Olive Oil and White Bread (19 page)

“I know. I'm sorry.” Angie meant it, but it didn't seem to make Jillian feel any better. She reached for a box, not really knowing what to do with it, feeling—and, she was certain, looking—useless
.

Jillian's sigh was filled with annoyance. “Just leave it. I've got it.”

Angie tried to shake the memory away. “I hate it when she's mad at me.”

“I get that,” Shay said with a nod.

“It just seems like lately, she's always mad. You know? She's got a really short temper and I feel like I've got to tiptoe around her sometimes, but I have no idea why.”

“Have you asked her?”

Angie almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that suggestion. First of all, Jillian was just like her mother—though she'd never admit it. She held things in. Bottled them up. She let Angie try to figure out what was wrong. “If I ask her, she'll just say it's nothing.”

“Typical woman,” Shay said, reaching across to playfully push at Angie's shoulder.

“Right?” Angie grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. Angie wasn't sure what was going on, if Jillian was still annoyed about her hours. Boy, had that become an old argument. And yes, Angie was still working hard, still working long hours, but she was making really good money. They were able to afford nice things, including this house.

Angie had been looking at houses on a whim. Over the past few months, she'd noticed herself paying close attention to “For Sale” signs whenever she was out on a call. There were neighborhoods she really liked, houses less cramped, streets with more privacy, properties that had less of a city and more of a suburban feel. She began to think maybe it was time for them to make that move—to the suburbs. Bigger, better. She didn't go intentionally looking. She just started to observe.

This wasn't the first house that caught her eye. It was more like the fourth or fifth. But it was definitely the best. In the suburbs, on almost two acres, far enough from the city to see the stars. There were four bedrooms, enough for a guest room and a studio for Jillian. A finished basement, a formal dining room, a brand new kitchen, a big yard for Boo. She'd called Jillian's brother Brian, and he got her an appointment. It was perfect. She felt it, and she wanted Jillian to feel it too.

Convincing her wasn't easy.

“Why do we need to move?” she'd asked.

“We don't need to. But don't you think it's time?”

“What does that mean? ‘It's time.' I don't understand. Is this because Dom and Pam have a new house?”

“No. Of course not.” Angie bristled at the comparison. “I just thought maybe a change would be good.” Angie searched for the right words. “This is what couples do when they grow up, you know?” Her laugh came unbidden at the reference to their age. “They move to bigger houses. They move out of the city, away from the hustle and bustle to someplace nicer, more peaceful.”

“It just seems kind of, I don't know, unnecessary,” Jillian shrugged, but Angie could tell she was at least entertaining the idea.

“Just take a look with me.” Angie grabbed her hands. “Come on, baby. We can afford to have a bigger place. Why shouldn't we?”

“All right,” Jillian allowed as her smile broke through. “But only to look.”

That was all Angie had needed: Jillian making a visit.

The rest was history.

Their new house was at the end of a cul-de-sac in a nice, quiet neighborhood that straddled the line between suburbs and country. Angie loved that. She loved the idea of driving home from work and watching the office buildings and stores become parks and farms and fields. Unlike their house in the city, the neighbors here were a good distance away. They wouldn't be looking out their bathroom window and into the window of a bedroom next door. They had space now. Privacy. Peace and quiet.

“I'm going to have a chat with her,” Shay said, yanking Angie back to the present. She shot a wink over her shoulder and followed Jillian's path up the stairs.

Angie inhaled deeply, blew out her breath slowly. Yes, the house was perfect. Now if she could only find a way to make it so with everything else.

“Hey.” Shay found Jillian in a bedroom tapping a finger against her lips, scrutinizing a wall.

Jillian blinked several times as if coming out of a trance. “Oh, hey,
you.” She stepped towards the doorway and wrapped her arms around her much shorter friend. “I'm ignoring you. I'm sorry. Arranging the furniture on the fly is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You don't have to get it all right today, you know.”

“I know. I just like things to be somewhat in order.”

Shay nodded, then pointed to different parts of the room. “I think the dresser there, I like where the bed is, nightstands, and maybe the other dresser . . . here?”

Jillian considered the suggestion. “You might be right.” As two movers came in carrying a large dresser, she pointed them in the direction Shay had chosen, then gave one nod of affirmation. “Perfect.” Turning back to her friend, she asked, “Where's Laura?”

Shay's dark eyes slid away from hers. “Oh, she had some stuff to take care of.”

Jillian studied her face and softened her entire stance when she caught the look of uncertainty zip across. “Hey.” Shay's arm was strong under her fingers. “Are you all right?”

Shay met her gaze, raw confusion in her expression. “I don't know. I just don't know.”

“Come here.” Jillian took Shay's hand and led her to the foot of the bed where they sat on the bare mattress. “Talk to me. What's going on?”

“I don't know,” Shay said again, then blew out a breath of frustration. “Laura's been kind of weird lately. She's quiet, a little distant. We're not talking like we used to. Something's not right.”

“Have you asked her about it?”

Shay scoffed. “I've touched on it, but she brushes me off.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Honestly, Jill, I don't think I want to know.”

Seeing her old friend so emotional worried Jillian, it was so uncommon. Shay was stoic, tough, no-nonsense. Jillian wanted to skirt the issue but she asked anyway, “Do you think she's having an affair?”

A half-sob escaped Shay's throat. “I don't know what else it could be.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Jillian pulled Shay close, hugged her tightly as quiet tears flowed. They stayed like that for several long minutes, Jillian silently pointing to direct the occasional mover who appeared with a box.

Finally, Shay sat up, wiped her wet, blotchy face, and gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “God, I hate this. I feel like a twelve-year-old.”

“Sweetie, you're hurting. That's nothing to be ashamed of.”

A breath in, a breath out. Shay looked in Jillian's eyes. “What do I do?”

“You need to talk to her.”

“Ugh.”

“I know. It won't be easy. But you need to know what's going on and what you're up against. Right?”

“Probably.”

“Shay.” Jillian took her hands. “If you do nothing, nothing will change,” and she thought bitterly over how little improvement had taken place in her own relationship.

“You're right.” A bitter laugh. “I know you're right. But . . . what if she is having an affair?”

“Well, that'll suck.” Their gazes held until they both laughed. “But you'll know, and you'll be able to decide what you want to do.” Her shrug said,
What other option is there?

It was nearly nine o'clock before Jillian and Angie were alone in their new house. Physical exhaustion rivaled emotional as they took paper plates of pizza, cans of beer, and Boo up to their new master bedroom. They collapsed on the still unmade bed, leaning their backs against the wall.

“Oh, my god, I don't think I've ever been this tired. I don't know if even I have the energy to chew this pizza.”

Jillian laughed. “I'm too hungry not to, but there will be no strength left to make the bed. Hope you don't mind sleeping on a bare mattress under a comforter.”

“I could sleep on the basement floor right about now.”

Even Boo seemed too tired to show any interest in their food. She turned in a circle twice at the foot of the bed and settled down to sleep.

They ate in silence. Jillian looked around the room as she chewed, finally pronouncing, “I like this room.”

With a nod, Angie agreed. “Me, too. It's got a good feel, doesn't it?”

“It's the windows. All the light. And I like this tan on the walls. I know I talked about painting it, but I think I'd like to keep it. It looks like melted chocolate ice cream.”

“It does.” They ate some more, then Angie said, “I think this house was meant for us.”

“Yeah? How come?”

“I'm not sure.” Squinching her eyes up in thought didn't help Angie find the right words. “It's just a feeling. I had it as soon as we walked in the first time.”

“I like that.” Jillian grinned. “All I can say is, I'm so glad we didn't move in the dead of winter this time.”

“Who says we don't learn from our mistakes?” Angie laughed, and they tapped their beer cans together in solidarity.

They ate their pizza in companionable silence for several long moments before one of them spoke again

“Shay thinks Laura's cheating on her.” Jillian wasn't even aware she'd been thinking about it until the words blurted out of her mouth.

Angie's head snapped around. “What?”

Jillian nodded. “She's worried.”

“Oh, man. That's rough. Do you think she is?”

“You know her better than I do.”

“I know, but we've kind of drifted.” Angie shrugged.

“Well, I do know Shay. She's not the kind of person to worry needlessly. Of course, I've never seen her so head over heels for somebody the way she is for Laura, so maybe she's overreacting.” She sighed. “I don't know.”

“Well, all we can do is be there for them. Her. Them.” Angie grimaced. “I hope it's a big misunderstanding. I don't want to have to pick sides.”

“We wouldn't,” Jillian said, then looked at Angie. “Would we?”

Angie lifted one shoulder. “Wouldn't we?”

“I have no idea. I say we cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it.”

“Deal. Let's talk about our new house some more instead.”

Jillian was surprised that despite their exhaustion, Angie unpacked
a couple small boxes as they talked, setting the marketing and business books she'd recently purchased on her nightstand. She'd been reading a lot of that type of thing lately, Jillian had noticed, and she regarded them warily.

When Angie settled back down, they spent a while longer talking about each individual room, paint colors, furniture arrangement, future remodeling projects, and other changes they hoped to make. The ideas would have energized Jillian if she hadn't been so bone tired already. Her summer break had just started, though, and she had two long months with nothing to do but work on her new house. And maybe her art.