Mommy Tracked (3 page)

“That’s okay. I asked,” Anna said.

“Yes, you did. Actually, you ask a lot of questions,” he said, and then he grinned at her.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s just, most of the customers who come in here are more interested in the wine than they are in my business plan,” he said.

“You mean all of your customers don’t do this?” Anna asked in mock surprise. “And here I thought that was how everyone shopped.”

He laughed. “I’m Noah, by the way. Noah Springer.”

“I forgot to ask you your name.” Anna thumped herself on the forehead. “Clearly I’m losing my touch. I usually start off with names and only then start asking about business plans.”

“And what comes after business plans?” Noah asked, still grinning at her.

Wow, that’s a great smile
, Anna thought. It kept catching her off guard. He’d look like a normal, nice-enough-looking guy, and then he’d smile, and—
wow
.

“Oh, then I downshift into the really embarrassing and inappropriate personal questions. You know—how much money do you make, how’s your love life. Stuff like that,” Anna said.

“So basically you’ll be channeling my mother,” Noah deadpanned, and Anna laughed.

“I come by it honestly,” Anna said.

“What? You mean…you are my mother?” Noah asked. “Wow, you look amazing for a seventy-year-old. All of those ballroom dance lessons have really paid off.”

“I meant I’m a reporter. Or I was a reporter, anyway. Once upon a time,” Anna said.

“And now you just go from store to store interrogating strangers?” Noah asked. This time when he smiled at her, she actually felt her stomach do a flip-flop.

It had been a very, very long time since Anna had experienced the flip-flop. Not even Brad had inspired a flip-flop.

“Now I’m a restaurant critic for the local paper. I write a weekly column,” Anna corrected him, and she couldn’t help feeling pleased at how impressed he looked.

“What’s the name of your column?”

“‘Silver Spoons.’ I know, Ricky Schroder flashback. But my editor thought it sounded punchy,” Anna said.

“No, I think it’s excellent. I’ve always been a Rick Schroder man myself,” Noah said, patting himself over the heart. “I loved him in
NYPD Blue
.”

Anna laughed, and reluctantly glanced at her watch. “I better go. I’m late for a meeting.”

“Are you off to review a restaurant?”

“No, not tonight. I have a Mothers Coming Together meeting,” Anna said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the name of my group. Mothers Coming Together. I know, it’s a stupid name. My best friend, Grace, thinks it sounds like the title of a porn movie,” Anna said.

“Then I’d be safe in assuming that it’s not porn related?” Noah asked.

“No, not porn related. Just a bunch of moms getting together.”

“You have kids, then?”

“Yes. Well, kid. Just one,” Anna said. “A little boy.”

“So where’s he tonight? Home with your husband?” Noah asked.

“Oh, God, no,” Anna said, remembering her earlier argument with Brad. “I mean…I’m not married. And my mom’s watching my son. So…anyway. I really should get going.”

“Wait…before you go…you haven’t told me your name,” Noah said.

“Oh! Sorry. I’m Anna,” she said, and held out her hand.

Noah took it in his and shook it solemnly. “It was very nice to meet you, Anna,” he said.

It wasn’t until after Anna was back in her car, fighting her way up U.S. 1, that it occurred to her that Noah had made a point of asking if she was married. And that realization made the flip-flopping start up all over again.

two

Grace

T
hinner than me
,
thinner than me. Oh, good, she’s fatter than me. At least there’s one
, Grace Weaver thought, looking around her.

The Mothers Coming Together meeting was supposed to start in five minutes, and the private back room at Luna Pasta was filled with about thirty chattering women. Most were drinking wine and picking at the platters of calamari and antipasti. Their laughter swelled to fill the room.

Thinner than me, thinner than me, fatter—oops, no, she’s pregnant. Technically fatter than me, but it doesn’t really count.

Grace always played this game when she was around other women, tallying up how many were thinner than she was. She’d never won, not even before she had kids. And now…well, now forget it. Natalie was three months old, and not only had Grace not yet lost her pregnancy weight, she was pretty sure she might have actually gained a few pounds since the baby was born.

She took a deep breath, willing away the nervous flutters. In a few minutes she was going to have to stand up in front of all of these women to introduce the evening’s speaker.

And there’s nothing more judgmental than a group of women
, Grace thought, trying to swallow her surging terror.

She looked back out over the room, at the sea of pink and citrus green. Orange Cove was such a preppy town, you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a woman dressed in head-to-toe Lilly Pulitzer.

Thinner than me, thinner than me, thinner than me…Shit. Is every woman in town on a diet?
Grace wondered, with a shock of panic.
And I’m going to have to stand up in front of them looking like this?

Suddenly, she felt huge, like a big blob of fat molded into a woman shape. Worse, she was starting to sweat. She could feel the moisture beading up on her forehead and trickling down between her breasts.

That’s just great. Fat and sweaty—it doesn’t get any sexier than this
.

“I’m here,” Juliet announced. “You owe me big. I had to cut out of a meeting early.”

Thinner than me
, Grace thought, turning to meet her friend.
But then, that’s nothing new
.

Juliet was tall—almost six feet in her high heels—and very, very thin, with the sort of long, skinny legs Grace had always coveted. Even when Juliet was pregnant with her twins, and her stomach was tight and round, the rest of her body stayed twiglike. It would be enough to make Grace hate Juliet, if she didn’t love her so much. Well, that and knowing that Juliet was a neurotic, type-A mess. It was always easier to like your friends when they had really noticeable flaws.

Juliet and Grace’s husband, Louis, were both associates at the law firm of Little & Frost. Grace had met Juliet when they were seated next to each other at the firm’s Christmas party one year. They’d hit it off over cocktails, were friends by dessert, and had been close ever since.

Tonight, Juliet was wearing a tailored navy-blue pantsuit, and her dark hair fell to her shoulders in sleek waves. She reminded Grace of Snow White’s evil stepmother in the cartoon version of the movie—striking, poised, and more than a little scary.

“I’m glad you’re here. I need all the support I can get,” Grace said. “And I think tonight’s meeting will be fun. I’m going to use my presidency to spice things up around here.”

“Yeah, well, I still hate these meetings. They’re like torture by estrogen. Where’s Anna?” Juliet asked.

“I don’t know. She said she’d be here.”

Juliet snorted. “Late, as usual. Whenever I’m supposed to meet her, I always figure in a thirty-minute delay.”

“Here I am, stop talking about me,” Anna said, breezing into the room. As usual, she was out of breath from hurrying, and her long, light-brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail.

Thinner than me
, Grace thought ruefully.
And totally adorable.

“So I think the guy at the wine store thinks I was hitting on him,” Anna announced.

“What guy at what wine store?” Juliet asked.

“Bacchus. It just opened on U.S. One. I stopped in, and the owner was there, and he had this great mouth—”

“What is it with you and mouths?” Grace asked. “I’m an ass woman myself.”

“—and he caught me staring at him,” Anna continued, ignoring the interruption. “I was mortified, so I did that thing I do where I ask a zillion questions—”

“I hate it when you do that,” Juliet said.

“—and it was bad. Very, very bad. Clearly I can never go into that store again, which really sucks, because they had a great selection,” Anna finished.

“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think,” Grace soothed.

“It was worse,” Anna said darkly. “He probably thought I was completely ridiculous. And desperate. A ridiculous, desperate divorcée just shamelessly throwing herself at him.”

“Is he single?” Grace asked.

Anna looked at her, exasperated. “How should I know?”

“I don’t know. Did you ask him out? That would be one way to find out.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“And how would that work, exactly? ‘I know you don’t know me, other than as the crazy question lady, but would you like to go out with me?’”

“I’d drop the crazy-question-lady part,” Grace said. “But, yes, that’s generally how it’s done.”

“First of all, since I don’t even know the guy, I have no idea if he’s single. And second, I’m not interested in dating anyone. As I’ve already told you time and time again. Like when you tried to set me up with your dentist. And Louis’s friend from college. And that random guy you met in the produce section of the supermarket—”

“Oh, now, he was a good catch. You shouldn’t have passed him up. He had really great hair,” Grace said.

“You didn’t even know his name. You gave my phone number to a total stranger,” Anna said.

“I gave your phone number to a total stranger
and
signed you up for a self-defense course,” Grace countered. “That way all the bases would be covered.”

“Not even I can argue with logic like that,” Juliet said.

Anna rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in dating. I’ve already resigned myself to being an old maid. I’m going to have seventy-three cats and live in a house filled with crocheted doilies and Charlie’s old school photos hanging on the wall,” Anna said.

“Technically speaking, I don’t think you can be an old maid if you’ve been married,” Juliet said.

“I thought it was sex. Only virgins can become old maids, right?” Grace chimed in.

“Yes, maybe that’s it,” Juliet agreed.

“And then someday Charlie will get married and have kids, and I’ll be the cool grandmother who spoils them rotten,” Anna continued, ignoring her friends’ commentary. “Unless Charlie ends up marrying some awful woman who will allow me to visit them only once a year for two days. The bitch. I hate her already.”

Her friends looked at her.

“Charlie’s
two
. It’s a little early to start worrying about whom he’s going to marry,” Juliet said.

“I can’t help it. It freaks me out when I think about it,” Anna said.

“Then don’t think about it. I’ve already made a deal with my girls that we’re going to just skip right over the hellish teenage years,” Grace said.

“How does that work?” Juliet asked.

“I’m not sure yet. But I don’t think I can deal with three teenage girls all living under one roof. Between them and me, there are good odds that one of us will be premenstrual at any given time. Which is a very scary thought,” Grace said. She picked up a cookie from a platter and bit into it.
Mmmm.
Molasses, her favorite.

“Hi, Anna.” The pregnant woman Grace had been eyeing earlier approached them. She was young, maybe in her late twenties, and petite, with curly blonde bobbed hair, wide blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her snub nose. Upon closer examination, Grace realized with horror that she had been wrong earlier.

She’s thinner than me. Oh, my God. She’s pregnant, and she’s still thinner than me
.
That’s it, I have got to go on a diet. Immediately
. Self-revulsion curled through Grace, and she could practically feel the calories oozing out of the cookie and right onto her ass. This was such a disgusting image that, if it had been at all socially acceptable, Grace would have spit the cookie back out. Instead, she chewed and swallowed, then wrapped what was left of the cookie in a paper cocktail napkin and tossed it in the garbage can.

“Chloe, hi, I’m glad you could make it. These are my friends Juliet Cole and Grace Weaver,” Anna said brightly. “This is Chloe Truman. She lives just down the street from me. I met her when Charlie and I were out walking Potato, and I told her all about how this group is a godsend for new mothers.”

“It’s true,” Grace said. “Whenever someone in the group has a baby, we all take turns bringing dinner over for a few weeks. After I had my youngest, Natalie, the rest of my family probably would have starved if it hadn’t been for MCT.”

“I’m trying to talk Chloe into joining,” Anna said.

“You don’t have to talk me into it,” Chloe said, looking both shy and pleased. “I want to join.”

“Yeah!” Grace enthused. She grinned at Chloe. “You’ve picked the perfect time to join MCT, if I do say so myself.”

“Grace is the new president of the group,” Anna explained.

“Wow,” Chloe said.

“You’re looking at the power center of Orange Cove,” Grace joked. “Did you ever see
The Godfather
? I’m basically the mom version of Don Corleone.”

“You should get out while you still can,” Juliet said to Chloe. “Run. Run as fast as you can.”

“Why?” Chloe asked.

“Mothers’ groups are always boring. I’m only here because Grace threatened me with physical violence if I didn’t come.”

“Don’t listen to her. Juliet’s a malcontent,” Anna said.

“I am not. I’m a contrarian. It’s different.”

“How old is your baby?” Chloe asked Grace.

“Three months. That’s why I still look pregnant,” Grace said, feeling the need to explain away her still-swollen stomach, although she immediately regretted it when she noticed Chloe’s eye flick down in that direction. “And I also have two other daughters. A five-year-old, Molly, and a three-year-old, Hannah.”

“Wow. Three under the age of six?” Chloe looked shocked. “I can’t imagine. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to manage one.” She rested a hand on her round belly.

“It’s not so bad, especially once you’ve gotten over the loss of your sanity,” Grace assured her.

Anna nudged Grace and nodded toward the front of the room. “Grace, who is that woman, and why does she have a bag full of dildos?”

Grace turned and saw a tall, shapely redhead, dressed chastely in a gray skirt suit and lilac silk blouse. She was pulling handfuls of dildos out of a preppy L. L. Bean tote bag and lining them up on the table like an army of plastic penises.

“Oh, good,” Grace said, relieved. “Our speaker’s here. I was starting to worry she wasn’t going to show up.”

“Who is she?” Juliet asked.

“Melinda Gibbons. She’s a sexpert. She’s here to teach us how to give better blow jobs,” Grace explained.

“Did you say ‘better
blow jobs
’?” Anna asked, frowning. Three lines appeared on her forehead, just between her eyes.

“You shouldn’t frown like that. It’ll give you wrinkles, and then you’ll have to get Botox, and you’ll end up with one of those scary, waxlike faces. And you don’t want that,” Grace said.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Grace? The dildos?”

“I told you, I want to spice the meetings up a little,” Grace explained. “I thought a sex seminar might help boost our membership.”

“Works for me,” Juliet said.

The women watched as Melinda Gibbons set out a crystal punch bowl full of condoms on the table, next to the dildos.

“You know, Grace, you’re right. Mothers Coming Together does sound like the name of a porn movie, especially when you throw in fifty flesh-colored dildos,” Anna said dryly.

“See? This is going to be a whole new chapter for Mothers Coming Together,” Grace said brightly.

“Oh, my God! Are those…
penises
?” one of the women milling around gasped, and suddenly everyone’s attention was on the dildos.

Usually, someone had to flick the lights to get everyone’s attention when an MCT meeting started. The first half hour of the meeting was reserved for socializing, and this precious adults-only time was the main reason many of the MCT members showed up. But tonight all of the moms hurried to sit down at the round tables without being prompted. A hush fell over the room, punctuated by a few excited whispers.

“I think she’s selling sex toys,” one woman said to a friend.

“Oh, my
God
, those dildos are
huge
,” another woman squealed.

“I guess it’s time to start the meeting,” Grace said. She smiled, but felt another wave of fear-laced nausea wash over her. What had she been thinking when she volunteered to be president? She was now going to have to stand up and speak in front of all of these women.
Gah
.

“Good luck,” Anna whispered, and briefly squeezed Grace’s hand.

“Come on, let’s sit down. I want a good seat for this,” Juliet said.

“Will you sit up at the front table? I want to see some friendly faces,” Grace said nervously.

Anna nodded. “We’ll save you a seat.”

“Thanks.” Grace sucked in a deep breath and walked slowly to the front of the room, where Melinda Gibbons was now setting out an assortment of sex toys—a black leather cock ring, an anal plug, and several different types of vibrators, including one that looked like a bullet and another that was shaped like a rabbit.

“Hi, Melinda?” As though she could be anyone else. “I’m Grace Weaver. We talked on the phone. Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Yes, hi, Grace, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” the redhead said pleasantly, reaching out a hand, which Grace took in hers. Melinda’s hand felt small and cool, and her grip was surprisingly firm. “Thank you for inviting me.”