hers.
“Yes. How are you, Candace?”
“Fine. I just called to check in and say hi. Dan and I were at the Children’s Hospital fund-raiser last night, and I saw some of your favorite people there.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“Amanda? Are you OK?”
That simple question from an almost stranger opened the floodgates. “I’m fine.” Amanda choked on the word. A sob escaped despite her attempts to hold it back. “Everything’s…good.” Except, of course, for her life in general and her future in particular.
“I’m coming over.”
“That’s not necessary.” She suspected her protest would have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t come between sobs.
“Don’t argue. We can be there in fifteen minutes. Brooke Mackenzie is already on the way here. We ran into each other at the fund-raiser and Hap’s out of town. Do you mind if I bring her?”
At the moment Amanda didn’t care if Candace brought the man in the moon. It was human contact and she would take it right now any way she could get it. “OK.” She sniffed. “Thanks.”
“And if you’re not dressed get some clothes on. You sound like you need a drink—maybe lots of drinks. We’ll take you out. The last place you need to be right now is sitting at home.”
Brooke and Candace led Amanda out of the car and into Chili’s. As they were shown to their table, Brooke couldn’t help noticing that they were the only women over the age of twenty who were there without children or men. The suburbs were not designed for single women of any age. It took a strong woman to operate alone within its borders.
As far as Brooke could see, Candace managed by holding herself apart from it all; she might be dating the coach of a Little League team, but she wasn’t concerned about communing with the moms. Nor was she scrambling for position like a lot of the women were. How grand it must be to feel so sure of oneself, so not in need of others’ approval.
Amanda was different. She was a baseball mom/suburban hausfrau down to her toes and she didn’t appear to have any desire to be anything else. Her husband’s desertion had obliterated the world as she knew it.
Brooke thought about how different their lives had been from hers and how shocked they would be if she told them exactly where she’d come from and how hard she’d worked to create the woman she presented to the world.
Except, of course, that she’d never even told her husband and suspected she never would.
As soon as they were seated, Candace called the waiter over. He appeared to be about twelve. “What are we drinking?”
“Nothing for me,” Brooke said. “I’ll be the designated driver.” She saw Amanda’s face fall. “But Amanda deserves to take the edge off, and I doubt she wants to do it alone.”
Candace turned to Amanda. “I’m thinking margaritas. Are you with me?”
Amanda simply nodded.
“A pitcher of margaritas,” Candace told the server. “Anybody interested in food?”
Nobody was.
The waiter scurried off and the three of them looked at each other expectantly. They knew each other, but didn’t, and as far as Brooke could tell, they didn’t have anything in common. Still she wanted to help Amanda if possible and she could tell that Candace did too. It was a place to start.
“OK, Amanda,” Candace said. “I think you need to tell us what happened today. We are taking an absolute vow of silence, a pledge of confidentiality.” She looked to Brooke who nodded in agreement.
“This”—she motioned to the table at which they sat—“will be your confessional in the Temporary Church of Chili’s. And you can think of me as your…sister confessor…one of the few Jewish women to ever hold this position.”
Even Amanda smiled at that.
The waiter arrived and set the frosty glasses in front of them then poured Amanda and Candace a drink. “Thank you, Sister Candace, for the offer of spiritual guidance,” Amanda said. “And for these margaritas which
“Yes. How are you, Candace?”
“Fine. I just called to check in and say hi. Dan and I were at the Children’s Hospital fund-raiser last night, and I saw some of your favorite people there.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“Amanda? Are you OK?”
That simple question from an almost stranger opened the floodgates. “I’m fine.” Amanda choked on the word. A sob escaped despite her attempts to hold it back. “Everything’s…good.” Except, of course, for her life in general and her future in particular.
“I’m coming over.”
“That’s not necessary.” She suspected her protest would have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t come between sobs.
“Don’t argue. We can be there in fifteen minutes. Brooke Mackenzie is already on the way here. We ran into each other at the fund-raiser and Hap’s out of town. Do you mind if I bring her?”
At the moment Amanda didn’t care if Candace brought the man in the moon. It was human contact and she would take it right now any way she could get it. “OK.” She sniffed. “Thanks.”
“And if you’re not dressed get some clothes on. You sound like you need a drink—maybe lots of drinks. We’ll take you out. The last place you need to be right now is sitting at home.”
Brooke and Candace led Amanda out of the car and into Chili’s. As they were shown to their table, Brooke couldn’t help noticing that they were the only women over the age of twenty who were there without children or men. The suburbs were not designed for single women of any age. It took a strong woman to operate alone within its borders.
As far as Brooke could see, Candace managed by holding herself apart from it all; she might be dating the coach of a Little League team, but she wasn’t concerned about communing with the moms. Nor was she scrambling for position like a lot of the women were. How grand it must be to feel so sure of oneself, so not in need of others’ approval.
Amanda was different. She was a baseball mom/suburban hausfrau down to her toes and she didn’t appear to have any desire to be anything else. Her husband’s desertion had obliterated the world as she knew it.
Brooke thought about how different their lives had been from hers and how shocked they would be if she told them exactly where she’d come from and how hard she’d worked to create the woman she presented to the world.
Except, of course, that she’d never even told her husband and suspected she never would.
As soon as they were seated, Candace called the waiter over. He appeared to be about twelve. “What are we drinking?”
“Nothing for me,” Brooke said. “I’ll be the designated driver.” She saw Amanda’s face fall. “But Amanda deserves to take the edge off, and I doubt she wants to do it alone.”
Candace turned to Amanda. “I’m thinking margaritas. Are you with me?”
Amanda simply nodded.
“A pitcher of margaritas,” Candace told the server. “Anybody interested in food?”
Nobody was.
The waiter scurried off and the three of them looked at each other expectantly. They knew each other, but didn’t, and as far as Brooke could tell, they didn’t have anything in common. Still she wanted to help Amanda if possible and she could tell that Candace did too. It was a place to start.
“OK, Amanda,” Candace said. “I think you need to tell us what happened today. We are taking an absolute vow of silence, a pledge of confidentiality.” She looked to Brooke who nodded in agreement.
“This”—she motioned to the table at which they sat—“will be your confessional in the Temporary Church of Chili’s. And you can think of me as your…sister confessor…one of the few Jewish women to ever hold this position.”
Even Amanda smiled at that.
The waiter arrived and set the frosty glasses in front of them then poured Amanda and Candace a drink. “Thank you, Sister Candace, for the offer of spiritual guidance,” Amanda said. “And for these margaritas which
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