“Speaking of no bellies, I have something for us,” Angela said. “Come on.”
They followed her into the living room where she produced a
Dancing With the Stars
workout DVD.
“Oh, you got it!” cried Erin.
“I've heard this is hard,” Megan said, looking suspiciously at it.
“No balking from you, Twinkle Toes, not after the way you danced at the pole-dancing party,” Kizzy said to her.
“This will really make us hot,” Angela promised.
After stumbling around trying to follow the fast steps of the professional dancers, everyone was literally hot in a matter of minutes. “Okay, just shoot me now,” Kizzy said, and flopped on the couch.
“Water,” croaked Angela.
That sounded like a great idea to everyone, and soon they were enjoying one last drink before breaking up for the night. This would be as good a time as any to try an amateur shrink session, Kizzy decided. But how to start? She supposed the wedding was a good ploy.
“You never did tell us the latest on the wedding plans,” she said to Erin. “Anything new?”
“I've got the flowers picked out,” Erin said.
She'd chosen the flowers for her wedding since they last met and she hadn't even brought up the subject?
“You did! Why didn't you tell us?” Angela accused.
“We got busy talking about Valentine's Day and I forgot,” said Erin.
A woman didn't forget to talk about picking out the flowers for her wedding. This was not a good sign. “Tell us now,” Kizzy urged.
“Well, I'm going to use Changing Seasons. Hope Walker, the woman who owns it, is a genius. They're going to be gorgeous.”
“And you're getting everything you want?” Kizzy asked, trying not to sound like she was playing romantic detective.
“Pretty much.”
“How does Adam like what you picked?” Angela asked.
Erin shrugged. “We didn't go into too many details. He's not that into flowers.”
He wasn't that into much of anything, if you asked Kizzy. “Having your flowers picked, that really makes it all feel real, doesn't it?”
“It will feel more real when I can zip up my wedding dress,” Erin said.
“Are you getting close?” asked Angela.
“Closer,” Erin replied vaguely.
“Maybe you should postpone the wedding.” There, it was out. Now maybe they could talk about this.
“There's no need for that,” Erin said, her voice sharp. “If worse comes to worst, my aunt will alter the dress for me.” She checked her watch. “I'd better go. Adam's probably already at the house.”
The others decided to leave, too, and collected their leftovers. Erin and Megan left, but Angela lingered by the door. “Do you think Erin's worried about something more than her wedding dress?” she asked Kizzy.
“You see it, too?”
“Maybe it's just me, but when Brad and I got married I wanted to talk about everything with my friends. I mean, who doesn't want to talk about her wedding flowers? That's like a sign or something, isn't it?”
“I think so,” Kizzy said. “How well do you know Adam?”
“Not real well. He seems like a nice guy,” she added. Dubiously.
“But?” prompted Kizzy.
Angela shrugged. “I don't know. It's hard to put your finger on.”
“Try.”
“Well, he's kind of controlling. We went out with them a couple of times, but the guys didn't hit it off.”
There was a red flag. Brad got along with everyone. “Why?” Kizzy asked.
“Adam had this way of deciding what everybody wanted to do
and what restaurant we should all go to that bugged Brad.” She shrugged. “He just likes to have his way. I guess when it comes down to it, most guys are like that.”
“Not to his extent,” said Kizzy. She shook her head. “I'd sure hate to see our girl end up with the wrong man. It's no fun.”
“Were you ever with the wrong man?” Angela asked her.
Kizzy nodded slowly, remembering the loser she'd been with when she was young and just too dumb to look beyond a great body and a smooth line.
“What happened?”
“I caught him in bed with my best friend.”
Angela grimaced. “What did you do?”
“I let her have him,” Kizzy said with a grim smile. “That way they both got what they deserved.”
“Men,” Angela said in disgust.
“Thank God they're not all like that. Lionel's the sweetest man on the planet. I'd like to see Erin end up with someone great, too.”
“So, what are we going to do?” Angela asked.
“I don't know,” Kizzy said with a sigh.
“Well, at least we still have four months left to think of something. Anything can happen in four months.”
“Let's hope something does,” said Kizzy. Erin deserved to be happy.
“You know what they say,” Angela said in parting. “The path to true love is a long and winding road. Or something like that.”
“Something like that,” Kizzy agreed. Love was never easy, but it should at least feel right.
Feelings. Of course, that was the problem. Erin hadn't been feeling when she picked this man. She'd gone through a lot emotionally, first with her mom's illness, then her death, and it had left the poor girl numb. She picked Mr. Wonderful not because she was crazy wild about him, but because he was solid. He was a wheelchair for her crippled heart, a way for her to get someplace where she could be happy.
How on earth could she get Erin to see that?
Maybe she couldn't. Maybe this called for more wisdom, more power, more influence than she had. She did the only thing she could think of, she sent up a prayer.
Lord, this girl needs to be cured of her blindness. Now!
S
aturday morning the gray clouds parted their skirts to show the blue sky hiding behind. It was now or never.
Megan stepped out of the front door of her condo in her north Seattle suburb into the sharp February air wearing sweats and the oversized tee that made her look like a baby whale. There was nothing attractive about the sweatshirt she'd zipped over it, either. She couldn't believe she was going out in public dressed like this. But if she wanted to start running, she had to show her fat butt sometime. She got in her Saturn and drove to the nearby high school track and parked her car. Then she sat for a few minutes studying her opponent: that big, long track.
A middle-aged woman in a pink sweat suit was already on it, walking briskly and swinging her arms. The last thing Erin wanted was an audience. Oh, boy.
That woman is too busy fighting her own fat to watch you battle yours, she told herself firmly.
Right.
She took a deep breath, then opened the car door and got out. She'd be lucky if she could make it halfway around that track. She
should wait to do this until she'd lost more weight. Otherwise she was going to look like a fool, a big, fat fool.
“Oh, no you don't,” she told herself. “No more excuses. Ever.” She pressed her lips firmly together and locked her purse in the trunk, then put the keys in her sweatpants pocket and marched to the track. She'd start walking to get warmed up; then she'd run a little way and see what happened.
The walking went fine, and the sun, warm on her shoulders, felt like an encouraging hand. She smiled and picked up her pace a little. She'd been walking on her lunch breaks. The only difference between this track and her downtown route was the absence of stores and office buildings. She could do this. Okay, time to pick up the pace. She started to jog. All right! She was doing it. She flashed on a mental image of herself in shorts; her hair caught up in a ponytail and swinging behind her. With every step she was moving closer to being fit. Every step was exciting. This was exciting!
Okay, this was also work. She could feel her heart pumping. She was starting to sweat in spite of the crisp temperature. She kept her feet moving.
Don't give up yet.
But her heart was going to explode. Her lungs were burning. She slowed down. Her legs felt shaky, so she let herself grind to a stop, putting her hands on her thighs and bending over for a deep breath. She hadn't even jogged a quarter of the way around the track. She was a slug.
The other woman on the track walked past her and called, “Don't give up. You're doing great.”
Megan straightened and took a deep breath. She was doing great. Winning cases were built slowly, over time. So were great bodies.
One of her stepfather's favorite complaints came back to kick her in the butt and get her moving. “The kid is a tub. If you don't do something she's going to have problems all her life.”
Do something.
She set her jaw and started walking again.
You can do this.
She walked around the track twice and managed to get in another little spurt of jogging, too. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning, a good beginning.
You're going to succeed. One day you'll be wearing cute, little shorts and running like you're lighter than air.
She was smiling like she'd just won a landmark case when she finally walked off the track.
Then she saw the snazzy silver Jaguar parked next to her car and the fit-looking man in the black running shorts and black T-shirt striding toward her and her smile faded. Oh, no. Wasn't it bad enough that he tortured her all during the week? Did he have to come to the same track, as well? Why wasn't he on a treadmill at some pricey gym?
“Megan,” he greeted her. “I almost didn't recognize you in your civilian clothes.”
She looked down at her baby whale costume, now dotted with perspiration. “These aren't my civilian clothes. And if I'd known I was going to run into anyone I knew,”
especially
my boss,
“I'd have stayed home.”
“Then you'd have missed out on that runner's high.”
“I haven't found a runner's high yet,” she informed him. “Just a walker's high.”
He smiled. Tanner Hyde actually smiledânot a sardonic smile, but the genuine article. She saw it so rarely, she almost felt like she'd spotted some endangered species. So, that was how he'd gotten those two ex-wives.
“I saw you doing some running,” he said.
“How long have you been watching me?” Her tone of voice wasn't exactly respectful, but today he wasn't her boss. Today he was just a man with a lack of manners.
“Long enough to be impressed by your persistence. I'm glad to see you working on getting fit. A fit body will match that fit mind of yours damned well. Enjoy the sunshine.” He coupled another of those disconcerting smiles with a curt nod, and then jogged off toward the track.
She frowned as she watched him bound lightly away. Show-off. And when had she asked him for a condescending pep talk, anyway? She fumed her way to her car. The man was her nemesis. Why couldn't she have gotten to work under someone nice at Weisman, Waters, and Green, like Bethany Hawke?
She retrieved her purse then plopped her sweaty self in behind the driver's seat. She flipped down her visor and looked in the mirror. Her face was crab red and sweaty.
Cute, Megan. Really cute.
Oh, well. She hadn't come here to impress anyoneâcertainly not Tanner Hyde.
She started her car and made her slow progress over the parking lot speed bumps. She made the mistake of looking in the direction of the track one last time and Tanner waved at her. She gave him a polite wave, then hurried over the last speed bump and out of the parking lot.
She was halfway home when she decided that she was being unfair to Tanner, that she was being hypersensitive, as she always was about her weight or anything related to it. Yes, he was a slave-driving shark, but he was the best and he was encouraging her. This was a good thing. Life was good. And she had run a little bit. Tomorrow she'd run farther.
Â
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Kizzy, Lionel, and the dog returned from their Saturday morning walk around the lake to find Larry the mailman stuffing envelopes into their neighbor's mailbox.
“I see you got a new walking partner, Kizzy,” Larry greeted them.
Lionel patted his middle. “You bet. This is gonna shrink. In a couple of months you won't even recognize me.”
“Go for it,” Larry said, handing Kizzy their mail. “Looks like you got some real mail,” he added, nodding to the small envelope in her hand. “These days it seems like all I deliver is junk mail and bills.”
“I'll have to have Lionel start sending me more love letters so we can make your job more interesting,” Kizzy teased.
“Good idea,” said Larry, and whipped his mail jeep on down the street to the next row of boxes.
“So, what is that?” Lionel asked, leaning over her shoulder. “An invitation?”
She opened it and read, then shook her head and smiled. “Well, that answers a lot of questions.”
“Except for how much you're going to spend on a new outfit for this,” Lionel teased.
She ran a hand along his chin. “Don't worry, Lion. I won't spend a lot. Yet,” she added. “But in another twenty pounds, watch out.”
Â
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Erin parked her car in front of Changing Seasons Floral and answered her cell phone.
“You miss me?” Adam greeted her.
She turned off the car, and grabbed her purse, switching the phone to her other ear. “Yes. I wish you didn't have to be at the hospital today.”
“Come June this will all be over,” he assured her.
And then he'd be interning, and she knew what that meant. She watched
Grey's Anatomy.
He'd be working long hours. And she'd be alone. “I wish you could come with me and see the flowers I'm picking.”
“That's more your thing. I think you can handle it. Just don't go crazy. I know you wanted to make me dinner tonight, but let's do it tomorrow. By the time I get home and finish studying I'm going to be fried.”
She'd been planning to grill salmon, his favorite. Well, it could keep another day. “Sure,” she said, resigned to an evening alone. She supposed this would be her life once they were married: her making plans, then having to remake them every time Adam had to get to the hospital for an emergency.
But those things don't matter when you love someone, she
reminded herself. “Okay, I'm there now, so I've got to go,” she said, and got out of the car.
“Have fun. I'll catch up with you tomorrow.”
Fun, yes, this was going to be fun. For a second there, she'd almost forgotten.
She walked into the shop and inhaled deeply. Those hyacinths were still going strong. Valentine goodies were now fifty percent off, and the shop was decorated for spring, with ceramic bunnies and decorative egg wreaths everywhere.
A girl with maroon hair and a pierced eyebrow was manning the counter. She smiled at Erin. “Hi.”
“I'm here to see Hope,” Erin said. “I want to finalize the order for the flowers for my wedding.” Just saying the words was enough to make her excited. Who wouldn't be excited when she was about to be happily married to Dr. McDreamy?
“She's in the back room, doing an arrangement. I'll get her.”
The clerk vanished behind maroon curtains that made Erin think of theaters. Plays. Actors. Pretend. She wandered over to the refrigerator case and checked out the arrangements.
“Hi,” said a voice at her elbow.
She turned and saw Hope smiling at her. Today she was wearing a pastel green top. No wonder Erin hadn't seen her coming. With her quiet manner and that top she blended in with her surroundings like a chameleon.
“Hi. I'm ready to finalize the order for the flowers for my wedding,” Erin said.
“Great.” Hope led her over to the same little table where they'd sat before.
“I need to cut a few things, though,” Erin said, spreading the sheet out in front of her.
“Actually, you don't.” Hope grinned as she booted up her laptop. “I have a surprise for you. Someone has paid for your flowersâa wedding present.”
“Really?” Aunt Mellie, of course. “Oh, that's awesome! Who was it?”
Hope cleared her voice. “Actually, the person wanted to remain anonymous.”
Aunt Mellie wouldn't care if she knew. So, who then? Adam! “I know who it is,” Erin said and flipped open her cell phone to call Adam. “My fiancé did this to surprise me.” He just made that comment about not going crazy to throw her off.
“This wasn't your fiancé,” Hope said. “It was someone else. An old friend of the family.”
Old friend of the family.
“Dan Rockwell,” Erin growled as she snapped her cell shut.