Ten

Jazmine

It’s the last Tuesday of the month, and the parking lot at Between the Covers is almost full by the time I arrive for our first book club meeting of the year. I considered skipping tonight because I’ve been away so much, but I managed to read Educated by Tara Westover while I was on the road, and I never feel completely “done” with a book until I’ve discussed it here at book club.

On the bright side, my year is off to a good start: two new clients, one verbal agreement, and opening conversations in my hunt for a new endorsement deal for Tyrone—things I would have once run by Larry but now keep completely to myself for fear that the backstabbing, client-poaching, thunder-stealing Rich Hanson may catch wind of something. When I’m forced to share a conference table with him, I sit as far away as possible and keep my interactions brief. Even a curt nod in the hallway feels too friendly.

On the somewhat dimmer side, Louise has forced me to waste almost two and a half of her final five weeks interviewing additional candidates instead of hiring Erin like I wanted to the day I marched out of Larry’s office.

I’ve lost track of the number of times she’s reminded me that just because I can hire someone Larry objects to doesn’t mean I should, but so far none of the applicants come close to Erin in focus, organization, and initiative, the three things I value most in Louise. And, of course, Erin and I have both had our lives ripped apart by the loss of the person we planned to spend that life with. I want to take her under my wing and help her become the badass I think she could be. And, okay, it would be a bit of a “fuck you” to Rich Hanson, who weighed in against her. And to Larry, who brought him into the firm.

I huddle into my coat as I cross the parking lot, my eyes on the warm, welcoming light that spills out of the store windows. The buzz of conversation and the smell of polished wood and books greet me when I step inside.

My shoulders relax, and I’m pretty sure my blood pressure goes down even before Annell throws her arms around me. “Happy New Year!” Her hug is followed by a kiss on both cheeks—an official invitation into what has always been a no-stress, no-judgment zone. “Did you and Maya have a good holiday?”

“We did. You?” Her voice as she fills me in is warm and soothing. I love this store and its full-to-bursting bookshelves, which are broken up by reading nooks and conversation areas defined by brightly patterned rugs and well-placed sofas and chairs. Book posters signed by their authors cover the walls. A hand-lettered sign warns, don’t judge a book by its movie! Charm, who’s worked for Annell as long as I’ve been a customer, smiles her hello from behind the register.

A children’s section stretches across one side of the room with child-size tables and chairs. The story corner where Annell reads to a gang of children every Saturday used to be Maya’s favorite spot. A spiral staircase winds up to Annell’s home, which takes up the entire second floor.

Annell leads me back to the refreshments, where most of the regulars and several newcomers are already mingling and munching. “We have veggies and dip and fruit kabobs for the people who are still keeping their New Year’s resolutions.” She motions to the first table. “Judith brought brownies and her world-famous cloud cookies for those who’ve fallen off the wagon. Or never got on.”

“I had to get them out of the house,” Judith says as I lean in for a hug from her and from Carlotta, formerly known as Carl. “Otherwise I’d eat every one of them myself.”

“I put the dangerously tempting stuff in the freezer,” Carlotta says as she plucks a grape from the bunch on her plate.

“People always say that, but I have yet to meet a frozen chocolate thing I couldn’t eat,” Judith replies. “And if it needs a little softening, isn’t that what microwaves are for?”

“Yes, I believe that’s why they were invented,” I agree as she piles brownies and meringues on my plate. “Thanks, Judith.”

“You’re welcome.” She watches me pop the first meringue into my mouth. “I’m trying my hardest not to be jealous of your age and your metabolism, but I am so tired of trying to make ‘good choices.’” Her voice goes up oddly on the last words.

“Sex is a great calorie burner,” Carlotta points out. Carl was a very attractive man when he first started coming to book club, but Carlotta is truly stunning. I assume she’s burning lots of calories whenever she feels like it.

“And it’s a lot more fun than the gym or even my Peloton,” Judith’s longtime friend, Meena, adds as she joins us. When I first met Judith and Meena, they were stay-at-home moms, raising children, volunteering, and playing on their neighborhood tennis team. When they found out I’d played at Georgia Tech, they began asking for tips and pointers. Every now and then they show up at one of Maya’s local matches. They make a significant two-person cheering section.

“Of course, calories burned may vary,” Meena says with a wicked smile. “Based on energy expended.” Judith smiles, too, but there’s an edge to her laughter, as if she’s trying just a little too hard to appear lighthearted and happy.

I sigh with pleasure at my first bite into the fudge center of my brownie. “These are sooo good.” I moan my way through the brownie as Judith fills someone else’s plate. “I know I’ve said this before, but you could totally give Mrs. Fields a run for her money.”

I’m still savoring the brownie when Angela McBride, tall, blond, and leggy, appears at my side and wraps me in a hug. “Hey, girl. Are you done traveling yet?”

“Mostly.”

“You look like you could use some wine.”

“That’s funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“Ha!”

We step up to the drinks table and fill our glasses.

Angela is the person who first invited me to this book club, for which I’ll always be grateful. Her husband, Perley, and Xavier were friends in college before Xavier went pro. I met them both when I first started dating Xavier, and even though they were a bit older and already married, we’ve been friends ever since. Perley and Angela were rocks that I leaned on when Xavier died. Every year on the anniversary of Xavier’s death we visit his grave together then go chow down at Xavier’s favorite pizza place where we consume an XX Large “Everything But the Kitchen Sink” Pizza in his honor.

We’re in the middle of catching up when Annell claps her hands together like the middle school teacher she once was. “It’s time to get started. Please bring your food and drink with you and take a seat.” Annell ushers us through the breezeway and into the carriage house.

The walls of the carriage house are a soft seafoam green. The trim, including the partially vaulted ceiling, is white. There’s a small kitchen in one corner and a bathroom in another, but the rest of the space is bright and open. A second wrought iron staircase winds up to a loft that serves as Annell’s office.

The original double barn doors have been replaced with sliding glass that opens onto her garden. Opposite is a row of windows with a white wooden window seat covered by paisley velvet cushions. Folding chairs are arranged in a semicircle across from the window seat. Small tables hold our drinks and food.

Angela and I claim spots on the window seat. Judith is on my other side, with Meena beside her.

For the first time, I notice that Sara isn’t here. This is highly unusual because Sara Whalen is a bookworm of the first order and rarely misses book club. When Annell can’t make it, Sara leads the discussion. I lean over and ask Judith where she is.

“I’m not sure,” Judith replies. “Annell said Sara hasn’t been able to work the last few weekends. I think something happened with her mother-in-law.”

Once everyone’s situated, Annell raises her hand and the crowd falls silent.

“As most of you know, I’m Annell Barrett. I own Between the Covers, and I’m very glad you could join us tonight to discuss Tara Westover’s Educated.

“Now.” She flashes a smile. “How many of you have read the book?”

“Wonderful,” she says when all hands go up. “One of our main rules is that you’re always welcome even if you haven’t. But we will not tiptoe around the details of any book. There will be spoilers.”

She looks around the circle. “Since we have some new faces here tonight, let’s run around the circle so that we can all introduce ourselves.”

Twins Wesley and Phoebe pop up in unison. On the verge of forty, they share the same wiry build, even features, and dark wavy hair. They also share an apartment and, on occasion, clothes. “This is my brother, Wesley,” Phoebe says. “He was a computer geek before there was such a thing. And he’s a really awesome graphic designer.”

“And this is my sister, Phoebe,” Wesley says. “She knows her way around a computer pretty well herself, but she works part-time as an activities director at the Sandy Springs Senior Center, so if you’re looking for a game of Monopoly or balloon volleyball or Name That Tune . . . ”

“. . . I’m your girl. We read everything . . .”

“. . . including cereal boxes,” Wesley continues. “But my favorite genre is urban fantasy.”

“I like romance, especially historical with time travel,” Phoebe adds. “Especially . . .”

“. . . Diana Gabaldon. Don’t ever get between Phoebe and her Outlander.”

“We’ve been members for a long time,” Phoebe says. “But recently we’ve started thinking that it might finally be time . . .”

“. . . to give the book club a name.”

They sit. No one seems sure whether to applaud or agree.

“Hmmm . . .” Annell says. “I’ve never wanted to curtail what we read or who might enjoy it, but maybe it’s time to consider naming ourselves. I’ll put a box at the front for suggestions.”

I’m not too worried about the group having a name, but I wouldn’t mind being able to communicate as clearly and effortlessly with Maya as Wesley and Phoebe do with each other. Or even with Thea, who will not let go of how much I need to meet Derrick Warren. And marry him. And have his babies.

Carlotta stands and introduces herself with a twirl that shows off a circle skirt in a bold geometric pattern that is one of her most recent designs. “I have loved too many books to have one favorite. But I did especially appreciate Middlesex and Trans-Sister Radio. Oh, and The Martian.” She shrugs. “Variety is the spice of life.”

Meena is up next. “I’m Meena. I’m recently single and am currently experimenting with online dating. I found a great photographer if anyone ever wants to do new profile pictures. My favorite book at the moment is 121 First Dates, which sounded kind of daunting at first but is actually a really great ‘how-to’ manual. I will be happy to share my newly gleaned information with anyone who’s interested.”

Judith sways slightly as she stands. “I’m Judith. I still live in the suburbs even though my nest is empty. My daughter is getting married over Labor Day weekend. And my favorite book is The Red Tent even though it doesn’t contain dating advice.” She looks at Meena. “Yes. Still.”

The young man who stands next appears to be in his late thirties. “I’m Chaz. I’m an EMT, and this is my first time here.” He smiles, seeming completely unbothered that he and Wesley are the only males present. “Is that Red Tent book tied to Red Sonja in any way?” he asks. “I heard there’s a remake of the film finally happening.”

“Um. No. Not really,” Judith says.

Meena snorts.

As I look around our circle, I’m glad that we have always been a mix of ages, occupations, genders, and ethnicities. And that newcomers are welcome. It’s part of what attracted me to the group in the first place.

When it’s my turn, I stay seated and say only that I’m a sports agent with StarSports Advisors. Ever since a former book club member tried to convince me to look at her ten-year-old daughter who’d pitched a no-hitter in her church softball league, I try to downplay what I do.

Angela stands and smiles her always-sunny smile. “I’m Angela and I’m an accountant.” She laughs lightly. “Okay, that sounded a little more like an AA intro than I intended. I’m not actually trying to quit being a CPA. In fact, my husband, Perley, and I own our own firm. We have three daughters.” She pauses and gets that happy smile that accompanies any reference to Lyllie, Mollie, and Kerina. “Even after all these years and books, my favorite is Little Women. Pride and Prejudice is a close second.” She pauses. “And though she failed to mention it, Jazmine’s is Becoming by Michelle Obama. I think we should consider reading it.”

There are nods and murmurs.

The dark-haired woman sitting across from Angela jumps to her feet, sending a pair of golf ball earrings swinging. Despite the cold January temperatures and the fact that it’s dark outside, she’s wearing a golf visor with the Masters logo on it. “I’m Nancy Flaherty and I just moved to Atlanta. I’m originally from Charleston, but more recently from Florida. I’m a receptionist at a real estate firm here in Sandy Springs. My favorite book of all time is The Greatest Game Ever Played. Ditto for the movie. I’m a 16 handicap, and I spend as much time as possible on the golf course.” She hesitates and turns to me, her smile freezing on her lips. “Do you know Tiger Woods personally?”

“Sorry. No.” I shake my head. “I don’t handle golfers.”

The smile unfreezes. There’s a small sigh of what might be relief. “Well, I do. Very personally.” She winks, then takes her seat with a brisk nod and swing of her golf balls.

As the last introductions take place, Judith picks up a bottle of red wine and one of white and walks around the circle topping off glasses. Back at her seat, she tops hers off, then sets the bottles within reach.

“So,” Annell says with a smile. “What did we think of the book?”

“I liked it,” Angela answers quickly. “But it was hard to read about how vulnerable the narrator was. As a mother, I couldn’t understand how her parents could have left their children uninoculated and uneducated.”

“I could hardly read the parts when she had to do all those horribly dangerous jobs because her father made her.” Carlotta shudders.

“Those kids got maimed. And the mother, too,” Chaz the EMT says. “It’s hard to imagine refusing to see a doctor or go to a hospital.”

“Remember when she sees the term ‘bipolar’ for the first time and realizes that’s what her father was?” Phoebe asks.

With that we are off and running. Whenever discussion slows, Annell raises another point or question. It’s a very different thing to have someone directing the conversation and keeping it flowing. It’s another reason I enjoy the group so much.

Judith makes the rounds again with the wine. “Are you sure you’re done?” she asks when I cover my glass. Her eyes look a little unfocused. Her smile’s reached the Cheshire Cat stage.

“Afraid so. I’ve got to drive home.”

“Too bad. That’s why I B-BUbered . . .” She laughs. “I mean, Ubered. Because I kind of need the alcohol tonight.”

I’m not sure what to say to this. “Is everything all right, Judith?” I ask quietly.

“No, not really. But it will be.”