn’t have been more proud of James and how he’d handled the situation. LeVar had come forward, admitting his mistake and enrolling himself in an alcohol abuse program. The public felt his sincerity and proactive responsibility were admirable. As much as they could with this type of story becoming way too frequent.
Only Lizzie and James knew what a pain in the ass LeVar was and how he’d bellowed for hours that he wasn’t going into any “fucking twelve-step pussy program.” James did the math for him of the dollars he’d lose if the Lions didn’t re-sign him when his contract was up in a year. Or the salary lost from game suspensions by the NFL if he didn’t voluntarily seek some kind of treatment. LeVar reluctantly conceded to James’ plan of action. Lizzie sent a box of cigars to James at the office with a note telling him how well he had done and how proud Hampton PR was to call him one of their own.
After playing a long game of voice mail tag, Petey Ryan finally got a hold of her. As she’d expected, he spent the first ten minutes of their conversation talking about evil triumphing over good when his Red Wings went down to the Avalanche in the Western Conference finals of the Stanley Cup playoffs.
“And then, to totally piss me off? They go on and win the fucking cup.”
“I’m sure that’s why they did it, Petey, just to piss you off.” She could almost see him in his plush living room in Bloomfield Hills, which she’d helped decorate. He’d be pacing back and forth, phone in one hand, a Styrofoam cup in the other which he’d use as a spittoon for the tobacco he was undoubtedly chewing.
“Fucking A they did! Hey Lizard, what are you doing in da Yoop?”
“Just a little R & R.”
“You don’t take R & R.”
“I do now.”
“All sorts of changes in you, hey Lizard? Hot new bod, long hair, new lazy-ass attitude.”
Petey could always crack her up. She was so glad they had remained friends after they’d dated for a short time in high school. He was probably her best friend in Detroit. She loved being in his company, he was like a favorite pair of sweats that you’d put on the second you walked in the door at the end of the day. It was almost like having Zeke close by, he and Petey were so much alike. She missed him when he wasn’t around. Being on the road so much during the season, and spending his off-season in the Copper Country, most of their conversations took place on the phone. “I do not have a lazy-ass bone in my new bod and you know it.”
“God, I love yanking your chain, Lizard, it’s so damn easy.” His voice became faint at the end and she knew he was turning his head to make use of the spittoon. At least he turned his head, and didn’t spit right into the phone. Chewing tobacco was a dirty, disgusting and tremendously unhealthy habit, but many of the Yooper guys she knew, and lots of other hockey players, indulged. Petey’s voice returned. “Hey, Zeke back yet? Thought maybe I’d fly to Jax before I headed up there.”
“Not yet. My parents are waiting by the phone. They’re going to fly down as soon as they have a hard date. They expect the carrier back to Virginia within the next three weeks, but the squadron usually flies off and back to Jacksonville a week or so before that. At least that’s what happened the last couple of floats.”
“Oh, well as long as your parents are going to be there. I just wanted to make sure someone would be there for him when they come in.” Although on other sides of the bridge during high school, Zeke and Petey had formed a deep friendship when they both attended Tech, Petey to play hockey and Zeke to get his engineering degree before he joined the navy to become a jet pilot.
“I think he’d probably prefer for you to be waiting for him. It would be a whole different kind of welcome home party with you than with my parents.” She could hear his laugh on the other end. She’d been with Petey and Zeke out on the town many times. The combination of two good looking, rugged men, one a professional hockey player and the other a jet pilot, sent Lizzie scurrying from the elbows that were thrown her way as women tried to get near them.
Babe magnets. Total babe magnets.
Petey grunted on the other end of the line. “That’s for sure...a whole different kind of party. Maybe I’ll wait and take a detour to Jax when I leave the Yoop and head back for training camp.”
“When are you headed up?”
“In a couple of weeks. Remembe, I’ve got that thing at the Joe with the team next week.”
It wasn’t an event her firm had orgainzed, so it was lower on her radar. “Oh right. Well, I can’t wait for you to get up here, it’s not the same without your foul mouth giving Katie apoplexy.” Katie hated profanity, a fact that led both Petey and Alison to use it as much as possible in her presence.
“Ha ha, very fucking funny. Just have the sauna hot and the beer cold.”
“Always, Petey, always.”
Chapter Six
√ Get bikini wax
√ Get ingredients for cookies
√ Send cigars to James
Lizzie pulled her SUV into the driveway of Finn’s farm. The picking was done for the day and the fields behind the house were empty. In fact, the whole place looked empty. She knew that Finn, his son and his grandmother lived here, but there was almost an eerie feeling of desertion.
The house had definitely seen better days. It was an old two-story farmhouse complete with a veranda that wrapped around three sides. Lizzie was surprised to see that what would have been a wide entrance for steps leading up to the porch was replaced by a wooden ramp. Was the grandmother now in a wheelchair?
The house’s white paint was peeling and a couple of the black shutters had come off their hinges, but you could see it had been a magnificent building in its prime. It really wouldn’t take much to restore it. She wondered why Finn had let it go? She knew he wasn’t the lazy sort. He’d spent hours working with his horses when they’d dated, then would work at the Mine Shaft in the evenings.
The horses.
Her eyes swung to the right, to the barn, and saw more neglect. Yes, that’s what it was…the entire place looked neglected.
Only the trailer, to the left of the main house, refuted the idea that the farm had been deserted. His grandmother must be living there. Or maybe they had a boarder? Though the paint was also peeling, the trailer had a homey look to it. There were window boxes full of blooming petunias in glorious purples, pinks and reds. White and pink alyssum lined the entire perimeter.
The fields, at least, had the appearance of hard work and attention. The strawberry plants looked healthy and plentiful, even from where Lizzie stood. There were two strawberry fields behind the house, separated by the area Finn must have used to train and work with his horses. Wooden gates linked three separate corrals, the final gate leading beyond the fields and to the woods. Overgrown trails led off in several different directions. There were two more strawberry fields on the other side of the road on land also owned by the Robbins family. One was as thriving as the two others, but the fourth lay fallow.
Finn had gotten rid of his horses, an occurrence Lizzie could hardly believe. His home showed an overall neglect. He’d taken the job at the theater six months ago. Something had happened here. Things were not quite right.
A movement at the front of the first field caught her eye. Someone who’d been crouched low now stood. He had his back to her, but she was able to tell who it was. The son. She hadn’t planned on that.
She’d assumed they’d be alone tonight. But thinking about it, it did seem unrealistic. What was Finn supposed to do, send a seventy-year-old woman and a teen-age boy out on a Saturday night with a “don’t come back till morning” warning? Or maybe they had set up a signal? If there’s a quart of strawberries hanging on the doorknob, don’t come in?
She smiled to herself as she imagined an overflowing quart of berries with a piece of old yellow yarn tied to two sides, hanging l
ike a pendulum from a rust-tinged doorknob.
She reached inside her SUV to the passenger seat and grabbed her purse, a bottle of wine and a container full of her world-famous chocolate chip cookies. She didn’t make them much anymore, she wouldn’t allow it, but she’d wanted to bring something for her dinner contribution besides the wine.
When she’d measured her tummy this morning she’d been pleased, so she figured, what the hell, and went to the kitchen with zeal. Of course, after eating the equivalent of a dozen cookies in dough, her good feelings about her body drained out as quickly as she drained the huge glass of milk that accompanied her indulgence.
After that, the skin tight knit top and short shorts she’d planned to wear were sent skulking to the back of the closet, as if it were their fault Lizzie couldn’t control herself around chocolate chip cookie dough. Instead, she chose a loose, French blue three-quarter sleeve, buttoned blouse and a khaki skirt that fell to her knees and had buttons its entire length.
Having gotten some good sun these past few days, she’d been excited about the shorts and ready to show off some thigh, but she couldn’t help envisioning the dough passing through her system in record time to adhere itself directly to her inner thighs and saddlebag area. The shorts were history.
She still looked okay, she surmised, if not a little more conservative than she had planned.
Balancing her offering, she shut the door to the Navigator and headed to the house, her flat sandals choosing the grass rather than the dusty walkway. The noise made Finn’s son turn. Though they were over fifty yards away from each other, Lizzie saw the boy’s eyes slowly trail up her body in much the same way his father had done the first night she’d seen him at the Mine Shaft.
The boy was lanky, with none of Finn’s power in his physique. Knowing zilch about the growth development of boys, she wondered if he’d fill out later, or if this was to be his basic build. His hair was lighter than Finn’s, almost a towhead blond, so abundant in the Finnish-laced Copper Country. Finn’s mother was Finnish, Lizzie remembered. She wondered if his ex-wife was, too. She couldn’t tell the boy’s eye color from here, but his face was all Finn. Angles, cheekbones, what seemed hard and masculine in Finn seemed almost fragile in the boy.