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Liza had bought it, along with a pair of shoes most definitely not designed for walking.
Did she feel guilty? No, she felt light-headed and young. Instead of buying a dress to suit her lifestyle, she was going to choose a lifestyle that matched her dress.
Liza walked from the boutique to the delicatessen next door.
One of the advantages of being here on her own was that she didn’t have to think about creating meals for a family.
Balancing a basket on her arm, she picked up a stick of crusty French bread still warm from the oven. Then she added Italian ham, a couple of French cheeses, ruby red tomatoes still on the vine and a jar of plump green olives.
“Liza?”
If she could have hidden, she would. She’d been enjoying her freedom. She didn’t want to connect with anyone. She wanted to be able to focus on herself without being considered selfish.
“Oh my, how many years has it been?” The woman looked as if she’d stepped out of a yoga session, her hair in a ponytail and her face shiny and pink. “You do recognize me?”
It took Liza a moment. “Angie? Angie!”
“Why so surprised? I live here, remember?”
“You moved to—” She racked her brains. “Boston. Your husband’s job?” What was his name? Jeremy? Jonah?
Angie pulled a face. “He’s still there. We’re divorced.”
“I’m sorry.” Life, Liza thought. It bit chunks out of all of them. “I wish you’d emailed me or called.”
“We hadn’t been in touch for a while. I didn’t want to be the moany friend. It was rough at the time and for a few years after but we’ve both moved on. John remarried and has a baby.”
John.
“A baby?”
Angie rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be tactful. He’s fifty-three. My revenge is imagining him dealing with nappies and sleepless nights. Not that he handled those things first time around. Oh Liza—it’s so good to see you. Do you have time for a coffee? There’s a place around the corner.”
/> Her instinct was to say yes. It was what she did, every time. To every person in her life.
But there were things she wanted to do with her afternoon and evening, and she’d been looking forward to them.
“I would love to catch up, but there are things I have to do this afternoon.” Saying it felt hard, but she said it anyway. But she was truly pleased to see Angie. “Why don’t you come over to the house tomorrow?”
“To Oakwood? You’re staying with your mother?”
“She’s driving across America. Route 66.”
“Your mother is amazing. Still living the life of The Summer Seekers. I can’t imagine doing that now, let alone when I’m eighty. So if she’s not at home, why are you here?”
I’m escaping. “I’m cat sitting.”
“With your girls and Sean?”
“No. They had things they couldn’t miss at home.”
Once, she and Angie had been as close as sisters. They’d told each other everything. But that was a long time ago. College and life had separated them and then Angie had met John and moved to Boston and gradually their communication had dwindled. They were long past the stage where Liza felt comfortable exposing the details of her life to scrutiny.
She felt a sudden pang. She missed the deep friendship she and Angie had once had. The sort where you laughed until your sides ached and knew everything there was to know about one another. They’d shared clothes, stories and makeup. When Sean had kissed her, Angie had been the first person she’d told.
Once she’d had children her friendships had changed in nature and tended to be connected with lifestyle. At first, the common factor had been babies, then it had been school. It was friendship of sorts, but not the deep, authentic friendship she’d once enjoyed with Angie. Perhaps she’d treasured it all the more because she didn’t have that closeness with her mother.
Still, those days were long gone and she and Angie were different people now, their bonds torn by time, distance and life experience.
