Nobody's Fool Page 6

  “I understand. Actually, I have a favor to ask. Two favors, actually.”

  “You sign contract to be designer for me, I do favors for you.”

  “It’s about your agent, Court—”

  “Court? Yes, he is divine man. I adore him. He do anything I ask. You want I fix you up with him?”

  A bubble of laughter escaped from Jolie. Part of Melina’s appeal was how she often jumped to the wrong conclusions, sometimes with hilarious consequences. “No. I don’t need you to fix me up with him. I already know him. We grew up together.”

  “What is favor?” Melina half covered the phone on her end and issued orders in her native tongue to someone.

  “Could you not mention to Court that you know me?” Jolie continued when she had Melina’s undivided attention once again.

  “Why is this? I do not understand.”

  “It’s a long story. Court thinks he’s helping me. He might put in a good word with you for me.”

  “What is good word?”

  “A recommendation, so you’ll choose me to design your line.”

  “I have already chosen you. I wait only for you to sign contract.”

  Jolie closed her eyes. Conversations with Melina could be both exhilarating and exhausting. “Yes. But Court doesn’t know that. Just, if he mentions me, could you not tell him?”

  “Why you not tell him? He is friend, no?”

  Jolie thought of her past experience in the volatile fashion world. A couple of opportunities she’d become overly excited about that hadn’t come to fruition. How foolish she felt admitting she’d jumped the gun. “I’d prefer to tell him and everyone else as soon as I sign the contract. Not before, all right?”

  “If you want I will say nothing. Saying nothing is easy.”

  “Thank you, Melina. I appreciate it.” Jolie plunged ahead. “He might send you some ideas I’ve come up with for you. I’m not sure they’re right for your line, but since you were the inspiration for them I’d like you to see them

  “This is also big secret?”

  “I’ll explain everything to him when the contract is signed. Until then, I’m a bit superstitious about saying anything to anyone. I hope you understand.”

  “Is no skin off my knee,” Melina agreed. “I will look at designs if he sends and I will say nothing that I am talking to you.”

  “Thanks, Melina. I appreciate it.”

  “Is not his business, anyway. He is for tennis only. Not fashion.”

  Jolie hesitated. Melina’s offer would force her to choose between the career she’d made for herself and the possibilities designing Melina’s line would bring. Two of Jolie’s regular clients had asked her to design wedding gowns for them before. Chances were good she’d at least get a mention in the New York papers’ coverage of the weddings. Both women had agreed to be part of her publicity efforts in exchange for practically free gowns, since Jolie would charge them for the materials only. Her hope was that word of mouth would spread, she’d be asked to design for more brides and as her reputation grew, eventually she’d create her own line—and she’d have the security of her current job to fall back on while that happened.

  But designing for Melina might help achieve the same goal even faster, assuming the line was successful. Melina might even back a line of wedding gowns. Especially if she ever decided to settle down with one of the men she was linked to romantically. Her current beau was Ricardo Estevez, the Latino hip-hop artist known as RickyE.

  But Jolie would be required to relocate to Atlanta, at least temporarily. Jolie hadn’t wanted to commit to that but Melina had made it non-negotiable. She needed to be hands-on throughout the process.

  “If Court send, I look at your ideas. I must go now.”

  “Thanks, Melina. Goodbye.”

  On Monday afternoon, Jolie parked her rental in front of 701 Litchfield Lane and stared at the charming ranch-style home painted forest green with white trim. A red tricycle and an orange-and-blue wagon were parked to one side of the garage door. A flagstone path wound its way to the generous front stoop, shaded by a white awning.

  Jolie stepped out of the car and wiped the palms of her hands on her skirt. Ridiculous, she told herself. What did she have to be nervous about? Was she afraid Sarah would reject her?

  Yes, was the resounding answer. Jolie had spent so long avoiding taking chances, afraid to appear the fool, that fear had become a part of who she was. For months she’d been asking herself when she was going to grow up and stop seeking approval from the rest of the world.

  The easy thing right now would be to get in the car and drive back to her parents’ house without talking to Sarah, without apologizing to her ten years too late. If Sarah slammed the door in her face, it would be no less than she deserved.

  Clean the dirt out of your closet! Caroline Gordon’s command echoed in Jolie’s head. Baggage you’re not even aware you carry can weigh you down. Examine your past, make amends where need be. Only then can you truly move forward with your life.

  Jolie gripped the bouquet of flowers she held tight, marched up the path and knocked. A fall wreath hung just below the half-moon window.

  The door opened and Sarah appeared with a toddler on her hip and another hanging onto the hem of her skirt. She didn’t glare and Jolie hoped that was a good sign. But she didn’t look particularly welcoming, either.

  Jolie forced a smile to her lips. “Hi, Sarah. I was wondering if we could talk for a minute.”

  The child tugged on Sarah’s skirt and murmured something Jolie couldn’t hear. The other one sucked on a bottle and stared at Jolie with Chip’s bright blue eyes.

  “If it’s not too inconvenient,” Jolie added. “I know you’re busy—”

  Sarah shifted the child to her other hip. “No, it’s okay. It’s almost naptime anyway. Come on in.”

  The Sobeleski’s living room was filled with worn but comfortable-looking furniture and the usual detritus created by two young children. A half-finished puzzle covered the coffee table and building blocks and small vehicles were scattered across the floor.

  The older child set up a whine as he trailed behind his mother, still clutching the material of her skirt in one small fist.

  Sarah spoke to him in soothing tones.

  “Have a seat.” Sarah nodded towards a beige sectional sofa. Jolie sank into the sofa cushions, feeling a sinking in her heart as well. This could have been me, she thought with twin reactions of horror and regret.

  What if she’d married Chip and stayed in Oak Ridge, settled down and created a family? She’d be married to her high school sweetheart—God, what a cliché! She’d have missed out on the glamour and excitement of New York, the trips to LA, the opportunities she now had with Melina. She’d be stuck.

  She watched as Sarah tucked the little boy up next to her in the padded rocker and cuddled the baby. She glanced up. Jolie felt foolish to be caught staring.

  “These are for you,” she said belatedly, holding out the bouquet of flowers. Sarah nodded in acknowledgment, and Jolie laid them on the coffee table.

  “Your children are beautiful,” Jolie continued. Sarah’s son snuggled closer to his mother. The baby’s eyelids were drooping. The bottle was almost empty.

  “This is Chad,” Sarah said, indicating the boy. “And Chelsea.” She kissed the baby’s forehead.

  “You’re so lucky,” Jolie said.

  Sarah’s look was one of suspicion, as if she wondered if she was being mocked.

  “No, really,” Jolie added to reassure her.

  Sarah sat back. “Why are you here? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

  “No, we’re not,” Jolie agreed. She could hardly argue with the truth, could she? “I came because…because I wanted to apologize.”

  “Apologize? For what? Flirting with Chip?”

  “No�
��I…” Chip had been the one doing the flirting. Did Sarah truly not realize that? Somehow that possibility made Jolie feel even worse. She’d had a purpose in coming here. She should say it and get it over with.

  “Look, Sarah, I know this is probably too little too late, but I want to apologize to you anyway. My friends and I—” No, leave them out of it. They weren’t her friends anymore, and hadn’t really been true friends in high school. She’d chosen the behavior she’d shown toward Sarah and had no one but herself to blame. “I was cruel to you in high school. In junior high, too. I was a self-centered, selfish bi—” Jolie glanced at Sarah’s son and stopped herself short. “I was caught up in a popularity contest and too insecure to do anything besides what others expected me to do. I hurt you, I know I did. We were all terrible to you, and if I could take it back I would—”

  “But you can’t,” Sarah cut in. She didn’t sound angry or upset. She was almost smiling.

  “No, I can’t.”

  Now Sarah did grin. “You know I’ve dreamt of this day or some version of it for a long time.”

  “You have?”

  “I never thought it would happen, but sure. It’s every fat girl’s dream to have the popular kid who made her life hell show up and apologize.”

  “It—it is?”

  “I don’t know about everyone, but it certainly was mine. Of course, in my dream you’re fifty pounds heavier and I’ve stolen your job and your boyfriend.”

  “You’re not angry.”

  “You expect me to be, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure what I expected,” Jolie admitted.

  “The truth is I owe you.” Sarah wiggled out of the chair, the baby in her arms. Chad had fallen asleep while they’d been talking. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

  Jolie gazed at the sleeping boy. She could see Chip in the color of his hair and the line of his jaw. And of course those vivid blue eyes. She bit her lip, wondering how different this little boy might look if she were his mother instead of Sarah. Except, of course, she’d never have married Chip. She’d never loved him. He’d been the star of the football team, the most popular boy in the senior class. That’s why she’d dated him.

  Sarah returned and let the recliner out so Chad was almost lying flat. She covered him with a small blanket.

  “He thinks he’s too big to take a nap.” She signaled to Jolie. “Let’s go in the kitchen.” She picked up the flowers and Jolie followed behind. Jolie sat at the table while Sarah arranged the flowers in a vase. The kitchen was warm and homey with childish drawings held by magnets on the refrigerator door. The counter clutter included plastic cups and a box of animal-shaped crackers.

  Sarah set the vase in the middle of the table. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Diet Coke?”

  “Diet Coke.”

  Sarah filled glasses with ice, poured the drinks and joined Jolie at the table.

  “I meant what I said before. I really do owe you.”

  Jolie shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Oh, yes I do. If it weren’t for you, God knows where I’d be today.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “For as long as I can remember I had a crush on Chip. What girl didn’t? He was this blond, blue-eyed, charming kid everybody adored in grade school, remember?”

  What Jolie remembered was the way Chip made the other kids, especially the girls, miserable with his mischief at that age, but was always respectful and polite to adults, especially teachers. He’d been a charmer all right.

  “He was in my English class sophomore year and history senior year. I worshipped him from afar, obviously. He never so much as looked at me, especially senior year.”

  Jolie winced. “Sarah if it helps at all—”

  Sarah held up a hand. “No, let me finish. I hated you, because you had Chip. Everyone knew he was crazy about you.”

  This confession session was more painful than Jolie had anticipated.

  “He was crushed when you dumped him, you know.”

  Jolie glanced away from Sarah’s gaze and blinked. The thought had barely occurred to her. How could she have been so unthinking back then? What was wrong with her?

  “You probably don’t remember, but I’d slimmed down quite a bit by our senior year.”

  “I don’t remember. I’m sorry—”

  Sarah waved away her apology. “It doesn’t matter. Chip and I started at the community college that fall. By then, if I do say so myself, I was looking pretty good. So good, in fact, that Chip didn’t realize it was me he was flirting with in class.”

  “Oh, Sarah—”

  Sarah shrugged. “Who could blame him? He’d been with you senior year. Before that I was just the fat blimp people made fun of.”

  A lump lodged itself in Jolie’s throat hearing Sarah talk about herself like that.

  “What I’m trying to tell you is you’re the reason I changed. All the jealousy and the resentment I’d built up, I guess I channeled it into something positive. I wanted to be you.

  “Oh, I don’t mean the shallow, cruel superficial part of you. I mean, the part with the great figure. I wanted Chip to notice me, the way he noticed you and all the girls like you.”

  “But, Sarah, that’s just what’s on the outside.”

  Sarah smiled and nodded. “I know. But I also wanted the confidence that went along with it. I think maybe that’s what I really envied about you.” Jolie almost laughed. Confident? If only she knew. “Besides, looks are all men are interested in at first. That’s what Chip was attracted to.” Her smile faded as she gazed at Jolie. “Still is, actually.”

  “Sarah, I never flirted with Chip. I’m not interested in him. I never was.”

  “I know that, but Chip doesn’t. Please don’t tell him. He still looks in the mirror and sees Brett Favre’s better-looking brother staring back.”

  Jolie giggled at that revelation and Sarah joined her.

  “Do you understand now? Knowing you helped me become a better me. You drove me to take care of myself, to take pride in myself and be confident enough to go after what I wanted. You don’t owe me an apology, Jolie. In a big way, I owe you.

  “I love Chip. He’s a good guy. We’ve got the kids and this house, a pretty good life. I’m happy.”

  Done with her speech Sarah sat back, and at that moment Jolie hated Sarah for having such contentment. What about me? What do I have? What do I want? If only she knew. If only she could figure it out. Ever since her return to Oak Ridge, it seemed like everything was backwards or out of balance somehow.

  She’d come to apologize to Sarah. Who’d have thought Sarah would end up thanking her? When had any good ever come out of anyone being mean to a fellow human being? Yet, according to Sarah, she was the proof such things happened. Caroline Gordon would have a field day analyzing that.

  Jolie had expected to feel bad after apologizing to Sarah. She’d expected Sarah to berate her for her behavior. Somehow Sarah’s gratitude was harder to take.

  “I think I should go.”

  Sarah followed her to the door. “Thanks for the flowers.”

  “You’re welcome. You’re lucky, Sarah. You know who you are. I’d give anything to—” To know who I am. “Never mind.”

  “Thanks for stopping by, Jolie.”

  Jolie hesitated on the porch, fear of rejection still pouring through her. “I’m going to be in town all of this week,” she said. “Maybe we could do lunch, or…or something.” She waited, worried that Sarah would laugh, or worse—mock her for trying to be friendly at this late date.

  Sarah gave her an odd look, as if surprised by such a suggestion, but then she smiled. “I’m only teaching half-days this year, so sure, if you want to get together, we could.”

  Jolie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll probably be at the lake
with Court on Tuesday but Wednesday afternoon or Thursday, maybe? I’ll call you.”

  Sarah nodded and closed the door. Jolie glided to her car, a spring in her step. Who knew making amends, and maybe making a new friend, could be so exhilarating?

  By the time Jolie arrived home, her exhilaration had deflated like an old balloon. Regret for her years of insincerity weighed her down.

  Jolie lowered herself to the top step of the porch. She couldn’t face her mother’s cheeriness just yet, not after her visit with Sarah. Her mother would sense her mood and ask why she was so down. What could she say? Excuse me, Mom, but why didn’t you ever point out how horrible I was in high school? Why did I have to figure that out myself?

  Chip was devastated when you dumped him. Sarah’s words echoed in her head. Jolie wanted to curl up in a ball at the way she’d stomped on other people’s feelings. She’d told Chip good-bye and never looked back. She’d never really thought much about him once she left Oak Ridge.

  She’d sailed through college and bounced between New York and LA, hobnobbing and name-dropping. She’d made a name for herself as a stylist. She dressed celebrities, or at least the wives and daughters of celebrities. She had features in New York Style magazine.

  And? What else?

  No relationship, not at the moment anyway. She’d dated over the years, but with her demanding schedule, not to mention those of her beaus, none of them had lasted. She hadn’t really cared that much.

  But today, when she saw Sarah with her two little ones, her biological alarm clock began to go off. She’d hit the snooze button, but realistically, what were her chances? Thirty began to loom as it never had before. She had no man in her life, didn’t even know anyone she’d consider procreating with. What kind of mother would she be, anyway? Maybe she was too selfish to have children. Or a husband.

  She thought of Jeff again, as she often did ever since the accident. They’d been dating, but still hadn’t known each other all that well. They’d only scratched the surface of a potential relationship before the opportunity had dissolved in tangled metal and smoke.

  She told herself not to dwell on what would never be, but sometimes she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting back. Jeff’s death had stunned her and made her take a good, hard look at her own life. She’d re-examined herself and hadn’t liked what she’d found. She’d vowed to move forward, to change, to be the best Jolie Kramer she could be. She’d never wavered in that, but some days, like today, it wasn’t easy or pleasant.