In a Book Club Far Away(46)

“It’s going to be more beautiful when you have the bedding and the decor up, but that’s for another day.”

Noise from the open window summoned them to it, and looking down, there was Sophie with other adults supervising a gaggle of kids attempting to make a snowman.

“Playdate,” Adelaide said. “It’s why she couldn’t come over for lunch.”

At that moment, Sophie broke away from the crowd and went to her backpack. She burrowed, head bent into it, then rushed to a crying child.

“Uh-oh, someone’s hurt,” Regina said. “But, of course, Sophie’s ready.” She sighed. “One day I hope I can be as good a mom as her. She has it all together.” Regina sauntered back into the kitchen.

Adelaide was left staring at the group, at the adults in parental solidarity. And then at this room.

At least she had this room that she fixed up all on her own.

At least she had book club to tout.

These were things she could show six months from now.

At least.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sophie




Sophie heard the mail truck before she saw it come up the crest of Bell Street, and she excused herself from her building playdate for a quick getaway. She high-kneed it through the snow, and by the time she got to the building mailbox to meet the truck, beads of sweat had covered the back of her neck.

“Good morning, Jimmy.”

“Morning.” Jimmy was their usual neighborhood postal worker, known for his colorful and decorative scarves. Today’s was holiday themed, with gold bells. It probably wasn’t regulation, but no one was going to tell on him; this man brought them letters from their family members downrange. As far as Sophie was concerned, he was Santa Claus incarnate.

He flipped through the stack of mail in his hand. “Here’s yours. And tell your girls I say thanks for the cookies. They were… well…”

“You don’t have to say a thing. They insisted on making them themselves.”

He beamed. “Then tell them they were the best I ever had.”

“You’re a sweet man. But don’t be surprised if you get more.” Sophie laughed.

“I look forward to it.”

Sophie walked away and looked down at the first letter. It was from The School. It was a legal-sized envelope, and thin, surely containing only one piece of paper.

Her heart dropped into her belly; she pressed her lips together to keep from crying. It had to be a rejection. Of course she didn’t get in, why did she even hope? She was never the model student—they must have seen that in her application.

She flipped through the other letters to catalog them, and by the time she made it to the backyard, she had gathered enough courage to open the envelope. Better to face the music. Patients did this all the time—they faced diagnoses despite their fear. This was not life and death.

Amber Hayes, one of her building neighbors, was at her side. Amber had become another good friend. She had a daughter a year older than Olivia and Carmela, which made for great playdates, and she was born in Freeport, Bahamas. With her paternal side of the family from Nassau, Sophie had locked onto this common thread.

Amber brushed at her scarf, which was caked with snow from playing with the kids. “What’s up?”

“I applied to grad school.”

“Wow!”

She lifted the envelope. “But I don’t think I got in.”

Amber frowned. “But you haven’t opened it.”

“They only send little envelopes if you don’t get in.”

Amber’s gaze bounced to the envelope, then to Sophie, and back. “If you don’t open it, I will.” She shook Sophie’s elbow. “C’mon.”

“Okay, okay.” After heaving a breath, Sophie slipped a finger under the flap. She bit against her cheek as she pulled out the letter.

“Read it out loud,” Amber prodded.

She unfolded the thin paper with dread. “‘Dear Ms. Walden, I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you—’” She paused, looking up. “Holy shit… ‘into the Department of Nursing Masters of Education program!’ Oh my God!”

Amber screamed and clapped. She scooped snow and threw it up in the air. Soon, all the little girls milled around them and were also screaming.

“Do you mind watching the girls?” Sophie asked Amber. “I want to head over to Regina’s.”

“Absolutely! I’ll be right here.”

Sophie ran—er, she stomped, quickly—across the backyard snow, to the next building, then around the corner to the gate. She pressed the doorbell.

“Who is it?” Regina’s voice was airy.

“It’s me! I’ve got news.”

The door buzzed open, and Sophie clomped up to the second floor, and then to the third. She’d done this climb more than a dozen times the last couple of weeks. The neighborhood had been a ghost town since Thanksgiving, and they’d spent a good bit of time taking turns having dinner at each other’s places.

The door was already open when she got to the top step. As per usual, she kicked off her shoes, and for good measure she shrugged herself out of her coat and snow pants. Down to her yoga pants and sweatshirt, she entered, and Regina greeted her with a bowl of rice.