Left to Chance Page 15

  Me: I fell asleep, sorry. Are you still awake?

  Beck: Yes. I can meet you on the porch.

  Me: Now?

  Beck: Yes.

  Me: Be out in a few.

  I was wrinkled and rumpled and it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about me. Still, I wiped the mascara from under my eyes with a tissue. No need to resemble a raccoon; not that Beck hadn’t seen that look on me before and teased me mercilessly. I trembled as I tied my hair into a loose ponytail and then took it out, turned my head upside down and ran my fingers through my hair. Beck had always liked my hair down.

  When I quietly opened the front door, I saw Beck sitting on the porch, on the floor, with his back to the street. He faced the door and I readied myself for a verbal firing squad.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be out here already.”

  “But you know I own this place.”

  I sat against the railing with enough space for a linebacker between me and Beck. “Shay told me.”

  “I know.”

  “What made you buy it?” We both stared ahead.

  “I needed something to keep me busy. And I knew how much Cee loved it.”

  I nodded.

  “I thought if you knew I was the owner, then you wouldn’t come for the wedding because you’d have no place to stay. I was against it—as you probably figured. But Shay seemed legitimately thrilled you were coming and I didn’t want anything to get in the way. I should’ve been honest. I’m sorry about that. And I apologized to Shay too, for making things more complicated for her. I didn’t realize at first…”

  “I don’t think this is what is making her life complicated,” I said.

  “Very true.”

  “I know something’s not right. I think I know what it is but I’m not sure. In texts and on FaceTime she’s sweet and funny and adorable—and not that she’s not all of those things, but there’s more. More I can see but don’t know.”

  Beck laughed but the sound was shaded with knowing and sadness.

  “Please tell me what’s going on so I can help her!”

  Beck had the answers but I didn’t let him talk. Not yet. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew me. He knew I wanted to help. He knew I wasn’t leaving without knowing everything. That was likely the problem.

  I told Beck about the Fat Chance Café, meeting Morgan, the mall, the ride home, Shay’s comment about the other girls, and how Miles ignored that I wanted to know, to help, to be there. Lastly, I told Beck how Miles, Shay, and I ate pizza and talked about art, with not one word about the mean girls or the wedding or Celia.

  “I’m pretty sure those girls are bullying her, or they bullied her this year, because she pretty much hides when she sees them. And then she called them weird, like she didn’t want to admit how hurt she was. How can you all just sit by and let Shay get bullied by these mean girls is what I don’t understand. Look what it’s doing to her. She has no close friends. A girl needs friends! Cee and I always had each other and Shay has no one like that. I can help her—I know what it’s like. My parents were never like the other parents, so maybe Shay’s artistic and different—”

  “Stop! I need you to listen to me.” Beck sat with his knees bent and his arms propped up on them. Finally, he looked at me.

  I folded my hands in my lap. “I’m listening.” I mocked him.

  “I mean it. Don’t say anything, and let me talk, okay? I asked Miles if I could tell you the whole story.”

  “And?”

  “He said okay. But you have to let me talk.”

  “You’re scaring me, Beck. Just tell me already!”

  “Shay is the mean girl.”

  “What?”

  “She used to be best friends with Morgan. Like you and Cee best friends. Since Deanna moved here. Then together they started making fun of some of the other girls, but Morgan stopped. Deanna intervened faster than Miles did. But Shay didn’t stop, and she turned on Morgan too. Teased her. Embarrassed her in front of other kids for being in lower-level classes—they call it grade-shaming. She was really demeaning and she even started a fistfight. It was awful. She was awful.” Beck looked away. “And the school did do something. They suspended her for a week. And the rest of the girls, including Morgan? They chose not to be friends with the mean girl.”

  “I—”

  Beck held up his hand. “Let me finish.”

  I covered my mouth to hold everything in but wondered if I’d have the strength.

  As Beck spoke his eyes filled. He stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his broad chest, as if keeping his heart in its place. He drew deep breaths between each scene he relayed to me in detail. And how it all started when Miles and Violet got engaged.

  My thoughts banged together.

  A lump formed in my throat.

  “Counseling has helped and she’s doing much better now. She’s coping. Sometimes she even seems like the old Shay. I won’t get into it all. That’s for Shay to talk about. But those girls don’t want to be friends with her, and no one blames them.”

  “That’s how you met Deanna.” I thought I’d said it inside my head. “Isn’t it awkward?”

  “Not at all. We’re adults.” I kept forgetting.

  “And that’s why Cameron’s living with them.”

  Beck nodded. “For backup. And moral support.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “You’re like an apparition, Teddi Bear.”

  It was the first time he’d said my nickname; the sound of his voice traveled inside my head and settled there, soothing the wounds he’d just inflicted with his words about Shay, and just then, about me.

  “I know no one wanted me to know. I know no one but Shay wanted me here. But I am here, Beck. I can’t just pretend things are fine when they’re not fine. I just can’t turn around and leave without trying to help.” I swallowed the irony and looked right at Beck. He gulped as hard as I did. “A lot of time has passed—you said it the other night. We’re not who we used to be. I don’t want to be the person who pops in and out of Shay’s life. Or yours. Please, help me.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes. Just like that. Forget you hate me. Forget I fucked up. Give me a break, B. For old times’ sake. Oh hell, don’t do it for me. Do it for Celia.” I turned away, looked as far off into the night as I could. Emotional blackmail wasn’t usually my style.

  “Okay,” he whispered.“But there’s one thing I have to say first.” I heard Beck slide across the floor. He touched my shoulder and left his hand there, heat transferring through my blouse. “I don’t hate you.”

  He removed his hand and my temperature seemed to drop.

  “Shay launched a full-out FaceTime campaign to get me here to photograph the wedding,” I said. “Why did she do that if all this was going on and no one was going to tell me?”

  “She wanted you to come because she has this crazy idea that her life would be perfect if you married Miles.”

  I turned around quickly. Beck lurched back.

  “Excuse me?”

  “She wishes you were the one marrying Miles.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. Then I thought of the times in the past few days when Miles had been there with me and Shay, when I’d thought it would be just me and her. When she wanted Violet to take her for her shoes, when she disappeared upstairs during our portrait session, when she apologized for Beck showing up early.

  “Damn,” I said.

  “I’m just telling you what she said.”

  “She thinks he’s replacing her mother, for God’s sake. She doesn’t understand that losing someone you love that much doesn’t take away your ability to love someone else just as much.”

  “She’s learning. It takes time, Teddi. It all takes time.”

  I looked at Beck and placed my hand on the ground. He laid his hand on top of mine. But it was different from before. His eyes were the same blue with specks of brown and his eyelashes were blond, almost invisibl
e. As his nostrils flared, his breathing tempered. Neither of us moved closer together or farther away. After all this time it felt somehow taboo.

  Simon.

  I glanced away from Beck and then back.

  “I should call the counselor Josie told me about, shouldn’t I?”

  “You should.”

  “Do you want to come in and have a glass of wine? I mean, just to relax.”

  “No thanks.”

  “We can talk more. Catch up. For real.”

  “We have time.” Beck ran the back of his hand from the front of my neck to the back, and under my hair, pushing it behind my shoulder. I shivered. “I like your hair down,” he said. “But you knew that.”

  Inside, Beck walked up a few steps, and then his footsteps stopped. I was partway down the hall leading to my room, and stopped as well.

  “I know you ran out the back of Perk when you saw me with Deanna,” he said.

  “I just couldn’t…”

  “I’m not with Deanna, you know. We’re just friends. But even if I was, you don’t have to run away from me, Teddi. You never did.”

  I turned as he continued up the stairs. Without a light, he was shrouded in the safety of darkness. As was I.

  “If you weren’t with Deanna when I called, where were you?” So much for not overstepping boundaries. Old habits had a way of feeling comfortable, even when they shouldn’t.

  Without stopping his climb, Beck answered me.

  “A meeting.”

  Chapter 15

  “AND THEN HE JUST walked upstairs,” I said.

  “Did you go after him?” Josie swirled a fry in a dollop of ketchup.

  “No, I didn’t go after him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—I don’t know. I’m not going to chase him, Jos. He doesn’t have to tell me anything about his life. We were in a good place last night after talking about Shay and I didn’t want to ruin it any more than I already have.”

  Josie sipped her iced tea and shrugged. “Men. Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.” She laughed as if she’d come up with that herself.

  As the Fat Chance Café chimes clanged their now-familiar tune, I lifted my empty teacup and turned it over. Muddled voices trickled by and colorful streaks skirted my peripheral vision. Drips of lemon verbena landed on the saucer next to the mesh teabag. The words on the china didn’t register so I replaced the cup. All I could see was that I had missed big things in Chance, and hadn’t even recognized that possibility. Like everything important had happened right outside my reach. I’d spent six years toting around Celia’s memory when people I loved might have needed me.

  My throat filled.

  “I have to go.” I pushed back my chair and stood. I pulled a twenty out of the front pocket of my camera bag that dangled over the back of my chair and handed the money to Josie. “My treat. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Oh no,” she said. “No more running away.” Josie grabbed my camera bag and placed it on her lap. I sat.

  “I’m not running away.” I exhaled more air than I knew I could hold in. “I’m expecting a package and thought I’d check the post office.” I knew full well that Annie would ship FedEx.

  “Really? You know they’ll deliver right to your door? We’re fancy here that way,” Josie said. “Why don’t you calm down? Then, you can go find Beck.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to look for Beck? Actually, I need to go call Simon.” I’d never called Simon. Shit. “I think he’s going to propose when I get back to San Francisco.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s fantastic!” Josie whispered.

  “It’s not official. He only said he had something to propose when I came back.”

  “And you left this out of every single conversation? I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Didn’t realize what was so serious?” a voice said.

  Josie and I jolted and looked up from our huddle. The two book club gossip girls pulled out the empty chairs at our table and sat.

  “We’re waiting for takeout for the swim moms.”

  “You look great today, Teddi.”

  I’d worn my sleeveless denim shirtdress and a pair of flip-flops. I had my half of the heart necklace around my neck and my hair in a ponytail. My beauty routine had consisted of tinted moisturizer. There was nothing great about any of it but hell if I’d give them that.

  “Thanks!”

  “So, what’d we miss?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” I said. These women were chazzers. Gluttons for gossip that they could parcel out for any takers. I wouldn’t peck. “Not here,” Josie said.

  I raised my hands, but not in an act of surrender. “Sorry, Jos.” I drew a deep breath. “I heard you talking about me when we were at Josie’s.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We were with you the whole night.”

  “I was in the laundry room.” Recognition flooded their faces. Their jaws tightened. “I said—I heard you talking about me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Me either.”

  I slid forward on my chair. “Ladies…” I reached out and touched their hands. “If you want to know something about me, ask me. But don’t talk about someone’s kid. It’s really, you know, unattractive.”

  “We would never—”

  “I’m just trying to help you out here, make sure you don’t get yourself into an unsightly predicament.”

  “What are you implying, Teddi?”

  “That in the future you mind your own business while you’re hunting for your lipstick.”

  “Well, we just thought … you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “That you knew about the wedding, and we were surprised you were here for it.”

  A bell rang twice and three large paper bags were placed on the counter. “Debbi? Order for Debbi! Debbi or Meredith? Six chopped salads, two hummus plates, one tuna platter, and one vegan BLT hold the T!”

  “That’s us,” Debbi said.

  “If I don’t see you again, have a good trip back to—Where is that you’re jetting off to after the wedding?” Meredith asked.

  “Give it a rest, girls.” Josie stepped lightly, once, on my foot under the table.

  As the women left Fat Chance Café with their boxed-up mom fare, I pulled off the crust of my congealed grilled cheese, folded it accordion-style, and stuck it into my mouth. The buttery, crisp, and salty bread had just the resistance to need ample chewing, and I needed that to stop me from saying something I shouldn’t say. Something else I shouldn’t say. Because even in moments like this, my mother was in my ear reminding me not to talk while I was eating. I shoved in another piece.

  “Forget them,” Josie said. “They’re not worth it.”

  “No, they’re not.” I swallowed.

  “I can’t believe what you said to them.”

  “I know. It was good, wasn’t it?”

  “You didn’t really get any answers.”

  “That’s okay, Beck really told me everything I needed to know about Shay. What he didn’t tell me was anything about himself. I don’t feel like I’m being nosy, I’m thinking about all the things I don’t know. Like when he bought Nettie’s on Lark, how he fixed it up, how his graphic design business is doing, if he’s eating right…”

  “If he’s dating anyone?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t even try to lie to me. You should see your face when you talk about him.”

  “I care about him, is that a problem?”

  “No, except you told me that Simon wants to marry you, but the only man you’ve mentioned in the past ten minutes is Beck. And, you’re watching the door like you’re expecting someone to walk by. Or walk in. And I don’t mean Shay. That is a problem,” Josie said.

  “I know.”

  * * *

  I jaywalked across Main Str
eet to the park. The clouds made the sky look as if gray paint had been dragged across it. I crouched and touched the grass. It was dry so I sat, and dug into my camera bag. I lay on my back, crossed my ankles for propriety, and looked up, camera pressed to my face. I saw nothing but those painted clouds floating past my lens, as if late to an appointment. A chill washed over me with the warm, light breeze. Simon.

  I sat up and pulled out my phone. It was still morning in San Francisco. Was Simon in San Francisco today? I hadn’t checked his travel schedule, or asked. I called his cell instead of the office.

  “Good morning, stranger.”

  I heard the smile in his voice, sensed his movement—likely he was making his way to the window where he often perched to talk on the phone. I cringed. Why did he say that? But more importantly, why was that the wrong thing to say? He was being playful. He was teasing me.

  “I’ve only been gone a few days, Simon. We’ve been apart longer than this for work.”

  “But this isn’t work.”

  “No, but it’s important to me…”

  “I’m kidding, but it’s not the same here without you.”

  “I talked to Henry,” I said. “I think they’re going to book next year’s benefit gala in New York. I told him the ballroom would be finished by then. Will the ballroom be finished by then?”

  “If we get to charge a thousand a person, you bet it will. Did you tell him you’d get it covered on ‘Page Six’?”

  “That part’s not my job, you know that. I said I’d be there myself taking pictures and posting to social media all night, and that I had an in with Lucy Cartwright.”

  “Lucy Cartwright?”

  “The society blogger? The one you want to stay out of your business but in everyone else’s in New York?”

  “Yes!” I heard one big five-hundred-thousand-dollar clap. “Wait till you hear what else is going on here.”

  “There’s a lot going on here too. I’m entering a photography contest.” I kicked up my voice an octave, hoping to sound nonchalant, yet excited. It wasn’t until that moment that I’d known for sure.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a photographer, Simon.”

  “The best wedding photographer in San Francisco, maybe in the country.”