“Meg! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” Sallie embraced me, careful not to spill my wine. “Is this for me? You are so sweet. Everybody, you know Meg.”
I did know them, most of them, Sallie’s posse, high school pals. Susie Perkins, May Chester, Rose Campbell and her adopted sister, Phebe. Members of Sallie’s wedding party, friends from her neighborhood, all with white, white smiles and expert manicures.
“How was the beach?” I asked Sallie.
She shrugged, flipping her perfect highlights over one shoulder. “Oh, you know. Sterling got stung by a jellyfish, and the boys were off playing golf all day, and Mother got mad because Belle complained about missing all the Black Friday sales when everybody knows she does all her shopping online. She won’t set foot in the mall. So Daddy...”
I sipped champagne as the conversation shifted to ski trips to Park City and Banff, cruises and Caribbean vacations. Sallie and Ned were going to Hawaii in January. Belle was talking about Mexico. I liked listening to them, the gurgle and flow of feminine voices as familiar and comfortable as waves rippling on shore. I helped myself to a sliderfilled with some kind of spicy meat—Jo would know—washed down with more champagne.
“I haven’t done Cancún since spring break days,” Susie said.
“We go to Sanara in Tulum,” Belle said. “The yoga studio is right on the beach.”
Across the room, John stood, hands in pockets, head to one side, part and yet apart from the group discussing golf or whatever it was men talked about at parties. Cars? He had probably sold, serviced, or financed most of those fancy vehicles outside. The sight of him—blond and broad-shouldered—kicked my memory.
John, his fair hair shining under the stadium lights, making his way purposefully toward me on the sidelines. “Hello, Meg.”
“You remembered my name.”
He looked adorably, momentarily confused. “Why wouldn’t I remember your name?”
“Because we’re not at the bank. I’m not wearing my name tag.”
He smiled. “You don’t need a name tag. I know you.”
“Are you and John going anywhere after the holidays?” Rose asked politely.
“Oh. No.” I took another sip from my champagne flute. “We can’t leave the kids. Or my mother. She’s still in the hospital.”
Belle and Sallie exchanged a quick, significant glance.
“I heard. I’m so sorry,” Rose’s sister, Phebe, said.
“How is your mother?” Sallie asked kindly.
My head was pleasantly fizzy. Maybe I couldn’t afford a trip to Hawaii. But at least for tonight I wanted to escape my everyday self. My everyday life. My to-do lists.
Ned swam up by my shoulder, red-faced and hospitable. “Your glass is empty. Let me get you a refill.” He signaled to a waiter.
“Oh, I don’t... I shouldn’t...” I looked around for John. He’d left the guys and was talking to one of the servers with that caring attention that was so attractive.
“Haven’t you had enough?” asked Sallie. I set down my flute in confusion. “Not you, Meg. Ned, you know what the doctor said about motility.”
“Christ, Sallie, for one night, can we not talk about my sperm?” Ned picked up my glass and his own. “Come on, Meg. Let’s get away from Debbie Downer here.”
I looked at Sallie.
“Ned’s right. It’s a party.” She waggled her fingers, her diamonds catching the light. “Go have fun.”
It’s a party,I repeated to myself as I tagged after Ned. Maybe John would follow? Ned grabbed drinks from a passing tray. We circulated, making our way toward the back of the house, pausing to chat, saying hi to people I’d known since high school.
“Like old times,” Ned said as we found a quieter spot overlooking the water.
“Boys on one side of the room, girls on the other?”
“Sneaking wine coolers on the back deck.”
I laughed. “My choice in drinks has improved.” So had my choice in dates. I glanced over my shoulder at John. He was still in the corner listening to the waiter, a youngish man, not much older than the boys John used to teach. His students had loved him. He could focus on you like he was genuinely interested in what you had to say, like you were the most fascinating, important person in the world.
