The Good Wife (22 page)

Lauren knew she still had a long way to go in terms of dealing with Blake and his death, but she wasn’t quite as raw as she’d been last Thanksgiving. Yes, the pain was there, a constant throbbing, but it didn’t consume her morning, noon, and night. It really only hurt bad at night. As that was when she was alone, in the dark, with nothing but her thoughts.

“Have any idea when you’re going to come back?” Lisa asked, tone casual, but Lauren knew from her sister’s expression that there was nothing casual behind the question.

Lauren started to answer, then stopped. Should she tell Lisa now that she wasn’t sure she was coming back? Should she wait until she’d bought Mama’s Café from Mimi? Until she was sure Mimi would sell to her?

“Mom said you might not return anytime soon,” Lisa added after a moment. “She said you might be done. Is that true?”

Lauren made a face. “That was nice of Mom.”

“She knows I’m torn about returning to work. I’m supposed to go back soon, but I don’t want to leave Audrey.”

“Then don’t.” Lauren was firm. “If you don’t have to work, and you can afford to stay home with her, and you want to stay home, stay.”

“And the restaurant?”

“It’s just a restaurant. Sell it.”

“We are making money.”

“That’s got to be appealing to a buyer.”

Lisa glanced down at Audrey. “We’ve had offers.”

“Recently?”

“Last month.”

“Was it a bad offer?”

“No. It was a very generous offer.”

“So why didn’t you accept it?”

“I couldn’t.” Lisa looked at Lauren, expression stricken. “Because if we sell the restaurant, you have nothing to come home to.”

“Oh, Lisa,” Lauren whispered. For a moment she couldn’t speak. “I don’t come home because of the restaurant, I come home because of you! And now there’s Audrey. And Mom and Dad, who are over the moon being grandparents again.”

Lisa wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t mention Matthieu. Do you still dislike him that much?”

“Lisa, I love your Matthieu. I think he’s awesome. Gorgeous and sweet and sexy and awesome—”

“Okay, well, maybe that’s enough.”

Lauren grinned and dragged a handful of glossy brown hair back from her face, relishing the smell of fertile, sunbaked soil and Lisa’s white roses and lavender that bordered the garden.

Suddenly the conversation she’d had with their mother two weeks ago came back to her and she turned to Lisa. “Speaking of men. Did you tell Mom I’m gay?”

“No!” Lisa spluttered, then snorted. Audrey lifted her tiny head and looked up at her mother, eyes barely able to focus, and Lisa, still giggling, touched the baby’s cheek, encouraging her to latch back on. “Did Mom say I did?”

“Not exactly. But she and Dad seem to think I am.”

“That’s hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious. And I’m not gay. I’m just not interested in dating anyone.”

“No one?”

“No.”

“There is absolutely not one man that’s caught your eye since you’ve moved to Alameda?” Lisa demanded.

“Well . . . okay, there is this one guy.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Because he’s married.”

“Oh, Lauren.
No
.”

Lauren grimaced. Married women obviously didn’t want to hear that single women had crushes on married men. “I wouldn’t go out with him. I just meant that he’s a dude, and he’s appealing, so there’s hope . . . you know?”

But Lisa wasn’t buying it. “For you to mention a man . . . that’s significant.”

“You asked!”

“So how do you know him? Does he live in your apartment building? What does he do? Does he know you’re interested?”

“Oh my God, Lisa. I’m not interested. And even if he were single, I wouldn’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“He’s too . . . good-looking.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Well, there is. And I don’t want to get involved with someone who is that handsome. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Is he really that attractive?”

Lauren nodded. “And he’s tall. Built. Serious muscles. The girls at work call him Spartacus.”

“The girls? I thought all your waitresses were senior citizens.”

Lauren laughed. “Most of them are, but we do have a few younger ones, and young and old have nicknamed him Spartacus due to him being gorgeous and looking like a gladiator.”

Lisa fanned herself. “Keep going.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “See? That’s why I wouldn’t date him even if he were single. But since he’s not, I can be his friend and enjoy his company. And I do. I feel good around him. Safe.”

“Aha!” Lisa cried, and again Audrey looked up, confused.

Unable to resist, Lauren leaned forward and gently stroked the back of the baby’s head. Her head was warm, her dark hair silky. Lauren’s heart turned over. So amazing, the miracle of life.

“You don’t have to act flirtatious around him to get into trouble,” Lisa said after a moment. “Just caring for him is dangerous.”

“How?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t be rude!” Lauren retorted.

“You’re too pretty,” Lisa said bluntly.

“I’m not.”

“You are. But you avoid the mirror, so you don’t know how you look, but you’re beautiful, inside and out, and I’m telling you this straight up so you will realize that not many women—make that not
any
woman—is going to want you hanging around her man.”

Lauren’s insides churned. She fussed with a button on her thin knit sweater. She didn’t want to hurt any woman. She certainly didn’t want to hurt a marriage.

“So what do I do? Tell him he can’t come to the café anymore?”

“Yes. Or you put him in someone else’s section and you keep him at arm’s length. Limit chitchat. Don’t smile too much. Don’t be too warm. Don’t act happy to see him.” Lisa’s gaze rested on Lauren’s face and she registered the flicker of emotion that crossed Lauren’s features. “Have you really fallen that hard for him, Lu-Lu?” she said, reverting to the name she’d given Lauren when she was just a baby.

Lauren tugged on the small button. “Haven’t fallen. Possibly falling.”

“Then stop falling right now.” Lisa’s voice was stern, and it put a lump in Lauren’s throat.

Lisa put the baby on her shoulder and began patting her back. “There’s a pattern here. You see it, right? And you nailed it when you said you went for safe. You really do.”

Lauren bit down.

“You go for guys who can’t hurt you,” Lisa continued. “Guys already committed elsewhere. Damien—gay. Which made him safe. This guy at your work, married, which makes him safe. So why like a hot guy who is single when you can fall for a married man who can’t pursue you, or reject you, because he’s already got a woman?”

“That’s silly. I don’t think that way—”

“Oh, you do, absolutely you do, and have since John smashed your heart when you were seventeen. But honestly, Lauren, he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t. The asshole took your virginity in a friggin’ shed!”

Lauren’s eyes bugged open. “You read my diary!”

“Of course I read your diary. I’ve read every word you ever wrote.”

Lauren spluttered indignantly. “That’s wrong.”

“Okay, it was. Sorry about that. But the point is, he was an asshole when he first had sex with you, and an asshole when he and his richy-rich folks insisted you terminate the pregnancy, and an asshole when he never acknowledged Blake’s birth, or death, so we know what we’re dealing with. An asshole.

“And we know this, definitively,” Lisa continued, nowhere close to being done talking. “He’s on his second marriage—his first wife has nothing nice to say about him. I read the interview with her in
Redbook
magazine a couple of months back—and you are lucky, Lauren Summer,
lucky
to be free of him. John wouldn’t have added a damn thing to your life. In fact, from what his ex-wife said in the interview, he would have just sucked you dry, the way he sucked her soul and spirit from her. So move on. Not all men are like John. There are really nice ones out there. I know. I married one. Matthieu is wonderful—” She broke off as Audrey burped. Lisa smiled, pleased, before concluding, “. . . but not perfect. We have our fights. Our problems. But I like him. A lot.”

“That’s good. Because you married him.”

“I did. And I want you to have what I have, but you can’t, you won’t, not if you don’t put yourself out there. You’re going to have to take some risks. Open yourself up to hurt, and rejection. Give up the need for safe.”

“Don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can. You’re strong, Lauren, so much stronger than you think.”

Lauren heard what her sister was saying but she couldn’t go there, not yet, and so she shook her head.

Maybe one day she could date.

Maybe one day she could feel pretty and sexy.

But it wasn’t now. Wasn’t yet.

“Don’t shake your head. Don’t do that. You’re thirty-five, Lauren. Don’t you want to have more? A husband . . . a family—”

“I had a family.”

Lisa’s eyes clouded. “No one can ever replace Blake. No one will ever replace him. Not in your heart. Or mine. Or Mom and Dad’s. We all loved him. He was everyone’s boy.” Her voice cracked and she drew a slow, deep breath. “But that boy wasn’t a sponge. He didn’t just take love. He gave it back. One hundred percent. And Lord, Lauren, he loved you. You say he was the sun, but you were his sun and moon and he wasn’t even going to go away to go to college because he couldn’t bear leaving you alone.”

Lauren bowed her head, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to see.

It hurt. Badly. And she wanted her boy. She wanted him back. She’d give anything to have him back, and yet she knew that was impossible. But it didn’t stop her from dreaming. Didn’t stop her from needing, craving, aching.

They said a mother’s love was endless, bottomless, and it was true. Even with Blake gone, the love went on and on. Just as it always would. The love made him real, and it was all she had left of him.

This deep ache.

This pain.

This burn.

“I just wish I could talk to him, see him,” Lauren whispered, arms bundled tightly over her chest. “Make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” Lisa answered huskily.

Lauren lifted her head. Audrey had also stopped nursing and was listening intently.

“How do you know?” Lauren asked.

“He’s on the other side. With Grandma and Grandpa, and you know they’re taking care of him. You know how they loved him when he was a baby, always fighting Mom and Dad for a chance to take care of him.”

Lauren swallowed hard and smiled through her tears. “Everybody loved him.”

“Everybody. And he’s still loved, and I bet all he wants is for you to be loved. It’s what he always wanted for you. To have someone to take care of you after he was gone.”

Lauren’s lower lip trembled and she bit into it. “But I didn’t need anyone else. I had Blake.”

“Children don’t stay with us forever. They grow up, they move out, they sometimes move far away. Come on, Lauren, baby, can’t you see it . . . can’t you understand that Blake was never meant to be your everything? Yes, you loved him, yes, you adored him, but he wasn’t you. He was just part of you, and the rest of you now has to go on.”

Fourteen

M
onday morning came way too early.

Lauren turned off her alarm three times before finally throwing back the covers and dragging herself to the shower. Four
A.M
. was too early, she groused. Four was insane.

In the shower she washed her hair and rinsed it in cold water, needing the chilly temperature to wake her up and shake off her lethargic mood.

Four cakes today, she told herself, drying her hair. Four cakes, five pies, and if she found the time, bread pudding. She hadn’t made bread pudding for Mama’s yet, but it was a natural. A rich bread pudding laced with golden raisins and topped with a warm praline bourbon sauce.

But riding her bike to work, Lauren knew why she was making bread pudding. It was for Boone. The A’s were supposed to be back in town today.

Lisa would be so disgusted.

Lauren put Lisa out of her mind.

Phyllis was already at the café when she arrived. “Five minutes late,” the waitress chided, but she was smiling. She’d begun to come in a half hour early to help Lauren with the baking. Turned out she had a gift for piecrust and cream fillings. “First time this year. What did you do last night? Have a date?”

Lauren unlocked the restaurant and held the door open for Phyllis. “No. But I was in Napa for the weekend.”

“How’s that baby?” Phyllis asked, rolling up her sleeves in the kitchen and preparing to get to work.

“Gorgeous. Giving me massive baby cravings.”

Phyllis shot her a swift glance. “You like kids?”

Lauren pictured seventeen-year-old Blake stretched out on the sofa watching TV, all lanky and long, his limbs hanging off the faded cushions, his hand buried in a cereal box.
Come watch this, Mom, it’s funny.
Of course the segment was never funny, just gross. Boys.

Lauren took a quick breath. “I do.”

Phyllis was already measuring out flour and salt and preparing to cut in the butter. “You want them someday?”

“If it works out,” Lauren answered.

“Never married?”

Lauren flipped open her cookbook to her favorite cake recipes, recipes she’d tinkered with and doctored over the years until they were perfect, and perfectly her. “No.”

Six hours later she was in middle of bussing a table when she knew he was there.

Boone was back. She could tell, without even turning around, feeling the sizzle of energy he brought with him, an energy that surrounded him, illuminating him, making him bigger, stronger, more physical. More real. More potent.

He took his usual spot, right in the middle of the counter, and spread the newspaper out on either side of him, discouraging folks from taking the seat next to him.

“You’re back,” she said, smiling as she greeted him, aware that her hands were suddenly damp and her heart was beating a little faster than it should. He wasn’t the one for her . . . he wasn’t.

“Flew in late last night.”

“Phyllis said you were in Minneapolis.”

He nodded. “Started there, and then we played the Royals.”

“How did you guys do?”

He shrugged tiredly. “Good enough.”

“You look like you need a break. When do you get a day off?”

“Just had a day off, but it was a travel day, so it wasn’t all that relaxing.”

“Why didn’t you sleep in today, then?”

“I’m in a different time zone. But tomorrow it’ll be better. The first day home is always the hardest.”

She nodded, sympathetic. She didn’t travel, but she struggled with insomnia and knew firsthand how hard it was to function when you were sleep-deprived. “Let me get you some coffee, then.”

She took his order, left him to his paper, but kept an eye on his coffee as she took care of her other customers.

The door opened at one point, flooding the café with sunshine. Lauren paused and glanced out the open door at the cloudless blue sky. Beautiful day. But then, Napa had been beautiful all weekend—those golds and greens of the wine country were so inviting.

When Boone’s order came up, she brought him his meal, plus a small dish of her bread pudding with the bourbon sauce. “I want your opinion about the bread pudding,” she said. “That is, if you like bread pudding.”

“I love bread pudding. It’s one of my mom’s specialties.”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear what you think.”

He tried it right there and then, taking a big bite with his spoon. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, took another bite. “It’s good,” he said with a nod. “Really good.”

She leaned in, hearing an unspoken
but
in there somewhere. “So what’s wrong with it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No, there’s something. I hear it in your voice.”

“There
is
something, but it’s just my opinion. I don’t think you need the bourbon sauce. And I like bourbon sauce, and this is a good bourbon sauce, but the bread pudding is flavorful on its own, and I think in this case, the sauce overwhelms everything else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So are you going to add the bread pudding to the menu?”

“Only if you think I should.”

“I think you must.”

She smiled, refilled his coffee, and moved on to take care of her tables, but she hummed as she worked, happy.

He really liked her bread pudding. Her day was a success.

It wasn’t until he looked ready to go that she returned to the counter and presented him his check.

“Do you ever get back to New Orleans?” she asked, glancing around to make sure no one needed her. But things had slowed down. Tables were emptying out and there were no customers waiting to be seated.

“Haven’t in a while, but I’ll be moving back when I retire.”

“You have family there?”

“My mom.”

“She must be happy that you’ll be going back.”

“She is.”

“Does she ever come watch you play?”

“She’s not a big fan of baseball. Mom hoped I’d go to med school. Wanted me to be a doctor like my dad. But I wasn’t interested in medical school. Have never wanted to do anything but play ball.”

“So what will you do when you retire?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far.”

“What do most players do when they retire?”

“Depends on the player’s age, and experience. Some guys have to get a job right away, others enjoy retirement. I know a lot of guys who sell cars, or start a business. Some of the smarter ones are able to live off their investments.”

“Can’t imagine being able to retire in your thirties, or even forties,” she said. “My dad’s seventy this year and he still works every day.”

“What’s he do?”

“He’s a rancher in Napa.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

She nodded. “Born and raised. Used to have a restaurant in downtown Napa with my sister, but then I came here in September to manage the café.”

“Why did you leave Napa?”

“Thought it was time for a change.”

“Change is good,” he agreed.

“Change is great.” She headed to the register to get him change but Boone didn’t wait for her to return, meeting her at the register instead.

“I don’t know what your schedule is,” he said, taking the cash she gave him, having already left her tip on the counter. “But if you’re out of here early enough, why don’t you come to the game tonight? I can put you and a friend on the pass list.”

Lauren looked to the window and the bright swath of sunlit sky. She never went anywhere after work. Just the café and her apartment, back and forth, back and forth. “Does sound fun,” she said.

“Then come. What’s your last name? I’ll have it on the list. Just check in at will-call, they’ll give you tickets.”

“I don’t know who I’d take.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

Lauren flushed, suddenly self-conscious. “No.”

“How about bring Phyllis, or Bette, or that new girl . . . what’s her name?”

“Karen. And maybe one of them will come, or maybe I can find a friend. Do I need to give you a name now?”

“No. The tickets will be in your name. Just show up, and if you get to the park early enough, come down to the field and say hi.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That wouldn’t be awkward?”

“Awkward how?”

“You don’t think people will talk?”

He frowned. “Why?” His frown deepened and then his expression changed as he understood what she was saying. “I’m not hitting on you, Lauren. I’m just offering you tickets to a game.”

“I . . . didn’t mean it . . . that way,” she stammered.
Or had she?

From behind the grill, Bob called to her. “Order up, boss.”

“Better go grab that,” she murmured, uncomfortable and confused, and desperate to escape,

But Boone put a hand out, stopping her. “Have I led you on somehow? Said something wrong—”

“Oh God, no!” Lauren shoved her hand behind her back, mortified, and terrifyingly close to tears. She never cried at work, and wasn’t going to cry now. “
No
. I was just thinking about your wife, wanting to be respectful.”

Boone’s gaze searched hers. “I love my wife.”

Her throat ached, and her chest squeezed tight. She didn’t understand men. She’d never dated a lot. Had Blake in high school and then just a few dates here and there before meeting Damien four years ago. She’d liked Damien, a lot, and he had adored her, and Blake. She’d thought that maybe she’d found someone special, someone gentle and kind, someone who didn’t push her physically because he cared about
her,
respected
her
—

And he did.

But that was because he liked her. Loved her as a person. But it was purely platonic. They were close, maybe fast becoming best friends, but it wasn’t a romance. He was gay. But she knew that, right?

She hadn’t. And Lauren had felt stupid, so very, very stupid, when he told her.

She felt just as stupid now.

“Let’s just forget the game,” she whispered, embarrassed. “Maybe another time.”

But Boone shook his head. “No, I still want you to come tonight. It’d be good for you to get out. From what Phyllis says, you don’t get out much—”

“I’m fine.”

He gave her a sharp look. “And we both know that fine isn’t fine.”

Lauren suddenly smiled a lopsided smile. “I hate it when people use my words against me.”

“You’ll have fun tonight. I’ll introduce you to some of the players, and you’ll sit with the families and friends—”

“Uh, families?”

“And friends. There’s some kind of giveaway, too. But remember, come down to the field during batting practice and warm-ups and say hello so I know you got in okay.”

He tipped his head at her and then headed out, pushing open the café door to step into the dazzling California sun.

Lauren watched him go, heart thumping, feeling emotions she hadn’t felt in years, feeling emotions she shouldn’t feel for him.

He wasn’t hers.

He would never be hers.

He wasn’t a man she could fall for.

* * *

T
he new waitress, Karen, went with Lauren to the game. Lauren had been unsure about actually going, but Karen—a die-hard A’s fan—knew everything about the Coliseum, from what to wear (a jersey and shorts, or a jersey and jeans), to how to get there, to which parking lot was best.

Lauren didn’t have a jersey and instead wore a white T-shirt to avoid clashing with the team’s colors. Reaching the stadium, they parked and Karen hurried her to the will-call booth, then steered her to the right entrance and on down to the lower seats next to the field to get as close to the players during warm-ups as possible.

They were just like Blake and his friends, Lauren thought, watching players lob the ball back and forth as others took practice cuts, while still others did easy sprints in the outfield . . . only she and Karen were big kids.

Big kids, she thought, gradually becoming aware that she was just one of many crowding the fence. Kids clinging to the fence were cute. The women in tight T-shirts and skimpy dresses weren’t. Lauren drew back, self-conscious, not wanting to be one of the overzealous females trying to draw attention to herself.

Karen didn’t have any qualms about making a fool of herself. She whistled loudly when Boone headed into the cage for batting practice. He looked up, she lifted her hands, gave him the Shaka, and whistled again when he nodded acknowledgment.

“He saw me!” Karen crowed happily, climbing the stairs to join Lauren at the next level.

“I saw,” Lauren said.

“This is so cool,” Karen enthused. “Do you think he can get me some autographs?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go ask.” She dashed back down the stairs, pushing up to the fence. Boone was still in the cage, swinging, but as he finished he stepped out, adjusted his batting glove, and looked up into the stands.

Karen shouted something down to him, he nodded, he asked something, and Karen pointed behind her, to where Lauren stood.

Boone looked up, spotted Lauren on the landing, and gestured for her to come down. She shook her head. He rolled his eyes, gestured again, and Lauren reluctantly headed down, watching the kids swarm Boone, baseballs and programs and Sharpies in hand.

Boone was signing autographs as Lauren reached the fence. “Is it always like this?”

“This is nothing,” he said, handing a ball back to a little girl, then tapping her lightly on the brim of her hat. “You should see it in New York, or Philadelphia. Fans are rabid there. This is pretty tame.” He looked up at Lauren. “Haven’t you been to a professional baseball game before?”

Lauren shook her head. “No.”

“No? Never?”

She shook her head again, stepping aside to let two teenage girls pass.

“But you know the game, right?” he asked, signing a program and then another quick scrawl on someone’s miniature souvenir bat. “You’ve seen it played?”

“Yes.”

Someone on the field shouted something to Boone and he glanced over, nodded, and signed one more autograph before stepping back. He lifted his hands, indicating he was done. “Got to go,” he said, and then smiled good-naturedly at the resulting groans and boos.

“Good luck!” Lauren called to him.

He winked at her and jogged out onto the field, and as he jogged away, his uniform pants clinging to his powerful legs, Lauren’s insides did a funny little flip.