California Girls(66)

She entered her inventory results into the computer, then went to the shared printer to pick up the paperwork. On her way, she saw Ray. Instead of his usual jeans and T-shirt, he had on black pants, a dress shirt and sports jacket.

“Ray, what’s going on? Hot lunch date?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Ali. I have a date.” He tugged at his collar. “Man, I hate dressing like this, but it’s for a good cause, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ray frowned. “You haven’t heard? Paul has given notice. He’s finally retiring. I’m interviewing for his job. The owner asked me to. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Ali said automatically. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Sure thing.”

Ali stood there, unable to move. No one had asked her to interview. No one had said a word. She was working by herself right now but in her previous positions, she’d had people working for her. When Paul went on vacation, she was the one who took over for him. She’d been doing that for two years. Wasn’t she the more obvious replacement? Ray was gruff and moody and he frightened people. Not exactly great management material. So why not her? Was it because she didn’t have a degree? She wasn’t sure of Ray’s academic status, but she thought maybe he might have a few years of college. Or was it something else? Her age? The fact that she was a woman? Or was it because she’d never once talked to anyone about wanting to grow in her career? She’d never expressed any desire to take on more responsibility.

She didn’t have an answer and she wasn’t sure where to get one. All she knew was that just when she’d finally found a little peace, everything had turned crappy again.

*

Saturday morning Finola risked the grocery store. She figured the busy shoppers wouldn’t really care that she, too, was buying bread and cantaloupe—they had schedules to keep and lives to live. Her mother had gone to work—weekends were always busy at the mall in general and the boutique in particular. Young women looking for clothes to make them feel powerful would be on the prowl and Mary Jo’s successful store was a go-to stop.

In an effort to distract herself and to avoid spending the day alone and moping, Finola texted her sisters, inviting them over to lunch. There was just enough time between their answers to make her wonder if they were texting with each other first. She told herself she was being paranoid only to have them reply at exactly the same time using nearly the same phrasing.

Can’t wait. Want to see you.

So excited. Want to see you.

She didn’t know what was up with that, but honestly, it was more than she could deal with so she ignored it. That was her new mantra. Just ignore it. Maybe not as spiritually healing as finding the good in the world or inviting in kindness, but for now it was working and that was enough for her.

She’d shopped with the idea of company. She had ingredients for curried chicken sandwiches, along with green salad fixings and everything she needed to make her famous basil ranch dressing.

She spent the morning getting everything ready, then went for a walk in the neighborhood. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, a baseball cap and dark glasses, she figured she was fairly unrecognizable. Three miles later, she was slightly out of breath and feeling much better about herself. She showered and dressed, then checked on the food. She’d just finished setting the table when Ali arrived.

“Hey, you,” her baby sister said, hugging her tight. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I’ll bet. I still hate Nigel so much and I’m never listening to a Treasure song again in my life. I hate her, too.” Ali rubbed Finola’s arm as they walked into the kitchen and took seats at the table there. “Are you doing okay being back here? Mom would drive me crazy but you two get along okay.”

“It’s not exactly where I saw myself, but it’s helping. Turns out, having a different last name is a good thing.”

“As long as you’re safe,” Ali told her, looking concerned.

“I am. Word was bound to get out. Treasure is a paparazzi magnet, so’s everyone in her circle.” Finola fought against tears. “I just don’t understand why he did it. An affair is one thing, but an affair with her? Did he have to? It’s so public and everyone knows. They’re all talking about me and judging me. I hate it.”

Ali hugged her. “Of course you do. I’m sorry. I wish I could do something to help.”

“Having you here today is nice.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Zennie arrived. She breezed into the house looking tall and fit, as per usual. There was something about her air of confidence that always made Finola feel as though she had to work harder. Not a competition, exactly, more of a challenge. Zennie could be stunning, but she never bothered to try. She wasn’t interested in makeup or dressing up or being noticed.

“How’s it going?” Zennie asked, hugging them both. She looked at Ali. “Still getting through it?”

“I’m managing. Every day is easier.”

In that second, Finola realized she hadn’t bothered to ask how Ali was doing. In a way they were going through similar circumstances, although a case could be made that a broken marriage was a lot bigger than just a broken engagement. Still, Ali was her sister and it wasn’t as if she’d even bothered to check on her. How had that happened?