California Girls(40)

“I’ll be home at five,” she said. “Does that work for you?”

“Yes. My boss is loaning me his truck for a couple of hours. I remember you said the table wasn’t heavy, so he and I will be able to handle it ourselves. We’ll see you then.”

Ali tried not to feel stupid. She was doing a good thing, she told herself. For someone more in need than her. It wasn’t as if she had an apartment for her furniture anyway. What did it matter?

The problem was she had a feeling her actions were a lot more about beating herself up than being altruistic. She was caught up in an emotional death spiral and she didn’t know how to make it stop. Maybe she should spend a couple of days fussing over Coco Chanel.

Her phone rang again.

“Ali Schmitt?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Veronica at the bridal shop. Your dress is back from alterations and ready anytime you want to come get it.”

Of course it was, Ali thought, resting her head on her desk. “Great. I’ll be by in a couple of days to pick it up.”

And then she would have to decide what to do with it. Perhaps some kind of sacrificial burning as a way to cleanse her spiritual life. Of course she would need sage for that, and possibly a permit.

She straightened. Brownies, she promised herself. Later there would be brownies. And wine. Then she would figure out what on earth she was going to do with the rest of her life.

*

Finola arrived a few minutes early for her dinner with Zennie. As she walked into the café-style restaurant, she tried to remember the last time the two of them had gotten together without Ali and honestly didn’t think it had ever happened. Usually it was the three of them or just her and Ali.

She spotted her sister already at a table and made her way across the restaurant.

“Thanks for suggesting this,” she said as she sat down. “I appreciate the support. Everything has been so awful lately. I keep waiting for word to get out.”

She didn’t get more specific—who knew who might be sitting nearby. She picked up her menu. “What’s good here? I am so having a cocktail. What about you?”

“I’m going to pass on the alcohol, but you go ahead. As for the food, it’s all good.”

There was something in Zennie’s tone. Finola studied her short hair and unlined face. Zennie had never been one for makeup or high style. She dressed for comfort, and her idea of a good time was a five-mile run or a 6:00 a.m. surf session. Finola didn’t have the athletic gene but she worked out plenty—mostly to stay camera thin.

When their server arrived, she ordered vodka and soda, to stay on her low-carb program, then scanned the various entries. There was a nice grilled ahi she would get with a salad and a side of broccoli. She’d already calculated a second drink into her daily calorie plan and should be fine. She’d lost a bunch of water weight and had upped her strength training. In a week her clothes would be loose and in two, the weight loss would be noticeable. She couldn’t wait for the compliments.

Zennie asked for herbal iced tea with extra lemon. When their server had left, Finola leaned toward her. “You doing all right? You seem...different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. You tell me. Everything okay at work?”

“It is.”

“Good.” Finola sighed. “I’m exhausted all the time. I know it’s the stress, but still. I keep waiting to hear from, ah, you know who.” She glanced around again, but none of the other diners seemed to be interested in them. “So far the shows have gone well. We’ve had good guests and no surprises.” She wanted to say the house felt empty, but once again was aware of who might be listening. Damn. She should have suggested they get takeout at her place or something.

Zennie looked at her. “Finola, I didn’t ask you here to talk about you. I wanted to tell you what’s going on with Ali. I’ve been waiting for her to say something, but it’s obvious she’s not going to. I guess she thinks what you’re going through is more important than what she is, but she’s wrong. It’s a big deal.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I know. Glen dumped Ali. The wedding is off.”

Finola stared at her. The server returned with their drinks. Finola took a long swallow, then tried to understand what she’d been told.

“It’s over? No, it can’t be. She never said anything.” Not a word. When she’d last seen Ali, her sister had been just like she always was. There had to be a mistake. “When did this happen?”

“The same day Nigel—”

Finola stopped her with a glare. “Not here!”

“Whatever. That same Friday. She called me because she thought you were going to Hawaii and she didn’t want to ruin your vacation. When you showed up at Mom’s, she made us promise not to say anything so we could just deal with you.” Zennie’s tone made it clear she thought Ali was an idiot.

“Like I said, I’ve been waiting for her to say something but when I realized she wasn’t going to, I figured you’d want to know. Or not.”

“What does that mean?”

“You seem a lot more concerned about someone overhearing your news than worrying about your sister getting dumped a few weeks before her wedding.”