by Josie Brown
5:53 p.m.
“So, what do you think about our wives and this cockamamie club?” Matt had flopped down on the easy chair opposite where Brady was sprawled out on the couch.
“I think…I don’t know what to think. It’s certainly a lot more work than I—I mean, than Jade thought it would be.” He stared at the TV set, but he could care less about how badly the Cowboys were beating the Redskins.
He was having too much fun enjoying Ally and her friends.
More to the point, watching Ally enjoy herself.
When Jade first broke the news to him that she’d invited all the Probationary Onesies for Thanksgiving—well all of them but Kelly, who hadn’t really been hanging out with them anyway—he almost told her to call everyone and cancel. He couldn’t stand the thought of being so close to Ally and unable to do anything about it. But now that the holidays were upon them, he knew it was inevitable that he’d find himself in the same room as Jade and Ally. While he hadn’t expected it to be so soon, or in his own house, Jade’s determination to pull off a Thanksgiving on her own changed his mind.
That, and the thought of being near Ally for practically the whole day.
It was Brady who had answered Ally’s knock on the door. It took all his strength not to take her in his arms and give her a real kiss as opposed to a friendly peck on the cheek. Was that a look of concern on her face? No, it was sadness. Was she sad for the same reason as he, because of the circumstances that kept them together but also pulled them apart?
He wanted to believe that was the case.
And he wanted to believe that someday the situation would allow them to be together, happily and forever.
Happily ever after.
What a pussy I am, he thought. Around her, anyway.
Lorna and her family had come up right behind Ally. Brady had liked Matt from the moment they’d met. What was not to like? No ego, lots of jokes, many at his own expense. He held his son gently but firmly and casually, all at the same time.
“He’s quite a bruiser,” Brady said as he tweaked Dante’s nose.
“Yeah.” Matt nodded. “No tight end here. Linebacker, for sure. Hope the 49’ers feel the same way about him in another twenty years. They’ll need him. Hell, they need him now.”
After football, their GuySpeak ran the gamut: Warriors, Giants, politics, the latest greatest gadgets. That’s how Brady found out about Matt’s hair-brained scheme to raise money for a company that made plasma antennas. He insisted, “They will revolutionize high-speed wireless communications. Hey, and not only that, but also radar apparatus, directed energy weapons—a whole slew of things, really. I’ve been following the blog of this British company, which developed it. I liked what they said, invested in it, and I’m raising money for them.”
“How do you know this stuff is the real thing?” Brady asked. “Do you have a degree in physics or computer engineering?”
“Ha! I wish. Nope, I was just a plain old math major. No masters…well, really I dropped out of Berkeley.”
“Oh yeah? Stanford. Also a drop-out.”
“Didn’t hurt you any.”
“Nope.”
The clink of the beer bottles was the start of a new friendship. That, and when Brady added, “When you get the prospectus together, send me the non-disclosure. I’ll be glad to look it over.”
The Pierces’ last guest was a head-scratcher—some jacked dude carrying two dozen yellow roses. Was it some date for Ally? He breathed a sigh of relief when the guy, Caleb Martin, mentioned that he was a stray invited by Jillian.
I guess what Jillian’s husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him, Brady thought.
The meal had been awesome. The food had been fine, yes, but the company was what made it. Brady’s ears were tuned in to Ally’s deep-throated laugh, her insightful asides, and her wide-open smiles.
Every third seat was a high chair. Brady made sure that Oliver’s was on one side of him, and Zoe’s on the other. That allowed him to compliment Ally on her sweet potatoes, and to get her riffing about Zoe’s long drawn-out conversations in gibberish.
Did he give Jade enough attention so that she didn’t catch onto the fact that he only had eyes for Ally? He hoped so. Hell, he complimented her on her turkey enough! Every time he did, she’d blush and shake her head or look over at Jillian. He could only imagine that it was Jillian’s doing that the turkey hadn’t caught fire or something. He knew firsthand that Jade’s culinary skills extended no further than a bowl, a spoon, and a box of cereal.
For the past few years, if his Thanksgivings hadn’t been spent eating nachos and drinking margaritas on a beach, they took place at the second seating at the Ritz Carlton’s annual Turkeyfest. This had certainly been more fun: watching the babies eat chopped-up turkey along with handfuls of Lorna’s stuffing and Ally’s sweet potatoes, then listening to the women gossip about some of the other PHM&T moms, albeit they had avoided the topic of Bettina until Matt muttered, “What? No one will utter the name of She Who Cannot Be Crossed?”
The women collapsed in a spasm of giggles and Lorna had almost choked on her turkey. When, finally, she could speak again, she murmured, “Matt, seriously, you don’t want to go there.”
“The hell I don’t! Hey, before you all knew her, I was her whipping boy. I’m glad her OCD is now directed at the rest of you—for however long you’re willing to put up with it.”
That brought a lull to the table. Even Brady seemed a bit sheepish.
Matt just didn’t get it. He was one of those guys who had everything handed to him on a silver platter, and he’d thrown a lot of it away for absolutely no reason.
That’s why he could afford to be clueless, and Bettina could afford to be a bitch.
The futures of everyone else’s kids hung on them putting up with her.
7:10 p.m.
“This is called what again? Lover’s Lane?” Jillian stared down at the path that cut diagonally through Presidio Park at the Pacific Avenue entrance, then she smiled up at Caleb. “This is only a block from my house. I must have jogged it with the girls a million times and I never knew. Why’s it called that?”
Caleb pointed downhill, where the lane disappeared into the forest of tall eucalyptus trees swaying in the stiff winds coming in from the ocean. Above the trees, the south spire of the Golden Gate Bridge rose, lit up brightly by a full moon. “Back as far as the 1850s, cavalry soldiers stationed in the Presidio used this path to walk toward the city to visit their sweethearts.”
Jillian sighed. “How romantic. And to think, you live right next to it.”
“I lucked out. I’ve got enough seniority in the parks’ service that when this house became available, I got first dibs.” He nodded toward one of the old officer’s homes in the cul-du-sac—a beautiful brick Georgian. “Built in the 1930s. Really, it’s too big for me. Three floors, four bedrooms. I’ve turned one room into a workshop. I like to make furniture. You know, work with my hands.”
“Ha! You have to be handy if you live in old houses.” She stared out at it. “I’ll bet it’s beautiful inside.”
“It truly is interesting architecture. Want to come in and see? It’s the least I can do, since you got me invited to the best Thanksgiving gathering I’ve been to in a long, long time.”
She hesitated just a moment. The girls were still up. She could hear their baby chatter in the back seat. In the moonlight, she could clearly see the broad planes of his cheeks, and the smile on his face.
“I make a mean cup of coffee. Hey, if you have some of that pie left over—”
“Oh my God! Pie!” Suddenly Jillian sat up straight. “I was supposed to make pies for the club’s pot luck tomorrow as well, and I completely forgot! And my oven still isn’t working.”
“You still have some of the ingredients left over from the pies this morning, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve got enough for three: apple-rhubarb, as well as pumpkin and pecan—”
“And I have an oven—which i
s rarely used. I’ll toss a steak or two on the grill, but that’s the extent of my culinary skills.”
“You’re sure you won’t mind? It’s getting late.”
“No, if afterward you leave one of those pies behind. It will be perfect with the coffee.”
“You’re on. Let me swing up to my place then—”
But before she could start the car up again, he leaned in for a kiss.
His move took her by surprise, not just by how natural it was to feel him there beside her, but how right his lips felt on hers. When he laid his hand over her own, it covered it completely. And when his thick, strong fingers entwined with hers, she could feel the calluses on his palms.
Scott’s hands were smaller, and his palms were softer. It was the first time she’d thought about him all day.
It was the first time in so long that they’d spent Thanksgiving apart.
Well, today he’d had his very first Thanksgiving with Victoria. Had Victoria made him a pie? If not, had he missed Jillian’s?
But after Caleb’s next kiss, Jillian didn’t give a damn whether he had or he hadn’t.
7:14 p.m.
“You didn’t have to walk me home,” Ally was still insisting three blocks from her doorway. “I can’t think of a safer neighborhood than ours.”
“What, are you crazy? Cow Hollow is practically the Tenderloin.” Brady shook his head in mock fear. “Okay, maybe not that bad. But it does get all those Union/Fillmore party animals. It’s much too early in Zoe’s life for her to see a frat boy barf on some woman’s thousand-dollar heels.”
“To set the record straight, Zoe is in bed by the time the riffraff hit the streets. Admit it, Brady: you’re just a Marina snob. It’ll serve you right when global warming begins. Those of us on this side of Lombard Street will be nice and dry, while all those fancy Marina mansions are sinking like Venetian palazzos.” She smiled supremely. “Besides, up here on Green, we’re above all that Union Street rowdiness—which, by the way, makes us borderline Pac Heights.”
That made Brady laugh harder than when they’d discussed the differences between toddler boys’ and girls’ tantrums (boys were more likely to throw something, as opposed to throwing a fit.)
Now that they were so close to her house, their walk had slowed to a crawl.
Neither of them wanted the evening to end.
Brady shrugged. “Seriously, Oliver and I needed to get out and take a walk. I pigged out on Jillian’s pecan pie like there was no tomorrow. I think I had three pieces of it—and that was after eating slices of both the apple-rhubarb and the pumpkin.”
“Wasn’t all of it to die for? Talk about a forkful of heaven!” Ally closed her eyes as she savored the memory. But then her eyes opened wide. “Oh my God! I think I just had the most brilliant idea in the whole world!”
“It better be good, because we’ve got two babies nodding off for the night, if you can keep from squealing again.” He tucked the blankets tighter around both toddlers. “Okay, I’m all ears.”
“Jillian needs money because of her divorce. I’ve got extra cash flow. So that she doesn’t have to work as a waitress, I’ll front her in a pie shop. If it does well, we’ll open more of them.”
“Wait—what?” Brady stared at her. “Jillian is going through a divorce?”
Ally’s lips pursed. “Um…yeah. I—I was supposed to keep that a secret.”
“Don’t sweat it. The brute from the parks’ service who was mooning after Jillian already gave it away.” Brady smiled. “I’m guessing he’s interested in much more than pie.”
“You are such a guy.” Ally shook her head. “Scott just walked out on her—for another woman who’s pregnant, no less. The woman was standing next to me in a baby boutique. I saw Jillian out jogging with the girls, and she came in to say hello. The next thing I know she and this woman are having a shouting match. That’s how I found out Scott dumped her. I think it’ll be a while before Jillian wants another man in her life for anything other than…than…”
“Sex? I knew it. That’s all you women want from us, anyway.”
“Now you’re just being facetious.”
“True. What you really want is what you deserve—everything we’ve got to offer.” Even in the dark, he could tell she was blushing. When she didn’t answer, he knew he should change the subject. “So, if you know her little secret, I presume she knows yours, too.”
“Of course. I wanted her to know that I would never let the club get wind of it. In fact, Lorna ran into her at the restaurant she works at, but swore to keep that to herself as well.”
“Jesus! Is there anyone who doesn’t know about her predicament?”
“Now that you know, I guess not.” She shivered. “Unless she told Jade, too.”
If Jillian told Jade, then Jade may have told Jillian about her deal with Brady. He sighed loudly at the thought. “I guess the only secret that’s safe is ours.”
“Ours? You mean, yours and Jade’s?”
“No, I meant about you and me.”
“I…there is no ‘you and me.’ We’re just friends.”
Yes, his kiss took her by surprise.
But no, she didn’t push him away. Her lips were just as hungry as his.
Even when they parted, he didn’t let her out of his arms. “Now tell me we’re ‘just friends.’”
“Okay, I’ll admit I’ve been downplaying my feelings for you.”
“So, will you stop, already?”
“No!” Ally’s tone was more than exasperated. It was angry. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to hurt Jade! She loves you too much.”
“God damn it, Ally, I don’t want to hurt her, either!” Hearing his angry whisper, both Zoe and Oliver whimpered in their sleep. “She’s the mother of my son, but I’m not going to pretend she’s the love of my life. I want to get on with my life! With you.”
With her.
For the longest time, the silence hung between them like the encroaching fog that edged around them.
The dampness Ally wiped from her face wasn’t the fine mist of the evening, but her tears. “But that’s just it, Brady. You are pretending she’s the love of your life—for as long as it takes to get you into the club. I get it, I understand it, because I’m doing the same–lying, for Zoe’s sake. If and when we decide to act on our feelings, Jade gets hurt. Whether it’s today or tomorrow or five years from now, when we’ve all moved on from the club, Jade gets hurt. No matter how it shakes down.”
“Yes, I know, Jade gets hurt.” Suddenly his head felt much too heavy for his shoulders. But no, it wasn’t his head, it was the sorrow of knowing that the one thing he wanted so badly wasn’t his for the taking.
“For now, it’s for the best that we be friends…and that’s all,” she whispered.
“I know.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s a good thing Jade knows nothing about us.”
Ally couldn’t believe she could laugh through her tears. “Hey, I’m just glad Jade knows nothing about me. If you’re ever stupid enough to tell her that you love someone else—anyone else—she’s not going to take too kindly to it.”
“I could never love anyone else the way I love you.”
Instead of answering him, she cuddled Zoe tightly against her shoulder and ran to her front door.
7:33 p.m.
Under normal circumstances, Vilma, Brady’s twice-a-week maid, would have found Kimberley’s lavender lace thong in the cabinet, since Jade’s knowledge of the kitchen went no further than the refrigerator (milk), the cereal cubby (Frosted Flakes) the flatware drawer, and the cabinet that held the everyday bowls and plates. At that point Vilma would have presumed that Señor Brady’s gringa esposa had coerced him into the kind of wild and crazy sex enjoyed by the characters in the telenovelas Vilma watched religiously. Always discreet, Vilma would have put the thong in the laundry with Jade’s other unmentionables.
But as it turns out, the afterglow of having pulled off a successful Thanksgiving in front of her new
friends put Jade in a domestic mood. Brady, ever the gentleman, had offered to walk Ally and Zoe home while taking Oliver along. She hadn’t expected him to be gone so long, but because he was, it gave Jade more than enough time to run the dishwasher with all the plates and glasses. When the dishwasher beeped to signal they were dry, she was still energized enough to put them away in the cabinet.
That’s when she saw the thong.
Who the fuck’s panties are these? And how did they get here?
She racked her brain for an answer. They weren’t there when she had taken the plates out of the cabinet and set the table early yesterday. And after her grocery run, she hadn’t gone out of the house at all. Instead, she had thrown herself into decorating the house with Martha Stewart-like flair, making corn husk placemats and colorful leaf place cards. Tiny pumpkins were carved out just enough to hold candlesticks, and miniature gourds were hot-glued with cornhusks and feathers to turn them into turkeys, which were then placed in front of the children’s high chairs.
By that evening, she was exhausted, and had fallen into bed beside Brady.
Throughout the day, her friends had been in and out of the kitchen, prepping and warming their dishes before setting them proudly on the table. The thought of one of them throwing a thong into the cabinet was beyond all comprehension. All day long Lorna and Matt exchanged loving pats, while Jillian and her good Samaritan, Caleb, flirted shyly with each other.
Only Jade and Brady hadn’t been lovey-dovey. But that was Brady, he was always distant—
Except when Ally is around.
Ally, whose place card was moved so that she sat on one side of Brady. (Who had done that? Her? Him?)
Ally, who must have been the funniest woman in the world because Brady always laughed at everything she said.
Ally, who would walk into a room, and a moment later Brady would be there, too.
Ally who, as Jade found out only this morning from Jillian, wasn’t really married at all.
Brady is with her now.
And he was taking his sweet time, too. How long did it take to walk six blocks over, and another six blocks up?