THREE NIGHTS LATER FOUND JANE AND ME STANDING in her closet debating clothing. She was on her fifth outfit.
“Why don’t you wear the first dress?” I held it out to her.
“No one wears dresses, and I’ve lost weight. It doesn’t hang right. I’ll stick with these jeans.”
“It looked wonderful.” I threw the dress on the bed. “At least put heels on.”
“Flats are more practical.”
“Then the leggings will be cuter with the flats.”
“I think I like the jeans.”
“Absolutely.” I rolled my eyes. “Can I make any more suggestions?”
She finally decided on jeans, a light blue blouse with a fitted cardigan, blue ballet flats, and a silver necklace of mine that I forced around her neck. It played beautifully against the navy scarf on her head.
We moved on to makeup, and her first attempt was terrifying. We stood shell-shocked before the mirror.
“I hardly put any on.”
“Without hair or eyebrows or eyelashes, I guess blush stands out more.”
“I’ll say.” She laughed.
I detected a note of hysteria. “No, it’s funny. You will not cry.”
She snorted. “Now you sound like me.”
“That’s why I should’ve gone home by now.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t.” She looked back to the mirror and rubbed off the blush. “I wish I had a wig.”
“Ugh . . . Really? That would look odd.”
“I look odd now. I’d escape notice in a wig.”
“I doubt it. I think it’d be horrid. Besides, you look good.”
“You look better.”
“It’s the skirt. I’m telling you dresses and skirts never lead you astray.” I twirled. “I got this at a fantastic consignment store. You wouldn’t believe what women in New York sell for pennies the next season. Tory Burch.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
Jane turned from the mirror and stared at me. “I’m nervous.”
“You’ve been married for sixteen years. You’ve been on a few dates with Peter.”
“It’s not that. I don’t want to be the person I’m becoming. I’m angry all the time. I want to go out tonight and laugh and have fun and feel alive. What if I can’t?”
“You will.” I touched her head. “Let the rest go. Mom once said God was there to hold what was too heavy to carry.”
“I never heard that.”
“She said it at the end.” I leaned against the sink. “She said a lot at the end that’s only coming back to me now . . . Going through this with you brings it back.”
“That’s no fun.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m remembering that time, but in a new way. I can recall how she used to curl up with me on the couch and tell stories and share her thoughts, her faith, her perspective, really—and her joy. She had joy, Jane. I’d forgotten that. I never carried that with me. I only carried the pain.”
We turned at a knock on the door. Kate opened it and peeked her head in. “Dad said to hurry up.”
I laughed. “Tell him we’re coming.” I looked back at Jane. “Take a deep breath and let’s go have fun.”
As we headed down the stairs, Peter smiled up at Jane, and her face lit up at the expression in his eyes. Kate and Danny were somewhere else in the house. I wished they’d been there to see that moment.
“You sure you two don’t want to go out alone?”
There was a moment of silence before Peter spoke up. “While that would be great,” he said, with a glance over at Jane, “I’d like to see Nick and thank him. He really helped me out this time. And you? I can’t tell you what it’s meant to have you here.”
I savored Peter’s compliment as we drove to Nick’s.
He met me on his porch. “Perfect timing. The sitter just arrived.”
“Sorry it’s earlier than we planned and there are more people.”
Nick reached for my hand. “This is great. Peter and I haven’t hung out in a while. I’m looking forward to it.”
We climbed in to the backseat, and Peter turned around. “Where to?”
“I made reservations at Luc, but I think we should head to Capitol Cider on Pike instead. Elizabeth’s been telling me about what Jane likes to eat, and their menu has a lot of gluten-free, slow-cooked food. And they have good ciders. And shuffleboard.”
Jane twisted in the front seat. “Shuffleboard?”
“Exactly.” Nick turned to me and winked.
At the restaurant, we found a booth and piled in. Peter and Nick started bantering about old friends and work happenings while Jane and I listened.
Jane grew quiet, her face drawn. I wondered if she hurt or was too tired, or if this was a mistake.
“It was ballsy going out on your own,” Peter commented.
“Agreed, but all in all, the timing was good. The economy put everyone in flux, and folks were looking for new, more modestly priced work. It opened the field.”
Peter rubbed his chin. “True. I couldn’t have done it, but in-house is sure different. There’s no getting around that.”
Nick chuckled. “Microsoft is different.”
“That too.”
The waiter came to take our orders, but Jane simply shook her head.
I reached for her hand, which rested on the table. “Can I order something for you? There are a few things I think would taste good.”
She shook her head again. I turned to the waiter. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Is this too much tonight?” Peter put his arm around Jane’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
“It’s just . . . You get to talk about work. I liked my work too. I’m stuck, I hate it, and you . . .” Jane waved her hands, letting the gesture finish the sentence.
“I shut down your business.” Peter sank into the booth.
“I—” Nick opened his mouth.
“—play shuffleboard,” I interjected and pushed him out of the booth. He caught himself before falling off the edge as I hurtled after him and corralled him to the shuffleboard.
He stopped and turned into me. Our faces were inches apart. “I’ll give them back. I don’t need the clients. I thought she wanted this.”
“Offer it later; this isn’t about her work.” I looked back. Jane sat with her arms crossed, her head down. Peter slumped next to her. “This is about a whole lot of stuff and maybe nothing more than fear. Social media is the least of it.”
“I feel really bad.”
I reached for the puck. “Don’t. Let’s play a game, and then we’ll go back.”
Nick glanced back and forth from the booth to the shuffleboard for a few seconds before committing.
We returned fifteen minutes later to find a subdued but happier couple. Peter was holding Jane’s hand in his lap, and she was leaning toward him, no longer away. I could tell there had been tears, but she was smiling and looked beautiful.
“Have we held up the ordering?” I asked as I slid in.
“Not at all. Fish and chips all around. Is that good with you two?”
Nick sat down. “Definitely. Did you order the special sauce? I think Elizabeth will love it.”
“What is it?”
“I read it’s a pickled sauce. Getting great reviews.” He smiled, slowly and deliberately, before turning to Jane. “Jane . . .” He spread his hands across the table in offering. “Your clients are yours. They miss you. I’m doing my best for them, but the minute you say you’re ready, I’ll step away.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I couldn’t handle them right now, and you’ve kept me in the loop on my schedule and my terms. That’s more than I could’ve asked for.” Jane bit her lip and threw a glance to Peter. “This wasn’t really about that. I simply don’t like where I am right now.”
“But you won’t be in this place much longer.” Nick’s voice asked for an answer, a commitment.
“I won’t. You’re right.”
When we arrived back at Nick’s, I decided to play the proper date and walk Nick to the door, but as we got out he took my hand and leaned back in to the car. “Do you mind leaving her here? I’ll get her home.”
“Not at all.” Peter waved and drove away.
“I figured they could use a few minutes, and it’s a gorgeous night. Can I walk you home?”
After half a block, Nick pulled me to a stop. “Okay, what is it? You’re grinning ear to ear.”
“Isn’t that the craziest thing? I never do that.”
“Never?”
“Never. I don’t think I’ve felt this light since I was sixteen. There’s a picture on my bedside table—I saw it when I was home a few weeks ago, and my smile stunned me. It was so bright. I think that must have been the last time I felt that way. But as tough as this month has been, I’ve got that same feeling and I’m cooking and my hand doesn’t hurt and . . . I’m smiling.”
He took my hand and resumed walking. “I love that you feel that way. Don’t let it go. Most of the time, I’m so busy I can’t tell how I feel. But not these last few weeks. They’ve been really special.” He looked down at me and smiled. “How did we become friends?”
“It was all your fault,” I laughed. “I wasn’t interested.”
“I doubt that.”
I could hear the smile in his voice and decided not to reply, just hold his hand, walk, and enjoy the night.