“Be patient. You never know.”
“Will there be a fireworks display later?”
Emory smiled wisely. “Fireworks are strictly for Tuesdays.”
“Got it. Presumptuous of me. May I ask if you plan to swim with us?”
“Mhmm. Already set. See?” Emory tugged a red bathing suit strap from underneath her T-shirt. “What about you? Do you need to change?”
“I do.” Sarah placed a hand on her bag. “Is there somewhere I can…”
“You can change in my room,” Emory offered. “It’s the first door on the left, at the top of the stairs.”
Sarah followed the lazy spiral staircase that snaked its way to the second story and easily located Emory’s bedroom, which seemed to be one of three in the house. The room itself wasn’t overly large, but the two glass walls looking over the expanse of the ocean made it feel so much bigger. The elevated second story offered a more expansive view of the Pacific, and she took a moment to watch the waves roll in from as far as the eye could see. A soft beige love seat faced out, overlooking the ocean. Something about this room seemed a little bit more personable, warm. Sarah imagined Emory cuddled up on the small sofa, reading a book, and watching the surf.
Shaking herself from the coziness of her daydream, she undressed and put on her sky blue one piece and surveyed herself in the mirror of the master bathroom. Somehow in these new surroundings, her bathing suit seemed to pale in comparison. So plain. And there it was again. That sinking feeling of doubt. She decided to shake it off. Because, you know what? She wasn’t in the fourth grade anymore, struggling to measure up. She was an accomplished single mother who had every reason to hold her head high. At least, that’s what she would keep telling herself.
The living room was seemingly empty when she returned so Sarah drifted into the kitchen, pulled along by the wafting aroma of something surely sent from baby Jesus. She peeked in the small oven window and her mouth watered at the sight of bubbling lasagna. Unable to stop herself, she opened the heavy oven door so she could fully appreciate the amazingness of what was before her.
“Freeze, grifter. Back away from the lasagna.”
Sarah smiled, stood upright at the sound of Emory’s voice, and turned around innocently to plead her case. However, what she found herself faced with was enough to make her mouth water a second time. Emory was standing just beyond the interior of the house clad in a red bikini that complimented her toned physique and, well, curves to complete perfection. She’d taken her blond hair out of the ponytail she’d been wearing earlier and it fell haphazardly around her shoulders. Her very tan shoulders. Sarah tried to swallow and recapture the witty comeback that had been on the tip of her tongue just a moment before, but her brain wasn’t exactly cooperating at the moment.
“What is it?” Emory looked at her with concern. When Sarah’s only answer was a guilty smile and a sheepish shrug, Emory’s expression took on understanding. There was a liquid heat to the gaze they now exchanged, and even though Emory was fifteen feet away, she affected her all over. Immediate warmth started in her stomach and moved rapidly downward. Intensely, achingly so.
“For another time,” Sarah offered quietly and inclined her head in Grace’s direction.
Emory took a deep breath, blinked several times, and nodded finally as if coming to. “Follow me. Grace is waiting for us.”
The pool was grotto style and formed a languid, wandering shape capped off with a small waterfall, originating from a grouping of large boulder styled rocks. Just beyond the pool was a half wall that separated the deck from the beach itself. Grace sat at the edge of the pool, allowing her feet to dangle. Though she’d taken swimming lessons, she’d been taught at an early age to never enter the water unless an adult was present, and Sarah was grateful that she’d always been one to listen. There were two rafts already floating in the pool and a pitcher of lemonade sat enticingly on a small table on the deck.
“Can you believe she lives right next to the beach, Mom? I mean you just step over this little brick wall and you’re there, like shazam.”
Emory laughed at the description. “That’s what I say when I climb over too. Shazam.”
“She’s pretty lucky, huh?” Sarah said. “It was nice of Emory to invite us over. Did you happen to remember to say thank you?”
“Not yet. Thank you, Emory. I like your house a lot. It’s pretty cool.”
“You’re welcome and that’s nice of you to say. Cool is absolutely what I was going for. Ready to get in?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, it may be a little cold at first, but I turned the heater on a tad so it should get more comfortable in about ten minutes.”
Grace eagerly made her way down the stairs into the four feet of water and Emory slipped in after her, showing her how the raft worked and all the little features it had attached to it, like a built-in radio. Sarah could tell that Emory was a tad nervous around Grace, but she hid it well. She appreciated the effort Emory was making and enjoyed watching them interact.
Once they settled on a station, Emory took it upon herself to move Grace and the raft around the pool, chatting with her the whole time about the fun she’d had at camp, the start of school in just two weeks, and of course how she’d put Emory’s art tips to use as of late. With Grace taking the reins and dominating most of the conversation, Emory seemed to relax.
Throughout her playful conversation with Grace, Emory kept one eye on Sarah. She couldn’t help it. Never in her life could she imagine a one-piece bathing suit could be so alluring. Perhaps it was the fact that the suit only offered a glimpse of the body underneath that teased her so mercilessly, but the visual was quite simply doing her in.
She and Grace chatted for a good part of a half hour, while Sarah listened from the far end of the pool, chiming in occasionally. When she did, this generally prompted an embarrassed glance from Grace, which amused Emory. The dynamic between Sarah and Grace was so informal, so everyday, it was intriguing. So different from what she was used to.
But in a surprise turn of events, Emory was having fun, more fun than she thought possible with an eight-year-old. Who knew they could be this smart or this funny? Maybe kids didn’t deserve the hard rap she’d given them all these years, or then again, maybe it was just Grace. “So what should we do now, kiddo?”
“Ever played twenty questions?”
“Are you kidding? I’m like the Jedi of twenty questions. Am I guessing or are you?”
Grace thought for a minute. “You.”
Seventeen questions later, and Emory was finding her stride. “So the individual in question is a living female government official over the age of fifty. Hmmm. Is she a congresswoman?”
“No, two questions left.”
“Has she ever gone to jail?”
“No! One question.”
“Is she funny?”
“Yes. What’s your guess?”
“Easy. Judge Judy.”
Grace stared at her in utter mystification. “How did you do that? How did you know?”
“Well, let’s think about it. You’re eight. You probably watch TV. We ruled out the legislative branch of the government and no woman has ever been president. What woman judge would you find funny? And there you have it.”
Grace couldn’t contain her admiration as she stared at Emory as if she’d just cured cancer. Sarah shook her head. She had to hand it to Emory. She was good, and damn it, so incredibly good-looking. Watching Emory move about the pool in her swimsuit like it was made specifically for her body left her feeling a combination of supreme jealousy and plain desire all rolled into one. What a complicated situation this liking another woman thing was. So many new angles to examine.
They’d been in the pool for a little over an hour and the sun was beginning its final descent over the ocean. Emory glanced at the clock on the deck. “Dinner should be ready in just a few minutes. Should we head in?”
“I think so. Grace, why don’t you go ahead and ge
t changed? It’s getting a little chilly out here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As Grace scampered inside, Sarah found herself alone with Emory, who smiled at her from the other side of the pool.
“You’re great with her, Emory. She’s a different kid from earlier today.”
Emory swam the short distance that separated them. “Really? Sometimes I don’t know what I should say, what I shouldn’t say.”
“Stop second-guessing yourself. You’re a natural.”
“Well, to her credit, she’s fun to hang out with. Makes me want to be a kid again.” Emory stood in front of Sarah then and placed her hands against the wall of the pool on either side of her. Standing face-to-face, their bodies only a millimeter apart, Sarah offered a slight smile.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hey. So tell me how you’re feeling.” Emory moved a strand of Sarah’s hair behind her shoulder. “And be honest. I’m worried about you.”
Sarah met Emory’s eyes and there was that click, that connection, and all at once, she felt safe. Emory had her. She could relax and be truthful. “It’s been rough. I just keep telling myself that everything is going to be fine, but I don’t know how much I believe that. The doctor said her collapse at school was probably an isolated instance and that her life would be mostly normal. But now she’s collapsed a second time in a two-month span. I have an appointment on Monday with her cardiologist to discuss our options. I just want her to be okay, physically and emotionally.”
Emory nodded. “You know, you can lean on me. You were there for me in some dark moments, and now I want to be there for you, whatever you need.”
Sarah nodded, tears touching her eyes. It was hard to be strong all the time, and with Emory, she somehow knew she didn’t have to be. She instinctively wrapped her arms around Emory’s waist, pulling her in closer and resting her chin on her shoulder. The closeness was nice.
“Are you guys going to change?” Grace asked from just inside the kitchen.
Emory took a step away, releasing Sarah who turned to face Grace. “Yep, on our way.”
After everyone changed, they made their way back to the dining room table. Since it was no longer as warm out, they opted to close the glass and enjoyed dinner with some music Emory pulled up on the intercom system.
“That lasagna was from another planet.” Grace placed her napkin on the table. “I’ve never tasted anything so good. No offense, Mom.”
“No, it’s fine. I clearly do not possess the culinary genius of this one over here. Where did you learn to make this succulent concoction?”
Emory got up to clear their plates. “I took some cooking classes while I studied art in France. Wait till you taste my chicken carbonara. It’ll rock your world.”
“Where do we make reservations?” Sarah asked innocently, glancing around the kitchen for an imaginary maitre d’.
“Well, I suppose if it’s the two of you we’re talking about, there’s a standing invitation.”
“Cool, then Mom and I will be back soon. Like tomorrow.” Grace laughed and handed Emory the salad bowl and returned to the table for the remaining dishes.
Sarah bumped Emory with her hip. “You know what, Julia Child? You’ve done enough today. Get out of here and let me take care of these dishes.”
“Absolutely not. You’re a guest in my home, and besides, there’s not much here.”
“You’re right. There isn’t, which is the only reason I’m offering.” Sarah grinned proudly. “Now get out of this kitchen before I take my business elsewhere.” She held up a threatening spatula in Emory’s direction.
Emory held up her hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned to Grace. “You know your mom can get a little scary when she wants something.”
“Tell me about it.” Grace shook her head in commiseration. “Try changing the channel when the Chargers are playing and lose that arm in the process.”
“Duly noted.”
“Out of this kitchen,” Sarah chided them. “Go.” She shooed them into the living room, which was really just on the other side of the bar, and set to work on the small conglomerate of dishes, just sure she’d figure out the futuristic looking automatic dishwasher.
“Hey, Mom, can I walk down to the beach?” Grace called from somewhere not too far away.
“It’s getting dark out. I don’t think I want you down there on your own.”
“What if Emory took me?”
“Oh.” Emory said, pausing momentarily. “I guess I could take her down.”
Sarah shot her a questioning look to make sure she was okay with the arrangement.
“Relax. Those child endangerment charges were dropped months ago. But if you’d rather, we could wait for you. Or even better, you could stop being so stubborn and leave those where they are.”
Sarah came around the bar to see them fully. “I’m good. You guys have fun while I finish up.”
“Do you always get your way?” Emory arched an eyebrow.
“I’m a little strong willed.”
“So I’m finding.”
Once Grace and Emory were gone, Sarah set back to work.
Realizing after washing the dishes that she didn’t have a clue about where each dish lived, she set about doing her best to figure it out. Opening the first cupboard, she was struck with how much its interior looked like a display from Pottery Barn itself. Neat little rows of mugs, all the same color and style, stood at attention like perfect little soldiers, not one out of place. Whoa. It was in stark contrast to her motley set comprised of her World’s Best Mom cup, Grace’s preschool attempt at pottery, and mugs sporting her favorite Far Side jokes. While her own cabinet boasted all sorts of bright colors, some complimentary and some not, Emory’s were all light green, in three distinct sizes, handles all facing to the right. New goal. Don’t let Emory see your cabinets. Shouldn’t be that hard.
*
Emory and Grace strolled along the shoreline at an extra slow, even pace. Emory made sure not to travel too far from the house so as not to tire Grace out. They walked in silence for a bit, letting the tide wash across their bare feet. Emory struggled with what they could talk about. They’d already exhausted twenty questions. What else interested an eight-year-old?
“Do you walk down here every day?” Grace asked.
Saved. “Not every day, but I try to go for a run at least twice a week. Sometimes I get too busy at the office though, and it doesn’t work out.” Emory brushed the windblown hair from her eyes.
“If I lived this close to the beach, I’d come here every day.”
“I guess I take it for granted. I shouldn’t do that.”
“Well, lesson learned. That’s something Mom says to me a lot when I figure out something I could have done better.”
“She’s a wise one, your mom.”
“Yeah.”
Slowly easing into the conversation, Emory decided to push further. “So things have been a little rough for you lately, huh?”
Grace shrugged and looked up at her. “Did my mom tell you about what happened today? About my heart condition?”
Emory nodded and turned out to the water, trying to seem as cavalier as possible. It was important she not say the wrong thing here.
“I’m upset that I can’t go back to camp, but the worst part is that this was my one chance to get these girls from my school to like me, and now that will never happen.”
“Explain. What girls?”
“Angela and Brianna are two girls from my class who were also at summer camp. Everyone wants to be their friend, but they don’t like talk to just anybody. All last year they ignored me or made mean comments, and I wasn’t invited to Brianna’s sleepover that all the girls went to. But at camp, they started paying attention to me and they didn’t say anything mean, at least lately. They asked me to eat lunch with them some days too. But that’ll never happen again now. They saw me faint, and when they hear I got kicked out of camp, they’ll probably laugh about it and ignore me aga
in.”
Emory frowned and faced Grace who looked completely crestfallen. “What do you mean they would laugh about it?”
“They make fun of people a lot.”
“They sound like mean girls to me, Grace. Do you like them?” She knew she was pushing, but she didn’t like what she was hearing.
“Do I like them?” Grace repeated. She seemed to be asking herself the question for the first time. “Um, I don’t know. But I want them to like me.”
“Why?”
She thought for a moment. “Because everyone thinks they’re cool.”
“Everyone but you,” Emory pointed out gently.
“Yeah.”
“Who do you think is cool, if I may ask?”
Grace shifted her mouth to the side, considering her options. “Mindy. She’s my friend from school. She loves to watch movies and then write reviews about them. She’s a great writer, so funny.”
“She sounds creative.”
Grace regarded Emory through thoughtful eyes. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t care so much about people I don’t even like and remember who my real friends are.”
Emory shrugged casually. “I didn’t say anything. I just asked a few questions. C’mon, let’s head back.” They walked in silence again, Grace trailing behind Emory a couple of steps until finally she stopped walking entirely.
“Thanks.”
Emory turned back and faced Grace, who met her eyes squarely. “For what?”
“Listening and not trying to fix it. Mom always tells me exactly what I should do when something is bothering me. You didn’t do that. You just listened and let me figure it out myself.”
“No big deal. Plus, I think you probably already knew.”
“I guess. Why don’t you have any kids? You would be a cool mom.”
The comment resonated. “Uh, that’s a tricky one. I guess what it comes down to is that I’m really, really busy.”
“Too busy for a family?” Grace was clearly shocked.
“Well, I used to think so.”
“But not anymore?”
“I guess I have some figuring out to do myself.”
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