Читать книгу A Million Little Things - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 9
ОглавлениеMischief in Motion was a well-known Pilates studio in town. The storefront was light and bright and probably appealing to people who, you know, liked exercise. Zoe had done her best to avoid anything that would make her sweat so she’d never ventured inside. Until today.
Not only did she have to work on her muscle mass, as demonstrated by the attic incident, she wanted to see if Jen’s mom was still a regular. She and Pam had always gotten along, and Pam kind of reminded her of her own mother. These days, a little maternal TLC seemed like a good thing. And if a little Jen-focused advice was shared, as well, all the better. To be honest, Zoe had no idea what to do about her friend. They were drifting apart and she didn’t know how to make that stop.
Wearing her newly purchased discount store Pilates workout gear—aka black leggings and an oversize T-shirt, she went inside to register for the class.
There were four women there already, along with a perky redhead behind a small reception desk. Zoe had a brief impression of scary-looking equipment, too many mirrors and very fit clients. She thought of her own jiggly thighs and told herself that everyone would be so focused on themselves, they wouldn’t notice her at all. And if they did, they were probably too polite to say anything. Besides, she was here to get in shape and everyone had to start somewhere and—
“Zoe?” Pam spotted her and crossed the room. “What are you doing here?”
“I, ah, wanted to start working out some, ah, more than I am and I’d heard you mention the class so I thought I’d try it. Is that okay?”
Pam smiled, then hugged her. “Of course it is. I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?”
“Good.” Zoe hugged her back, allowing herself a second to feel the Mom-goodness that flowed from Pam.
“Come on. Let’s meet everyone.”
Pam led her around the studio, introducing Zoe as, “My daughter’s friend and mine, too,” which made Zoe feel good. She did her best to focus on names and faces rather than trim thighs and killer abs. She would get there—eventually.
Nicole, the owner of the exercise studio, was an attractive blonde who couldn’t be thirty. Pam mentioned something about Nicole’s son and new husband. Talk about having it all, Zoe thought, determined to be inspired rather than depressed by so much success in one fit package.
The class started on time. By minute three, Zoe knew that she was going to die—right there on the wooden framed reformer. She would simply stop breathing or rip herself in two, by accident, of course.
Nicole offered her a kind smile. “It takes a little getting used to. Just do the best you can.”
Zoe nodded because she was too out of breath to speak.
It wasn’t that they were doing anything especially vigorous. Instead it was the slow and controlled movements that left her gasping. She was expected to hold positions for counts of ten, then lower slowly. Or stand on some stupid moving platform with straps whose only purpose seemed to be to kill her.
Fifty minutes later, she rolled off the reformer and onto the ground. Other people stood and maybe she would too, one day. But for now, she had to wait for her muscles to stop shaking.
Pam crouched next to her. “You okay?”
“No.”
Pam laughed. “I know it’s hard at first. Everything is confusing. You might want to try a few private lessons first, to get the basic movements down. The classes move at a pretty fast pace.”
“Uh-huh.” Wow—two syllables. Zoe was so proud.
She sat up, then pushed to her feet. Her thighs shook but she managed to stay standing.
Pam’s lips twitched.
“It’s okay,” Zoe said, still breathing hard. “You can mock me. I get it.”
“You’ll do better next time.” Pam put her arm around Zoe’s shoulders. “Do you have time for lunch? I’d love to get caught up.”
“Sure. That would be great.”
Pam plucked at her fitted black tank top. “We’re not exactly dressed for a restaurant. Let’s get takeout and go back to my place instead.”
“Perfect.”
As they collected their bags, a little dog popped her head out of Pam’s oversize tote.
“Lulu!” Zoe dropped to her knees, then winced as her leg muscles complained. Ignoring them, she held out her hands and the adorable hairless dog jumped into her embrace.
“Hey, you,” Zoe said, snuggling with the odd creature. Lulu was part canine, part fashionista, part alien and all rock star. Today she had on a white lightweight sweater with tiny purple buttons down her back.
Lulu gave her cheerful kisses, then settled in for a good cuddle.
“You bring her to class?” Zoe asked.
“I take her everywhere. She’s quiet and enjoys getting out. So what are you in the mood for, lunchwise?”
* * *
Pam’s condo was big and bright, with a view of the Pacific Ocean. The building style was modern, which could have clashed with Pam’s more traditional furniture, but the warm woods and comfortable fabrics blended nicely with the sharp edges and sleek design.
Pam lifted Lulu out of her tote before washing her hands and setting the small dining table by the patio door.
“It’s still a little cool to eat outside,” the other woman said. “We’ll do that next time.”
Zoe liked the sound of that—the promise of another meal together. She washed her hands, then helped by putting out napkins and taking the take-out cartons from Wok’s Up out of the bags.
“I have iced tea,” Pam said as she opened the refrigerator. “Diet soda, oh and that organic juice Jen likes Jack to have.”
“Iced tea is fine. Thanks.”
They sat across from each other. Lulu settled in her bed by the sofa.
“This is nice,” Pam told her as she reached for her carton of Honey-Spicy Shrimp. “I’m so glad you came to class today.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to be sore. Drink a lot of water and take ibuprofen. It will help.”
“I promise.” No way Zoe was going to forget that. She wanted to be able to move in the morning. She glanced around at the condo. “This place is really nice. Do you like living here?”
“I do. It took me a bit to settle in. It was an adjustment for both of us.” She nodded at Lulu. “John and I lived in our house for over twenty years. But this is better. Manageable. I like being close to everything. Plus, now that I’m traveling more with my friends, it’s easier to leave a condo than a house.”
“I know Jen loves the house.”
After Pam’s husband had died, she’d moved into the condo and had given the large family home to Jen and Kirk. Zoe couldn’t remember all the details, but she was pretty sure that Pam had bought the condo from a girlfriend who’d gotten married and moved into her new husband’s place.
“She does,” Pam said. “I’m glad it stayed in the family.”
Zoe scooped chicken fried rice onto her plate. “The garden is so pretty. I’d like to do something like that at my place. Maybe a few raised beds. I’m not sure.”
“Jen mentioned you’d bought a house. Are you liking it?”
“I am. It’s different. I’m responsible for everything, which is strange after always being a renter. But it’s good.”
Except for the killer attic, she thought.
Pam looked at her. “How are things otherwise?”
A simple question. The expected response was to say things were just dandy. Perfect. Happy. Or, you know, fine. Which was what Zoe planned to say. What came out instead was, “Everything is a mess.”
Pam’s expression turned sympathetic. “Tell me.”
“I just... I don’t know. I’m so confused.” She put down her fork. “Chad and I broke up a couple of months ago. Or rather I broke up with him. I feel good about the decision. It was the right thing to do.”
“But?”
“But it’s hard. We were together nearly five years.” She had the wherewithal not to mention how it had started, or the problems they’d had, instead adding, “He’s divorced, with two kids. I suddenly realized I’d met them exactly twice. Twice! He kept telling me that they needed to adjust, but I started to think he was really waiting for them to grow up and be on their own.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I feel like I’ve wasted so much of my life on him. I’ve made choices because of him. Some were good, but some I’m really questioning.” She stared at her plate for a second, then looked back at Pam. “I bought my house thinking we would live in it together. I assumed that was where we were going. My house has three bedrooms. Three! I bought bedrooms for kids I’ve met twice. And my job—I’m not sure that was right. Quitting teaching. I make more money now, but I don’t love what I do. And I’m home alone all the time.”
She drew in a breath. “I had stupid breakup sex with Chad a few weeks ago and when it was over, I felt sick to my stomach. I’m done with him. Done. But I reacted out of loneliness. I want what everyone wants—someone to love, a family. I don’t want Chad back, but I resent the time I wasted. It was such a bad decision.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Pam told her firmly. “You loved him and believed in him. When you figured out what was wrong, you dumped his sorry ass.”
Zoe smiled. “Thank you for that.”
“You did. You moved on. Now keep moving on. Are you dating anyone?”
“No. I want to, but I’m kind of stuck. I don’t meet any guys. I was with Chad for so long, I’ve kind of forgotten what I’m supposed to do. I guess I could go to a bar or something.”
Zoe held in a shudder at the thought. “What’s worse than not dating is that I’ve isolated myself. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. Last week I got stuck in my attic. The door slammed shut and I couldn’t get it open. I didn’t have my phone with me. All I could think was that I was going to die and no one would miss me for weeks.”
Pam’s mouth twitched. “Weeks? Really?”
“Okay, days. But I could still be dead and Mason would eat my liver.”
“Mason is?”
“My cat.”
“Cats do love liver. Tell me about your work.”
“I translate manuals into readable English. Sometimes the translation from foreign languages is difficult to understand, or the manuals are written by people who are seriously technical. I take that gibberish and make it understandable.”
“So what don’t you like?”
“Being by myself all the time. The company relocated to San Jose. Because of Chad, I didn’t want to go. They offered to let me work at home rather than lose me and I said yes.” Zoe dropped her head to her hands. “I’m such a fool.”
“Do you want to go to San Jose now?”
“Not really. But I really miss being in an office.” She raised her head. “I think about going back into teaching, but I’m not sure.”
“What grade was it?”
“Junior high English.”
Pam winced. “That had to be tough.”
“I know, right? Sometimes I think about getting my master’s but I’m not sure about that either. I’m lost and confused and I miss my mom.”
Pam reached across the table and squeezed her hand, then released her. “Of course you do. How long has she been gone?”
“It was a year last month.”
“I’m sorry. It’s hard. For what it’s worth, the good memories are always with you.”
“Thanks. I like thinking about her. I always feel like she’s close by.” Zoe swallowed. “Sometimes I think she’s really disappointed in me.”
“She’s not,” Pam said firmly. “It’s not wrong to love someone. What gets us in trouble is when we make bad decisions based on that love. But you got yourself out of the relationship and you’re moving on.”
“I hope so.”
“Are you close to your dad?”
Finally a subject that wouldn’t embarrass her. “I am. He’s great, but you know, a guy. There are things I can’t tell him.”
“Sure, because then he’ll want to fix things, and possibly beat the crap out of Chad.”
Zoe smiled. “He could probably do it. My dad’s in good shape.”
Pam grinned. “There’s a visual for you to hang on to. For the rest of it, stop thinking and start doing. The next time a nice, appropriate man asks you out, say yes. Look into getting your master’s. Figure out if you want to go back to teaching or not. As for being alone too much, make plans with your friends. What do you and Jen do together?”
Zoe bit her lower lip. Talk about an awkward turn in the conversation. Jen was Pam’s daughter. Zoe couldn’t say that Jen had become...
Pam sighed. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that.”
“Jen has become something of a killjoy.”
Zoe stared. “You know?”
“Everyone knows. I can’t decide if I feel sorry for her or if she needs a good smack on the back of the head. I worried about my kids, maybe more than most, but nothing like this. She is obsessed with Jack.”
“The not talking,” Zoe murmured.
“The organic food. The cleaning products. Every time I go over, she asks me the last time Lulu got a bath. The only thing wrong with her son is that she won’t leave him alone for five seconds. He’s not talking because he doesn’t have to.” She paused. “Is that too harsh?”
“Not to me.”
“Well, I can’t say any of that to Jen. She would never forgive me. You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”
Zoe made an X over her heart. “I won’t, I swear.”
“Good. Now, how do you feel?”
Zoe considered the question. “Better. I need to stop wallowing and start doing.” She leaned forward. “I’m having a barbecue on Sunday. Would you like to come?”
“I’d love to. What time?”
* * *
Pam parked her SUV, collected her tote and headed into the offices of Moving Women Forward. MWF was housed in a small business park on the edge of Mischief Bay, about three thousand square feet that had been donated by a former client. Because of the cramped and shared office space, Pam did as much work out of her condo as she could. But every week or so, she had a meeting at the offices, either with staff or clients.
She greeted their volunteer manning the reception desk, then walked back to Bea Gentry’s office.
Bea, the director of the organization and one of the women who had recruited Pam two years ago, was about Pam’s age. She dressed in pantsuits and always wore a cameo on her lapel. Bea’s oldest boy and Pam’s youngest son had been best friends through high school.
Pam sat across from her and let Lulu out of her tote.
“You’re looking smug,” Bea said by way of greeting. “What have you been up to?”
Pam laughed. “I’m shocked that it shows, but you’re right. I’m feeling very good about things. I might have found the right woman for Steven.”
“I can’t believe you’re even looking. My kids would kill me if I tried.”
“Not if you got it right. Besides, Steven needs me to meddle. He’s finally given up his flavor of the week, which is great, but he’s not getting serious about anyone either. It’s time.”
She knew part of the reason for Steven’s change in behavior had been the death of his father. John’s unexpected passing had affected them all. Pam had been stuck in a kind of grief that had threatened to overwhelm her, while Steven had taken over the family plumbing business years before he’d expected he would. At first the responsibility had weighed on him, but he’d quickly grown into the position and now was doing a great job as president of the company. Which meant it was time for him to find the right woman.
“I wouldn’t have gone looking for someone for him,” Pam said. “But if I happen to run into her, then that’s hardly my fault.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll remind you of that when you have a total disaster on your hands. Remind you and say ‘I told you so.’”
Pam laughed. “That’s not going to happen.”
Lulu finished exploring the room and trotted over to Bea, who scooped her up and held her close.
“How’s my best girl?” she asked in a soft voice. “I like the buttons on your sweater. It takes a very fashion-forward girl to pull that off and, of course, you do.”
Lulu gave her a kiss, then relaxed in her embrace. Pam supposed there were people who would say her dog was spoiled, and while that might be true, Lulu was a faithful companion who had been by her side every second after John’s death. The little girl had missed her dad as much as everyone else in the family.
Pam shook off the memories and reached into her tote. This time she pulled out a file. “Tell me about Filia,” she said, opening the folder.
“We helped her five years ago, to get her nail salon up and running, and now she’s thriving. I think you’re going to like working with her.”
Pam was sure her friend was right. Bea had always done a good job of matching clients with coordinators. Moving Women Forward had a simple mission statement—they were there to help female entrepreneurs. That was it. A simple, clear vision. If a woman wanted to start a business, MWF was there to offer advice on everything from what to expect start-up costs to be to how to get a business license. If a woman already had a business up and running, MWF would provide mentoring, assistance with figuring out how to do payroll, manage employees and inventory. There were even cash grants and loans available. The services themselves were provided free of charge, but the client had to be accepted first, and that wasn’t easy.
Over the past couple of years Pam had learned that a lot of people said they wanted to open a business, but not very many of them were willing to put in the hard work required to make it happen. MWF insisted that clients take the first steps on their own—to show they were serious.
“I have a few ideas,” Pam said. “Her plans are ambitious. Let’s see if she can put them into action.”
Pam worked for MWF as a volunteer mentor. She took on a handful of clients every year. She was their point person. If she couldn’t answer a question, she would find someone who could. If the client was applying for a grant through MWF, Pam helped with the paperwork, then was her advocate through the process.
Filia hoped to expand her nail salon into a day spa. According to her paperwork, the space next door to her salon would be available in a few months. The location was good and she was already at capacity with her nail salon. It seemed to be the next logical step.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Pam said. She stood and looked at her dog. “You want to stay with Bea?”
Lulu wagged her tail and gave a little woof of agreement.
“Then I’ll be back in about half an hour.”
“If she gets restless, I’ll take her for a walk,” Bea promised.
“Thanks.”
Pam walked down the short hallway to one of the small meeting rooms. Filia, a petite, dark-haired woman in her late thirties, was already there. She stood when Pam entered and offered a nervous smile.
Pam introduced herself and they shook hands. They both sat at a small, round table in the center of the room.
Pam left the file closed. There was no need to get into the weeds just yet. Better that she and Filia get to know each other.
“Bea tells me you want to expand your business. Tell me about that.”
Filia’s brown eyes brightened. “I started my nail business five years ago with two girls. Now I have fifteen. We’re open seven days a week. Walk-ins and regulars. A year ago, I started offering chair massages for clients, either before or after their nail appointments. Six months ago, I began selling a skin care line. It’s doing well.”
Filia leaned forward. “My younger sister moved in with my family two years ago. She went to school to be an aesthetician. She’s worked for a big spa for several months now. She would come work for me and maybe a couple of her friends. I know how I want the space next door to be. I have some of the money, but not enough. I need to get a loan.”
Pam nodded. None of this was new information. She also knew that Filia was married and that her husband worked as a gardener. They had a ten-year-old daughter. Both of them had a high school education, but they planned to send their daughter to college. It was the American dream in living color.
“The first thing the bank is going to ask for is a business plan,” Pam told her. “Do you know what that is?”
Filia nodded slowly. “I created one the first time I came here. I can put together an updated one for the new business.”
Pam opened the folder and pulled out several sheets of paper. “Wonderful. The bank will want to know that you can cover your bills, including payroll, and pay back the loan. Once you have the basics taken care of, they’ll look at whether or not they consider you a good risk.”
There was also the possibility of a low-interest loan from MWF, but Pam wasn’t going to mention that just yet. First she wanted to see if Filia was committed to do the work necessary to even apply for a bank loan. Not everyone was. But she had a feeling that the woman in front of her was going to be someone willing to do the work to get herself where she wanted to be.
Filia took the paperwork and looked it over. She smiled. “This is much more clear than the books from the library. Thank you.”
“I’m glad.” Pam handed over a business card. “This is my contact information. Why don’t you take a week or so to get the first draft of the plan together? Once you have that, we’ll meet again and I’ll go over it with you.”
She would take as much time as necessary to get it bank-ready. Once Filia showed she was willing to do what had to be done, Pam would be with her all the way.
“Thank you for your help.” Filia clutched the paperwork tightly. “I’m going to make this happen. You’ll see.”
“I’m excited to work with you.”
“I feel the same way.” Filia smiled. “When my day spa opens, you can have the first facial.”
Pam laughed. “I can’t wait.”
