The Wedding Tree (38 page)

hope

TWO DAYS LATER

C
hicago was hot, but it was a drier heat than in Louisiana. The wind blew my hair in my face as my friend Courtney and I walked into a coffee shop in Hyde Park.

Courtney had left her husband in charge of her two toddlers and driven in from the suburbs to help me look at condos. “That last place was perfect,” she declared as we waited for the barista to complete our orders. “It had a great view, a balcony, a powder room as well as a full bath, and it was completely renovated. And those wide-planked hardwoods were to die for!”

“Yeah. It was pretty nice.”

“Nice?” Courtney's eyes widened. “It was perfect!”

And it was. The problem was, I couldn't get up a head of steam about it.

“The agent said you need to move fast,” Courtney reminded me. “There are five other interested buyers looking at it just today.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Courtney demanded. “The place is fabulous, and it's just a block from your work. There's no way you're going to find anything better.”

She was probably right. The condo had plaster crown molding,
vintage light fixtures, and many of the charming old-fashioned touches I loved, as well as all the modern updates I wanted. But it didn't have a garden out back with azalea bushes. It didn't have a swing in the backyard or the front porch. The sounds out of that bay window were of traffic and sirens, not wind rustling through the oaks. There was no screen door that neighbors could yoo-hoo through. The door opened into an overly lit narrow hallway that smelled vaguely of Chinese food.

“Tell me one thing that's wrong with it,” Courtney said.

“It's in Chicago.”

She scrunched her forehead into a confused frown. “You want a place in the suburbs?”

Being surrounded by children and families would only make me feel more lonely. I shook my head.

“Oh, I get it. You're pining for that guy in Louisiana.”

I blew out a sigh and watched a woman cross the coffee shop, holding the hand of a little girl about Sophie's age. “I think I'm pining for Louisiana, period.”

“It's just a matter of getting re-acclimated.” The barista put our drinks on the counter, and we headed for a table recently vacated by a guy working on a tablet. Courtney licked a bit of foam off the rim of her cup. “Look, you may not want to hear this, but as your friend, I feel the need to tell you anyway. Through no discernible effort of your own, you've landed one of the most sought-after jobs in the art world—a job that not only pays well but offers the opportunity to travel and meet fascinating people and influence what kind of art gets seen by thousands of people. That is power. That is a fabulous opportunity. And thanks to your newly discovered late grandfather, you can afford an incredible place to live. Frankly, I'm green with jealousy. Seems to me you've got the world by the tail. So what's with the Debbie Downer attitude?”

She was right. I was behaving like an ungrateful wretch. I put down my iced tea and leaned forward. “Here's the thing—I rediscovered what I love about art. It's not looking at it and assessing it
and evaluating it as an investment prospect. I like making art, not making money for other people from it.”

She lifted her shoulders. “So do both. Paint in your free time.”

“I won't have much free time.”

“Well, that's good. It'll keep your mind off your Louisiana heartthrob. And you're in the perfect situation for a job like this. It's not like you're tied down with a husband and kids.”

Funny how this pep talk was doing just the opposite of what it was meant to do. My purse buzzed with the “Matt's calling” ring.

“Isn't that your phone?”

“Yes.”

“You're not going to even look at it?”

I didn't need to.

“Ah. How long are you going to keep avoiding him?”

I lifted my shoulders. My throat felt too tight to reply.

After seeing Gran off with Eddie and Ralph yesterday, I'd grabbed the first plane to Chicago. I hadn't trusted my resolve, so I'd waited to text Matt until after I'd landed.

A weekend together would just make good-byes all the harder. Decided to spare us both and head back to Chicago early. Loved every minute with you.

He'd immediately called me. I considered not answering, but I couldn't do that to him.

“You're standing me up, and just leaving a text?” he'd demanded.

“I don't have anything else to say, other than what I wrote you.” Tears had pooled in my eyes as I waited for the baggage carousel to start. “I couldn't enjoy the weekend, knowing it was just a long good-bye. I didn't see the point in dragging things out.”

“Who says it has to be good-bye? Last I heard, planes fly back and forth all the time.”

My voice sounded choked and raw. “Matt, we both know a long-distance relationship won't work. You struggle to make time for your kids as it is, and my new job will involve lots of weekend functions and travel.”

“I thought we'd talk about all that this weekend.”

“There's nothing to talk about. I—I have to hang up now. I see my bag.”

“Wait—you're already in Chicago?”

“Yeah. Sorry—gotta go.”

He'd called right back. I hadn't answered. He'd texted.

This is a pretty one-sided decision.

Please don't make it harder than it needs to be.

“That small town wouldn't be the same without your grandmother there,” Courtney said, pulling me back to the moment.

“I know,” I sighed.

“And chances are, things wouldn't have worked out with this guy. The fact you both knew it was going to be temporary might have been part of the appeal. That's what makes a spring fling so romantic.”

Was that all Matt and I had had together? A spring fling?

No. There had been a lot more to it than that—on my end anyway. But falling for him wasn't a good enough reason to give up the biggest career opportunity ever likely to come my way. If my experience with Kurt had taught me anything, it was that career decisions needed to be made solely by me, based on facts and sound reasoning, not emotion or persuasive arguments. I would be a fool to pass up this job.

But some part of me—some wistful, old-fashioned, sentimental part, the same part that loved negligees and peignoirs and honeymoon words—would probably always secretly wonder otherwise.

ONE MONTH LATER

“I need you to go to an art festival in Miami next week.”

I was sitting in my boss's office, gazing at a massive Wintrope on her wall. I knew the painting was appraised at $750,000. I knew it was entitled
Energy
. All the same, I couldn't help but think that
the artist was running a scam, because it was nothing but a blob of orange on solid red. I could have painted it in five minutes flat.

“We'll have several clients there,” Ms. McAbbee continued.

I nodded.

“And be sure and pack some evening clothes.” She looked at me in a way that meant she was trying to convey something she didn't want to come right out and say. “I realize you're new, but schmoozing is a very important part of what we do.”

So she'd noticed I'd ducked out early and kept to myself at the last few events. After discussing a few other matters with her, I headed back to my office—I had an office to myself, a real office with a window!—and gazed out at the view.

In the past month, I'd technically done everything I was supposed to do. I'd moved into a new apartment. I'd decided to take a short-term lease so I could look around and find something to buy that excited me as much as Gran was excited about her new city. (Gran and Snowball were happily settled in an assisted living apartment in San Francisco, two blocks from Eddie and Ralph. Ralph had set her up a Facebook account, convinced her to give digital cameras a try, and now she was regularly posting photos.)

I'd bought new clothes. I'd gotten my hair trimmed. I'd even gotten a makeup makeover. I spent the day on the computer, looking at art, researching statistics, and finding comparables, and in the evenings, I was expected to go to gallery openings, galas, and other places collectors frequented. I was busy all the time, but I didn't feel like I was accomplishing anything. I felt like a stand-in for someone else's life.

My phone rang. I recognized Gran's number and quickly answered. “Hey—how are you doing?”

“Just dandy. But I need to ask you to do a favor. I need you to go to Wedding Tree for the closing on the house.”

Gran's house had sold for full list price to an investment consortium the first week it was on the market.

“Eddie can't get away, and the closing company says they need someone from the family to be present to sign the papers.”

“Can't the attorney do it?”

“Afraid not, dear.”

“When is it?”

“Next Friday.”

I checked my calendar. I'd have to miss a black-tie affair. My boss wouldn't be pleased, but I was delighted to get out of the obligation. When I'd taken the job, it had been with the condition that I could take a few days off within the first few months if I needed to take care of family business. “Okay.”

After we hung up, I contacted the title company in Wedding Tree, then went online and made arrangements for a fast swoop into town and a fast swoop out. I called Kirsten.

“You'll stay with me, of course,” she said.

“That's really sweet, but I'm not staying the night. I hoped I could meet you someplace private for lunch.”

“You're wanting to avoid Matt?”

She knew me too well. “How is he?”

“I haven't seen much of him. Peggy says he was grim when you left, like after Christine died, but Freret saw him at the bank yesterday and said he was laughing and cracking jokes.”

My heart sank. Hadn't taken him long to get over me, apparently.

“You've seen Peggy? How are the girls?”

“Adorable. She brought them in last week. They were wearing the costumes from their ballet recital. And Zoey lost another tooth.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They're growing up so fast.”

And I was missing it. I was as crazy about those girls as I was about their father. The empty spot that had ached in my chest ever since I'd left felt like a fresh wound.

“Jillian came back for a long weekend,” Kirsten continued. “And guess what—she's met someone in Atlanta.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently it's pretty hot and heavy. She sold her house,
and he's coming with her to the closing next month to meet Peggy and Griff and the girls.”

“Wow.” Jillian was in a relationship—and she, too, was selling a house. “Sounds like a real estate boom in Wedding Tree.”

“It is. That new software business has started moving here. Apparently the founder lived here for a few years when he was a teenager, and he's decided to move back.”

“I remember Lauren said about a hundred employees would be moving to town.”

“Yeah. It's not huge, but it's big for a town the size of Wedding Tree.”

We talked some more, and then I hung up. Something inside, some gnarly little weed of emotion that I thought was dead and gone, oozed some bitter juice. It took me a moment to identify the taste. When I did, a zing of shame shot through me.

Jealousy
. I was jealous.

Of Jillian?

No. Not Jillian. I was actually happy for her. It was about time she got beyond the shadow of her sister.

So who, then?

All the new people moving to Wedding Tree, I realized. I was jealous that they got to live there, while I had to live here.

“Whoa, girl,” I muttered to myself. “What's going on?” A coworker walked by and gazed in curiously. I fiddled with my phone, pretending I was talking into it. I was losing it, talking aloud to myself. I gathered up my things, headed to my apartment, and phoned Gran.

“I just realized I'm jealous of the people moving to Wedding Tree while I'm stuck in Chicago,” I blurted.

“Who said you're stuck in Chicago?” she asked.

“This is a wonderful opportunity that will never come my way again.”

“Sounds like you're reciting a line from a script. How can it be wonderful if you don't really want it?”

That made me pause. “But I
should
want it.”

“
Should
is the most useless word in the English language. What would you rather be doing?”

“Painting murals and living in Wedding Tree.”

“Well, then, there's your answer.”

“But . . . Matt asked me to stay, and I'm afraid that's influencing why I want to be there. And I don't want to build my life around a man.”

“Seems to me you already did,” Gran said mildly.

“What?”

“Well, if you're not doing what you really want to do because you're avoiding Matt, you
have
built your life around him.”