Heart of the Matter - Emily Giffin [125]
But this year, this January, is especially unbearable. And as the days pass, she starts to worry that she will never emerge from her funk. She feels profound disappointment over Nick, along with near-constant worry for Charlie, both coagulating in her heart, fading into plain old bitterness, a state of being she has always guarded against, even at her lowest.
One afternoon toward the end of the month, Summer’s mother calls her while she is at work. She feels a spike of negativity, remembering her daughter’s words on the playground, bracing herself to hear about another incident.
But Beverly’s voice is warm and breezy, no hint of trouble anywhere. “Hi, Valerie! Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asks.
Valerie glances at the pile of documents on her desk, her stomach in knots as she replies, “No. Not at all . . . It’s nice to have a break from the fascinating world of insurance recovery.”
“Sounds only slightly better than the fascinating world of accounting,” Beverly says, laughing robustly, reminding Valerie that, against all odds, she actually likes this woman. “So how’ve you been? Did you have a good holiday?” she continues.
“Yeah,” Valerie lies. “It was good. How was yours?”
“Oh—it was okay, but absolute chaos. We had my husband’s kids this year—all four of them—and his former in-laws . . . which is a long, totally bizarre story I won’t bore you with . . . So to tell you the truth, I was really ready to go back to work. And I don’t even like my job.” She laughs again as Valerie decides, with relief, that if something went wrong at school today, it can’t be all that dire.
“So did you hear the news?” Beverly asks, amusement in her voice.
“The news?” Valerie says, refraining from telling Beverly that she is not in the social loop at school—or anywhere, for that matter.
“About the latest love connection?”
“No,” Valerie says, unwittingly picturing Nick, always picturing Nick.
“Summer and Charlie,” Beverly says, “are an item.”
“Summer and Charlie?” Valerie echoes, sure that Beverly has her facts wrong—or perhaps is making some sort of bad joke.
“Yeah. Apparently it’s pretty serious . . . In fact, we should probably sit down and start hammering out the details for the wedding and rehearsal dinner. I think we should keep it low-key. . . don’t you?”
Valerie smiles, slightly disarmed, as she says, “Low-key is always good with me . . . Although, I must confess, I don’t have a lot of experience with wedding plans.”
It is something she wouldn’t ordinarily say, the sort of personal information she always keeps close to the vest, and feels uneasy until Beverly laughs and chimes in with, “No worries. I’ve done it three times. So together we’re just about normal.”
Valerie laughs a real laugh, her first of the year, and says, “Normal would be nice.”
“Normal would be very nice. I can’t fathom it, though . . .” Beverly says with merry acceptance. “So anyway. Yes. Charlie and Summer . . . I’m really pleased . . . Wasn’t wild about her last boyfriend. At least, I wasn’t crazy about his mother—which is all that matters, right?”
Valerie asks who her last boyfriend was, feeling a rush of cheap delight when Beverly says Grayson’s name. But she still refrains from making a derogatory comment about Romy, and instead says, “Did they have a ... falling-out?”
“Not really sure of the details. I know they—she—called it quits right before Christmas. I think his gift wasn’t up to snuff . . . or at least it couldn’t compete with the beaded bracelet Charlie gave her.”
Valerie’s mouth falls open, as she remembers the bracelet Charlie made in therapy, the one she assumed was for her, but never showed up under the tree. “Really? He didn’t tell me,” she says, shocked—in a good way.
“Yeah. It was purple and yellow—Summer’s favorite colors. . . You’ve clearly taught him well.”
Valerie smiles, appreciating this spin on