“In the tub? Uh . . . no thanks, dude.” Dave winked at them jokingly.
“No,” Noah said. “Not in the tub. In my room for story.”
Amy and Rob looked at each other and shrugged. “Fine,” Amy said. “But only if you promise to go straight to bed after.”
Noah wiggled excitedly and scarfed down the rest of his nuggets before practically inhaling a Hershey’s Kiss. Rob and Dave accompanied him upstairs, and Amy got on with cooking dinner, a simple sausage and kale pasta with a side salad.
“So, Ame, how’s your family? I’ve been meaning to ask.”
Amy crumbled the sausage into a skillet and pushed it around with a wooden spoon. “Oh, you know . . . the usual . . .” She sighed. “My brother is in rehab again. Or recovery I guess at this point.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Better in recovery than the alternative, right?”
“For sure. Have you spoken to him?”
A wave of guilt washed over Amy. She still hadn’t called him, even though she’d been thinking about doing so for weeks.
“No, I’ve been meaning to, but . . . you know how it is. Life with kids is busy, and this time of year is even worse than normal.”
“Well, sure, and I’m guessing it doesn’t help that you’ve been through this a dozen times before with him.”
That’s what Amy loved about Jess. Not only did she speak freely and honestly, but they’d also known each other long enough that she completely understood where Amy’s head would be with all of this. With new friends—well, with most new friends she didn’t even mention her brother. But with those she did, like Grace, she wouldn’t dare admit that part of her didn’t want to talk to her brother, even though she knew she should. She didn’t have to pretend with Jess, though. Jess knew she loved Tim, but as an old friend, she had also lived through nearly every iteration of his addiction and rehab saga. She’d watched Amy throw herself into emotional turmoil as she tried to help Tim time after time. Amy had vented to poor Jess on dozens of occasions, unleashing her frustrations and sorrow over the course of a phone call because there was no one else she could talk to about it. So Jess knew why Amy hadn’t called Tim. They didn’t need to pretend it was Amy’s busy schedule.
Amy shrugged. “It’s just too much, you know? After last time.”
“I hear you. You’ve done a lot for him. After a while, you need to step away, for your own sanity.”
“Which, let’s be honest, has always been questionable.”
Jess laughed. “Please, you’re the sanest person I know.”
“Uh, that’s troubling.” Amy added the blanched kale to the sauté pan. “What kind of people have you been hanging out with in Seattle? I’m concerned.”
Jess sipped her wine. “Oh, you know . . . nice people. Friends from work. Other people with kids. All perfectly friendly folks, just not . . . you know. This.” She gestured back and forth between her and Amy.
“Do you think we’d have done anything differently if someone had told us that making close friends as an adult is so hard? Like, would we have made more of an effort to live in the same city?”
“Probably not.”
“You don’t think?”
“Young people think they’re invincible. We wouldn’t have listened.”
“Hey, we’re still young.”
Jess looked unconvinced. “Maybe youngish. But we’re old enough to know how stupid we were at twenty.”
“True.” She poured some chicken stock into the pan and looked over her shoulder. “We were pretty stupid, weren’t we?”
“So stupid. But you know, sometimes I kind of miss that version of me. She was gutsy. She had big dreams. These days the biggest dream I have is being able to sleep for nine consecutive hours.”
“I don’t know, that sounds pretty ambitious to me.”
They both laughed. “You’re right,” Jess said, “that’s probably even less realistic than my dreams of becoming attorney general.”
“All in good time, my friend.”
“What, becoming attorney general or getting a good night’s sleep?”
“Why not both?”
“You’re right. Why not?” She raised her glass. “To good friends and crazy dreams. May neither of them fade.”
“Hear, hear.”
Amy clinked her glass against Jess’s and thought how her friend’s visit was already better and more perfect than she ever could have imagined.
Chapter 19
The next day did not go nearly as smoothly. All of the adults woke up with hangovers after staying up too late talking and drinking wine. Then Amy’s plans for everyone to spend the morning and lunch downtown were held up when Grace called with a last-minute event request. Amy had told Grace she had friends visiting and wouldn’t be able to help that weekend, but somehow Grace hadn’t internalized the message.
“I’m sorry—I know you’re busy—but Julian is having second thoughts about certain parts of his speech, and I was wondering if you could take a look.”
“We were actually just heading out the door. . . .”
“This won’t take long. I promise. He could just use a second pair of eyes that aren’t mine.”
Amy sighed. “Okay. Send it to me.”
Once again, Amy’s inability to say no reared its head. The truth was, she’d spent so much of her own time on this event that she didn’t want Julian to ruin it by making a fool of himself. The rational part of her brain knew that if she’d said no earlier on, she wouldn’t feel so invested and could more easily say no now, but it was too late to do anything about it.
Grace took an age sending the e-mail, and by the time Amy had finished reading it and writing comments, it was too late to make it downtown for lunch and an activity and still make it home to get dressed for the gala. So instead, they headed to Morris Arboretum to grab a bite and check out some of the sculptures and installations. The weather had turned, though, and it was a little too cold to spend more than an hour or two outside, so once they’d seen the Bird’s Nest and the Garden Railway, they piled in the car and headed back to Jenkintown.
The rest of the afternoon involved napping, snacking, and getting dolled up for the fund-raiser, and before Amy knew it, the doorbell was ringing. She quickly fastened her earrings and hurried down the stairs.
“Bubbe’s here! Bubbe’s here!” Noah shouted as he ran down the hall. He nearly crashed into her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Somebody sounds excited to see me,” Sherrie said as Amy opened the front door.
“Me, me, me!” Noah jumped up and down as he fixed his eyes on the foil-covered tray in her hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . just a little something for some boys who’ve been well behaved.”
“I have, I have!”
“Then I guess you will get to have some . . . peanut butter swirl brownies.”
“Yay! Yay! Yay!” Amy thought his head might actually spin off his body.
“You have to eat your dinner first,” Amy said, patting him on the shoulder. “Okay?”
He sighed. “Of course. Why do you even say that?”
“Noah . . .”
“Oh, he’s fine. He is perfect, in fact.” Sherrie leaned over and kissed his head. “Doesn’t Mommy look beautiful?”
Noah nodded, his eyes wide. “Like a princess.”
“Or a movie star,” Rob said as he came down the stairs behind her. “Very Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, don’t you think?”
“Maybe if Audrey had reddish hair and less desirable bone structure,” Amy joked.
“Stop,” said Sherrie. “You look gorgeous. And Rob—so handsome!”
“Thanks, Mom.” He gave her a kiss and reached out to hug Bruce, who had been lurking behind his wife as she fussed over Noah. “Let’s head back to the kitchen. We’re still waiting on Ethan, and Jess and Dave are still upstairs getting ready.”
They crowded into the kitchen, where Sherrie
put her brownies on the counter and piled her coat with Bruce’s on one of the kitchen chairs. Ethan climbed up on a stool and peeked beneath the foil.
“Ah, ah, ah—not until after dinner, remember?” Amy said.
“I’m just looking.”
“You should keep the foil on—they might dry out.”
“Fine.” He gave them one last probing look and then replaced the foil. “Ethan can have those, right? Even though they have peanut butter?”
Sherrie blanched. “Ethan is allergic to peanuts?”
“No, just tree nuts. Peanuts are fine.”
“Oh, thank God. You scared me for a second.”
“You’re fine. Not to worry.”
“That’s odd, isn’t it? Tree nuts but not peanuts?”
“Peanuts are technically a legume, so I guess it’s a completely different allergy. There are definitely kids who are allergic to both, but not Ethan.”
“Lucky for him. It seems like peanuts are in everything, especially for kids.”
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Dave and Jess appeared in the kitchen with the rest of them. Jess looked stunning in a raspberry crêpe de chine gown with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. She extended her hand as she approached Rob’s parents.
“So good to see you again,” she said. “The last time—well, I think the last time was their wedding nine years ago.”
“I think you’re right,” Sherrie said. “Gosh, it’s hard to believe it’s been that long. Isn’t it, Bruce?”
Bruce nodded but seemed a little dazed by Jess’s beauty.
Jess clapped her hands together. “So! Are we off then?”
“We’re still waiting for Ethan.”
“Oh. Right.” Her eyes drifted to the clock. “Aren’t his parents the ones running the event? Is someone else dropping him off?”
“I think Grace is dropping him off. Julian went ahead to Old Pine Community Center. I offered to give her a ride. It seemed silly for them to have two cars downtown.”
“That makes sense.” She looked at the clock again. “Remind me what time the event starts?”
“Six,” Amy said.
“Ah. Okay.”
Amy knew what she was thinking because Amy was thinking it herself: It’s time to leave, and the wife of the guy spearheading the event isn’t here yet? Seriously? Given how much effort Grace put into the event, Amy was surprised she hadn’t wanted to leave earlier so that she could get there well before the guests arrived. Even Amy wanted to be there at least a few minutes early, just to see how everything looked. It wasn’t her event, and she didn’t want to take public credit for the work she’d put in, but she had done enough that she was more than a little curious to witness the fruits of her labor.
“Let’s get our stuff together,” Amy said. “I’m sure she’ll be here any second.”
* * *
It was many seconds before Grace finally arrived—1,800, in fact (not that Amy had counted, though Noah would have been ecstatic if she had). When she hadn’t answered any of their calls, they debated leaving without her. Maybe she’d made alternate plans and forgot to tell them.
But then at 5:30, the doorbell finally rang. Amy hustled down the hallway as fast as she could in her long black satin dress and heels. She tried to calm herself so that she didn’t come off as annoyed as she felt. What kind of spouse showed up late to her partner’s event—and worse, made her friends late as a result?
Amy threw open the door, but as soon as she set eyes on Grace, she felt guilty for being pissed off. Grace didn’t look herself. Her hand, which rested on Ethan’s shoulder, was trembling, and her eyes were red and a little puffy. She looked as if she’d been crying.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,” she said as she pushed Ethan through the front door.
“It’s fine—we were just . . . are you okay?”
Grace smiled tightly as she escorted Ethan down the hall. “Fine. Thanks.”
“You just look . . . we were trying to get ahold of you, but no one answered.”
Amy was floundering, but she didn’t know exactly what to say. If it were Jess who had shown up late and looked as if she’d been crying, Amy would know exactly what to say and how to say it. But her friendship with Grace was so new. She wasn’t sure how to approach the subject of her puffy eyes without being pushy or rude.
“Things just didn’t go as planned this afternoon, that’s all. Julian took a nap but forgot to set his alarm, so he overslept, and the day has been chaos ever since.”
“Wow, I can only imagine. I assume he is already on his way downtown?”
“Oh, yeah, he’s already there. Thank God.”
They entered the kitchen, and immediately Noah pounced on Ethan. “Wanna see my space puzzle? It glows in the dark!”
The boys hurried off to the family room, and Amy quickly introduced everyone.
“The house looks great,” Grace said, a little morosely. Her eyes wandered around the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Amy said. She felt herself flush. “You guys took such great care of it.”
“I love your dress,” Sherrie said to Grace. “It’s so interesting.”
The dress was interesting—and, Amy thought, fabulous—but more than anything Amy was grateful to Sherrie for changing the topic. Grace already seemed upset about something, and dwelling on the fact that this was no longer her home wouldn’t improve anyone’s mood.
Her dress consisted of two pieces: a short-sleeved cream chiffon top, the front of which was studded with gold sequins and a band of coral beads around the neck and waist, and then a long cream chiffon skirt with bands of gold and coral beads. The sleeves and waist were pleated and flared out delicately, as did the bottom hem of the skirt. She looked like a Greek goddess. The dangly gold earrings and gold bangle around her bicep only added to the impression.
“Thanks. I thought it was a little different.”
It was more than a little different—it was truly unique. Amy had never seen anything like it. Her own dress may have been classic Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but that also meant something similar had been worn by hundreds of women—thousands of women—for decades upon decades. Jess looked stunning in her raspberry gown, but Grace, as always, was a class above.
“Anyway, we should go,” Grace said. “I’m really sorry for holding everyone up.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” everyone said, even though mere minutes ago they’d all been complaining about how late they were going to be.
“Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Kravitz, for watching Ethan. You have no idea how much we appreciate it.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Sherrie said.
“I promise he’ll be good. He likes a lot of the same things Noah does, and if you run into any trouble—”
“We won’t. You’re fine. Go, go—before you’re really late.”
Grace flushed. “Right. Sorry. See you when we get back.”
“Have fun,” Sherrie and Bruce called after them.
The group hurried together toward the car and headed for the city.
* * *
The event looked even better than Amy had expected. The hall in the Old Pine Community Center had been transformed into a festive wonderland. A sea of tables spread out before her covered with balloons and confetti, the programs she had so carefully edited distributed at each place setting. Julian had apparently found an intern willing to help transport the décor, which was lucky for him, considering the day’s turn of events.
The community center was located in Society Hill, a historic Philadelphia neighborhood that reminded Amy a little of Georgetown. Primarily a residential neighborhood, the streets—many of them cobblestone—were lined with Federalist and Georgian brick townhouses, old-fashioned streetlamps, and ruddy brick sidewalks. It was the kind of neighborhood where Amy could imagine the Founding Fathers living while they drafted the Constitution. It wasn’t the sort of neighborhood that needed Food Fight’s services (it was one of the wealthiest
neighborhoods in Philadelphia and was home to one of the best farmers’ markets in the city), but the Old Pine Community Center was much like many of the ones Julian’s nonprofit would benefit, so the location worked both in terms of aesthetics and mission.
“Wow, this looks great,” Jess said as they peered in the banquet hall. “You had something to do with this?”
“A little.”
“She did more than a little,” Grace said. “She was a lifesaver.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would.” She peered over Amy’s shoulder toward the small lobby area, where people were having cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. “I guess the bar is over there. Shall we?”
She led the group to the bar area, and they each ordered a drink. Amy knew Julian had bought his own wine, beer, and liquor to keep costs down, but with a hired bartender pouring the drinks, no one could tell the difference. Amy thought it was admirable the extent to which Julian had stayed on or below budget. Aside from the question of flowers versus balloons, he had been remarkably frugal, considering he’d gotten ten thousand dollars from MediaCom. Good for him, Amy thought. Better to put that money toward local programs than filet mignon for dinner.
Thinking of MediaCom, Amy noticed the logo appeared all over the cocktail area—on the napkins, above the doorway to the banquet hall, on the pens situated along the tables where the silent auction was taking place. They’d done a good job. The logo was noticeable but not intrusive. The company seemed to be doing a nice thing but weren’t being over the top about it.
“Should I bid on that Prada bag?” Jess whispered in Amy’s ear.
“Go for it. Someone has to win it. Might as well be you!”
“Or you.”
“Jess, dear, the amount I can afford to bid on that bag probably wouldn’t even pay for the zipper.”
She laughed. “How about this: If I win, we can share it, since you were kind enough to pay for my ticket here tonight.”
“Share a purse? With you in Seattle and me in Philadelphia?”
“Sure. We can have joint custody. Half the year it will live with me, and half the year it will live with you. And either of us has visitation rights when the other is in possession.”
The Last House on Sycamore Street Page 23