Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [136]
Nattie would be okay, I could tell. She was right. Andrew didn’t deserve her, and he never had. Her heart would heal. Mine did, after all.
I wandered over to sit with Mémé for a bit. She was watching Cousin Kitty, who was as sensitive as a rhino, dancing with her new husband to “Endless Love.” “So what do you think of all this, Mémé?” I asked.
“Bound to happen. People should be more like me. Marriage is a business arrangement. Marry for money, Grace. You won’t be sorry.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said, patting her bony shoulder. “But really, Mémé, were you ever in love?”
Her rheumy eyes were faraway. “Not especially,” she said. “There was a boy, once…well. He wasn’t an appropriate match for me. Not from the same class, you see.”
“Who was he?” I asked.
She gave me a sharp look. “Aren’t we nosy today? Have you gained weight, Grace? You look a little hefty in the hips. In my day, a woman wore a girdle.”
So much for our heart-to-heart. I sighed, asked Mémé if she wanted another drink and wandered off to the bar. Margaret was already there.
“So?” I asked. “How was the kitchen table?”
“It actually wasn’t that comfortable,” she said, grinning. “You know, it was muggy last night, the humidity made me stick like Velcro, so when he actually—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I broke in. She laughed and ordered a glass of seltzer water.
“Seltzer, hmm?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, when I was living at your house, I kind of decided that maybe a baby…well, maybe it wouldn’t be awful. Someday. Maybe. We’ll see. Last night he said he wanted a little girl just like me—”
“Is he insane?” I asked.
She turned to look at me, and I saw her eyes were wet. “I just thought that was the sweetest thing, Grace. It really got to me.”
“Yes, but then you’d have to raise it. The Mini-Margs,” I said. “That man must really love you.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “The baby idea seems kind of…well. Kind of okay.”
“Oh, Margs.” I smiled. “I think you’d be a great mom. On many levels, anyway.”
“So you’ll babysit, right? Whenever I have spit-up in my hair and a screaming baby in my arms and I’m ready to stick my head in the oven?”
“Absolutely.” I gave her a quick hug, which she tolerated, even returned.
“You doing okay, Grace?” she asked. “This whole Andrew thing has come full circle, hasn’t it?”
“You know, if I never hear that name again, I’ll be glad,” I said. “I’m fine. I just feel so bad for Nat.”
But she’d be okay. Even now, she was laughing at something my father said. Both my parents were glued to her side, Mom practically force-feeding her hors d’oeuvres. Andrew wasn’t worthy of her.
Or of me, for that matter. Andrew never deserved me. I could see that now. A man who accepts love as if it’s his due is, in a word, a jerk.
Callahan O’Shea…he was another matter altogether.
“So what are your plans for the summer?” Margs asked. “Any offers on the house yet?”
“Two, actually,” I answered, taking a sip of my gin and tonic.
“I have to say, I’m surprised,” Margs commented. “I thought you loved that house.”
“I do. I did. I just…It’s time for a fresh start. Change isn’t the worst thing in the world, is it?”
“I guess not,” she said. “Come on, let’s go sit with Nattie.”
“Here they are!” Dad boomed as we approached. “Now the three prettiest girls in the world are all together. Make that four,” he quickly amended, putting his arm around Mom, who rolled her eyes.
“Dad, did Grace tell you she’s selling her house?” Margaret asked.
“What? No! Honey! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not a group decision, Dad.”
“But we just put new windows in there!”
“Which the Realtor said would help it sell,” I said calmly.
“Where are you going, then?” Mom asked. “You wouldn’t go far, would you, honey?”
“Nope. Not far.” I sat next to Nat, who was doing that mile-long stare I had mastered myself a year and a half ago. “You okay, kiddo?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Well, not fine. But you know.” I nodded.
“Hey, did you ever hear about the history department job?” Margs asked.