The Smart One and the Pretty One (2 page)
“It’s pretty,” he said obediently. “How much?”
“Eighty-nine.”
“You know what would help?” he said. “If you put it on. So I could see what it looks like. Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” Lauren said, but the clasp was a tricky one and the little hook kept slipping out of the link.
The guy said, “Let me help,” so she handed the necklace to him and gathered her long hair in one hand to bare her neck as she turned her back to him. He leaned over the counter that was between them and strung the chain out above her chest, then brought it around to the nape of her neck. His fingers brushed against her skin—possibly more than was necessary, but she wasn’t sure and decided to ignore it.
Once it was fastened, she turned again with a bright smile, letting her hair drop back into place. She touched the necklace to reassure herself that the stone hit just below the hollow at the base of her neck. “There,” she said. “How beautiful is that? If you don’t buy it for your girlfriend, I might have to buy it for myself. And I can’t afford to go around buying myself any more jewelry, so you’d better take it.”
“It looks great,” he said. “But I’m not sure the necklace can take the credit. I bet everything looks good on you.”
“Hardly.” She reached up behind her neck again. Fortunately, it was easier to undo the clasp than to fasten it. “Shall I wrap it?”
“It’s a go,” he said with a nod.
While she was tying a ribbon around the box, another customer walked in. Lauren looked up and said, “Hi—be right with you,” and the woman said “Take your time” and wandered over to the sweaters.
“There you are!” Lauren said, slipping the box into a bag and handing it to the guy. “I hope she enjoys it.”
“Me too,” he said and took the box out of the bag and held it out to her. Lauren stared at it uncomprehendingly. Then he said, “It’s for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“It looked so good on you,” he said. “I think you should have it.”
“You’re so funny,” Lauren said, trying to pass it off as a joke, give them both an out. Flirting with a male customer was one thing—it was practically in her job description—but the flirting was supposed to end as soon as the charge was approved.
Apparently he hadn’t read the rulebook. “No, really. Take it.” He put the box on the counter between them and pushed it toward her.
“I can’t.” She folded her arms. “Take it home and give it to your girlfriend. She’s going to love it.”
“If you’re not comfortable taking a gift from a stranger, then give me a chance to get to know you. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I doubt there’ll be enough birthday cake for all three of us,” Lauren said.
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I know.” She gave the box a backhanded slap. It flew across the counter and the guy had to make a dive for it before it hit the floor. She took advantage of the moment to escape from behind the counter and quickly hail the new customer, who had some question about hat sizes.
The guy lingered for a little while longer, trying to catch her eye, but she pointedly ignored him, and eventually he gave up and left, carrying the little box with him.
At least his girlfriend would get a pretty necklace, Lauren thought, though she suspected it might get thrown back in his face sometime in the not too distant future.
A few weeks later, Ava returned to her office from a meeting to find that her father had sent her and Lauren a joint e-mail. The subject line said, “Serious news.”
The entire body of the e-mail read “Your mother has cancer. Call home.”
“Oh my God,” she said out loud and grabbed the phone. Her parents’ line was busy: her father refused to get call waiting because he thought clicking over to a new call was disrespectful to the original caller.
She kept trying, dialing with trembling fingers that fumbled and hit the wrong buttons, but the line stayed busy. After a few minutes of this, Jeremy buzzed in to tell her that she had a call.
It was Lauren, who didn’t bother to greet her, just said, “Have you spoken to Mom and Dad yet?”
“Not yet. I was in a meeting and only just got Dad’s e-mail. My God, Lauren,
Mom
. . .”
“I know, I was freaking out, too, but it’s okay.” The normalness of Lauren’s voice was the most reassuring thing Ava had ever heard. “I can’t believe Dad told us like that. The man is insane. Mom’s fine, Ava. They just found a few cancer cells in one of her breasts—I mean, literally, we’re talking a few
cells
. They’ll blast them with some mild chemotherapy and she’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I talked to Mom about it. She was actually laughing at me for being so upset. Dad sent that e-mail without even asking her. Anyway, you should call them, of course, but don’t worry. Everything’s okay.” Her voice broke on the last word and there were little sighing sounds. It took Ava a few seconds to realize that her sister was crying. “I’m sorry,” Lauren said, her voice thick. “I’ve been doing this ever since I got the e-mail, even though I know everything’s fine. I think it was the shock of thinking Mom
could
be that sick.”
“I know what you mean,” Ava said. “But she’s not, right?”
“But what if something goes wrong? Or there’s a next time and it’s more serious? They’re getting old, Ava.” She took an audible deep breath. “Anyway, you should call Mom now. But remember—
don’t overreact
.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ava said. She hung up on Lauren and called home.
Her father answered. “Finally you call.”
“I only just got your e-mail a few minutes ago,” she said. “But I spoke to Lauren and—”
“You called
her
before you called us?”
“Your line was busy,” Ava said. “And
she
called
me
, which by the way is what normal people do when they have to give scary bad news. They pick up the phone—they don’t send mass e-mails telling people their mother has cancer.”
“I had to do it by e-mail,” he said. “You know how touchy you girls are. No matter who I called first, the other one would have been hurt.”
“That’s not true,” Ava said.
“It is true,” he said. “Lauren called us right away, you know.”
Ava let out a slow breath between her teeth. “May I talk to Mom?”
“I think you should,” he said seriously and put her mother on the phone.
Her mother sounded oddly cheerful. “It’s good to hear from you, sweetie!” she said. “How are things at work?”
“Fine,” Ava said. “How are
you
?”
“I’m so fine it’s embarrassing,” Nancy said. “I’m sorry about that e-mail. Your father wanted you girls to know as soon as possible that I’m dealing with this
thing
, but it’s really nothing all that serious.”
“Tell me exactly what the doctor said.”
“He said I have a few cancerous cells in my breast. It’s hardly even a lump—just the beginning of one.”
“How’d they find it?”
“Oh, something showed up on a mammogram and then they did a biopsy and it came back positive.”
Ava felt vaguely that a good daughter would have already known that her mother was having breast cells biopsied, but she hadn’t. She wondered if Lauren had.
Her mother was still talking. “—the thing about this family,” she said. “I love you all dearly, but little things become big ones. First your dad with that over-the-top e-mail, and then Lauren calling up sobbing as though the world had ended and insisting on coming home—”
“She’s coming home?” Ava said. “She didn’t tell me that.”
“Day after tomorrow. I told her not to, but she insisted. She’s been living across the country from us for years and suddenly she can’t be apart from me for one more day. She can be so melodramatic.”
“Yeah,” Ava said. “I’ve met her.”
“But since she
is
coming, I thought we could all have dinner together Friday night. Can you make it?”
“I’ve got to check,” Ava said, pulling her keyboard closer so she could get to her online calendar.
“You have to come,” her mother said. “It’s my dying wish. You have to honor your mother’s dying wish to get her family together.”
“That’s not funny,” Ava said.
“It’s a little bit funny,” her mother said. “See you on Friday.”
T
ime for a toast,” Lauren said, standing up. She was wearing a silk slip dress, which she had layered over a pair of wool and silk capri leggings, a look that practically screamed “autumn in L.A.” to her—which is why she had bought the whole outfit right before flying back home. She raised her glass to Nancy. “To our mommy. Because we love her and should remember to tell her so even when she’s not sick.”
“Hear, hear,” Ava said, raising her own glass to her lips.
“To my wife,” said their father. “Whose health is precious to us all.” He drank.
“Had to rewrite me, didn’t you, Dad?” Lauren said.
“She’s not
my
mommy,” he said.
“I liked both versions,” Nancy said.
Lauren looked at her mother’s familiar, very pretty face, framed by fire-red hair (L’Oréal Preference Intense Dark Red, she knew now as she hadn’t as a child), and felt a sudden ache. She had barely seen her mother in the last few years, hardly spent any time with her since going off to college in New York. Once she had moved across the country, she pretty much only ever bothered to call home when she was walking somewhere, which meant she was usually distracted and in a rush. But that fear she had felt when she read the e-mail her father sent, the fear that had sent her flying across the country to see her mother immediately—
that
had shaken her up, made her realize that knowing her mother was always waiting for her back home was what allowed her to roam freely, and that if she ever lost that base, she would come crashing down, alone and scared.
The doorbell rang as they set their glasses down. “Who would come by
now
?” Jimmy said. “It’s dinnertime.”
“Probably a solicitor.” Nancy pushed her chair back.
“I’ll take care of it,” Lauren said. “You sit.” She ran to the front door and threw it open. A young Asian girl stood alone there, wearing what was unmistakably a school uniform: a blue and white plaid jumper and a white polo shirt. She had long straight black hair pulled back by a matching plaid headband. “Hey, who ordered the little girl?” Lauren called out.
Nancy emerged from the dining room. “Oh, hi, Kayla!” she said. “How are you? Kayla lives next door,” she said to Lauren, gesturing toward the south side of the house.
“I’m very well, thank you,” the little girl said. She spoke very gravely and precisely. She held up a large yellow envelope. “My mother said I could come ask you about this. My school is doing a walkathon. Would you be willing to sponsor me? It’s for a good cause.”
“Of course,” Nancy said. “Let me just get my purse.” While she went to get it, Lauren and Kayla were left alone again.
“It’s a good thing to do,” Lauren said, feeling that, as the adult, she was responsible for making conversation. “Raising money for charity.”
“Uh-huh,” Kayla said.
“What
is
the cause?”
Kayla stole a glance down at the big yellow envelope she held in her hand. “Cerebral palsy?” she said.
Nancy returned with her purse. As she opened it and pulled out her wallet, Lauren said to her, “I thought the whatstheirnames lived next door. You know. The ones who had that yearly Halloween party.”
“They haven’t lived there for years,” Nancy said. She handed Kayla a couple of bills. “Here’s twenty dollars, sweetie.”
“Thank you.” Kayla carefully tucked the money into her envelope.
“I want to sponsor you too,” Lauren said with sudden conviction. “Just let me get some money.” She ran to the family room to get her purse. She took out her wallet and opened it up—and realized she only had two dollars left.
“Shit!” she said out loud, desperately searching through all the folds of the wallet, hoping she would find a twenty hidden and forgotten somewhere. But those two dollars were it. She could write a check, but her checking account was completely depleted and bouncing a check to a charitable organization probably guaranteed you a seat by the fire in hell. Lately she had been charging everything—she would deal with the repercussions later—but she doubted Kayla could accept a credit card.
She threw her purse on the sofa, angry at it. She had wanted to make the little girl like her, and now she was going to look like an idiot.
Then she spotted Ava’s handbag.
“Here!” she said, running back into the foyer a minute later. “Take this.” She thrust thirty dollars at Kayla.
“Wow, thanks,” Kayla said and put it in the envelope. Then Nancy told her to say hi to her parents and they watched as Kayla crossed their front yard and was safely welcomed back inside her house.
“Man, she’s cute,” Lauren said as Nancy closed the door.
“You should see her little brother. I may have to steal him one day and raise him as my own. We lent them our power drill once, so I think it’s fair.”
“What was all that about?” Ava asked as they returned to the dining room. She had stacked a bunch of dishes while they were gone and was on her feet, about to carry them into the kitchen. Jimmy was still sitting at the head of the table, sipping his wine. Lauren had never seen him clear a dish in her life.
“The little girl next door was collecting for some charity,” Lauren said.
“Kayla?” Ava asked Nancy, who nodded. “I love that kid,” Ava said. “She’s like a forty-year-old CEO in an eight-year-old’s body.”
“Oh, I had to raid your wallet, A,” Lauren said.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t have any cash, so I borrowed thirty bucks from you.”
“Borrowed?” Ava repeated. “As in you’ll pay it back?”
“One hopes,” Lauren said cheerfully. “You should have seen her earnest little face—I had to give her
something
.”
“It’s easy to be generous when it’s not your money,” Ava said.
“I would have been generous with my own money. I just didn’t happen to have any. And you’re a rich lawyer.”
Ava turned to their mother. “You see why this is annoying to me, don’t you?”