Pat spotted her and waved, and Grace had no choice but to walk over.
Grace saw the spark of recognition in Stephanie’s eyes before she squealed, “Grace! Are you the friend Pat’s meeting? What a small world.”
“Hello, Stephanie. How nice to see you.”
“It’s been ages, hasn’t it? But I think of you often. Like every time I go to that restaurant you brought me to. Nirvana.”
Pat arched an eyebrow. “Nirvana?”
“Yes, over on North Halstead. Great food. With a Mexican touch. And the owner is some sexy.”
“That was a long time ago,” Grace said weakly, hoping the still-hefty Stephanie would fall off her bar stool or something. For a crazy moment she considered knocking her off it herself, making it look like an accident, of course. Anything to shut her up.
She quickly decided she couldn’t pull that off, so she tried another tack. She had to get Pat away from Stephanie. Already Pat had a quizzical look on her face, like she wondered why Grace had never mentioned dining at Ricky’s place. “I’m famished, Pat. I always am after a workout. Why don’t we get a table so we can order?”
Pat turned to Stephanie. “Stephanie, would you like to join us for dinner?”
Grace held her breath. Say you can’t make it, she thought over and over in a silent plea.
“Thanks, but I’m kind of tired. I probably should have left with Doreen. But it was fun talking with you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
Grace bit her lower lip. God, I hope not.
Grace knew Pat would bring up the matter at the first opportunity.
She’d barely picked up her menu when Pat said, “You never told me you’d been to Ricky’s restaurant.”
“Oh, yes. One night Stephanie and I decided to go out to eat after we worked out. She said she felt like something spicy, so I suggested Ricky’s place. You’ve always been so sensitive about him; I thought it would be best not to mention it to you.”
“So he was there.”
“Yes. He stopped by our table and said hello. He even sent us complimentary drinks and sent word through the waiter that we could choose whatever desserts we wanted on him.”
“Did he say anything about me?”
“Pat, this happened years ago,” she said, not disguising her annoyance. “I was still married to Danny.” Grace deliberately lied about the timeline. She’d actually gone to Ricky’s restaurant after her second divorce. She’d read an article in the Tribune about him, an article that Pat obviously hadn’t seen, and one she didn’t tell her about. Because it stated that the proprietor of one of Chicago’s hottest eateries had just gotten divorced.
“I’m sure you remember. It’s okay if he didn’t mention me. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
Curious, my ass. If Ricky called you tomorrow, you’d drop Andy faster than a gambler drops fifty dollars at a blackjack table. “Actually, he did.”
“And what did you say?”
Grace thought quickly for a suitable reply. She couldn’t tell Pat what she’d really said about her to Ricky that day. “I said you were doing well. And that seemed to satisfy him.”
“He didn’t ask if I was married or seeing anyone or anything?”
She wished Pat would stop pressing. “No, Pat, he didn’t. But wasn’t he married at that time himself?” She knew that that hadn’t been the case, but her lie about the timeline was about to benefit her.
Pat thought a moment. “If it was before you and Danny broke up, I guess he was. But I’m not sure exactly when that happened. Maybe he and his wife were separated.”
“I don’t recall if he was wearing a wedding band or not.”
“I ran into his mother after you and Danny broke up, and she told me Ricky was divorced. Maybe this was a year or two later.” Pat wavered a moment, then continued talking. “I never told you this, Grace, but after Miriam told me about his divorce, I got one of my coworkers to go with me to have dinner at his restaurant. I thought we might reconnect.” She grunted. “I used to daydream that he would take one look at me and fall madly in love with me all over again, and that I’d tell my parents we were getting married no matter how much that upset them. I was going to spring the happy news on you at the last minute. That’s why I didn’t invite you to come along with me.”
Grace didn’t feel too comfortable talking about Ricky to Pat, but curiosity got the better of her. “So what happened?”
“Nothing.” Pat made a face. “Ricky was real nice that night, but he didn’t seem interested.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I always wondered why. I mean, he never asked if I was even seeing anyone.”
“Maybe it’s because he figured that nothing had changed, that you would still listen to your parents, and he didn’t want to risk getting his heart broken again.” Grace felt more at ease with the direction the conversation was taking, now that it looked like she’d gotten Pat away from Stephanie before Stephanie let the cat out of the bag. Pat would never forgive her if she knew the truth. Grace would have been sorry to see her lifelong friendship with Pat end if she and Ricky had hooked up permanently, but if she had Ricky as a husband Pat would have learned to live with it. On the other hand, if Pat found out about that brief affair now, Grace would be out of a good friend for nothing, nothing at all.
“Yeah, I thought of that, too. But it wasn’t like I could come out and say I wouldn’t let that happen again.”
Grace saw another opportunity to get off the topic of Ricky altogether and quickly pounced on it. “Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean, am I sure?” Pat looked miffed.
“If Andy were to call you tonight and tell you he wanted to meet your parents, what would you do?”
“That’s a pointless question, Grace. You know as well as I do that men don’t make those kinds of requests.”
“All right, then. Say you two get really serious. Hell, say you wanted to get married. How would you handle your parents?”
“That’s another pointless question. I’m never going to get married.”
“You don’t know that. Lots of women get married for the first time when they’re past forty-five. Stop trying to avoid my question. If your parents objected to your being involved with a white guy, what would you do?”
Pat hesitated. “Well . . . I’d like to think that they’ve softened with time. Ricky and I wanted to get engaged just a few months after Melvin was shot.”
“And if they haven’t softened?”
“I’d tell them it’s my life, and I’m sorry if my decision pains them, but I’m going ahead with my plans.”
Grace looked at her friend across the table and tried not to giggle. Despite the defiant raise of her chin, Pat had sounded about as confident as George W. Bush had when asking members of the NAACP for their votes. She might have wanted to sound sure of herself, but her doubts came through as loud as a foghorn. “Admit it,” she challenged. “Your parents have no idea that you’ve been dating mostly white men over the years. And deep down, you’re worried about how they might react if they knew.”
Pat looked away.
“Oh, my God,” Grace moaned. “Pat, you’re almost fifty years old. You were too old thirty years ago to let your folks’ wishes stop you from riding off into the sunset with Ricky. And you’re way too old now to let them influence you.”
Pat sighed. “It’s hard, Grace.”
“Maybe this is mean of me, but would you rather have been happily married to Ricky now and have had those kids you always wanted, or can you honestly say you’re glad you stayed single, going out less and less because the number of eligible men in the pool is dwindling as you get older?”
“All right, Grace. You made your point.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. That wasn’t my intention. I just want you to understand that your life is yours to live as you please. It doesn’t belong to your parents, just because they gave it to you. They can offer suggestions, of course, but they have no business di
ctating to you. Look at Elyse. Her parents felt Franklin was too old for her. But that didn’t stop her from marrying him, did it? It looks like he did pretty well by her, too.”
“That was different,” Pat protested. “Mr. and Mrs. Hughes didn’t lose any of their other kids, and Elyse didn’t have to carry the burden of being their last chance of having a child become successful.”
Grace tried to choose her words carefully. None of her own five siblings had exactly set the world on fire, but at least they were productive, law-abiding citizens . . . and they were all still alive. “Very few people can even imagine the losses your family suffered,” she said. “But don’t think for one minute that you haven’t made a success out of yourself. That still doesn’t give your parents the right to control your private life, Pat. I thought it wasn’t right for them to try to manipulate you because they were grieving. They wouldn’t have died if you and Ricky got married, for heaven’s sake. And I wonder if they’ve ever considered that if they hadn’t gotten in the way thirty years ago, they might have had grandchildren.”
Pat rolled her eyes. “At least they’ve stopped asking me when I’m going to meet a nice man and settle down. Once I hit forty-five I think they realized that when I’m gone it’ll be the last of our little family.”
How sad, Grace thought. Hell, even she had two grandchildren. Moses and Cleotha Maxwell had had three children, two of whom were male, but there was no one left to carry on the name. All that promise, wasted like spilled milk.
Pat looked down toward the table. “I guess Ricky sensed all along that I’d have trouble with this again. No wonder he didn’t make a move.”
Grace was positive that Ricky’s reluctance came from the aborted affair he’d had with her rather than any fears that Pat would still honor her parents’ wishes, but of course she couldn’t say that. She decided it would be best to drop both subjects—Ricky Suárez plus Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell’s certain disapproval of Pat’s affair with Andy Keindl. If Pat still planned to allow her parents to run her life, she’d better plan on growing old all by herself. Completely by herself, since her parents would probably be gone in another ten years. Of course, Grace’s parents had already passed on, but at least she had a daughter and grandchildren. Pat would be completely alone in the world.
“You know I’m here if you want an ear,” Grace said. “Now, let’s order so I can eat already.”
Chapter 31
Late May
Los Angeles
Pat, still in her bathing suit, plopped on the bed. She never believed she’d be staying at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, just steps away from the three-block shopping district of Rodeo Drive. This was a big thing for a girl from the Theodore Dreiser Projects. How considerate of Andy to choose a hotel where she could have something to do without venturing too far while he went to the office. She’d hate to know how much it was costing him.
She quickly remembered that this wasn’t a personal expense for him, other than the cost of her airplane ticket and her meals. His firm was picking up the cost of this trip.
Her first look at the hotel came as somewhat of a disappointment. The lobby, although elegant with tiled floors and white marble, was awfully small. It looked so spacious in movies like Pretty Woman. But their room was lovely, all tan and olive green, with overstuffed chairs everywhere and plenty of light, overlooking the Mediterranean-style pool. She’d gone down for a dip and was pleased when a waiter offered her bottled water and a smoothie served in a shot glass.
“I hope that swimsuit is dry,” Andy commented now.
“Just about.” Pat quickly changed her mind. “I guess I ought to take it off.” With deliberately slow movements, she crisscrossed her arms to the opposite shoulders and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then peeled off the one-piece suit. Damn it, she hated the way her breasts rolled off to the sides when she lay down, but from the gleam in his eye, it was clear he didn’t mind.
She raised her hips and, sucking in her stomach, pulled the suit over her hips then tossed it carelessly on the tan carpet. Completely naked, she stretched tantalizingly on the bed. She knew Andy enjoyed looking at her, and why not? She didn’t look bad for a woman almost fifty years old. Her boobs might be lacking horizontal gravity, but at least when she sat up they did, too, even if not quite as high as they used to. Her butt had no vertical challenges, either. But her thighs were starting to get a little soft, and even when she held in her stomach she looked thick around the middle. She’d have to start walking Saturday mornings with Grace. And maybe she could do a few bends to tighten up her abs.
“What kind of vacation plans do you have for this year?” he asked.
“My friend Grace and I, plus two other women, are going to cruise the Mediterranean this summer. I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time.”
“The Riviera, huh? Sounds almost too romantic a trip to take with a couple of girlfriends.”
“Probably, but it was a part of the world we all wanted to see.” Pat shrugged. “If you’d come back to Chicago last year, you and I might have planned to go together.”
“It shouldn’t be too late to plan something together, something a little lengthier than a weekend in Galena. Maybe five days in Cancun or Jamaica.”
She looked at him curiously. She’d thought he was just making conversation, but he really sounded like he wanted to go away with her.
“Something wrong?”
“Uh . . . no. I’m just a little surprised. It’s only May. Do you suppose it’s safe to plan anything for two or three months out?”
“Why not? You plan on dumping me?”
She didn’t know what to say. Most of the affairs she embarked on petered out after a month or two. It had been years since she’d spent more time than that in a relationship. It wasn’t unusual to meet families when you’d been seeing someone for six months or more.
God forbid.
“Pat? Your silence seems ominous. Do you know something I don’t?”
She made a quick recovery. “No, of course not. I just find it rather flattering that you’d like to take a trip with me.” At least that was the truth.
But she couldn’t help thinking how her parents would react if they knew she was dating a white man.
Andy sat beside her and ran a hand over her body. “No man in his right mind would turn down a trip with you.” His gaze lingered on her from her breasts to her thighs. “In the meantime, you’re naked.”
She grinned. “I thought you’d never notice.”
“We have to do something about that.”
“Give me a chance to rinse off this chlorine.”
Andy was already taking off his shirt. “Do it later. Chlorine turns me on.”
“Everything turns you on,” she said playfully.
“If it’s anything about you, consider me guilty.”
Andy went in to his office Friday morning. Pat wandered down Rodeo Drive, browsing in the store windows, knowing she could never afford the clothing on display. She felt a little silly putting on capri pants and a knit sweater, plus heeled sandals, to go shopping, but she could hardly wear jeans and gym shoes. The only ones who could get away with that were celebrities.
Andy returned at six-thirty. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he said.
“The Friday before Memorial Day—I just knew you’d be back early.”
“I thought so, too. It took longer than I expected. But I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend. What’d you do all day?”
“I went shopping on Rodeo, and then I took the trolley tour of Beverly Hills, and then I came back for lunch, read out by the pool, and took a nap.”
He took her in his arms. “You are one easygoing woman. No wonder I’m crazy about you.”
She kissed him. “And don’t you forget what a prize you have in me.”
“No, seriously. My daughters can learn a lot from you. I’m afraid their mother is raising them to be on the high-maintenance side.”
She couldn’t bring hersel
f to make a response. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
His next words confirmed it. “You’ll have to meet my kids one of these days.”
She instantly relaxed. “One of these days” didn’t exactly have an air of immediacy to it. Her curiosity got the better of her. “Do they know about me?”
“They know I’m seeing someone, yes. But I’m not in the habit of sharing details of my social life with my kids, but they asked me, and I saw no reason to lie.” He shrugged, looking a bit like a bashful little boy. “Apparently they think I’ve been pretty cheery these days.”
“As opposed to what, an ogre?”
Andy laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m an easygoing guy. But I moved back here in February, in the dead of winter. I did a lot of muttering about the windchills, about all the damn snow we had this year. I’m not complaining anymore.”
“Andy. Do they know I’m black?”
“They don’t even know that you used to be blonde,” he joked, patting her recently restored dark hair.
“Seriously.”
“No, they don’t know. I saw no reason to mention it.”
“Oh, you didn’t? Andy, the world isn’t color-blind, and neither are your daughters.”
“I know that. I just don’t happen to believe it’ll be a big deal.” He looked at her curiously. “You don’t seem convinced.”
“Sometimes people can fool you. I know that from my own experience.”
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