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I can’t believe she’s already in Chicago. I try to figure out what day would be best to see her. Tomorrow is too soon—as is every other day this week for that matter. Next weekend? Maybe.
My mind is spinning as I try to sort everything out, when I hear, “I’m guessing this is my chair?” I look up at Melissa who looks stunning in a hot pink swimming suit with a matching sarong around her waist. Beads of sweat appear on my forehead and my heart starts to gallop in my chest like it’s neck-and-neck to win the Kentucky Derby.
I lean over and take Sammy’s bag off the seat we were saving for her. “It sure is,” I say before commenting, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
She grumbles as she sits down. I assume that means she agrees with me. “Do you want anything from the snack bar?” I ask, hoping to break down her defenses. I need to talk to somebody about Beth, and while Melissa might not be the best choice—being that I haven’t been particularly nice to her—I know how much she cares about Sammy. In short, I trust her judgment.
“Orange juice, please,” she says. “Make it a large.”
I hurry to stand up to retrieve her order. “I’ll be right back.” Not only do I get her a large juice, but I also bring back an assortment of pastries. You know, sweeten the deal a little.
When I arrive back at our chairs, I hand her the juice before offering her the plate of danishes. “I didn’t ask for these,” she says plainly.
“No, but I thought you might like something to eat.”
She picks up a chocolate croissant and sniffs it. “Thank you.”
While she takes her first bite, I ask, “How are things going with Tim?” I sound like I’m asking after her pet piranha.
“Fine.” She finishes chewing before swallowing. Then she takes a sip of juice.
“Where did you go on Wednesday night?” I think that was the night they were planning to go out.
“Why do you care?” she wants to know.
I exhale loudly. I don’t really care but I can’t jump right in to talk about Beth. “Just making small talk.”
“Let’s stick to the weather then.”
“Melissa,” I start to say, but I don’t know how to continue.
“Yes?” she demands impatiently.
“I need some advice.”
Before I can tell her the kind of guidance I’m after, she says, “Quit telling women you want to kiss them but can’t. If that requires a personality transplant, I’d be happy to chip in.”
She’s in a mood today. “Thank you, but I need some specific advice. Regarding Sammy.”
That gets her attention. Sitting up straighter, she demands, “What about her? Is she okay?”
“So far, so good,” I tell her. “The thing is, her mom is moving back to Chicago, and she wants to see Sammy.”
Melissa startles, causing her to nearly spill her drink on me. “What right does she have to upset Sammy’s life?”I knew she was the right one to talk to.
“I contacted Beth when I found out that she and her husband were moving to Chicago. Beth’s stepson is coming with them.”
“Her stepson? She has a stepson?” So, it’s not just me that finds that news highly upsetting. Good.
“Beth and I have been emailing back and forth and I was wondering if you’d mind reading the chain so I can ask your advice.”
Melissa immediately sticks out her hand for my phone. Once I set up the thread, I pass it to her. She doesn’t say a word as she scrolls to the bottom. When she’s done reading, she hands the phone back.
“What do you think?” I ask nervously.
“I’m not sure what to think. I mean, I truly hated the woman when I found out what she’d done to Sammy.” She pauses for a moment before adding, “and you. But now, I kind of feel sorry for her.”
“I don’t feel anything for her,” I respond coldly. “But I need to decide what’s best for my daughter.”
