by Sheri Langer
“You always know how to turn something bad into something good,” Whitty said.
“That’s a very nice thing to say,” David replied.
“I’m not really sure how to thank you,” Fordham said.
“Maybe one day we’ll figure it out.” David walked out the door.
Whitty was okay. That was the most important thing. Fordham watched David walk away and realized that for the first time all day, she was smiling. She and Whitty were holding hands and making little jokes as they strolled through the empty halls. Dorie and Abe were sitting on a bench near the auditorium. Aaron was still there, standing against an opposite wall and talking on his phone, which he swiftly pocketed when he saw Fordham.
“Finally,” Aaron said, exasperated.
Fordham was surprised he hadn’t left. If he had caught the desire in her eyes when she and David were hugging, which she was pretty sure he hadn’t, he’d have a reason to be concerned. She supposed she should be concerned, too, but then she caught a glimpse of David at the end of the hall, walking, with Pam clinging to his arm. She reminded herself that people could get caught up in the moment, especially when it came to romance, but moments were often just meant to serve the immediate and nothing more.
“Whitty, sweetheart, are you okay?” Dorie asked, giving her a hug.
“Do you feel a little better now?” Abe patted her head.
Fordham was touched that Abe was being so affectionate toward Whitty. He’d listened while Fordham talked his ear off about her daughter, but that was different than actually spending time with her. Since Abe and Whitty had met, it was as if they had never been anything but close. Fordham was fascinated by how quickly they’d bonded and thrilled that Whitty could grow up with a warm, caring grandfather after all.
“I’m fine. I just need ice cream,” Whitty said, brightening at all the attention she was receiving.
“Ice cream—now? For what?” Aaron checked his watch.
“For eating,” Whitty said as if addressing a cretin.
Aaron ignored Whitty’s tone. “Fordham, we have reservations for dinner.”
“Not until later. We have plenty of time, and I don’t really care whether we make it or not.”
Aaron shook his head as if he would never understand her. Fordham wasn’t sure why he was being so ornery. Even if he had seen her hugging David, she’d offered a logical, specific reason for it that she willingly shared with him. The problem had to be something else. Her best guess was that their relationship was being threatened not by David but by her. She was a parent, and Aaron wasn’t. It was strange that he and his wife had never had kids, but he was a doctor, not a superhero, and it was possible that the issues with his ex had extended beyond his abilities. She softened as she thought about Aaron missing out on fatherhood.
“Aaron, I still want to go. Maybe we can call and go a little later?”
“Sure, I understand. Why have champagne and caviar when we can have butter pecan and rainbow sprinkles?” Aaron said through a half-hearted smile.
“Yuck! I’m not getting that!” Whitty groaned.
Fordham escorted Whitty out the door. Aaron was a few steps behind, back on his phone. The parking lot was almost empty. She, Abe, and Aaron were parked at opposite ends of the lot. Abe told Dorie to wait while he got the car. He didn’t want her to put excess strain on her foot. Whitty nudged Fordham, saying she wanted to go with Abe and Dorie, and Fordham couldn’t see any reason not to let her. Grandparents were safe, especially when parents were impossible to figure out. It would also give her a chance to speak with Aaron and sort out the mess of this event.
Fordham told Dorie to meet her at CC’s Ice Cream Castle. She had coupons for free sundaes that she’d left at home. Dorie said that was fine as she watched Abe walk hand in hand with Whitty to his car.
Fordham was near Aaron’s car when he opened the window to tell her he had to run to meet a colleague about a “pressing issue.” Suddenly, he wasn’t as concerned about her eating ice cream sundaes and delaying their dinner plans. The meeting was one he’d been hoping to set up since he’d gotten into town. Soon, he assured her, all his phone calls and crazy scheduling would make sense.
It was just as well. Fordham was too tired to get into a relationship chat, and Aaron always seemed to perk up when he had business to tend to. There was a better-than-likely chance he’d be pleasant by dinnertime. Besides, he was too practical to enjoy dessert before dinner.
“Have a good time,” he said, after he gave her a peck on the cheek. “And don’t worry—I’m going to take care of everything.”
Fordham was happy to have a few minutes to decompress. She got into the car, cranked up Sirius Classic Vinyl, and let the music take her home.
Chapter Twenty-One: The Wedding Zinger
Fordham was officially full. The steering wheel was closer to her stomach than it had been a couple of hours earlier. The brownie-fudge sundae had done more than hit the spot, and she’d selected outfit number three—brown corduroy pull-on pants with a matching sweater set—to hide where it had landed. The neckline was deep enough to help make up for its monochromatic tedium, and a few choice pieces of jewelry made it passable for a Friday night out in the suburbs. A side salad was about all she could handle, and convinced that Aaron’s meeting would be foremost on his mind, she knew he wouldn’t even ask why.
It had been Fordham’s choice to go to Indigo—not for the food but for the music. The restaurant had an upscale menu, but for her, the draw was the live bands that would perform weekly. Piermont wasn’t the East Village, but it was close to home, and most of the musicians who played there were as talented as any she’d heard elsewhere.
Although she was reluctant to acknowledge it, there was a good chance David would show up. Their school district was sponsoring a month-long fundraiser for the music program, and Indigo was one of the sponsors, donating a percentage of its proceeds to the cause. Fordham knew that David liked jazz—she was pretty sure he’d been listening to Coltrane the day her car was smashed, and there was a jazz band playing that night. In a county as small as theirs, it was possible he’d want to show his support and be there.
The parking lot was pretty full, and she recognized a couple of cars belonging to staff from Crestwood. Exhausted from the day’s dramas, she hoped Aaron would be waiting at the front to keep her mercifully spared from any small talk that would keep her from a much-desired martini.
As she walked through the heavy wooden door, she was glad to see Aaron where she’d hoped to find him. The hostess with long hair and a too-large-diamond nose ring apologized as she led them to the back of the restaurant. Since Aaron had canceled their reservation, all the small, intimate tables were taken. The two of them were seated at a table that could accommodate a much larger party.
The band had just gone on break, and Fordham was listening to a piped-in version of Diana Krall singing “Just One of Those Things” while Aaron excused himself to take a “vital” phone call. Fordham stirred her filthy dirty double-vodka martini, which was brimming with enough stuffed blue cheese olives to make it a meal, and considered leaving. She was tired and wanted to be in her bed, finishing her latest Beverly Swerling novel, casting herself as a nineteenth-century socialite who could navigate any chaos New York threw at her. She was about to get up when Aaron ended his call.
“Sorry, baby. It might be that kind of night,” he said.
“What kind of night? The kind where you knock my daughter’s accomplishments? Insult my mother? Or misinterpret a platonic hug?”
“Either you’ve had one martini too many, or you need another,” Aaron said.
If he bottled his calm, he could sell his practice. She supposed she was coming on a bit strong. She could retract the claws and still get her point across.
“I’m upset,” she said. “You weren’t being very supportive.”
“You’re right. I’ve been very focused on work, and today it made me cranky.”
“You’re
being insanely reasonable,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as disappointed as she felt. There was no fun in bickering without a partner.
“By the way, did you get through to your mother?” he added.
“On your behalf or on the phone?”
“Touché,” Aaron said.
“Yes, I did. They went out for sushi.”
“Japanese penicillin. Works every time. When I was a kid, I never thought I’d want to eat flounder before it hit the batter and the frying pan. And for the record, I’m glad Whitty’s okay.”
“Thanks. Me too.”
“You seem tense.”
Now, that was an understatement if ever there was one. She’d had a taxing, emotional day and gone out that night to escape or have some kind of release. She assumed Aaron would leave work behind to spend quality time with her, but it wasn’t going to happen. And she was still annoyed with him, so neither of them was catching a break. They were just setting their stress to music.
“It’s been a long day, and I bet you forgot that Dylan’s wedding is at noon tomorrow.”
“Noon?” Aaron grimaced.
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“I’m supposed to meet with Feingold about the design for Ovary Park Place. I already cancelled on him today to hear Whitty recite the Pledge of Allegiance.”
“Well, I’m so sorry for inconveniencing you. Next time, I’ll tell Whitty to make sure her feelings don’t interfere with your schedule.”
“Don’t start with me again. That's not what I said.”
“No, but that’s what you meant.”
He shook his head. She scooped up a handful of mixed nuts from the bowl in front of her. Aaron’s phone rang.
“I have to take this,” he said, touching her hand.
“By all means,” she said, pulling away.
Aaron went to a lounge area away from the bar and the band. Fordham downed her drink and ate all the olives. The band came back in and was getting ready to play again when Fordham got up to leave. She’d say a civil good night and head home. She was bending down to get the napkin she’d dropped when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“David,” she said, standing up.
“Lose an earring?” he asked coyly.
“No.” She blushed. “Just clumsy.”
“How was your brownie sundae?” David asked.
“Delicious, thank you. I’m still full.”
“How’s Whitty?”
“She’s still full too.” Fordham chuckled. “She’s doing better. I’m really glad you were there for her. Please, join me.”
Charged again after their last exchange, Fordham knew if she wanted to argue with Aaron, she had just found a way to call “bingo.” She felt a little flushed and tingly. She blamed it on the alcohol.
David sat down next to her. “Where’s Aaron?” he asked, scanning the room.
“Business call,” Fordham said coolly. “So what brings you here? The fundraiser?” She noticed Pam standing by the band and answered her own question with a muttered, “Ah—date night.”
Pam looked gorgeous in a tight little black dress that hugged every non-maternal curve of her body. She was braless, and Fordham could see the form of her perky nipples from several feet away. Even Pam’s dark hair was coiffed to perfection as it hung down her back, screaming “Take me now” by any worthy pornographic standards.
“The fundraiser,” David confirmed, “and my buddy is the sax player, Jake Lesley, Pam’s brother. Do you know him?”
“No. Should I?”
She had dated several musicians, and for a split second, she wondered if Jake had been one of them. She studied him more closely, and to her relief, she didn’t recognize him. But what she did notice was that he was wearing the same tie that David had worn for the poetry awards. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe men secretly shared clothes, too, and having women think it was some gender-specific phenomenon was merely a clever ruse. Fordham had a sip of another drink that had magically appeared before her. There were some things she would never know.
“Oh, yeah, he’s excellent. He’s played with the best and even studied with one of my favorites, Gato Barbieri,” David explained.
“You’re kidding! I love Gato. Caliente makes me...” She giggled.
“Makes you what?” David teased.
Fordham smirked and shrugged. She scanned the room but didn’t see Aaron anywhere and assumed he’d stepped out to continue his call. Pam was spending a suspicious amount of time with the piano player, but it didn’t seem to bother David.
“You don’t have to answer that,” he said. “Music is important to me. I used to be a DJ in college. I did some sound engineering and worked the concert crew.”
“I had no idea.”
“You wouldn’t. People usually don’t wear their lives out in public.”
“True. It’s a bitch to accessorize them and impossible to find matching shoes. And those ‘I’m with stupid’ T-shirts are way too tacky to be telling.” She was feeling a buzz, but she didn’t let it bother her. “Actually, I find it fascinating to learn more about people I think I know.”
Fordham was enjoying the conversation. She almost didn’t care that David had a girlfriend. She had Aaron, and it didn’t matter. There were all kinds of relationships. She thought about When Harry Met Sally and wondered if she and David could be friends the way Harry and Sally were before they slept together. Yes, she decided, but she definitely couldn’t think about that part.
“I’ve shared, so now tell me something about you that I’d find fascinating,” David said, provocatively leaning toward her.
Fordham was thinking of a response when Aaron returned to the table, visibly annoyed to see David sitting in his seat.
“Look who’s here,” Fordham said.
“Yes. I see. Hello again, David,” Aaron said curtly.
“Hello, Aaron,” David said, getting up to leave.
David’s tiny grin and quick wave told Fordham he viewed Aaron as more of an annoyance than an adversary.
“Oh, please. We have this big table. Stay,” Fordham insisted.
David sat down again. Pam ended her conversation with the piano player then slammed down two shots and a bottle of beer before coming over to sit next to David. She was wearing high heels but wasn’t very tall and seemed a little wobbly on her feet. Forget about walking. How can she could hold all that liquor without popping the seams of her dress?
“Pam Lesley,” David began, “this is Aaron—”
“Karp. Dr. Aaron Karp,” Aaron filled in, politely taking in the newest member of their party.
“Hi, Aaron,” Pam said in a Marilyn Monroe whisper. “You know, Fordham, David never shuts up about you and your daughter.”
Fordham found that curious and wanted to muse about what David might have said, but the conversation was moving along too swiftly for her to give it ample attention. His blush gave her enough information, at least for the moment.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Aaron said, downing his drink.
“Aaron, David is friends with the sax player, Pam’s brother.” Fordham pointed to Jake. “I love jazz,” she added passionately.
“Yes, Fordham has always loved her jazz, but I’m more of a classic-rock kind of guy,” Aaron admitted.
“Oh! Me too!” Pam interjected. “If it weren’t for Jakie and free shots, you’d never catch me in here.” She was talking right in Aaron’s face.
Aaron seemed to be enjoying the attention, and Fordham was oddly undisturbed by his enthusiasm. If anything, she was finding their exchange amusing, and a glance at David conveyed that he was similarly entertained.
“Classic rock?” Fordham chimed in. “Maybe, but Aaron is one of the only people I know who owned a copy of ‘Billy, Don’t Be a Hero.’”
“I was being supportive. My cousin Billy was a firefighter,” Aaron argued.
“That’s true,” Fordham conceded. “But what was your excuse for ‘The Night Chicago Died�
�?”
“I love those!” Pam started singing a mishmash of the lyrics to both songs. She got up and twirled her way back to the band’s table like a dehydrated ballerina.
“Excuse me. I’d better take her home,” David said, looking concerned.
Fordham watched as David talked to the band. He and Jake joked for a few minutes, then Jake led Pam out of the club. Fordham was surprised when David came back to the table.
“Sorry,” David said. “It was a long day.”
“You can say that again,” Aaron said, agreeing with David for the first time since they’d met.
“Pam’s not usually like that,” David said gallantly. “Jake’s on a break and wanted to take her home.”
“Fordham and I will understand if you want to follow them,” Aaron said, carefully confirming their status as a couple.
No one seemed comfortable, and they all drank at the same time.
“No, it’s better this way,” David said.
“I understand,” Fordham said, forgetting about Pam being a rival. “Kids can be so difficult. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that Whitty feels better.” She took out a compact mirror from her bag and inspected her face. “I think I sprouted new crow’s-feet and a frown line from all my worrying today.”
“Baby, you have nothing to worry about. I know more plastic surgeons than Cher, and they all owe me,” Aaron said generously.
Fordham sipped her drink, ignoring Aaron’s remark.
David gulped his scotch. “That’s wild,” he said, sounding wistful. “Fordham, you just reminded me of my late wife. She was always talking about the little lines on her face. I never even noticed them. To me, she was beautiful.” He drained his glass. “I told her she had no reason to worry—that they were my love-lines, and as they deepened over time, so would my love for her.”
“And she actually bought that?” Aaron asked.
Love-lines. Fordham felt the stuffed olives come up in the back of her throat and swallowed hard. This had to be someone’s bad idea of a joke. Evie had probably gotten bored and signed her up to be on some new web series. She looked around, but there were no cameras in sight. There was only David’s sweet face, innocently declaring that he was Prince Charming, the secret owner of her heart.