Surfside Sisters(88)
After a long silence, Isabelle said, “You didn’t really ever love Tommy. Not like I did. Do.”
“How can you say that? I was with Tommy for two years. I had sex with Tommy. We were talking about marriage when my book sold.”
“Tommy was talking about marriage, right? He told me you weren’t so keen. I don’t think you wanted to marry him.”
Keely chewed her lip and didn’t reply.
Isabelle continued, “I’m not saying you didn’t feel affection or even love for Tommy, but never like I did. I think he was a distraction for you because you always loved Sebastian and he was so out of your league.”
Keely’s breath caught in her throat. “Out of my league? Thanks a lot.”
“Stop it. I mean he’s two years older, and in your teens that means a lot. Then he went to college, and then off to Sweden. He was a lost cause.”
“When I was in fifth grade,” Keely said softly, with laughter in her voice, “I made a vow by drinking cooking sherry and placing my hands on seashells, that I’d never tell you that I was in love with Sebastian.”
Isabelle chuckled. “The thing is, Keely, you never had to tell me. It was obvious.”
They passed the Dreamland and came to Easy Street, with benches on the brick sidewalk facing the harbor where the Steamship Authority boats docked. Mallards swam in the water. It was low tide, so gulls were striding up and down the exposed bit of beach as if patrolling. The women sat side by side on a bench, facing out. It was easier, Keely thought, to talk this way.
“I suppose you’re right,” Keely admitted. “I thought I’d never be with Sebastian. But I did care for Tommy. And you did grab Tommy the moment I went to New York.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Isabelle said defiantly. “Keely, Tommy and I are right together. I know you think my dad kind of bought Tommy with the apartment and the boat, but Tommy and I fell in love before that. Tommy came when I called him. I was broken, devastated. He rescued me.”
Keely sniffed. “How romantic.”
“We never meant to hurt you.”
“You could have told me, though. You could have emailed me, or phoned, but instead you kept it all secret and then boom, just dropped it on me.”
“I know. That was wrong, probably. But you were in New York. Seeing your editor! You were miles ahead of me. You won!”
“What? Come on! You’ve always had so much more than I have, Isabelle! Your big house, your wealthy family, your brother, your fabulous mother who is never tired or stressed, your adorable dog and cats, your fabulous travels, and then the writers’ colony? And then Tommy? You had to have Tommy, too?”
In a small voice, Isabelle said, “I didn’t know you were jealous of my family. I thought you liked my family. Loved us.”
“Of course I did. But you can love someone and envy them, too. Damn, Isabelle, I didn’t even have a pet, because my parents were allergic!”
“Okay, I get all that. But, Keely, look at you now. You’re the one who has everything now.”
“Right. I have a husband who adores me and a darling little daughter and parents who dote on me and have all the money in the world.”
“Okay, no. You don’t have that. But you do have one published novel and one to come out this summer! You have a life in New York, a publisher, an editor, an agent, and I’ve seen your website and Facebook page, I know you have lots of readers. I’ll bet you get picked up in limos when you tour. I’ll bet you have plenty of money.” Isabelle paused. “I’ll bet you have a New York boyfriend you’re not telling me about.”
Keely hesitated. “You said you wanted to talk about writing.”
“Yeah. Okay, then.” Isabelle took a deep breath. “Keely, would you read my manuscript? But, not poking along like we do in the workshop—I mean, sit down and read it straight through, and then tell me exactly what you think.” When Keely didn’t answer right away, Isabelle continued in a rush, “I think it might be really good. And frankly, the workshop is good in many ways, but it’s going so slow. And you’ve been published, you’re out in that world, you would be by far the best judge of what I’ve written. And maybe, just maybe, if you liked it enough, you could show it to your agent?”
Staring straight ahead at the harbor, Keely said, “But what if I didn’t like it that much? It seems like you’re willing to be my friend, with the condition that I take your novel to my agent.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Isabelle, writing isn’t this dream profession where they take our precious words and worship every comma. They rip a novel apart and ask you to rewrite the whole thing and change the ending…it’s not like we thought it was when we were kids.”
“I’m not an idiot, Keely. I know that.”
“So if I read it, does that mean we’re friends again? Even if my agent doesn’t take it?”
“Keely, when you walked into the room tonight, my heart actually leapt. Before any conscious thought, I was glad, I was delighted to see you. I know our lives are so different now, so I guess we can’t be friends like we used to be…I mean, I don’t see you wandering into my parents’ house and throwing yourself on the sofa and talking with Mom or Dad the way you used to do, and I really don’t think we’re ready for you to come up to the apartment I share with Tommy and Brittany. We broke something. Well, okay, I broke something when I married Tommy and nothing can ever be the same again. But it can be new. We can go carefully. We can start over.”