Can't Look Away(42)
“Sisi—sorry, Sabrina—her dad started an insurance company, and the Manhattan office was kind enough to bring me on a few years back.” A slightly rueful expression passes across his face. Working a corporate job is the last thing Molly ever expected of Jake. Even after Danner Lane’s split, she’d always assumed he’d found a career that kept him involved in music—or at least something creative.
“To be frank, I inherited a pretty sizable trust when my dad sold Randolph Group,” Sabrina adds candidly. “Which is how we bought this place. I’m consulting for a few brands right now, but no longer full-time. It was just too much to keep commuting into the city once we moved out here. Freelancing is more convenient.”
Hunter nods politely, but Molly knows he’s surprised. Most young couples they’re acquainted with in Flynn Cove wouldn’t be so up-front about their lavish lifestyles being subsidized by rich parents. Sabrina’s honesty is, at least, refreshing. Molly can also sense that she and Hunter are sharing the same thought. They’ve both heard of Randolph Group—everyone has. It’s a giant company. Sabrina must be absolutely loaded.
“And what about you, Molly?” Jake asks. “Still writing, I hope?”
She sips her wine, thinking of Bella’s voicemail sitting in her inbox. She should just delete it.
“Wait, you’re a writer?” Sabrina perks up at this. “You never told me that, Moll.”
“I’m not,” Molly says quickly. She gives a strained smile. “Back in the day, I wrote a bit. Not anymore.” She blinks, hating the way it feels to admit this to Jake, how lost she sounds in this moment, the lack of confidence in her voice. “But I’m still teaching yoga.”
“I told you that’s where we met, babe. At Yoga Tree.” Sabrina squeezes Jake’s arm, and Molly feels herself flinch. Out of habit, maybe. Old, ingrained jealousy. “Molly is an incredible teacher.”
“Always has been.” Jake smiles gently in Molly’s direction, and his eyes are so blue and disarming, and she wishes he would stop looking at her like that, like he’s trying to pass her a silent reminder that he’s seen her naked a thousand times. Or maybe he’s being friendly and normal, and she’s just being hyperneurotic as usual, ramped up on fertility hormones that distort and dramatize the way she sees the world.
Molly glances at Sabrina, paranoid that she, too, can sense an edge of flirtation in Jake’s voice. But Sabrina just sits there with a mollified expression glued to her face, nursing her rosé. Because why would her new friend be worried that something is amiss? Molly and Jake dated in their early twenties, when they were practically children. They’re both married to other people now; Molly has a child of her own.
So what, really, is the problem? Molly isn’t sure; she only knows that at this stage in her life, having come as far as she has from the girl she was at twenty-six, living in the same small town as Jake Danner feels impossible. Unbearable.
The problem is: she really likes his wife. Sabrina is the first woman Molly has met in her three years in Flynn Cove whom she’s clicked with—well, besides Whitney, but sometimes Molly wonders if she’s ever actually clicked with Whitney, or if she’s just tried to convince herself she has. And okay, clearly Sabrina is privileged, but she’s not gaudy or entitled like Meredith and Betsy and Edie. She doesn’t wear flashy jewelry or dress like a Stepford wife; she doesn’t believe that the sun rises and sets on the Flynn Cove Country Club.
Sabrina is refreshingly open. Molly appreciates that she was candid about her parents’ money. She knows for a fact that Meredith’s husband has a trust fund—that’s how the Duffys pay for the upkeep of their waterfront mansion and additional homes in Southampton and Aspen—but Meredith would never acknowledge this. She just waves her black Amex around town, acting like she’s earned the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist, and the bimonthly visits to Dr. Jeffers that keep her face line-free, and every other material comfort that’s simply fallen into her lap.
Sabrina isn’t trying to be someone she’s not. She has a cartilage piercing on her upper ear and frown lines between her eyebrows and a devout yoga regimen. She possesses humility and self-awareness and a grounded sense of perspective. Sabrina seems serious about her career in fashion, but her interests extend beyond designer clothing lines. She often brings up politics and current events; she sends Molly great podcast recommendations and op-eds from the Sunday Review. Molly smiles at her with genuine appreciation and remarks that the meal is delicious.
“You think so?” Sabrina looks touched. “I never used to cook in the city, but I figure now that we have this big old kitchen, I ought to give it some use.”
Molly takes another sip of wine, feels it settle warmly below her collarbone. Sabrina is right—this doesn’t have to be awkward. Molly can ignore whatever strange thing is going on with her heart, and remember that she and Jake are older now, and happily married to other people, and yes, despite this surreal coincidence, maybe the four of them really will be great, great friends.
Chapter Eighteen
Sabrina
You must know by now, Molly, that my sleuthing skills are quite advanced. Once I knew your last name (thanks to Bhakti Yoga), I found you on Facebook. Most of your settings seemed set to private, but your profile photo was of you and a girl with short, dark hair neatly brushing her shoulders. You’re standing on the beach wearing cover-ups and aviators; she’s smiling at the camera, and your face is turned in profile, your mouth open wide in laughter. Crucially, the girl in the picture was tagged. Liz Esposito.