The Light of Paris(32)

“That must have been fun to grow up with.”

I gave a little half smile, but I couldn’t summon a laugh. It had been hard to grow up with. It was hard to live with now. My mother had always been hard on me, especially about my art and my appearance. When she thought I was spending too much time in the art studio at school, she’d signed me up for Junior Ladies Association. My last year at Country Day, the Senior Art Show had been on display for three weeks, and she’d never managed to make it in, and when I’d asked, she’d said, in a tone that had made me want to weep, “Really, Madeleine, is it so important? They’re just paintings.” She had monitored what I ate from the time I was six until I left for college, and had regularly informed me that I would never find someone who would marry me if I didn’t take better care of my hair/stop laughing so loudly/lose some weight.

But I couldn’t stop trying to please her. It was unreasonable, I knew. I’d never be able to make her happy, I knew. But she was my mother. What else was I supposed to do? I kept hoping that one day we could have a conversation about something that mattered without her criticizing me, I kept hoping that one day she would give me a hug without silently judging how much weight I had gained or lost, I kept hoping that one day she would say, “I love you even though you are nothing like me.” Fool me a hundred times, shame on me, but she was my mother, and I knew I would keep hoping for a miracle between us until the day I died.

I couldn’t explain all that to Sharon, though, so I just said, “It’s complicated.”

“Heeeey, Sharon!” A woman stopped on the other side of the railing. She was walking an elderly dog who sniffed at my legs eagerly. I reached through the bars to pet it and it snuffled enthusiastically at my hand. I had always wanted a dog, or at least a cat, but Phillip hated shedding and I refused to get one of those creepy hairless breeds.

“Hey, what’s up?” Sharon stood up and hugged the woman over the railing. They chatted as I petted the dog with one hand and ate with the other. “Madeleine, this is Cassandra. She owns the knitting store down the street. Have you seen it? It’s new since you left.”

I gulped down a bite and patted my lips with my napkin in one hand as I reached out for Cassandra’s hand with the other. She was tall, with long, brown braids streaked with bright purple, and a nose ring, lending her a glamor I far preferred to the stuffy elegance of the women at the Ladies Association.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Hey, do you want some breakfast?” Sharon asked.

“Nah, I already ate. But I’ll have some coffee.” And with that, Cassandra tied her dog to the railing and hopped over like Sharon had. After pulling another table toward ours, Cassandra settled in, ordering a coffee from the waitress.

“So you own a knitting store?” I asked, trying to keep the doubt from my voice.

“Yeah. We opened last year down the street, by Java Good Day.”

“They’re where the fancy dog store used to be. The one that sold, like, tutus and socks for dogs. Remember?” Sharon interjected.

“Right. Thank God that place is gone. It used to creep me out.”

“I know. I actually called in a woman to do a spiritual cleansing when we moved in to chase away the ghosts of all those poor dogs forced to wear doggie nail polish and bows in their fur. Totally legitimate business expense,” Cassandra said. She picked up a grape from Sharon’s fruit bowl and popped it in her mouth. “So how do you guys know each other?”

“We went to high school together. And now I’m selling her mom’s house,” Sharon explained. “She’s in town to help out.”

I liked that she gave me an alibi, but of course Cassandra didn’t know me, couldn’t have cared less why I was there, or who my mother or my husband were, or why I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. No one cared. No one cared about my clothes or what I was supposed to be doing. It was as liberating as a sprinkler in summertime, and I wanted to throw my arms back and let it wash over me.

“Cool,” Cassandra said, and helped herself to another grape.

“Sharon Baker.” I recognized Henry’s voice and looked up. “And you said you’d never eat at another restaurant.” Clearly excited to see him, Sharon jumped up from her chair and gave him a hug over the railing.

“To be fair, you don’t serve breakfast,” she said, releasing him and sitting back down.

Henry was wearing sunglasses, and he had a newspaper folded under one arm and a paper cup of coffee in his hand. Cassandra gave him a hug, too, and then he spotted me. “The Lady Bowers,” he said, dropping me a mock courtly bow.

“Sir Gastropub,” I returned.

“Nice to see you again. I didn’t know you all knew each other.”

“Sharon and I went to school together. Cassandra and I just met. You, on the other hand, are apparently Magnolia’s best-kept social secret.”

He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, which was as messy as it had been when I’d seen him the last time, though he was less covered in dirt. His pants were baggy and worn at the knees, and his T-shirt was loose over his broad body, but to my surprise I felt a little shimmer inside when I saw him. Which was stupid, of course. I was married, and Phillip was far better-looking than Henry. I blushed anyway when I looked at his scruffy beard, thinking of how it might brush against my skin, and then stopped myself from wondering anything else at all.