HAPPILY EVER BEFORE (6 page)

More than anything in the world Grace hated clothes--not that she had some desire to be a nudist and walk around naked all the time, but clothes were annoying. When you are five-eleven in stocking feet, finding something that fits, which means it was long enough and didn’t cling in all the wrong places, was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
“No way!
You look like a reject from outer space.” Grace stood in front of Clair and George in an outfit.

George reacted badly. “Did you get that from Judy
Jetson’s
closet?” She pushed Grace out of the way. “Sit down. Give us control of your closet, okay? You were never really good at this.”

Grace did what she was told.  “Yeah, well try to find a happy medium between slut and school teacher.”

“Who you calling a slut?”

George giggled, “
you
wish Clair Bear,” then dug deep into Grace’s closet. Somewhere between the bell-bottoms and clam diggers she found a pair of black Marc
Jacobs
tights.

Clair looked through Grace’s dresser and sighed. “Please let me organize this room, please--getting dressed would be so much easier.” She stopped talking when she hit pay dirt with a cute
Lerario
Beatriz jersey dress.

Grace stared at her. “You already reorganized my house without my permission and asked for the use of my womb--don’t you think you’re pushing it?”

George, who was now on the bottom of Grace’s closet, said, “
well
, she’s got a point.”

“Who’s got a point?” Clair and Grace bellowed at the same time.

George crawled out with dust bunnies clinging to her arms and legs, and a pair of black ballet flats under her arm. “You both do. Grace, you should have Clair reorganize your bedroom. You were just saying the other day how much easier everything is to find.” Clair gave Grace a triumphant smile as George continued. “Now, we all know Clair gets an enormous amount of pleasure out of reorganizing ,which is equal, at least in my book, to the amount of pleasure she’d get from Grace carrying her child, so yes, you could say that Clair was pushing it.” Grace then shot Clair a triumphant look.

“Well, you’re hardly impartial.  You told Grace, and I quote, first rule of life: never lend family money or your uterus.”

George gave Grace the stink-eye. “I stand by that, but you actually have a solid relationship. Now, if you want to keep it that way, I suggest getting a lawyer.”

 “Henry and I discussed this very thing last night. We should definitely get a lawyer and we’re paying you.”

George threw Grace the outfit they wanted her wear. As Grace changed into it, she sighed, “come on, that’s ridiculous.” Grace stood before them in her
Lerario
Beatriz jersey dress over her Marc Jacobs black tights. “Does this say breakfast?” George smiled approvingly.

Clair grinned, “
it’s
the perfect two in the morning breakfast date outfit.”

 “Oh, shit, what about my hair? I haven’t gotten it cut in months.”

“No problem. I made an appointment for you with Cherie; wash and blow dry, my treat, for
four o’clock
,” smiled George.

Grace gave George a hug. She turned to Clair. “There is no way you’re paying me if I have your baby.”

“Then there’s no way you’re having my baby.”

George high-
fived
Clair, “that’s my girl.”

Grace walked into The Palace Grill a bit uncertain about how she expected to find Jack. She hadn’t even asked him what he looked like--better to keep the dream of the hot fireman who looked like George Clooney alive. At least she knew she’d be safe here. The place was big with cops from the 911 Center, which was right across the street. Grace smiled at Betty, who was working behind the counter tonight, and grabbed a booth in a more secluded area of the diner. She realized that beside Betty,
Shari
the other waitress, two policewomen, and a prostitute, she was the only woman in the place who wasn’t in uniform, so she’d leave the finding up to Jack.

“Coffee?” asked
Shari
.

“Nah, I’d love some orange juice though,” said Grace.

“Juice?
Sure, anything else?”

“Nope, I’m waiting for someone.”

As
Shari
left to get Grace’s juice, a tall Greek God scooted into the booth. “Hey.”

Grace smiled. This was too good to be true. “Hey.”

“Been waiting long?” The guy asked.

“No.”

“Good, good.
You hungry?
I’m starved,” the guy said.

When the sound of his voice finally caught up with the warm honey resonance Grace associated with Jack she was confused. “Uh, who are you?”

“Jack,” he said.

Grace studied him. “No, you’re not. Who are you?” Grace had seen too many episodes of “Law and Order” not to know this could be some type of set up.

The guy smiled. “You’re good.” He looked around the diner, zeroed in on a cute, clean-cut man who appeared to be Italian and
said,
“she’s good,” gesturing to Grace. The man smiled and made his way over to their booth with a bouquet of flowers.

“I hope you like lilies,” he said, as the guy got out of the booth.

“I’m Rich. This is Jack. If he turns out to be a big disappointment, which he will, give me a call.” He pulled his card from his wallet and handed it to Grace.

“You’re a cop?”

“Detective,” he smiled, slapped Jack on the back, and left.

As Jack sat down, an annoyed Grace snapped, “
what
was
that
?”

Jack, feeling a bit sheepish, sighed. “Well, Rich is my go-to guy.”

Grace was incredulous. “You have him check your dates before you meet them?”

“No.” Jack looked at Grace’s big green eyes and suddenly couldn’t lie. “Well, just the blind dates. You see it’s like
this,
most blind dates seem too good to be true.  You get the set-up from your friends that she’s great, she’s this, she’s that, and she pulls small children out of life threatening situations on the weekends and then you meet her, and this--is the lazy eye they forgot to tell you about; that--is the baggage from the ex of five years ago; and she doesn’t pull small children out of life threatening situations on the weekends because she’s going to garage sales hunting for the limited editions of Beanie Babies she’s missing. So, when I decided I was looking for a keeper I came up with this little system. You would not believe how many women I haven’t met because of that guy.”

Grace stared at him as
Shari
delivered her orange juice.
“Really?”

Jack grinned.
“Really.
Can I get some coffee?”

“Sure.”
Shari
plopped down two menus and walked away.

“So, I take it you do the same thing for Rich?”

“Yeah, but I don’t get laid as much. Apparently, I’m not that cute.”

“You’re a dog,” Grace growled, but she was too intrigued to really be upset.

“No, I’m not. We’ve been speaking for six months. If I was a dog, I would’ve slept with you and broken up with you by now.” Jack grinned. “You’re staying, right?”

Grace didn’t know what to make of a guy who used a boy toy as his own personal natural selection when it came to the women he dated.  It was like a reverse “Suddenly Last Summer” and the last thing she wanted was to end up, well, dead. “You’re a bit too sure of yourself.”

“…And you’re better than I ever imagined,” Jack flashed
her another
smile.
“So, you hungry?
I’m starved!”

To reiterate, and to make sure that we haven’t gotten off track, this tale is about two sisters, the biggest most important question you can ever be asked, and how that question and subsequent answer informs every aspect of their lives. This is not a tale about princes charming or otherwise. There is no white horse, no castle, no amazingly true of heart kiss that will wake anybody from a coma. Now, as far as dates go, this one was going well. They had gotten over the awkwardness of bait and Rich switch and successfully traded stats. Jack is the youngest of five--the other four are his sisters: Donna, Debra, Tina, and Toni. Yes, he’s Italian and he’s the only single one left in his family. Because Grace and Jack only spoke while both of them were at work, so many of their calls were interrupted by actual life threatening emergencies, which gave them the patience that they needed to take things at a slower than normal pace.

For Grace, who was still recovering from Ray, this was a good thing. And for Jack, who had a tendency to bed women too quickly--before he had actually figured out who that woman was and where she stood when it came to the key levels of life emotionally, spiritually, intellectually--and would then find himself in many awkward situations, one of which notably got him engaged, married, and divorced within ten months, the slow boat to a relationship was a great thing.  He just had no idea how slow the boat with Grace was about to get!

Jack had recently decided, between her hot chocolate and his black and white shake, that his instincts about Grace were right. She was a terrific woman and he definitely wanted to get to know her better. As he cut up his pancakes, he smiled. “So, let’s deal with the basics--Archie or Reggie?”

Grace took a bite out her waffle and thought as she chewed, “
Jughead
. He was cute, sweet, funny, and everyone liked him.”

Jack laughed.
“Didn’t see that coming.”

Grace grinned, “I have a few surprises--baseball or basketball?”

“I’m a guy; put up a scoreboard and I’ll watch two old ladies pummel each other.”

Grace leaned into the booth seat. “Well, there goes bingo night.
Okay, so Stewart, Leno, or Letterman?”

Jack shoveled in the last of his pancakes and eggs, then took a big sip of his shake. “Actually, Stewart, Colbert, Letterman, Maher, O’Brien, Kimmel, and well, Leno is…not for me.”

Grace blurted, “I think we can move forward to a second date,” and immediately felt self-consciousness. Jack grinned. Grace blushed.  “I mean if you want too.”

Jack noticed a wave of concern washed over Grace’s face. “What? Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

Grace hesitated. “Well…” The biggest most important question she had ever been asked was something that loomed pretty prominently over this moment.

 “Well? You’re married, divorced, recently separated, just finished a year experimenting with lesbianism, which, by the way,  I’m totally fine with, just found out your Visa’s been revoked and are about to go to prison to serve back-to-back jail sentences for identity fraud, just declared bankruptcy, what?”

Grace went for it. “My sister wants to rent my womb.”

Jack was confused.
“Your room?”

“She wants me to have her baby because she can’t, you know, have it herself.”

Jack put down his shake, stood up, wasn’t sure why he was standing up, and then sat down. “Wow!”

“You ready to run for the hills? You can probably catch a cab.” Grace and Jack shared a look. Not many people get to this point in a relationship. Usually, if you’re a surrogate you’ve already had a kid and/or you’re married and you just like being pregnant, but don’t want to another kid of your own. And, if you do get to the pregnancy part of a relationship it’s usually not before you’ve slept with the guy you’re dating.

“Wow.”      

“Uh, you said that already.”

Jack gave a weak smile. “I know, I just can’t think of anything else to say.”

“That pretty much was my reaction.”

“This must be tough for your sister and her husband. They don’t want to adopt?”

“No. I mean if they have too, but first they want to try this. I
sorta
promised her when were kids.”

Jack didn’t think he could be shocked again, but he was. “Man, I was just figuring out that you shouldn’t eat paste when I was a kid.”

“Let me rephrase, not kids--teenagers.”

“Still, that’s some promise.”

Grace bit down on her bottom lip as an awkward silence kicked in and tossed her directly into non-stop chatter mode. “Well, she wants me to have her baby because Lindsay Wagner couldn't have a baby and she adopted Nancy McKeon’s baby, but then she wanted it back. And after Melissa Gilbert was running from her abusive husband and Valerie
Bertinelli
was a nun in love with a priest and we finished a whole bottle of apple wine and two boxes of Twinkies…I mean, I was drunk, I was nineteen, I was high on sugar, and moved by the plights of McKeon,
Bertinelli
, and Gilbert--the holy grail of Lifetime movies. I'm putty around them. I dare you to find me a woman who isn't. And, my sister--she’s tricky--she took advantage of me.  I didn't know what I was doing when I double-pinky-
sweared-blood-sister-oathed
and signed that damn contract!”

Jack took Grace’s hand to calm her down, “I don’t think the contract is legal.”

“I know, but then I never thought she’d ask me to have her baby either. What would you do?”

He shifted in his seat, still holding onto her hand. “Me? This isn’t me. I can’t answer that.”

Grace liked the fact that Jack was holding her hand. It felt nice, comfortable, and very sexy. His hands were strong and safe. “But if it was you?”

“Then it would be a medical break-through.”

Grace laughed. “Seriously, what would you do?”

Jack shook his head. He looked around the diner, not sure for what, and then sighed. “To be honest, I don’t know. My sisters would step in front of bullet for each other, but this isn’t fair because I know no one would ever ask this of me.” He played with Grace’s hand, he liked how if felt in his. “I look at it this way, there are times when a choice shows up out of the blue, from nowhere, and you’re like where the hell did that come from? But, it came to you for a reason. The universe brought it to you because it knew you could handle it. And, maybe you’re the only person who can do this particular thing at this particular time. When you love someone you sometimes have to sacrifice a little bit in order to show them how much you love them, but that’s me and I’m not the one who’s going to have to give up ten months of my life or, may I say, a spectacular body, to have someone else’s kid. So, you need to look into your heart and figure out who is in there and why.”

Grace stared at him. The NG was right. His answer did hold the key to what type of man he was and just might have answered once and for all what type of woman she was.