“What other approach is there?”
“Woman to woman. Casual, chatty, the way you and I talk. If she's been doing the deed, and you don't make her feel threatened about it, she'll either tell you straight out or let something slip. At least you'll know how she feels about sex at this stage of her life. And you won't have to mention the condoms at all. She'll tell you about carrying them, if she wants you to know.”
Sometimes Eileen amazed her. She could be so cavalier, downright flighty at times; and then she'd come up with a perfectly wise, practical suggestion like this. Funny how someone could be your close friend for thirty years and you still didn't have a clue as to how her mind worked.
Eileen said, “Good idea?”
“A lot better than any I could come up with.”
“You know, maybe I missed my calling. Maybe instead of a nurse I should have become a family counselor. Or a sex therapist, like Dr. Ruth. What do you think?”
“I think I'm going to buy your lunch.”
“Ah! The exact amount of my consultation fee. It also entitles you to an extra ten minutes, so let's move right along to your sex life. How're things with you and Jerry?”
“Jerry and I are just friends, you know that.”
“Meaning you still haven't slept with him.”
“No, I haven't.”
“Going to?”
“I don't know. Probably not.”
“Doesn't make your toes tingle? He's a real hunk.”
“Let's drop that subject, okay?”
“Uh-oh. Do I detect a hint of sexual frustration?”
“No, you don't.”
“That's what it sounds like to me. How long has it been, anyway, since you got laid?”
“Eileen …”
“Come on, how long?”
“I don't keep track of things like that,” Cecca said, which was a flat-out lie. It had been thirteen months, give or take a few days. One night with Owen Gregory. On a sudden whim or temporary brain lock … whatever you wanted to call it. After she and Owen had been to a party at Eileen and Ted's, as a matter of fact, and she'd drunk a little too much wine. It hadn't been very good. In fact, it hadn't been good at all. One-night stands weren't for her; she'd felt cheap afterward and still wasn't quite at ease in Owen's presence, even though he'd been a gentleman about the whole thing. She was a woman who needed a strong emotional attachment before she was comfortable in a sexual relationship. And since Chet, there simply hadn't been anybody. She wasn't even sure she wanted there to be anybody again. Once burned, twice shy.
Still, Eileen was right: She was a little frustrated. You didn't lose your sex drive when you got divorced and then turned forty. And with all the things that had been wrong with her marriage to Chet, sex hadn't been one of them. Lord, no. In fact, if it hadn't been so damned good, she might have left him before he decided to leave her—and wasn't that a sad, pathetic comment on the life and mindset of Francesca Bellini?
A busboy took their plates away. On his heels was the waiter with a dessert tray. Eileen said, “Oh, no, not for me,” and then allowed herself to be seduced into ordering a piece of Chocolate Decadence. “My friend and I will split it,” she said, and smiled at Cecca, who thought fondly: No, we won't. You'll eat the whole thing, you pig.
When the waiter was gone, Cecca said, “Oh, I didn't tell you who I saw earlier” to forestall any more of Eileen's probing sex questions.
“Who?”
“Dix.”
“You stop by his house, or what?”
“No, he was coming out of the hardware store.”
“How did he look?”
“Pretty well, considering. He's lost some weight.”
“I'd be surprised if he hadn't. Poor Dix.”
“I think he's going to be all right.”
“I hope so. I worry about him, rattling around in that big house all alone.”
“It was what he wanted.”
“What people say at funerals isn't necessarily what they mean.”
“Dix meant it. He has a right to grieve in his own way.”
“Well, sure he does. But I still think a person needs friends at a time like this, not isolation. If I lost Ted the way he lost Katy, I'd want a houseful of people around me every minute.”
“I suppose I would, too,” Cecca agreed. “If it hadn't been for you and Katy when Chet walked out, I don't know what I might have done.”
“So is Dix ready to start letting us back into his life?”
“Soon, I think. He as much as said so.”
“Encouraging,” Eileen said. “When are you seeing him again?”
“I don't know, I hadn't thought about it.”
“Don't wait around. Invite him to dinner tomorrow night.”
“That's too soon.”
“No it isn't. He's alone, you're alone. Two needy people. Make your move before somebody else does.”
The waiter brought Eileen's Chocolate Decadence and two forks. She plunged into it greedily. Cecca didn't touch the second fork; she was frowning.
“You think I'm needy?” she said.
“Aren't you, honey?”
“No. And even if I were, even if I were interested in Dix Mallory that way, which I'm not, Katy's been gone only three weeks. Three weeks, Eileen!”
“The living go on living. You're not attracted to Dix?”
“Not the way you mean, no.”
“Well, he's always been attracted to you. The way he looks at you sometimes … I'd say he's very interested. He never made a pass at you?”
“Dix? Don't be silly.”
“Well, why not? He's a man, and men are horny beasts, thank God.”
“He worshipped Katy. He wouldn't have cheated on her.”
“It's too bad Katy didn't feel the same way.”
“Oh God,” Cecca said.
“I know, I know, she was like a sister to me, too. But I swear she had a lover.”
“You don't know that she did.”
“Well, you don't always have to have proof positive. She was getting it from somebody besides Dix, all right.”
“I don't see how you can be so catty about her.”
“I'm not being catty. I'm the brutally frank type, honey, you ought to know that by now. I say what I think.”
“But after the horrible way she died …”
“Sure, it was horrible. But quick in an accident is a lot better than slow with cancer, no matter how awful the accident.”
“Even at forty? I suppose so.”
“You bet it is. Besides,” Eileen said philosophically, “accidents happen. Most of the time we're lucky enough to survive them, like when the ceiling panel collapsed at the hospital and almost squashed me. Or that time up in Oregon—all three of us could have been highway statistics that night. Poor Katy's luck just ran out.”
“Can we please change the subject? My lunch is starting to curdle.”
“When you've been a nurse as long as I have,” Eileen said, “nothing bothers your digestion. Or your appetite. You sure you don't want some of this cake? There's only one thing I can think of that tastes better than Chocolate Decadence, and Ted's not here.”
Cecca sighed and watched her vacuum up the cake. And thought about Dix. Attracted to her? Maybe, in the same platonic way she was attracted to him. Nothing serious, just an easy, good-humored friendship. Nothing sexual. She liked the way he looked, and his intellect, and his gentleness, and his smile—but that was all. Eileen was crazy if she thought there could be a romance between them. Still, she had to admit that he appealed to her more than Jerry or Owen, and she'd gone to bed with Owen. There was no harm in inviting him to dinner, seeing him socially. Not dates, exactly, just two friends getting together. Not even Katy could have found fault with that.
Katy, she thought. My best friend Katy. Dead three weeks, burned to death at the bottom of a ravine, and here I sit, planning casual get-togethers with her husband. I'm as bad as Eileen. Worse, because I'm not as honest.