Girls in White Dresses - JENNIFER CLOSE [71]
Brinkley was outside the house with their golden retriever, and Isabella watched him wave and wished that they hadn’t come. She wiped her mouth again to make sure she got all the drool off and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Ready?” Harrison asked. She opened the door and got out.
Brinkley walked over to greet her and kissed her on the cheek. All of Harrison’s friends had impeccable manners. She resisted her impulse to curtsy.
“Coco’s inside with the baby,” he said.
The baby (Isabella had to admit) was gorgeous. There was none of the ruddy-faced pimply skin newborns sometimes have. This baby was pink and cream, with dark hair and deep blue eyes. Isabella didn’t want to be in love with her but immediately was.
Coco was funnier than she remembered, which was maybe due to the fact that she’d gotten a little fat during her pregnancy. She had always been a tiny girl, but now on her short frame was the unmistakable blubber of leftover baby.
“All I want now is sausage,” she told Isabella with wide eyes. “It’s unreal. Red meat and sausage.”
She offered Isabella a glass of wine and poured some red into two oversized glasses. “I’m not really supposed to drink if I’m breast-feeding, but fuck it. I just went nine months without a drink. Plus, I go crazy by the end of the day with just this little blob to keep me company,” she said, smiling at the baby.
Isabella liked Fat Coco more than she’d ever liked the other one.
They drank until dinner and nibbled on cheese and crackers. They passed around the baby and Coco opened the present. Isabella held Elizabeth and wished that she’d brought her the bunny. By the time they sat down, they were all a little drunk.
Brinkley put the steaks on everyone’s plates and gave Coco the largest one, which struck Isabella as incredibly kind. She’d always thought Brinkley would be the kind of husband who wouldn’t want a chubby wife. But he didn’t care! Coco had just had their baby and he was grateful. Isabella felt tears come to her eyes and made a mental note to stop drinking the wine.
Harrison and Isabella made a plan to go to Newbury Street to walk around and have lunch, but by the time Isabella was showered and dressed and got down to the kitchen the next morning, there was another plan all set. Coco was packing a picnic basket for them to bring to Boston Common. Who owned a picnic basket? Did everyone have one except for Isabella?
Isabella kept looking at Harrison to catch his eye. This was not the plan. But he didn’t seem to notice. He poured himself a cup of coffee and talked to Brinkley about some guy they knew who’d been fired for stealing from clients. Isabella wasn’t sure, but she thought the guy’s name was Mortimer.
Harrison leaned over his coffee, stuffing his nose right over the top as he inhaled. “Now, this,” he said, looking at Isabella, “this is real coffee.”
Isabella hated him so much she almost spit. His nostrils looked huge when he smelled the coffee, and she felt nauseous. She smiled and asked for Advil.
Isabella hadn’t been on a picnic for as long as she could remember. Maybe even longer. And she knew why. It was uncomfortable to sit outside and awkward to pass around thermoses filled with soup, trying not to spill them on clothes, holding on to napkins as they blew away. She was smiling, though, so as not to be rude. Her head hurt from the wine and she wished that she were still in bed. It was cold when the wind blew—too cold, certainly, to be sitting outside for a meal.
Boston Common was pretty, especially with all of the leaves changing colors and the beautiful brownstones in the background. Everyone in Boston looked cleaner and more awake than people in New York. But Boston Common was not Central Park, and it looked small and eager to Isabella, like it was trying too hard.
The baby was bundled up to the point of insanity. All Isabella could see was a teeny nose sticking out of a pile of blankets. Coco leaned over and touched her nose to the baby. Isabella felt something that was certainly jealousy, although she wasn’t