When Girlfriends Chase Dreams (12 page)

“Time for cupcakes!” Sophie says excitedly, rubbing her hands together.

We saunter into the kitchen and prepare for our ritual. I can’t tell you how long Sophie and I have been doing this—baking together. We were always saying some day these recipes would finally be offered in Sophie’s own shop. Now here we are, testing recipes for real! Just like me trying on my wedding dress and really feeling like a bride! Time flows on, life happens…and a life filled with wedding dresses and cupcakes, and getting to spend the evening babysitting the world’s cutest baby, is not exactly a life to complain about. Even if the wedding headcount is skidding dangerously out of control.

“So, girl,” I say, as I drop some blue dye into the batter. “What else is going on with you?”

“Café’s keeping me busy,” Sophie answers.

“That I know,” I say in an obvious tone. “What else is new?”

“Hmm. Did I tell you I think my brother might be gay?”

“What?” I nearly drop the dye bottle into the batter. “
No
. You did not tell me that!”

Sophie thickly churns her ingredients with a wooden spoon. She does it so expertly, it’s no wonder
she’s
the baker and not me. My station of the kitchen is a mess, no matter how routine baking has become—splotches of blue dye keep making their way onto the counter, and I’m quickly cleaning them up with a wetted paper cloth, terrified of leaving behind stains. (Even though these Formica countertops are ugly as sin.)

“Yeah,” Sophie says, almost waxing lyrical. “He won’t come right out and say it. Won’t tell me. But I’m starting to think he is.”

I guffaw and tell her she must be joking. John? Gay? It couldn’t be.

“Isn’t he with, like, different women all the time?” I ask. “A male Emily,” I add for jocularity.

“Yeah, and that’s just the reason.”

“Huh? I don’t follow.”

Sophie looks back at me but doesn’t stop what she’s doing, methodically so. “Always in and out of relationships,” she says. “Avoiding commitment when things get too serious. He’s always been kind of weirdly anti-marriage, too.”

“A male Emily,” I repeat with a two-beat chortle.

“He’s thirty-two and can’t seem to hold onto one woman. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I really think women just aren’t his cup of tea. He dates
gorgeous
women. We’re talking some could be—some even
are
—models! Yet, he doesn’t seem interested in anything long-term.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t found the one,” I suggest. “His career’s always taking him from San Francisco, to London, back and forth. I imagine being a lawyer’s pretty tough work, anyhow.”

“Maybe,” Sophie says in a low voice. “His anti-marriage weirdness is what really sets me off, though. You know?”

“Conner was that way,” I say. “So I thought. You want to talk about taking forever to come to?”

“It’s different,” she says. “With John it’s… I know my brother. I see how he is with women and it’s not… I don’t think it’s really there.
And
he lives in San Francisco.” She gives me a look like I should say, “Oh, then
obviously
he’s gay.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I reply. “Have you come right out and just asked him?”

“Yup.” Sophie brings her bowl to mine and starts to situate the cupcake pans.

“And?” I stop what I’m doing, too engrossed in the conversation. I love girly gossip, and hardly ever does something this juicy come up.

“He laughed and said I was a dork,” she replies. “Says he doesn’t know where I got that idea, and that was it.”

“So, that was it,” I tell her. “What’s the big deal? If he is, he is. If he’s not, he’s not.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Sophie says. She begins to place cream-colored cupcake liners into the cupcake pans. “Of course it doesn’t matter if he is or isn’t. I’d just rather him be honest with me. I’m his sister, after all.”

“Well, he just might be telling you the truth, Sophie.” I stick my finger in the batter for a taste. It’s delicious, as I expected. “He’s not gay.”

“Maybe,” she says.

“And,” I interject, “speaking of honesty here, what
is
going on with
you
?”

“What are you talking about?” She looks at me questioningly. “
Me
?”

“I’m talking about you asking if Chad’s with Conner at the pub tonight.” I lower my voice as if I’m sharing a secret that someone might hear. It’s no secret that Sophie and Chad once had something, however small or fleeting it may have been.

See, back in college, Sophie and Chad had a one-time fling. That’s Sophie’s story to tell, but something with a pool, his parents’ house, and too much booze—do I have to paint a picture? I’d really rather not.

Well, they’ve always been a little hostile with each other, despite their fling. But it’s usually just in a kittenish sort of way. Love-hate isn’t really how I’d describe it. Just awkward conversation that I think shows understated passion or wanting. Maybe longing for another quickie in the pool. Oops, yes…I’ve opened my mouth. I have painted that naughty picture.

Anyway, they have their past, but it’s not as clear-cut as a one-time “super crazy thing!” back in college. When Sophie was in Paris last summer, oddly enough Chad was there as well. Chad hung out with Conner when Sophie and I did some window shopping along the Champs-Élysées or did some real shopping at Le Bon Marché. But he was there a heck of a lot longer than the week Conner and I were. No doubt he and Sophie crossed paths more than a few times in the ol’ City of Lights when we weren’t around.

Sophie and I are really close friends—like sisters. However, she’s always been rather reserved about Chad since their “encounter.” And she was definitely very reserved about Chad in Paris. I’ve asked ad nauseam what, if anything, happened. All she ever says is that he was in Paris doing some strange art thing—something with a big dealer over there who wanted to buy one of his paintings—and then she’d run on about the cooking school she attended and the handsome French men she dated. That was all there was to say about Chad Harris.

Of course I was wildly curious about these handsome Frenchies, but why reserve details about Chad? Maybe, just like John, there really
wasn’t
anything to discuss. No, John wasn’t gay; he just didn’t want to settle down. No, nothing happened with Chad; he happened to be in Paris the same time Sophie was, and there’s nothing to report.

But, just to make sure…

“Sophie,” I say with slight vexation, “there’s
nothing
between you and Chad right now?” I opt to throw in a teaser. “You two aren’t secretly seeing each other right now? Having a sizzling love affair unbeknownst to everyone?” I give a wink-wink, and Sophie laughs heartily.

“Yeah,
right!
” She takes the bowl of batter from me after I’ve stuck my finger in again for a quick sampling. “There is
nothing,
and I repeat
nothing,
going on with me and Chad. Chad and me. Whatever.” She shakes her head harshly. “No. No. Ew. No.” She looks at me with intensity. “No. Absolutely
not
.”

“Okay…these Frenchies, then.” I have to know. She’d said she had a ton of fun dating so many neat guys over there—really living it up kind of stuff. She’d also shared upon her return in August that she was still in contact with two of the guys, and one of them actually offered a little more than playful banter. They talked weekly. Sometimes twice a week! I’d say that’s something more than simple flirtation…

“Claire,” Sophie says with a sigh, “you never give up, do you? Always out for a juicy piece of gossip or a sappy romantic story.”

“Well,” I say, moving aside the baby monitor Robin had given us for Rose. I raise myself up onto the countertop and take a seat, then I try for another batter sneak. Sophie swats my hand away.

“Well,” I repeat, licking away the tiniest amount of batter I did manage to take, “you can’t deny that a juicy bit of gossip or a good love story don’t leave you entertained.”

“At my expense?” she says with a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m having a crazy, sexy affair with two Frenchmen. At the same time. Here in Seattle.”

I perk up, and she rolls her eyes at my obvious gullibility.

“Come on, Claire, you silly girl.” She returns to whipping the batter into the submission I couldn’t quite produce. “Yes, I’m still chatting with two of the guys back in France. No, nothing serious or worth talking about. Honest. And, I couldn’t care less about Chad.”

“Well, I bet I could find you a love connection,” I say. “If you’re up for it.”

“Nope,” she says without hesitation. “Nope. No thanks, girlfriend. But, while we’re on the subject,” she points a blue-batter-covered spoon at me, “if you want gossip
and
romance, then Lara and Nathan are where it’s at.”

“Something I don’t know?” I slap the tops of my jean-clad legs in excitement.

“Well,” Sophie says in a seductive voice. “All I know is that Nathan told me at work the other day that he is
really
happy I set him up with Lara.”

“And?”

Sophie laughs again. “And that’s pretty cool gossip, wouldn’t you say?”

I blubber my lips together and sound just like the wind-up tugboat that we’d put in Rose’s bath to try to quell her excitement and eagerness to splash water onto the bathroom floor.

“Get back to me when they’re eloping,” I say. I try to sneak another sample of batter and, despite Sophie’s swatting, I succeed. I suck the tasty batter from my finger and add, “Of course, Nathan telling you he’s really happy about the set-up
is
pretty cool. Pretty awesome news, actually.”

Chapter Eight

Yes! Mom’s in town again. And she’s in town when Seattle decides to share with us some pleasant weather. This winter’s been a tough one, with more snow than I remember in a single season. The sun isn’t shining too brightly, but there is blue sky to be seen, and the clouds are actually white and not a threatening grey.

Mom’s decided to come up just for the heck of it—to help out with anything bridal that I need. Oh, what a welcome visit it is.

I have a meeting with Melissa today to talk about photographers and videographers, and I’m becoming overwhelmed again with my long list of DIY to-dos. I don’t know why I tend to pile up more and more things to tackle. All I’m doing is making a load of stress for myself…and all the girls who rally to my cause.

But when I start to think of how beautiful the wedding will be when it’s all done, with so many personalized details, I can’t help but grow that list. All of the glitter clothespins, the jars of homemade jam for take-home gifts, the special bird accents, unique vases, picture frames, birdcages…

And, that reminds me. Yet again! Something I need to buy off of Etsy. Actually two things! There’s a very attractive ivory-colored garter, handmade and hand-beaded, that I found from an Etsy seller who makes antique-looking wedding garters and hankies. I just have to order that garter; it’s a one of a kind. Okay,
 
the seller actually has five on hand and says more can be made. But it
looks
like it’s one of a kind.

I also found the most darling antique birdcages that I
have
to have for the reception centerpieces. Some are really large and can fit small floral arrangements in there…like groupings of little vases filled with flowers. It would look positively darling. There are also some smaller birdcages that can be used as décor in addition to the bird’s nests I’ve been collecting from thrift stores and the old, tattered hardback classic books.

So, anyway, I found a giant lot of antique birdcages online at Etsy and wanted to purchase them, but I wanted to play it safe, so I checked with Melissa first, in case she’d already gotten the birdcage memo and has been stocking up on all sorts of knickknacks for the wedding. Besides, I’m already doing
a
lot
of DIY projects and collecting tons of decorative items. There are so many things I’m making in addition to whatever Melissa’s cooking up… I could be going a little overkill here.

Melissa said she’d take a look and see if they were a good purchase; she also said she might know someone who could give us a good deal on decorative antique items. I’ll just ask today if she’s checked out the lot online (which I’d asked the seller to put on hold). I hope she bought them! They were…well…perfect. Then again, I’m open to see what her contact might come up with.

I pass Conner on the couch in a hurry, and he says something to me, but I’m too focused on my cell phone to make out his words. Mom’s sent me a text letting me know her flight’s landed. Finally, after an hour-long delay! Go figure, right when Seattle starts to feel spring-ish and airport delays are almost unthinkable. I’m about to type out a response that I’m on my way, when Conner repeats my name in an agitating way.

“Yes?” I question.

He looks a little hurt or perhaps confused about my haggard tone. Then I go and repeat myself and come off just as sharply.

“Sheesh!” he says loudly. “Only asking.” He’s holding up both hands, waving that white flag of surrender.

“Sorry,” I huff. “I’ve got to go pick up my mom, and we’re running late.” I sigh, then say, “‘Only asking?’” I totally missed out on what he was saying. “Asking what?”

“Forget it,” he says. He drops his hands. “I’ll see ya later.”

“No, what?” I press. I reach for my purse and shove an umbrella in it, just in case.

“I wanted to see if you had time to check out the progress I’ve made.”

I raise one eyebrow, perplexed.

“My comic,” he says slowly and obviously. “You’ve yet to check it out.” He leans back into his seat. “Forget it. You bringing your mom by right away?”

I decide to put the comic issue aside, since apparently Conner has, and tell him that Mom and I have an appointment at the boutique to get my veil—an appointment we’re barely going to make now that her plane’s late, now that I’m held up talking about Conner’s comic strip.

“If you’re so pressed for time,” Conner says somewhat under his breath, “why didn’t you just wait right at the airport for her? Bet she’ll be ready and waiting and you’re not even there yet.”

I look at him, cast a petulant glance his way, and say, “Well I had to clean
your
laundry and put away
your
dirty dishes, and I’m also supposed to put an entire wedding together.” I throw up my hands and let out a very loud groan. “No point in wasting time sitting in a car doing nothing when there’s crap to be done, now is there?”