Eligible (27 page)

Lydia grinned. “Some of us are able to get by on our looks.”

WHEN U FINISHED
today?
Liz texted Jasper from the basement.
Moving a million pounds of junk from parents house to storage locker, can’t wait to see you!

At sports mall til 7ish,
Jasper texted back.
Still on for dinner w/ Jane and your friend?

She hadn’t formally canceled with Charlotte, Liz realized, though doing so didn’t seem necessary.

Just us & Jane now,
she texted.
Lets meet 21c lobby 7:45
.

Less than half an hour later, when she heard her name being called from the kitchen, there were a few seconds when she thought Jasper had ignored her prohibitions about visiting the Tudor and come to rescue her, and she was touched. “Down here!” she called back, though even by then, she knew it wasn’t him.

“There’s a rumor going around that you could use some help,” Ham said as he entered the room.

“Really?” she said. “Wow. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Slow day at the office. What’s our strategy here?”

Though Mary had accompanied Liz to pick up the rental truck and trailer, Liz had otherwise been feeling like the little red hen in the fable, planting and harvesting the wheat while the animals around her played. Now, at last, she had an ally, and if she weren’t so sweaty, she’d have hugged him.

“The storage locker is about ten minutes away,” she said. “If you’re really game, we could make the first trip now.”

This was what they did; up the steep, unfinished basement stairs, through the kitchen, and into the driveway, they carried suitcases and end tables and boxes full of decades-old files to the truck. “You don’t want to just dump this?” Ham asked about a stack of faded Easter baskets, fake grass still nestled inside them, when they’d made the first drop-off and were loading the trailer for the second time.

“I know it seems crazy, but if my mom asks if I got rid of anything, I want to be able to say no,” Liz said. “I mean, I have gotten rid of stuff since I’ve been home, but it was before today.”

“You sure you never got a law degree?” Ham said. They climbed into the trailer to stow the latest deposits, and as he hopped out, Ham said, “Random question: Do you think your parents are Republicans?”

“My dad, yes, with maybe a libertarian streak. My mom has the views of a Republican, but I’m not sure she votes. Why?”

“That was the impression I got from Lydia, but I was just wondering. You think your parents have any gay friends?”

“As Lydia may have mentioned, there’s speculation that they might have a gay daughter.”

“Lydia did share that theory.” They had reached the basement again.

“Is your family conservative?” Liz asked.

“Very. My mom moved to Florida after my dad died, to a retirement community I’m pretty sure is a Tea Party training camp. Unfortunately, she and I aren’t close.”

“You’re not conservative?”

“I’d call myself a centrist.”

“I think of CrossFit being conservative—is that wrong?”

“No, it’s right, although I’d say my box has a different vibe than some.”

“And you were in the military?”

“Yeah, the army. I spent some time in Korea and did a tour in Afghanistan.”

“Wow,” Mary said. “I can see the floor in here.” Liz hadn’t realized her sister was in the vicinity and hoped Mary hadn’t heard the recent comment about her.

“Want to give us a hand?” Liz gestured toward a brown corduroy beanbag chair with a split seam through which small bits of polystyrene were spilling.

“I’m sorry,” Ham said, “but that’s definitely garbage. Seriously, Liz.”

“Of course it’s garbage,” Mary said. “Did Liz tell you it’s not?”

“I don’t want Mom to get pissed at me for throwing things out,” Liz said.

“Then I’ll do it,” Mary said. “Where’s the trash pile?”

“It’s your lucky day,” Liz said. “You get the privilege of starting it.”

AT BOCA, JASPER
ordered a seventy-five-dollar bottle of wine—especially since Jane wasn’t drinking, Liz hoped he planned to let
Sporty
cover the bill—and after the sommelier had delivered it, Jasper said, “If you guys are the scullery maids at your house for the summer, who’s making dinner tonight?”

Liz, who didn’t recall having used the words
scullery maid
with Jasper, said, “Actually, Jane made them some chicken and cold soup.”

Jasper grinned. “God forbid they fend for themselves, right? Hey, Jane, Lizzy mentioned you’re with child—mazel tov.”

Somberly, Jane said, “Thank you.”

“How you feeling?”

“All right,” Jane said.

“That’s great. I swear Susan was puking her guts out from conception to delivery.”

Liz could feel Jane glance at her, and it was with an air of overcompensatory cheer that Liz raised her glass. “Bon appétit,” she said. “Please, Jasper, tell us more.”

What Jasper really wanted to talk about, clearly, were his interviews with the squash players and coach, and he proceeded to do so over appetizers (oysters for him, beet salad for both Jane and Liz), entrées (pasta for Jane, scallops for Liz, filet for Jasper), and into dessert (crème brûlée for Jasper and Jane, nothing for Liz). Again, his long-windedness bothered Liz less than Jane’s observation of it; Liz suspected the evening was reinforcing Jane’s impression of Jasper as self-centered. He’d been describing the rather intense father of eleven-year-old Cheng Zhou when Liz said, “Did I tell you Jane’s going to be the private yoga instructor for a family in Rhinebeck?”

“Oh, yeah?” Jasper swallowed a spoonful of crème brûlée. “Who?”

“I went to college with one of them,” Jane said.

“So is it a real job or a pity thing?”

“Jesus, Jasper,” Liz said, and, in a jovial tone, Jasper said, “Well, she
is
pregnant and single.”

“Yeah, on purpose,” Liz said. “And she could go back to her job in the city if she wanted. This is just a change of scenery.”

“I thought you two had a leave-no-man-behind deal,” Jasper said.

Liz glared at him. “Things have changed, and you know what? I’m a big girl. I can handle being in Cincinnati without Jane.”

Calmly, Jane said, “I hope my friends haven’t hired me out of pity, but maybe I’ll never know.” Turning toward Liz, she said, “And of course I’m very appreciative that Lizzy’s staying here until our mom’s lunch event.”

“Speaking of which,” Jasper said, “I trust Sally Bennet and the gals are still having lots of productive three-martini meetings?” As he mimed pouring liquid into his mouth, Liz sensed that Jane, too, was bristling.

“Jasper,” Jane said. “Tell us more about the squash players.”

JASPER ORDERED ANOTHER
bottle of wine from room service, and after it had been delivered, along with two glasses and a fruit and cheese platter, he made a toast. “To Cincinnati,” he said. “Which doesn’t suck nearly as much as you’d led me to believe.”

They were side by side on the bed, fully clothed on top of the covers, with the platter between them. Liz tapped her glass against his and said, “Wow, don’t give me a swelled head.” But she was already in a better mood; she was relieved not only that the dinner was finished but that Jasper had indeed paid for it.

“What were you moving to a storage locker this afternoon?” Jasper asked.

“I was clearing out the basement so the house doesn’t look like it should be condemned when the realtor shows it.”

“Your folks are selling their place?” Jasper reached for a slice of Gouda. “When my parents downsized, all I could think about was if it was the first step toward me feeding them creamed corn and changing their diapers.”

Liz squinted at Jasper. Hadn’t they discussed her family’s financial problems? And then it occurred to her that the conversation she’d had about selling the Tudor hadn’t been with Jasper; it had been with Darcy.

“My parents aren’t selling by choice,” she said. “They’re deep in debt.”

“That’s a bummer.” Jasper popped a strawberry between his lips and said while chewing, “Because I’d much rather you be an heiress.”

“Isn’t that what Susan is for?” Liz said.

“Good point. Hey, I got an email from Brett Yankowitz saying if I write up my fly-fishing proposal, he’ll be more than happy to take a gander. Which is awesome, but after today, I’m like, maybe I should write a book about squash prodigies instead. As backward as the Cincinnati airport is, it’s still a hell of a lot easier to get to than Idaho.”

“Fly-fishing is more romantic than squash,” Liz said. “Wouldn’t you rather do your reporting standing in a beautiful stream instead of under fluorescent lights?”

“True.”

“Speaking of romance—” Theatrically, because she was incapable of not mocking herself when initiating sex, Liz winked at Jasper.

“Come here,” he said, and he reached out with both arms to help her over the cheese platter.

The kissing was fun; he was in a good mood, too. All of which made it surprising that once they were actually naked and recumbent, technical difficulties presented themselves. While not entirely flaccid, neither was the relevant part of Jasper’s anatomy sufficiently stiff to move on to the next stage of activity, and the more directly Liz attempted to improve the situation, the less promising the outlook became. They were facing each other, and at last, Jasper lifted away Liz’s hand. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said with frustration.

“It’s not a big deal,” Liz said, while trying to shove from her mind the thought that the whole squash article had been a pretext for him to fly to Cincinnati so they could have sex. “We’ll try again later.”

“You don’t want me to just get you off, do you?” Jasper said, which seemed a far less gallant question than
Do you want me to get you off?

After a few seconds, she said, “Let’s try in a little bit.” She rolled over and reached for the remote control on the nightstand.

They landed on a political talk show, and the longer they watched, the more incredulous Liz felt. After not seeing each other for almost two months, how could this happen? Just purely as a physiological matter—shouldn’t he have been struggling not to finish too fast rather than to get started?

“Do you and Susan have sex?” she asked. She hadn’t planned to say this; the same moment the question had occurred to her, she’d uttered it.

“Are you kidding?” Jasper said. “Susan hates me.”

“Does she still have that boyfriend?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Jasper said. “Yes, she and Bob are still together.”

“I’m feeling confused about what just happened,” Liz said.

After a beat, Jasper said, “Sorry for not being able to satisfy your insatiable sexual appetite.”

“This is
not
about me being sexually insatiable.” Liz sat up, folding her arms over her bare chest. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

“The other woman is asking if there are other women? Please tell me you see the irony.”

“Are you?”

“Liz, what the fuck?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Jasper was looking up at the ceiling, not at her, and his tone had reverted to being sincere and conciliatory when he said, “You’re really important to me. The conversations we have, the way we talk—there’s no one else I have that with.”