Back to the Good Fortune Diner (31 page)

Maya picked up her momentary hesitation. “Hey, if nothing else, you have somewhere to wear your nice business clothes.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She glanced at the big paper shopping bag sitting in the corner of the room.

“Hey, my clients have a right to privacy. I can’t run around telling everyone who bought what.”

“Yeah, but this is my dad we’re talking about.”

Her father had helped her move out. Before he’d left, he’d presented her with a gift. “Your mom told me how happy you were to get this job. I’m glad you’re working and doing something you want to do. We’re proud of you,
Ah-Teen.
So, I bought you some new clothes for your new job. I got a great deal for them, too.” He’d grinned impishly. “Just don’t tell your mother.”

She’d been speechless as she drew out every piece of clothing she’d sold at the consignment shop. She wasn’t sure if her dad had known they’d originally belonged to her. That twinkle in his eyes was hard to decipher. She didn’t ask as she hugged him tight. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Bah.” He waved her off and said, “I’m your father,” as if it explained everything. And in a weird way, it did.

Outside, someone leaned on a car horn. It was nearly ten at night, and she made a noise of frustration.

“Ah, the sounds of the city.” Maya snickered. Tiffany cradled the handset between her neck and shoulder as she pulled the window down, leaving it cracked an inch. The mild breeze was the only thing keeping her from cooking alive indoors. Freakin’ global climate change, she muttered to herself. Mid-September and it was still in the high eighties. “I gotta say, I don’t miss the noise one bit. Never had a better sleep than I have in Everville,” Maya added a touch smugly.

“Jersey has its charms,” Tiffany insisted, then wrinkled her nose at the stench of garbage from the Dumpster below. She closed the window the rest of the way. Despite the sounds and smells and lack of air-conditioning, she couldn’t complain. The beautiful old apartment was only a few blocks from the Haute Docs offices, and it was three times the size of her old apartment in Manhattan.

“Well, if nothing else, I’ll have someone I can stay with when I go on purchasing expeditions?” Her voice rose in a question, and Tiffany chuckled.

“The couch is yours anytime you like.” She surprised herself by how easily she’d issued the invitation. The old Tiffany would have felt manipulated, but Maya had been a good friend these past few weeks. She hadn’t been nosy and asked about what’d happened between her and Chris, though Tiffany was certain rumors must have been going around town since her departure. Instead, they talked about books, movies, music and girl stuff. They had a surprising amount in common, and had already planned to get together in the city for a weekend. Talking with Maya over the phone kept the loneliness at bay.

Tiffany glanced over at the stack of manuscripts haunting her coffee table and grimaced. “Listen, it’s getting late, and I should finish this reading before I go to bed.”

“Such a hard worker,” Maya admonished. “All work and no play...”

“Makes Tiffany a better editor,” she quipped dryly. “I’ll call you tomorrow with more chilling tales from the slush pile.”

“Can’t wait.”

They hung up, and the evening’s levity fizzled. She faced the sterile, empty apartment and sighed into the silence. Everything inside her rebelled at the thought of doing any more work today.

She abandoned her duties and turned on the TV to a rerun of
Frasier.
The crotchety old dad, Martin Crane, reminded her of William Jamieson. She wondered how he was doing after the surgery. Rose had told her he’d been released from the hospital about two weeks after his heart attack. Simon had been working part-time at the diner and seemed to be doing well there, too. She wondered if he was having any troubles with his classes. It couldn’t be easy working and doing school on top of taking care of his grandfather. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Chris was going through.

Her heart squeezed. She wondered how he was holding up, whether he was still mad at her. She’d been so stupid to lie to all of them. The weight in her chest grew as she mentally recited all the accusations the Jamiesons had leveled at her.

Moh gwai young.

She was heading for a shower when someone knocked. Wondering who would be calling on her this late, she peered through the peephole and squeaked in surprise.

Tiffany quickly unlatched the door chain. “What are you doing here?” She threw her arms around her brother. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. He smelled a little stale, and his stubble scraped her cheek, but he was solid and alive. “Where have you been? How did you know I lived here?”

“Mom told me. I’m sorry. I should have called before I came.”

She ushered him in. She’d never been so glad to see Daniel. She cleared the couch for him, then fussed as she made him a cup of jasmine tea and put together a plate of dinner leftovers.

“This is pretty good,” he said, shoveling the fried rice, beef and broccoli into his mouth. She wondered when his last meal had been—he looked thinner. “Takeout?”

“I cooked it,” she said proudly. “There’s an Asian grocery a couple of blocks from here. I even got ingredients for one of
Poh-poh’s
soups, but I haven’t mustered up the courage to try making it yet.”

“What’s to make? You throw the stuff in boiling water and it’s soup.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about writing a blog about it. You know, doing the
Julie & Julia
thing.”

He grinned. “Go for it. Maybe someone will want to turn it into a book.”

She looked him over, noting the dark shadows under his eyes against his pale complexion. “I don’t see a tan, so I’m guessing you didn’t make it to Florida. Where have you been?”

“Here and there.” He wiped his mouth and set the plate down. “I drove along the coast mostly. Visited a couple of friends in Boston. Nearly made it to the Canadian border, but decided to turn around.”

“What happened to Key West?”

“I couldn’t go that far,” he said quietly, staring at his hands.

“Selena?”

He nodded, unable to meet her eyes. “I tried to get away. I really did. But I kept driving back to New York. I’d trap myself in traffic just for an excuse to hang around. I was getting seriously stalker-y.” He rubbed at the hollows beneath his eyes. “I passed through her neighborhood and drove by her office three times, thinking I should try talking to her. But I couldn’t.”

Pity wasn’t something she thought he’d appreciate, but he sounded so forlorn all she wanted to do was hug him. “Are you heading home?” she asked instead.

“I’m not sure.” His gaze was fixed on a spot on the floor between his feet. “How can I go back? You were right about me. No woman’s ever going to want a man who lives with and works for his parents.” He rubbed his temples. “I’ve wasted my life.”

Tiffany felt a spurt of outrage. “Hey, you’re a catch, okay? Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my sister.” His words were muffled by his hands.

“No, as your sister, I’m obligated to make fun of you and push your self-confidence into the mud. Unfortunately, I did my job too well.” She rubbed at her aching head, shame sweeping through her. “Look, you love Selena, don’t you?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Then nothing else matters. Not what she does or what you do or who you live with or any of those things I said. When have you ever listened to me, anyhow? Have I ever said a smart thing to you in all my life?”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. Tiff hated that she’d been so hard on him.

“Look, when I said all that stuff about you and Selena not being suited or whatever, I was being a petty bitch. I was jealous you had someone in your life.” Feeling lighter as the sour admission left her lips, she pushed on. “Forget everything I said about what Mom and Dad will think. All that matters is how you feel for each other.”

“I’m not sure she’ll take me back after all this.”

“At least give her a chance to tell you that herself. If it’s really over like you think it is, what’s the worst she can say?”

“How about ‘you’re a worthless human being and I never should have dated you and you smell funny and I hate the way you dress’?”

“Okay, what
else
could she possibly say?”

He smiled crookedly. “Does this spurt of relationship wisdom mean you’ve worked things out with Chris?”

The ache in her chest returned twofold. “It’s more like he worked me out of things.” Haltingly, she told him what had transpired, trying hard to keep the tears out of her voice.

Daniel sighed. “Man, what a pair we are. Sorry about Chris. I know how much you lov— Liked him.”

She didn’t miss his slip. “It’s for the best.”

“‘For the best’?”

“Well, of course. I’m finally where I should be. Chris has his life, I have mine.” She gestured vaguely around her with a tight smile. “I’m doing work I love, work I was trained to do. And look at this apartment—I’d have to pay through the nose for a place this size in Manhattan. I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

Daniel’s sage look bordered on pity. “There’s more to life than having a dream job and a nice apartment. What about a husband? A family? All that domestic stuff?”

She collected his empty plate and made herself busy refilling his tea and washing up. “That’s not for everyone. I certainly never wanted any of that. I’m not a people person. Marriage and the white picket fence aren’t for me. Besides, I could never have anything with Chris.” That bone-deep ache expanded painfully until she thought she couldn’t breathe.

“Why not?”

“Because...” Because it wouldn’t work. This was where she belonged. Lamely, she went on, “He’s already divorced.”

Her brother arched an eyebrow. “So? Lots of people get married a second time.”

She struggled for a logical, straightforward explanation, but her feelings mixed themselves up with the facts and the cold hard truth. “There’s baggage. I abused his trust. I made promises to Simon I couldn’t keep, and to him, that’s unforgivable.”

Daniel rubbed his jaw. “Chris isn’t like that—”

“He is,” she snapped. “He doesn’t want to be involved with someone who can’t be satisfied with what life has handed him, the way he is. Don’t you get it? I want more in my life than a farm. But all he sees is Daphne and the way she’s treated Simon. We can’t have anything together,” she said, voice cracking. “We’re too different. We want different things. I can’t share my life with him—he’ll only drag me down and it’d end horribly.” She was getting too close to the raw nerve where her pain lived, but she plowed on, driven by the momentum of her fear and hurt. “Look at Mom and Dad. They’ve been together more than thirty-four years, and they fight all the time. They’ve never met eye to eye on anything. All these years, and they still can’t work things out. Compare me and Chris to that. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Her brother’s eyes rounded. “Are you seriously judging your ability to have a relationship based on
Mom and Dad’s
marriage?”

She blinked slowly. Okay, when he said it like that, it sounded like the silliest thing ever. She dropped onto the couch and drew her knees up. “I know I wouldn’t be good at it. Having kids probably makes things worse. I’d make a terrible mother and an even worse stepmother. You know I don’t...get along with people easily. I’d be a selfish mother. Any kids I had would be screwed up.”

“Good God...if I could get Dad to pay for therapy...” Daniel’s head hit the back of the couch as he stared at the ceiling. “Just because Mom and Dad’s marriage sucks doesn’t mean you’re going to end up the same way. There are tons of people from stable families who don’t know how to have a relationship. We can all suck at it equally with or without our parents’ help.”

“Thanks. That’s cheery, knowing so many of us are doomed to relationship failure.”

He gave her a stern look. “You’re not selfish. You’re focused on surviving. We went through a lot of shit as kids, and you dealt with the situation however you could. Maybe it meant you closed yourself off emotionally from other people, but who’s to say being alone isn’t what’s right for you?”

She pictured a lifetime of quiet solitude in her stuffy apartment. The idea had suited her just fine two months ago, but now, she wanted more, yearned for it. A handful of awkward first dates and impersonal work-related get-togethers did not constitute a social life. She hadn’t been able to admit it to herself until now. Work alone was no longer enough to fulfill her. Unfortunately for Tiffany, work was all she had.

Her brother’s next words pierced her heart. “However it happened, Chris fell in love with you. It wasn’t a mistake and you didn’t trick him into it. So now, there’s only one question you have to ask yourself. Do you love Chris?”

She stared. She didn’t know the answer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

C
HRIS FOUND
S
IMON IN HIS ROOM
, lying on the bed with Clover curled up on his belly. He had a book propped open on his chest, but his eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed.

“
Wuthering Heights,
huh?” Chris noted from the doorway.

Simon let the book fall against his chest and blinked rapidly. “It’s. So.
Boring.
”

He laughed. “We’ll rent a movie version. I thought you might want to work downstairs at the table. Grandpa’s finished watching
Jeopardy!
”

“It’s okay.” He yawned. “I’m going to finish up these chapters. I’ll probably pass out while reading anyways.”

A mew from the corner of the room had Chris glancing over to the towel-filled basket where the little black kitten named Mack peered up. He hopped out of the basket and galloped to Chris’s feet, rolling over to chew on his big toe. Chris scooped up the troublemaker and rubbed him behind the ears before putting him back down. “Still no takers, huh?”

“No.” A guilty look stole across Simon’s face. “I asked around at school, but no one wants him.”

Chris didn’t believe that for a minute. All the other kittens had been snatched up by Labor Day. He didn’t blame Simon for wanting to keep him, though. Mack was so full of personality, even Chris had grown attached. “Well, he’s good company for Clover, I guess.” The little gray cat watched her brother frolic, thoroughly unimpressed as Mack wove around Chris’s ankles purring loudly.