Kate Jacobs (30 page)

ripping it out

All you have to do is forgive.

twenty-two

It was Georgia's first time being met at the
airport. There
was something so special, so civilized, about not having to schlep out to the
cabs or the shuttles or meet a stranger holding a placard with her name. No,
James had been there, having returned to London to tidy up a bit of business
and subsequently flown home before the trio even left Granny's cottage. They'd
been apart just long enough for Georgia to begin to feel nervous that somehow,
some way, this relationship—if you could call it that—would fall apart. Again.
That it had all been a dream: the hours of conversation in
Gran's
garden, the coming inside, the caressing and kissing and the slow walk to the
bedroom, where they sat on either side of the bed, holding hands and watching
their daughter sleep. Whispering. Until exhaustion took its toll and James went
to crunch up his tall frame on
Gran's
compact
flowered sofa, legs dangling over the ends, Georgia to tuck in beside Dakota.
It had been one of the best nights of her life.
Still, she'd fretted throughout the flight, flying all day Friday, readying
herself for the disappointment. But he had been there. Just as he told her he
would be. Standing in arrivals. With a sign that read WALKER AND DAUGHTER.

* * *

They were back just in time for club, the
second to last meeting of June, then a weekend's worth of sleep to get on to
their regular time clocks and one last week of school for Dakota. James
double-parked on the side street, then began the time-consuming process of
carrying their bags up to the apartment.
"Head on up to the shop—I'll throw these into the living room," he
told her. And Georgia didn't even protest, eager to be back home. In the store.
It was very much the same, she saw—the shelves of yarn in all the colors of the
rainbow (and good to see the new box of merino had finally come in), the bright
sun coming in the large window, a last gasp of summer day before twilight, the
wooden floor swept shiny clean, a handful of customers milling about. It felt
so good just to smell it again, the wool and the warmth and the coffee always
on in the back. And yet it was different:
Peri
had
set up an extra table by the register where she'd placed an assembly line for
her purses, getting a much-needed assist from Anita (who ran over to give a big
hug), Lucie (who gave a thumbs-up, making a motion with her hand over her
belly) and Darwin (struggling to put the pocketbooks into plastic bags; she
offered a shy wave, tape on her thumb). K.C. had turned the back office into an
LSAT study center, a pile of books all over the papers Georgia had left
covering the desk, and a ready supply of
Raisinets
,
chips, and soda (diet, she clarified, as though it would bother Georgia less)
on top of the file cabinet.
"Comfortable?"
"Actually, Georgia, I was going to suggest you get a new chair," said
K.C. "This one hurts my butt. Chip?"
"No, thanks. When do I get my office back, pray tell?"
"What? You're not going to just order me out, kiddo?" K.C. came up to
Georgia and did a mock-check for fever, her hand on Georgia's brow. "Nope,
you're not delirious. You must be…relaxed? What put you in such a good mood
over there in Scottish
sheepville
?"
She walked out to the register, speaking in a stage whisper.
"I think Georgia had a good vacation, if you know what I mean,
ladies." K.C. gave a dramatic wink to
Peri
and
Lucie. Anita made a sound of disapproval; K.C. gave her a double wink-wink.
"Why are you being so weird, K.C.? You look like you're having a
spasm," Dakota said. Sky-blue backpack over her shoulders, a pin of the
Scottish flag on her denim jacket. Already getting a big squeeze from Anita.
"Hey, little
sparky
, good to see
ya
." K.C. gave the girl a tug on her hair. "Why don't
you run upstairs for a sec while we talk to your mommy?"
"Okay. My dad said we could order Indian tonight anyway, and I want to
make sure we get extra
samosas
."
"Your dad? He's in the apartment upstairs?"
"Yup. He came to see us in Scotland and then met us at the airport, and
now he's staying for dinner with me."
"Oh really?" K.C. put on a very serious expression. "I think
your mother needs to give a debriefing of this little trip to see your…what did
you call her again? Oh, right. Grandmother. Was that code for something? Cough
it up, honey. 'Cause I'm not moving out of that office until I get full
details."
Georgia hemmed and hawed, and then caught Cat's eye, not able to stop herself
from breaking into a wide smile.
"Ah, I don't know," she said, trying to stall. "I thought I'd
save it for the club meeting."
"Gang's all here, buddy," insisted K.C. "And we
ain't
budging without the details."

* * *

It was hours later. James had ordered enough
food for everyone, though he conspicuously stayed upstairs with Dakota,
watching TV as her jet lag took over and she tumbled off to bed. Georgia was
eager to be upstairs with him and yet completely excited to be center of
attention, filled with a giddiness she hadn't expected to ever feel again. It
was great to be the girl with the story everyone was dying to hear. Even Cat
looked happy, she noticed, though in a flash her mind was back on James
upstairs. Was he planning on staying over? It's not like they were going to go
from zero to sixty in three days, was it? Or was it? Good thing she'd put on a
nice pair of panties and done her legs. Just in case. It had been a long time
coming for her to have a "just in case" reason. And it made her feel
fantastic. She was so happy to see her friends, sure. But she could barely keep
her mind on them!
"Georgia? What do you think?" It was Darwin, shoving a mangled piece
of fuchsia and lime-green chunky yarn into her face.
"Isn't it a good start?" prompted Lucie. Georgia regarded the piece
in her hands. It was the sloppiest, messiest rectangle of mixed-up stitches
she'd ever seen, the short end picked up and knitted halfway through the piece,
and sections in which the purl had obviously not been brought forward, the
tell-tale scrunch of stitching. It was, in short, awful. And really cute, when
you considered the source.
"…I kept forgetting which way to bring the string, but I said to myself,
'Just go, Darwin'—and I really did talk out loud, you know—because I just
wanted to show you that I'm ready." Darwin's face was glowing.
"Ready for what?"
"I'm going to make the sweater, too. Look," Darwin began to pull
brand-new yarn out of a lavender bag. "I've picked out some very nice
wool."
It was one of the most expensive cashmeres they had. Exactly the pricey kind of
wool that would make a newbie like Darwin feel nervous about wasting—and
thereby increasing her chance at mistakes. Plus she suspected that a grad
student couldn't really afford to be spending so much money on knitting
supplies. She gave a quick frown to her employee.
"She insisted on that wool," said
Peri
.
"Of course she did," replied Georgia smoothly. "But, you know,
Darwin, this isn't the type of wool you need."
"It isn't? But Lucie used that." Darwin seemed crestfallen; who knew
how many hours had gone into that practice piece. Or was it meant to be a
scarf? Hard to tell, but it was clear Darwin had spent hours trying different
stitches—there might even have been a pattern in there if one wanted to look
past the slipped stitches and holes to find it.
"Yes, yes." Georgia was thinking quickly. "But remember how
Lucie was making a winter sweater? It's June now. That's why you should be
using a cotton yarn. I'll exchange this and refund the difference."
Darwin shrugged.
"Okay, if you say so," she said. "I'd rather use wool, though.
Something like that gray heather over there. If you think I'm ready?"
Georgia went over and pulled out some
superbulky
wool-acrylic blend and tossed it over to Darwin. "You, my dear, are more
than prepared to take on the sweater! Especially with women like K.C. forging
the way."
"Oh, I see your grandmother didn't chastise your talent for mockery."
K.C. pretended to be put out. "I'll have you know I've found a welcome
recipient for my much-maligned baby sweater." She pointed to Lucie.
"What can I say? It literally just popped out one day. One minute a little
bulge. The next? A basketball." Lucie pulled at her tan cardigan.
"See? I can't even do up the last sweater I made!"
"But you're going to dress the little creature in this spicy number—you
tell her." K.C. waved a needle holding the rows that would make up the
back of the sweater, the multicolored acrylic masking potential flaws.
"You were already on the back of the sweater when I left!" Georgia
was laughing now.
"And like you can just knit and study at the same time?" K.C. was
making a "stop" gesture with her hand. "So, okay, you probably
could. Well, I can't. I just added a few new rows last night. Because I didn't
have a man to kiss my lips and distract me."
A collective "
whoo-hoo
" went through the
group as Georgia blushed. She'd filled them all in on the basic details of
James's trip to Scotland. And she'd provided the play-by-play to Anita, who had
shared the details of her early return from Nathan's and that she and Marty
were a going concern. The two had made a pact to find some time to talk—without
Cat and the other women from the club hovering around.

* * *

Did they have handbooks on getting divorced?
Because that's what Cat could do. She could write the book on it. K.C. could
hook her up and get it published. The challenge, though, was surviving this
latest ordeal.
Cat waited anxiously for her lawyer's assistant to come for her. She'd been
smart, of course, to prepay at the hotel for three months, one less thing she'd
had to worry about after the credit cards were pulled. (Though, now that she
thought about it, the huge charge was probably what got him to cut her access
in the first place.) Still, three months had seemed like the right amount of
time—most of the summer season without Cat as his perfect hostess—and a vague
assumption she and Adam would drift back together as the year gave way to fall.
Because he couldn't live without her, of course. Her stunt was designed to
recapture his attention. Make him see her as a real person. With ambitions and
ability.
Oh, she'd been more than ready to leave him. That was true enough. But deep
down, she still believed that Adam could change. Look at James, right? And
being on her own wasn't nearly as easy as it was in her imagination. For all
her big talk, Cat had been having doubts.
Now she sat, waiting, summoned to hear what Adam was offering.
"You should come down so we can go over the details in person," her
lawyer had said. And it wasn't as though she had somewhere better to be on this
hot, summery day. (The world was so much hotter when you didn't have an
air-conditioned car waiting everywhere you went, she was learning.) She'd done
her morning with Georgia—"bugging" her, as she'd been told—and then
spent the lunch hour at the gym, followed by nails at a little corner shop.
(Part of her new cost-cutting measures: no more spa manicures.) And then she'd
sauntered on over to…the knitting shop. To meet up with Dakota and chitchat
about the mornings she spent at some sort of day camp, filled with games and
sports and making little knickknacks.
That's what they need for jobless divorcees, she realized. Day camp.
Georgia had pointed out to her, of course, that she couldn't actually spend all
of her time hanging out with an almost-thirteen-year-old girl. And Cat knew in
her heart that there was something, well, lame about a grown woman who had, as
the high point of her day, an hour or two looking at
Teen Beat
and
watching
Beyoncé
on MTV. It's just that it made her
feel as though she was doing something important. Something that wasn't
entirely all about herself.
Still, even Dakota asked her the question. And she hadn't even been mean about
it.
"Don't you have any other friends?" she said, raising her eyebrows,
as Cat talked about all the fun they could have through the summer. "I
mean, I'm going to work in the store like always, and I have drama club on
Tuesdays and Thursdays in August. You know: getting ready for the day when I'm
going to be on Food TV. Sorry, Cat, I guess I don't have as much free time as
you do."
Thirteen years old. And already she had direction.
"I think I've just been dumped," she told Georgia.
"Or maybe you've just been pushing a little too hard," pointed out
her friend. "She's a lucky kid: You and
Peri
for
fashion advice and boy talk, Anita to be her fairy grandmother. And her tired
old mommy to pay the bills and tuck her in at night."
There was no one tucking in Cat these days. Though it was not as if Adam had
ever been the pampering, considerate type. So she shouldn't actually be missing
him. It was the same thing she told herself, every night as she went to bed,
crying. She'd hated him for years. So why should she be longing for him now?
"Mr. Elkins is ready, Mrs. Phillips."
Cat followed the young girl—maybe she should become a lawyer, as K.C. was going
to do?—and sat down across from the good-looking man who represented her.
"How are you, Howard?"
"Fine, Mrs. Phillips, just fine." He typically called her Cat,
flirted a little. Now he was straight down-to-business. "Mr. Phillips
doesn't want to contest the divorce action. In fact, he has offered a
settlement. No hashing it out in court. Just cut and dried—you get this, he
gets that."
"Well, I thought you said this type of thing could take years." She
was surprised, had expected Adam to make a play to win her back. That he wasn't
doing so…that he just wanted to talk through lawyers…stung. Wasn't she more
valuable to him?
"It could have, except that he's willing to deal: a considerable lump sum
and he's offered to buy you an apartment, up to five million dollars, on the
agreement that you waive alimony rights."
"An apartment?"
"Could get you a classic six with a park view in a good building. He's
willing to pull some strings to get you into a building you'd enjoy."
"And in exchange?"
"No alimony, and you agree never to talk to the media—or anyone else—about
the marriage or the settlement."
"Why is he doing this?"
"These things can be very messy—it's best not to create a fuss."
"No! That's not what I mean!" Cat was becoming emotional. If it was
over, so be it. She had wanted the chance to be on her own. But she wasn't
prepared for the feeling of rejection that was welling up inside her. Her voice
came out in a whisper.
"No," she said again. "Why is he just letting me walk away
without a fight?"