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Matt managed to stop next to him without tripping. “I know. I’m pathetic. But before I forget. I gotta ask you. Did you say Lilah Evans?”
“I THINK YOU LI-IKE HIM,” Mimi taunted Lilah.
“Oh, please. This isn’t junior high school. And I’m too old to have crushes,” Lilah replied. She let her eyes wander around the kitchen, anywhere but on Mimi. How often did someone use two dishwashers? she wondered.
“I don’t know what you’re so defensive about. What’s the big deal about being forced to stay close to a man who is drop-dead gorgeous—and as we now have personal proof of—gentle and gifted and loves children?”
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?” Mimi grabbed for the gin bottle again. “Don’t tell me you still have a thing for Stephen?” She poured two fingers and didn’t bother with the tonic water.
“No, of course not. Not anymore.” Lilah eased herself onto a stool. The night was growing longer by the minute. “You know, I looked him up on Google when I decided to come back.”
“As anyone rightly would.” Mimi took a swallow.
“Seems he’s a partner in a big law firm in Cleveland. They even had a picture up on the website—he’s gotten fat. Which is kind of ironic when you consider how he always used to be on me about my weight.”
“And he’s married with two children and a third on the way.”
“You’re kidding? How did you find out?” She realized she experienced a glimmer of jealousy—but not for Stephen. Her breakup, which was once so heart-wrenching, now only held a faint “what if?” No, the pang she felt was for the idea of children. Lilah rested her chin on her hand.
“Excuse me. I’m a reporter. I’m supposed to get that kind of information.”
“Well, did you also find out that he’s not coming to Reunions?”
“That I don’t know. It seems you have your own sources. Speaking of sources—” She glanced down at her watch. “Where is that little brother of mine? I’m beginning to think he didn’t turn out so well after all.” Then she looked back at Lilah. “Hey, no pooping out yet. The night is still young—especially because we still haven’t cleared up this matter.”
“What matter?” Lilah stifled a yawn.
“About Justin? You and Justin? C’mon. Let’s wait outside by the pool. We’ll spot Press sooner that way.”
Lilah took the remnants of her second drink and dutifully followed Mimi. “There is no me and Justin.” Lilah settled into one of the deck chairs around the pool. Tiled dolphins cavorted as in some Roman mosaic. For all she knew, it was a Roman mosaic. She squinted and peered more closely. No, it couldn’t be, could it? “You know, maybe I shouldn’t have had this second drink.”
Mimi settled into the chaise next to her. She flicked off her sandals and ran her bare feet up and down the cedar slats. “Don’t tell me there’s no you and Justin. I mean, in the face of overwhelming positive attributes, can’t you let go for at least a long weekend? No one is expecting you to find true love, after all. But even you, especially you, you little saint, deserve to fall off your pedestal every once in a while.”
“You don’t understand,” Lilah protested. “Every time I look at Justin I’m reminded not only what a total creep Stephen was, but I also unfortunately remember how incredibly self-centered I was, too.”
“Self-centered? That’s the last thing I’d describe you as, Ms. I Don’t Have A Dime To My Name, but go ahead and please take the shirt off my back. Hey, maybe you can use that line on Justin?”
Lilah placed her drink on the side table between them. “Feel free to laugh.”
“Who said I was laughing?”
“Listen, admit in retrospect that Stephen was a creep. But even though he called off the engagement, I really didn’t give him any alternative. Up until then, I had always gone along with his plans. He always seemed so goal-oriented, so focused on our future.”
“His future, with you in tow,” Mimi cracked. “The future corporate attorney with the good little academic wife standing steadfastly at his side.”
“Excuse me. It was my idea to go to graduate school at NYU while he was in law school at Columbia,” Lilah argued.
Mimi threw up her hands. “I don’t even know how you can justify his actions. As far as I remember—and I have a pretty good memory—when you decided on a change in career, it didn’t go down well with him. And when you wouldn’t change your mind, he dumped you and broke your heart.”
Lilah dropped her head. “I’d always been such a good girl up until then,” she said softly.
“Lilah, we were all good girls once upon a time, you especially.”
“I’m still a good girl,” Lilah said despondently.
“Well, get over it. And I can’t think of a better way than with someone warm and sexy by your side. And really. You can’t tell me that you think all these depressing thoughts every time you look at Justin Bigelow?”
Lilah pictured Justin driving again, one hand comfortably on the wheel, the other on his thigh, his fingers tapping out a lazy rhythm on his faded jeans that fit his legs perfectly.... No, not every time.
“Because if that’s the case, why not reintroduce him to me?”
Lilah bit down on her bottom lip. If the Justin she had met today was still the old Justin Bigelow, the one embedded in Lilah’s memory, then there’d be no problem about her having a simple romp with a scrumptious good-time guy. Plus it’d be a snub to an ex. What more could a girl ask for?
But the new Justin Bigelow was…well…new. He seemed much more than the old one. And the voice of her overly developed good-girl conscience told her that was exactly the problem.
CHAPTER SIX
“LILAH EVAN AS IN SISTERS for Sisters Lilah Evans?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know about this Sisters thing, but I guess so. I didn’t know she was such a big deal. I mean, Mimi said something about her getting some alumni award, but I figured it was because she gave big bucks to Grantham.” Press shifted the large bag of food to one arm and fished the car keys out of his jeans. His dad had given him his old BMW convertible when he graduated from high school. He’d left the keys with a card that his secretary had written.
“I don’t think it was for giving money, dude,” Matt said. “She came and gave a talk at Yale last fall at the Political Union. She founded this group that helps women in Congo. You know about the civil war going on there, right?”
“Sorry. If it happened after the Mesozoic era, I’m pretty ignorant,” Press answered. He stepped off the curb, and like most students, didn’t bother to look either way before heading out into traffic. A Lexus SUV screeched to a halt and let him cross. “C’mon, the smell of all this food is reminding me just how starved I am. Let’s head home.”
Matt chugged along beside, holding his can at his side. “Why I’m even friends with such an ignoramus is beyond me.”
“It’s so you have someone to freely lecture.” He beeped open the car and settled the bag in the backseat.
Matt got in the front passenger seat, and before he even put his seat belt on, twisted around and fished out a take-out container of French fries. “So you’re telling me you don’t want to hear all about the warring factions and about how everyone—and his little brother—is trying to get ahold of the diamonds and gold and other metals in the country?”
Press started up the car. “Not really.” He grabbed a French fry. “Hey, crack your window, would you? The smell of this stuff stays around for days otherwise.”
Matt shook his head, but turned to press the window lever. “How you can worry about the smell in your car when millions are being killed is beyond me, and believe me, it’s mostly women who are being brutalized. And besides, didn’t your mother give you Febreze when you went off to college?”
Press slanted him a skeptical look. “My mother?”
“You’re right. What was I thinking? Maybe you could give her some to use with all her tennis shoes? A handy travel size for her sports bag?”
Press didn’t bother to laugh as he pulled out of the parking lot and into Main Street. Some people, like Matt, had good parents and some people didn’t. It was less painful to discuss the state of world politics. “So where does Lilah Evans fit into the whole scenario?”
And naturally Matt was off and running, summarizing Lilah’s work.
Press stopped at the traffic light on the corner of Adams Road. The university library was on the left and the town’s only movie theater on the right. He recognized some friends from school and honked the horn. Then he glanced over at Matt. “Well, I’m glad someone thinks she can save the world. And I have even greater respect for her because given all the culinary delights possible in our fair city, she had the wisdom to choose Hoagie Palace.”
“Laugh all you want. I’d give anything to ask her about an internship.” Matt took a swig of his drink.
“But I thought you said the name of her organization was something like Sisters for Sisters? Is having a sex change operation part of the price to pay for an internship?” He made the remainder of the lights on Main Street, and they passed without incident through the center of town.
Matt rolled his eyes. “It’d almost be worth it, but I’m not sure Babi˘cka would approve,” he said, referring to his great-grandmother, who lived in town.
“Not to mention your dad and Katarina,” Press said, slowing down the car, just barely, to pass over the speed bumps.
“Yeah, my dad,” Matt grumbled. “He’s giving me so much grief about not having a job yet this summer that I’m almost thinking of moving in with Babi˘cka,” he said.
Press knew that Matt’s childhood hadn’t been the easiest, what with his single mother dying of breast cancer when he was still in high school and only discovering who his dad was at the reading of her will. The truth of the matter was it had come as a shock to Matt’s father, as well. The two had butted heads early on, but the relationship had smoothed out pretty well thanks in large part to Katarina, his stepmom, and Katarina’s grandmother. Babi˘cka’s baking also played a major role, in Press’s opinion.
“You don’t think your great-grandmother would have any cookies on hand, do you?”
Matt took another sip. “Maybe later. For now I really want to get this food to your house before it gets cold.”
“If I didn’t know you to be this bleeding heart do-gooder, I’d say you just want a summer job with this Evans woman so you can get your parents off your back and pad your résumé.”
“Okay, Mr. Professional Cynic, you’re so worldly. How do you think it’ll go down if I introduce myself to Lilah Evans on bended knee with her hoagie in hand—” Matt made the appropriate gestures, spraying some of his drink in the process “—all the while running through my stellar freshman-year grades, my majoring in political science with a concentration in foreign affairs, and that I have a fantastic way to broaden the appeal of her outstanding organization by expanding her concept to Sisters and Brothers for Sisters.”
“I think I need another French fry.”
Matt growled.
“One thing. The ‘bended knee’ bit?”
“Yeah?” Matt asked hopefully as Press pulled into the driveway to his dad’s house.
“Definitely use it. No matter what women say, they’re suckers for the big, romantic gesture. Just hold on to something while you do it. Knowing you, you’ll fall flat on your face otherwise, and we need you in one piece if you’re going to save the world.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LILAH FELT SOMEONE KICK her foot. Half-asleep, she decided to ignore it, and let her foot flop over the edge of the chaise longue and stay there.
Next came a shaking of her shoulder. She groaned and scrunched her eyes more tightly shut.
Then someone had the nerve to blow in her ear—hard.
This time, Lilah yelped and practically bounced off the chair.
Mimi turned to Press and Matt. “Works every time,” she said triumphantly. “She’s awake now, trust me. What can I say? Two drinks, and she’s out like a light.”
Press turned to Matt. “I wouldn’t worry about the bended knee. Probably the two-armed boost-up would be more effective in this case.” He rested the bag of food on the patio table.
Lilah opened one eye. “I’m not that far gone that I need help getting up. And it’s not the alcohol. It’s the jet lag that leveled me.” She hoisted herself to an upright position and rubbed her eyes, daring to open both in narrow slits. “Are these two Wise Men bearing gifts?”
“I don’t know how wise they are, but that’s my half brother, Press, and his friend whose name I don’t remember—”
“Matt.”
“And Matt, apparently, who’ve brought your hoagie and fries.”
Lilah made some noise.
“Is that a sound of joy or disgust?” Mimi asked.
Lilah yawned. “Neither. I’m afraid I’m too tired to eat anything.” She shook her head and studied Press and Matt with only the barest of insight. “I may be wrong, but you both seem to be growing boys. I’m sure you can figure out what to do with my share of the food.” She rose, a little wobbly on her feet. “I don’t mean to break up the party, but if it’s not too much trouble, I’d really appreciate it if someone could drive me to campus.”
Mimi crossed her arms. “What a party pooper. Here you force me to come back to Grantham and attend Reunions and act as your bodyguard, and what do you do but crap out on the first night. Is that fair?” She pouted.
Lilah pushed her bangs out of her eyes and felt the back of her head, realizing that her barrette had fallen out. She searched around her chair, then ducking her head underneath, she responded, “There will be other nights, I promise.” She righted herself, barrette in hand. “Tomorrow night, in fact. That’s when my dad comes in. You’re having dinner with us, remember?” She frowned as she looked around the patio. “I wonder where I left my backpack? It’s got all the information about where I’m staying on campus.”
“Where were you besides here? If you were making drinks, maybe the kitchen?” Matt suggested.
“Clever boy. Why don’t you hustle on in there and see if you can find it?” Mimi said. Matt did as he was told.
Press breathed in slowly. “Do you have to be so imperious? I know you think coming back here is a real effort on your part, but how about toning it down a notch where my friend is concerned?”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Mr. Sensitivity. But all right. I promise to act nice.”
Lilah winced. Even in her half-awake, mildly inebriated state, she recognized the bitter undertones. Mimi’s dysfunctional family had always seemed amusing from afar, and her renditions of the latest family gossip were always bitingly witty. But up close, what had seemed amusing now just appeared mean.
Still, she didn’t want to think badly of her friend—her only old friend, for that matter. But that didn’t mean that Lilah was ignorant of Mimi’s shortcomings.
She heard the sound of the screen door from the kitchen banging shut, and she knew relief was in sight. “Great, my stuff. You’re a lifesaver…ah…what is your name again?”
“Matt,” he said enthusiastically and placed Lilah’s backpack on the table next to the food. His thin shoulders noticeably straightened up when he was relieved of the weight. “And can I tell you what an honor it is to meet you. I’ve read all about your work. You’re so inspiring.”
Lilah offered a trembling smile. “Thank you. I don’t feel very inspiring at the moment, but it’s nice to hear that people your age are still interested in social causes.”
“Oh, he’s interested all right,” Press added. He looked at his friend, who was eyeing him with embarrassment. Then he leaned closer and whispered, “Are you going to ask her about a job, or what?”
“Not now, dude. She’s half-asleep,” Matt said out of the side of his mouth.
Lilah was vaguely aware of their conversation, but she needed all of her concentration just to unzip an outside pocket. “Finally.”
She slipped out a legal-size envelope and sifted through the contents. “Somewhere in here should be directions.” She pushed aside a map of the university campus and her name tag and unfolded a sheaf of bright orange papers. She squinted at the pages. “Did they have to use such a tiny font?” She held the paper closer to her nose, then tried backing it away. “This is hopeless. I’ll have to dig out my reading glasses.” She rifled through a side pocket.
“If you want, I can read it for you?” Matt suggested eagerly.
Lilah studied him. He seemed a nice, polite boy. What was his name again? “How good are you at deciphering mouse-type?” She handed over the piece of paper.
Matt eagerly skimmed over the information. “Let’s see, it’s got your schedule here.”
“I’ll deal with that tomorrow,” Lilah interrupted. “Just go to the part where it tells me which dorm I’m staying in.”
Matt nodded and flipped to the second page. “It says here that you’re staying in Griswold College.”
“That’s my college,” Press explained. Grantham grouped dorms around quadrangles and referred to these larger units as residential colleges. “No air-conditioning, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay. She wouldn’t know what to do with AC,” Mimi said. “Forget the name of the college. Just tell her which dorm.”
