Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(7)

Libby wasn’t sure what to say next. “You come here often?” Oh dear, that sounded like a pickup line. “I just signed up … this is my first week and I have to tell you, this is hard work.” She waved her hand under her armpit in a halfhearted attempt to be funny. Actually, she probably looked more pathetic than amusing.

“I’m here three mornings a week,” Maddy said, and turned her attention to the friend on her other side. The two of them left the locker area and went into the gym.

Embarrassed, Libby looked away. She picked up a hand towel on her way onto the main floor and sought out a machine. The stair-stepper was available and she figured she’d give it a try. Thirty minutes later Libby felt like she needed to be resuscitated. Her lungs burned and her calf muscles screamed in protest.

Gina, the Miss Universe double who’d given her the tour of the gym, noticed, and while Libby sucked in shallow breaths, Gina made a number of suggestions about a physical fitness program, all of which sounded painful. From now on she’d stick with the treadmill.

When Hershel had first suggested she get a life, Libby had been offended; her life was just fine, thank you very much! She enjoyed her job and lived in a nice condo. Really there wasn’t anything she wanted or needed beyond that—well, other than making partner.

In the weeks and months since, she’d come to realize he’d been right. If she was going to be honest, most of her friends were more like acquaintances. She felt completely inept at making new ones. Without a job she felt like a fish out of water.

Back at home, Libby reached for her phone and called Robin Hamlin, who was the closest of her school friends. The two had been study partners in law school. Robin worked as a prosecutor for the city of Seattle and was as driven and dedicated as Libby … or as Libby used to be. Ninety minutes later Robin returned the call.

“What’s up?” Robin asked in her usual no-nonsense way.

“Can you meet me for lunch?”

“When?” Robin asked, sounding distracted.

“Any day this week.” Or next, or the one after that, thought Libby.

“Thursday’s open. Noon at The French Cafe on Blossom Street?”

“Sure.” Libby didn’t know The French Cafe or Blossom Street, but it would take only a click of her mouse to locate the restaurant.

“Good. See you then.”

On Thursday, Libby had already claimed one of the few outside tables and ordered their lunches when Robin arrived ten minutes late.

“Sorry, I got here as soon as I could.”

“No problem.” Her friend looked good. Maybe a tad overweight, but Libby wasn’t one to throw stones, especially since she couldn’t button her pants. Robin wore a crisp navy blue business suit with a straight skirt. Her hair was shorter than Libby remembered it. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d gotten together. They’d talked on the phone a couple of times since Libby had started her job search, but their conversations were always short. Brusque. Libby wondered if that was the way she’d appeared to others in the past. Probably. She was always rushing to finish a brief or late to a meeting.

“I ordered for us,” Libby said. She’d known Robin would be late and short on time.

“What am I having for lunch?” Robin asked, laughing.

“Half a turkey sandwich with split pea soup and iced tea.”

“Perfect.” Robin pulled out the chair and sat across from Libby. The umbrella shaded them from the July sun.

As soon as Robin was seated the server dropped off both lunch plates along with two tumblers filled with iced tea, and then left with the plastic order number Libby had placed on the table.

“How’s the job search going?” Robin asked, as she reached for her half sandwich.

Libby hesitated, unwilling to admit how desperate she was fast becoming. “It’s going.”

“You found a job?”

Libby shook her head.

Robin paused with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

Her friend shook her head. “I might be able to get you an interview with the city, working as a prosecutor.”

Libby held up her hand. “I appreciate the thought, but no thanks.” She’d seen how Robin had changed since she’d taken a job with the city. Being exposed to the criminal element day after day had given her friend rough edges, making her outlook more pessimistic.

“Remember how I told you Hershel Burkhart suggested I get a life?”

“The SOB.”

Libby smiled. She’d gone back and forth between anger and lingering affection for her old boss. She was fond of Hershel, despite the fact that he’d done her a grave disservice. Robin apparently didn’t share her opinion. “You know what?” Libby asked, forcing herself to own up to the truth. “I’m starting to realize Hershel was right.”

“You have a life, Lib.”

Libby shook her head. “I don’t, not anymore. And I’m so miserable I hardly know what to do with myself. Oh, I joined a gym.” That was one positive. “Actually, I felt like I had to do something and fast, after all the weight I’ve gained.” Thankfully Robin hadn’t seen fit to mention it. “I am so fat.”

Robin nearly choked on her sandwich. “You are not fat.”