Walk on Water (14 page)

Preparing to be seen with you
, I thought but did not say. I hoped Corrine wouldn’t say it either. Luke needed a shave. I guessed this was part of Corrine’s
old money
casual, the simple act of looking good without really trying.

“Spending money,” I casually replied. “What else?”

Corrine was poking me in the ribs.

“Corrine Wallace,” I obliged. “Luke Sterling.”

“Hello Corrine,” Luke said extending his gloved right hand to her.

“Luke the Magnificent,” she gushed. “Rachel talks about you non-stop.”

That was neither fair, nor exactly true, and it was embarrassing, but Luke grinned.

“Hope I can still count on your vote,” he joked with Corrine and winked at me.

“It’s a landslide,” declared Corrine.

Luke’s companion joined us.

“I see Sterling’s hogging all the pretty women for himself as usual,” the man teased. “I’m Ted Robbins.”

“In the interest of full disclosure,” Luke added. “He dragged me in here today to look for a birthday present for his wife.”

“Too bad for me,” quipped Corrine as she was shaking Ted’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, although I thought I might have seen him before, possibly at one of Luke’s parties from twenty years ago.

“So what are you giving Mrs. Robbins?” Corrine asked Ted.

“I was thinking about a nice watch,” Ted answered.

“Okay, come on, cowboy,” Corrine said, taking Ted by the arm. “Let’s see what two men call ‘nice’. I may need to intervene on my sister’s behalf.”

“Corrine, we—” I tried to conduct my own intervention but they were already walking away.

“She’s something,” Luke chuckled when we were alone.

“Something
else
,” I said.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you. Thought you stayed out of the mall on Saturdays.”

“A fashion emergency,” I replied too honestly. “Well an urgency anyway.”

Luke smiled.

“Hot date tonight?” he asked.

Brian had called, but I had put him off again. Tonight I really was washing my hair and keeping company with Agatha and T-T, but maybe I should be coy about it.

“Not tonight,” I said in a tone that left room for some possibilities for the weekend. “What about you? Anything special on the menu at Chez Luke tonight?”

“Beer and pizza,” he replied.

And Stephanie
, I thought.

“And DVDs?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

Luke had always been better at
the game
than I was. While we made chit-chat about how crowded the store was and the early Christmas decorations, I wondered if he even realized that I wanted him to invite me over, that I wanted to be on that lovely leather couch again. And this time I would stay on it. If it meant literally sitting on my hands then I would do it, I would stay beside him. God—I had to get myself a new center of the universe!

“So what’d you buy?” Luke finally got around to asking.

“Oh, a blouse,” I replied. “And shoes. A belt.”

He nodded as if he approved, and silly me was on the verge of showing him like I needed that approval.

“Maybe we should rescue your friend,” I suggested as a tactical maneuver. “Corrine can break a bank faster than anybody I know.”

“I say we let her,” replied Luke. “Lizzie’s pretty terrific and deserves it.”

“Have you and Ted been friends a long time?” I asked more for something to say than any other reason.

“Yeah, since we were kids. He was one of my groomsmen, and I’m pretty sure his ego took a hit just now when you didn’t remember him. I think you even danced with him.”

“Oh God!” I said mortified as the memory flooded back. “Teddy! But-but he was skinnier!”

“We all were,” Luke laughed. “And had more hair.”

“I’m so embarrassed! Should I apologize?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

But it was a big deal. I tried to recall where Teddy—Ted—was positioned in the picture; probably not at the bottom, or the end, in the last place. What were you supposed to do with wedding pictures when the marriage ended in divorce?

“Wow,” I sighed. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember him and he remembered me.”

“Let it go, Rachel,” Luke said. “It wasn’t your wedding.”

Suddenly my eyes welled, and I pivoted away from him, fingering the earrings on a display at the counter. His wedding wasn’t mine because he wasn’t mine. This, everybody seemed to remember. I felt Luke’s hand at the small of my back and I tried mightily to swallow the tears out of my eyes. After all wiping them away would only heighten the silly drama.

“Hey,” Luke said gently. “What is it?”

“Can I help you?” asked a salesperson.

No one could. I was hopeless.

“I’ll take these,” I replied handing her a pair of silver hoops.

“Oh nice,” she said and took the earrings and my credit card to her register.

“Rachel?” Luke pressed. His hand on my waist now, he turned me back to face him. “What’s this about? Did I say—”

“Hormones!” I chirped, smiling down at him.

Maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe lust created a hormonal imbalance.

“Talk to me, Rachel,” Luke said.

“Here you go,” interrupted the salesperson.

I turned my attention back to her, and Luke took his hand away. I signed yet another credit card receipt and the salesperson handed me my new earrings.

As I was stuffing the new smaller bag into my larger one, and avoiding Luke’s eyes, Corrine and Ted came back. Ted was carrying a small bag of his own and wearing a big grin. Another
fashion-rescue
I guessed accomplished by Corrine, who maybe should work on some kind of commission.

“Hey man,” Ted said. “We gotta go downstairs to gift wrap.”

“Success?” asked Luke.

“Totally!” Ted replied. “Corrine even thought about making sure the watch is waterproof. Brilliant!”

“Corrine,” Luke said. “Hope you’re charging him a finder’s fee.”

“I’ll just stick it to Rachel,” Corrine laughed.

“Of course,” I laughed too, recovered from my mini meltdown. “And why not?”

“How ‘bout a Starbuck’s something or other?” suggested Ted.

“Some other time, big guy,” answered Corrine. “We’re on our way to lunch.”

“Where?” asked Ted eagerly.

“Slow your roll,” said Luke. “We just had lunch.”

A sheepish grin filled Ted’s face. I glanced at Corrine.

“Ready, Rae?” she asked, picking up on the signal.

I nodded.

“See ya’ later,” I said to Luke, and before I could confuse myself about it I kissed him on the cheek.

Catching my hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and let go. I stepped back.

“It’s nice meeting you,” Corrine said, shaking Luke’s hand again.

“Same here,” he returned.

“Bye, Ted,” she said. “Mrs. Robbins is going to love her watch.”

“Thanks for the help,” he replied, looking almost disappointed.

I couldn’t remember meeting Ted’s Lizzie, but Luke was right, it had not been my wedding. As we were heading towards the Nordstrom’s exit Corrine hooked her arm in mine.

“Girl, no wonder!” she gushed again. “He’s hot!”

“Corrine, please,” I replied, pushing open the glass door and pulling away from her.

The autumn sunshine was bright but mild, and it felt like I could finally catch my breath again. Tearing up like that, and in front of Luke too, how bizarre. Maybe it really was PMS.

“Okay,” Corrine carried on as we walked to my car. “The whole wheelchair thing is a bummer, but my God—those shoulders. And Mr. Magnificent knows it too. Did you checkout that t-shirt he was wearing? Honey, we’ve seen men in the gym, men with working legs, and their shirts
off,
that don’t look that good. I almost squeezed one of those biceps just to see if they were real. That Ted was kinda cute too. Wonder if he has a brother.”

I was putting my bags in the trunk of the car.

“At least your lover-man is aging well. Wearing that baseball cap,” she giggled. “Talk about your boyish charm. I can certainly see how he got four kids. Little Miss Muffy probably couldn’t keep her hands off him.”

Slamming the trunk, I came around to the passenger side of the car and unlocked the door.

“Can you just get in the car please?” I said.

When I got in the car, Corrine resumed her silly babble.

“So tell the truth, you jump his bones yet?” she wanted to know.

“Corrine!” I cried.

“Well have you?”

“For the one thousandth time, it’s not like that between us.”

I started the car.

“Bullshit!” she shot back. “It’s exactly like that between you. And if you fool around and let
Stephanie-the-teacher
beat you to the punch then you deserve to get knocked out.”

.

FOURTEEN

T
he day of the museum exhibit I brought my outfit on hangers, and left the silk blouse and pencil skirt hanging in my car until six o’clock when most everyone else had left the office. Given all the negative possibilities if I had worn the outfit to work: lunch stain; client’s baby spitting-up; snagging my skirt on some piece of metal sticking out from a chair; the inevitable wrinkles from sitting all day at a desk; pantyhose run; it was just safer to get dressed right before I left for the museum, and that way reduce my
relative risk
. The new shoes, however, I wore all day to break them in and make sure they were comfortable.

No wonder people thought I was a bore. I must be an obsessive planner, a compulsive scheduler, terrified to let anything happen by chance because I was a neurotic perfectionist. Had I always been this way? Was it Mommy’s fault? Maybe it was simply the result of a lifetime of working against the odds. How could you trust a roll of the dice? A gain might come quickly and then be lost immediately, and then where would you be? Worse off than before because you could, in fact, miss what you
had
had. I trusted in God, but in everything else—everybody else, maybe including myself—I wasn’t prepared to go that far.

Inspecting myself carefully in the bathroom mirror at work I felt very prudent and thought I looked good. Luke had told me that his mother was getting an award for her museum patronage tonight, making the event even more special. Supporting the arts was a family tradition with them. I supported
Public Television
, but Mommy had cable so it was hard to get her to even go to the movies. She talked about Broadway plays, musicals mostly, but she would never go to the theater when the road shows came to town. She had her favorite Gospel singers but she was content to play their CDs in the privacy of her home.

I wondered what it would be like to see the Sterlings again. Since I had never measured up to Betty Sterling’s standards, honestly I didn’t expect to tonight. Luke had e-mailed me the event ticket and instructions for accessing the reserved parking deck at the museum, and although I already knew how to get there, I had nevertheless programmed my GPS with the museum’s address. Leaving the office at six-thirty meant that I would have to rush to make it to the museum by seven, when Luke was expecting me. Traffic could be unpredictable, but I didn’t want to arrive exactly at seven anyway, although I didn’t want to be very late either. As a rule, Luke was punctual and I didn’t want to make him wait for me, but again I must not look too eager.

The parking instructions worked without a hitch and by 7:05 I was parking my Corolla at the end of a row populated by luxury cars and SUVs. Walking towards the garage elevators I passed by Luke’s Mercedes in one of the handicap spaces, so yes, as expected he was already here.

I rode up to the main floor entrance to the museum with an elderly couple who smiled at me and said hello. The woman wore a fur stole—mink I guessed—and too much perfume, reinforcing my devotion to
Juniper Breeze
. Bright red filled the crevices on the woman’s cheeks and drew attention to her thinning lips. My own makeup was much lighter providing hardly any color at all, and the wrap I wore against the November night was some kind of rayon/wool blend that could be machine-washed on the delicate cycle. When the elevator doors opened the woman stepped out, but the man, who was very courtly in his demeanor, waited, holding the doors open for me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Enjoy your evening,” he returned.

The couple proceeded ahead of me to the coat-check counter, where the man helped the woman take off her stole. He gave it to a young woman in a server’s uniform, who then gave him a numbered card that he slipped into his pocket. Perhaps I should do the same with my wrap. Under normal circumstances, that being a regular afternoon at the museum, when I would most likely be wearing jeans and loafers, I would have tied the wrap around my waist. This, however, was not a normal circumstance. I could already hear the live music coming from the center lobby, strings mostly playing a classical piece. I checked my wrap.

“Enjoy your evening,” the woman said with a smile.

“Thank-you,” I replied.

I would tip her when I returned to claim my wrap at the end of the evening. Skipping one last check in a bathroom mirror, I walked quickly passed the women’s restroom and came into the center lobby, where a number of well-dressed people moved about or stood in clusters talking. I didn’t see anyone to take my ticket, but after all it was a very high-brow affair, the ticket was probably only a formality in case someone looked out of place, and apparently I had cleared the unseen security.