I cleared my throat. “I know of her. I suppose you know her then.”
“She's married to a friend of mine.”
“A doctor?”
“No. A lawyer.”
Two lawyers. No wonder they could afford this neighborhood. I remembered back. Of course. The man she left Joel for, the one she studied with at law school. Not just any guy, but Joel's best friend since they were toddlers. Another part of the story Judith refused to talk with me about. I don't know why I suddenly felt sorry for Joel, but I did. Maybe I believed it should be Joel on the page with Rose and the dog and the designer couch in a house Joel probably would've built, his dream house that we couldn't afford because we'd decided I should stay home and raise our kids, not that Joel would've wanted it any different. My part-time job at the Panchal Center had been more for an intellectual reward than financial. The graduate classes Joel encouraged me to take had meant sacrificing vacations and the extras people like Monica could afford.
“You can take the magazine. I've read it,” he said.
And thinking about the copper pennies, I accepted his offer and pushed her from my mind for the moment. There would be time to deal with her later.
I hadn't meant for the article to sour my mood, but thankfully, Cortland was a natural conversationalist. Within no time, I was at ease with him. We drank our coffee on the veranda amidst beautiful gardens not unlike the ones I'd visited at the archdiocese. I scanned my memory for info on Cortland. “I hear you play golf with my dad.”
“Yeah. We hit a few balls every now and then. Your dad's a great guy. Mine passed a few years ago.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. It's been interesting. My mom just started dating again. Through church, of course. The Singles Again group. Not an easy thing to see your mother get back out there. I went to two socials with her, and if it's not embarrassing enough to have your mother try to set you up behind your back, it's even worse right in front of you.”
“I'm sure your mom's a great matchmaker, but you're kind of an easy sell. The whole handsome doctor thing can't hurt.”
Cortland laughed, and I wondered if I'd said too much. My foot-in-mouth disease was aggravated around handsome men. “Well, maybe I should introduce myself as a grocer and see if that makes a difference.”
“See if they like you for you and not the white coat.” I tried to imagine if my sister would be interested in him if he were just a handsome grocer instead of a handsome anesthesiologist. Nope. Afraid not. “I'd stick with the doctor route. Honesty is usually the best policy. So your mom and my mom conspired to get you and Rachel together. You two must've hit it off.”
Cortland studied me before answering, clearly thinking before he spoke. “Your sister has more energy than all the doctors at Mercy combined.”
So he likes her zest, her zeal for life. Well, who wouldn't? Passion oozed from that sparkly smile, and while I still believed half of it was for show, she did manage to pull it off. “Have you seen her show?”
“No. But I've seen the billboards for more than a year.”
The one Anh and I called “the boob billboard.” Rachel had the shot done right after her implants, when she was still a little swollen. Her network swears her viewership rose three points after the board went up. “What, no TiVo? I TiVo her. It's the least a sister can do.”
He shrugged. “Busy, I guess. But why watch her on TV when you can get the real thing?”
This time I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't mean in bed. I looked beyond the garden at the pool, remembering it was Rachel's first question to my mother about him. “I'm glad Lindsey and Zoe have hit it off, too. Zoe's had a rough couple of years with the divorce and…” I nearly added having my sister as a mother.
“Lindsey's always wanted a sister. Or brothers. Rachel tells me you have two boys. That must be a handful.”
Even with a husband. “ They're great. They are definitely the bright spot in my day.”
“What does your husband do?”
I could feel myself blush. Rachel had told him about the boys, but not that I'm a widow? It had taken me a full year to stop answering yes when someone asked me if I was married. Now I simply said no. If they pressed, I told them I was a widow, but unlike my sister, I didn't seek any sympathy.
He wore what was surely his compassionate doctor's face. The one people saw right before they started counting backwards, imagining little Cortland sheep hurdling over a picket fence. “I'm sorry. Rough subject.”
“Oh, it's okay. I just thought Rachel would've told you. My husband died two years ago. Heart attack.”
Cortland's smile fell. He seemed embarrassed he hadn't been told as well. “God, I'm sorry. The last couple of years have had to be hell on you.”
I caught my breath. “Thank you. Yes. As a matter of fact, it has been exactly like hell. Though Pastor Feelgood never said those words to me.”
“Pastor Feelgood. That fits him, doesn't it? I'm afraid I may never be able to call him by his real name again. How come I've never seen you in church?”
“You mean you didn't spot me among the 10,000 other attendees?”
“Fair enough. But I think I could pick you out in a crowd.”
He raised his eyebrows. I did the same. I felt the coffee swirl inside of me, and I fidgeted to break whatever connection was forming between us, especially so soon after mentioning my husband's name. My sister wanted this man, or at least his pool. I was just the driver, her personal assistant for the day. I should go.
“Well, thanks for the coffee. I have to pick up da Vinci before Bradley's game.”
Cortland stood and stretched again, puffing his chest towards me. “Did you just say you had to pick up da Vinci?”
I laughed. “He's an immigrant student of mine that's living in my garage studio. His name really is Leonardo da Vinci. And to answer your question earlier, my husband Joel was an architect. A very good architect. He actually designed your hospital.”
“Wow. He did great work. The hospital is a masterpiece.”
“Thank you. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear that.”
“And I'd love to meet this da Vinci of yours.”
“So would my sister. We'll have you over soon.” I noticed I had said we as if da Vinci and I were together. “I mean, I'll have you all over to my house soon. Although it's nothing like this.”
Cortland waved it away. “This was my wife's idea. Ex-wife's. She would've wanted the house in the divorce, only the guy she left me for has a house twice this size.”
“Ouch.”
“Very ouch. But looking back, it's better this way. And I'm actually thinking of downsizing. I prefer a cozy little space.”
“Don't tell that to my sister.”
He scrunched his brow. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged, regretting opening my big mouth. “Oh, nothing. I just mean I'm sure she really likes your house. And your pool.”
“It does have a nice hot tub,” he said. “It's nice to get in with a cup of hot chocolate when it's snowy outside. That I'll invite you over for. I mean, Rachel and I will invite you and da Vinci over.”
Our eyes locked again, and I wanted to make a snide remark about hell freezing over before I'd get in a hot tub with my hard-bodied sister, but I didn't think that was really the point. The point, if I was really paying attention, was that we had just made two plans to see each other again.
Chapter 6
A FEW THINGS GRIEVERS don't do: We won't tell you to look at the “bright side"; we steer clear of couples' hang-outs; and we absolutely, unequivocally avoid weddings like vampires shun sunlight. The blushing bride and tearful groom and gaggle of well-wishers and sweet sanctimony don't sit well with my kind. We tend to ignore any nuptial events that come our way. (We have nothing against you lovebirds; it's just best not to throw acid into a seeping wound.)