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"As ready as you are." I'm grateful he doesn't ask me if everything is okay. I can see in his eyes that he has questions, but he knows better than to pry. He's not my therapist, not that I have a therapist, and I'm not the sort of man who enjoys talking about my family or feelings.
“Thanks for the information, Edith.” I nod. “I appreciate the message.”
“Anytime, Jackson.” She pauses, and I can tell she’s debating continuing with her thoughts. I hope she decides against it, but she’s not one to keep things to herself. “I really do hope that you also find someone special, Jackson.” She walks over to me and presses her hand on my arm. “You and Ethan are like my grandsons, and I want the best for you both. I can’t fix the past; none of us can, but I can pray for you to have an amazing future.” Her kind blue eyes gaze into mine. “I hope you find the same love Ethan has found.”
“What are you, my fairy godmother?” I shake my head and laugh. “Contrary to popular belief, we don’t all need true love to be happy in life.”
“Are you happy?” she asks, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that she thinks she already knows the answer. “But I’m being a busy bee. I don’t want to offer advice that isn’t wanted.” She smiles at me winningly. “If I were fifty years younger…”
“I’d take you up on it.” I grin and give her a quick hug. “You have a great evening, Edith. Ethan’s about to ruin my night with his bad singing.”
“Sarah thinks I have the voice of an angel,” Ethan says and grabs his briefcase. “Come on, let’s go and get a drink, and I’ll text the ladies to come meet us.”
“You boys have a good night.” Edith taps her phone and holds it up. “But before you go, let me show you both some photos of my grandson Jeremiah. I got this gorgeous chestnut-brown wool and knitted him a squirrel outfit, and his mother absolutely loves it.” She shows me a blurry image of something brown. “So I told her I’ll make him some nuts as well because what squirrel doesn’t love nuts?”
“I guess no—” I start, but I guess the question is rhetorical because Edith doesn’t wait for my answer.
“And then I’ll also be making some skunks, even though Janice down in accounting says that she thinks skunks are the scum of the animal planet. Well, I told her that every living thing needs to be?—”
“Oh, is that the time?” I look down at my watch and frown. “Ethan, the market is about to close, and I need to make one last trade. I’ll head to my office now to take care of it.” I smile warmly at a frowning Ethan and quickly depart to the door. “Have a great evening, Edith. Ethan, I should be ready in half an hour.”
“Uh-huh.” He presses his lips together as Edith turns to him and starts talking about some new smoothie drink she’s making every morning. I don’t stop to hear exactly what she’s saying because I know Edith can talk a mile a minute for dozens of minutes. She’s not the best assistant at Rosser International; she’s likely the worst, but she’s been with the company since Ethan’s grandfather started it and has stuck by the Rosser family through thick and thin, so I know Ethan will never fire her. Plus, he has another assistant that actually does good work.
I head toward the elevator and debate between going to my office or the rooftop to take a few breaths and think about calling Dad back. I have no idea what he wants, but I know that whatever it is will annoy me. Instead, I find myself heading to one of the coffee bars to make myself an espresso shot. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.
3
Zara
Dear Sandra,
I know some people think I’m a pushover, but I’m really not. I just think that as human beings, we need to put family first. I know I should be a star on the Hallmark Channel or at least a guest star on that old TV show, Touched by an Angel. I’m not altruistic or anything. I’m just trying to be responsible. It’s the curse of being the oldest child.
If I’m honest, I would love to be able to able to spend my day baking cupcakes and then take them to sell at farmers markets. And work on my relationship advice column full time. But cupcakes and love do not have the same potential to pay the bills as the law does. Plus, I promised my dad that I would become a lawyer one day and I don’t want to break that promise.
Wish you were here so we could go and get banana pudding at Magnolia Bakery.
Miss you!
Zara
XOXO
“Isn’t Hank just wonderful?” Lila gushes as we follow Hank and two other cast members down the street toward the bar. She moves like a dancer, light on her feet and graceful, and there’s an air of happiness to her that I haven’t seen in years. Lila is full of joy, and I for one, don’t want to be the one to bring her down from her cloud in the sky.
“He’s certainly an interesting man,” I say politely, not wanting to tell Lila that I think her new crush is a bore, a bad actor, and annoying. For all I know, my first and second impressions of him could be wrong. I wouldn’t bet on it, but stranger things have happened.
“He said that he saw one of the theater critics from The New Yorker there,” she continues, and I feel a lurch in my stomach. “Or maybe it was the New York Times, but how exciting is that? This could be my big break, Zara.” She grabs my hand and squeezes. “Thank you so much for carrying the burden these last few months while I get my career off the ground.” Her Prussian blue eyes are filled with excitement and anticipation. In Lila’s mind, this is the moment she’s been waiting for all her life. This is the moment she’s going to break out into a star.
“You’re welcome.” I smile weakly. Now is not the time to tell her I was fired because I didn’t hook up with my boss, Chris Greenport. I know I’d been told it was due to the economy, but I’d seen the books, we were doing well. I’m pretty sure I’d been fired because my creepy boss, Chris, had expected me to give him a blow job in the back office, and when I laughed in his face, he’d not been happy. I hold back a sigh; maybe I shouldn’t have laughed and wagged my pinky finger when I stared at his hopefully flaccid penis.
“Do you know the first thing I will buy when I make my first million?”
“A real Chanel handbag?” I say as I hold up my fake bag and nod toward hers. We’d gone shopping on Canal Street a couple of weeks ago, and though I was generally against buying fakes, I’d gotten us two identical bags as treats for taking an entire weekend to completely clean out our apartment while Elise had been away with the kids, visiting our parents in Florida.
“No, silly. I’m going to buy a store.”
“A store?” I frown. “A store full of real Chanel handbags? You’ll need a bigger closet.”
