When Girlfriends Chase Dreams (23 page)

Before Robin veers off to her car, she says excitedly, “Sure. I’ll just swing home and change. Bobby can drop Rose and me off. I’ve been wanting to get Rose out of the house. It’s always daycare then home, daycare then home. Poor baby.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yay!” Sophie says, clapping her hands together and doing a little hop. “Baby time!”

“You can really square some time away to hang out?” I look at Sophie. “I don’t want to add pressure to you with your grand opening only weeks away.”

Sophie tosses a wave and says, “Please. Baby time
and
girl time? Totally worth it. And,” she unlocks her Prius that’s parked next to my car, “all that’s really left to work out is the final menu. Oh, and the front room chairs.”

“Yeah?” I wave goodbye to Robin then yank open my car door. It takes three tries but it finally springs open. “You don’t have chairs yet?”

“Chad’s got them, remember? He’s painting them for me.”

I can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah?”

Sophie gives me the evil eye. “He offered.”

“Mmhmm.” I duck into my car. “See you soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I can hear Sophie mutter as I slam my door close and make the peaceful drive home.

***

I’m about to ask Conner when his tee time is set again, because he and Chad are monopolizing the living room and Sophie and I can barely hear each other talk over the cacophony of the video game, when Sophie suggests we sit on the deck out back.

“Finally,” I groan, falling into one of the patio chairs with a relieving thump. “I love him, but his gaming sometimes.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend who’s a gamer,” she says. “I can imagine you go a little bonkers now and then.”

“It’s only
really
grating when he’s not alone. Get him with a buddy and it’s a whole different story.”

Sophie situates herself in a chair and slips on her pair of wide-lensed Gucci sunglasses.

“Planning still going well?” she asks. “Not getting all overwhelmed, right?”

“Trying not to,” I say, pulling a leg into my chest.

“At least your mom’s being a great help,” Sophie says cheerfully. She rests her head on the chair back and looks like she’s enjoying soaking up the warm rays of sunshine. The sun isn’t quite balmy, but soon enough it will. “And your sister?” she queries. “She helping at all?”

“Maggie?” I say through a chuckle. “If I can’t get the groom to help, you think I’ll get my flighty sister?”
 

“You have a point.” Sophie better situates her sunglasses.

“The one chance I give Mags to help, she tells me I better switch up my color palette because I’ll be cursed with bad luck. Some voodoo superstition or something.”

Sophie laughs, then says, “Did you ask Emily if it was true? You know she’s on top of all of that hokey kind of stuff?”

“No. It’s not a total loss,” I mumble. “Blue bridesmaid dresses are actually going to work out better than the green.”

“But you and Conner are still good?” she asks. “Through all of this busy wedding planning you two are all love-birdy?” She shades her eyes with one hand, and I can barely see her eyebrows knit together behind her oversized sunglasses. “I know you two have been a little rocky.”

I shrug. “Comes and goes. The yoga’s helping me calm down. I think him getting to go out to LA helped. Of course, I’m still batty at times.” I place my hands behind my head. “You know how it goes though? Trying to manage something huge…like your café!
That’s
a big undertaking.” I give Sophie a questioning look. “All of a sudden zero to sixty on it…”

Sophie’s always kept the story of her time in Paris, which she admits was the real turning point in her decision to get her café underway, shrouded in mystery. At this point, it’s not even a story—a pamphlet is more like it.

“Like I said,” Sophie says casually, leaning her head back on the chair, “finishing touches on the menu and the chairs…then getting through the grand opening. That’s all—”

“Yeah,” I cut in, “but you
really
put the pedal to the metal, so to speak with getting this bakery thing underway. I mean, some of us girls were wondering when you’d finally start. Always knew you would but…
when
?” I pull a puzzled face. “Then you come back from Paris and
Bam!
You’re overhauling a space and going full throttle on your dream!”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Paris was inspiring, and I had to start my shop plans at some point, you know?”

I nod slowly, curiously. Then a smile plays my lips and I lean in to her. “So, uh…how are things with the Parisian sweeties you’re chatting with?” I just come right out and say it. I don’t know if it has any bearing on the topic at hand, but I want to know. Plus, romance gossip is
the best!

Like I said, Sophie’s never shared
that
much about Paris, only about how she learned so much inside the kitchen, had a great time, did a little dating and a lot of flirting, and, well, magically bumped into the revelation that it was time to create The Cup and the Cake.

In girl world, though, there’s always more to a story, especially when men are involved, however little, however much. Also, I admit, I want Sophie to get herself a man. A serious relationship. We haven’t double-dated in fifty zillion years.

“Come on,” I press. “There
must
be more to life right now than just opening up your shop.”

Sophie bursts out in a short, loud laugh. “Yeah,
just
opening up the shop. Claire.” She looks at me, pulling down her sunglasses for only a second to catch my gaze. “I’ve already told you. Nothing serious,
at all
, is going on with any guy. You’re my best friend—I’d share with you if there
was
something.”

“Promise?” What am I, a five year old? I can’t help it, though!

“Promise,” Sophie says. “I’m too focused on my shop to even
consider
striking up something really serious with someone.”

“Even if he’s a hot Frenchie?”

“Puh-lease,” she says, and shakes her head. “All fun and games and flirtation
,
and all of it on the computer. But, I will tell you this, Claire.” She leans over to me.

“Yeah?” I ask eagerly.

“Next time I go to Paris,
whenever
that may be—most likely not very soon with the shop and all just opening, but
whenever
I do, I might meet up with one of them.” She gives a flirtatious little rise of one shoulder. “Keep the options open.”

I make a
tsk-tsk
sound, playfully. “But,” I say, my voice flat now, “until then, nothing. Right? Only
borrrring
gossip for now. Yeah?”

“You’re entertaining, Claire,” she says and smiles. “Always entertaining…”

“But nothing else, right?” I pry.

“It’s me and my café, Claire,” she says with a sigh. “I’ve got enough on my plate with that. And what’s with you wanting me to hook up so badly? Silly girl…”

“Are you afraid?” I don’t know where that question comes from. Completely out of the blue. Is Sophie afraid, though? I can’t help but ask the question. Her last boyfriend, a relationship of three years, really tanked and flamed and, well, it was a major disaster. She could tell you all about it; basically I think it left a sour taste in her mouth towards men, and since then she hasn’t been very eager to strike up a serious relationship. Probably why she likes having “possible relationship material” or “guys with whom she can casually (and safely) flirt” clear on the other side of the Atlantic. No risk, no pain.

“Afraid of what?” she asks, dubious.

“Of falling in love with someone again.”

“Oh, Claire.” She pulls herself up in her seat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Because I would understand if you were. I would understand if you were afraid of falling in love with someone who might hurt you again.”

“Claire.” Sophie removes her sunglasses and perches them atop her head, right in front of the tight brunette bun she’d pulled up for yoga class. “It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s that I’m busy. Really busy. You can understand, can’t you?”

I nod knowingly.

“Some day, yes, I’d like to meet someone and be in a serious relationship. Right now that’s not my focus.” She pauses for a moment. “I just have to do this.” She’s taken a lower tone; she sounds very pensive. “I
have
to make The Cup and the Cake happen.” She looks at me with sobering eyes. “When I can do this, then I’ll see what’s next for me. For now
this
is where I belong.
This
is what I have to do.”

“Understood,” I say, meeting her seriousness. “I’m proud of you.”

“And,” she adds, right as I hear the slamming of car doors from around the front of the house, “when I can get
that
right, then maybe we’ll have some fun conversations about men and relationships.”

I can hear Rose’s loud, high-pitched voice. I pull myself up out of the chair, and Sophie follows. “Then,” I say, “we can talk about Pierre or Benoît or François or whoever…”

Sophie chuckles and tells me I’m ridiculous.

“Or Chad,” I throw in, just to get a rise.

“Claire!”

I flash her a quick grin.

“Knock it off, girl. Or else,” Sophie warns. She sticks her tongue out as we turn the corner into the living room and are greeted by Robin, Rose, and Bobby.

“Look who’s here!” Bobby says. Rose is perched on one of his thick arms, and he’s waving her hand at us. “Say hi, Rose.” His voice is soft and gentle.

Rose lets out a loud shriek of excitement. “Yay!” Robin encourages. She plants a kiss on her daughter’s chubby cheek.

“So,” Robin looks at Sophie and me, “let’s get these boys out of here so we can have some peace, huh?” She nods a motion to the blaring television.

“Conner,” I say over the video gaming commotion of gunfire and swear words. “Chad.”

“You any good at golf?” Sophie makes small talk with Bobby, who has switched Rose to his other arm. She seems perfectly content sitting there, fist in mouth, taking in her stimulating surroundings.

“Not half bad,” Bobby answers. “I try to get out and play a few times a month.”

“Yeah,” Robin says. She sets down her Vera Bradley bag, stuffed to the brim with diapers, wipes, toys, and other baby items, and she gives a brief out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye glance at Bobby. “He’s been at the driving range three times this week already.”

“Have to be in shape,” Bobby says.

“To kick these bums’ butts,” I say, pointing at the two, er, bums, on the couch. “Conner, please turn that damn thing off.”

Robin moans and says that it’s a hopeless cause.

Sophie makes her way from the dining room to the living room and, hands on hips, abruptly says, “Boys, come on. Tee time’s nearly here, and we want you out.”

Chad sets his gaming controller on the coffee table. He stands and cracks his knuckles. “Come on, man,” he says to Conner. “We’re being hen-pecked.”

Sophie, hands still sternly on hips, tilts her head to the side and says, “Really? Then that would make you a…cock—”

“Okay, okay,” I say, rushing to Sophie’s side. “Boys,” I look gruffly at Conner, “I think it’s time to go.”

Conner shuts off the gaming console, telling me to take a chill pill.

Sophie’s shaking her head at Chad, who’s smiling at her—that sly smirk that always plays his face when he’s ready to razz Sophie.

Sophie, who usually takes him much too seriously, doesn’t know how to handle it, so she just keeps standing there, shaking her head.

“Babe,” Conner says. He puts his hands on my waist and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You have a minute to see the work I did recently?”

“On what?” I’m trying to think about what he’s referring to…something wedding-related? Oh! Maybe Schnickerdoodle’s trick.

“My comic,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Chad cuts in, finding his escape from Sophie’s wrathful presence. “It’s bad ass. Check it out.”

I look down at my watch. “Your tee time is nearly here, isn’t it?” I twist my lips to the left. “I promise we can look at it tonight. Kay?”

At first he looks reluctant, but when Chad roughly claps him on the back and says they really should be heading out, Conner says “Okay.” He gives me a warm yet short kiss goodbye.

“Oh, and Sophie,” Chad calls from the front porch, “the guys and I will bring the café chairs by tomorrow, if that’s all right with you…”

“Thanks,” Sophie says, a small half-grin forming on her face. “‘Preciate it, Chad.”

He gives an abrupt wave and closes the front door behind him.

“Finally!” I exclaim, letting myself fall into the couch. “Peace at last.”

***

In an effort to get Rose to calm down, because she threw a massive fit when Bobby left, we popped in a Disney film and plopped her on a blanket in front of the television.

“I think she’s got it, girls,” Robin says while we’re relaxing in the living room.

“Got what?” I ask.

“And who?” Sophie says.

“Lara,” Robin replies. “The promotion.”

“Are you serious?” I exclaim. “That’s awesome!”

“And a given,” Robin interjects. “She had the meeting yesterday to discuss the promo, and I’m pretty sure she got it.”

“What, she didn’t, like, tell you?” I say.

“Well, all she said,” Robin explains, “was that today she’s getting out of the city with Nathan. Some out-of-town date or something.”

“Oooh,” Sophie coos. “Romance…”

“And,” Robin continues, “I figure, she’s happy, she’s positive…in a good mood, and she’s out with Nathan hiking or something I think… I’m sure she got it. She must have! Otherwise I bet we’d hear.”

“Good for her,” I say. “That company has her soul, as it is. She better get rewarded for her hard work.”

“Speaking of hard work,” Sophie says, “thanks so much for your assistance with the café. You girls have really helped make it beautiful.”

“Is it done?” Robin bursts out.

“Almost.” Sophie smiles. “You’re both definitely coming for the grand opening, right?”

“Got the invite,” Robin says. “Adorable, by the way. And yup, Bobby and Rose and I will all be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I tell her.

Chapter Fifteen

I love gardening. I know I’ve said it before, and I know I said I’m not really a green thumb per se, but I still love this hobby. I love the challenge of turning a seed or a small plant into something large and beautiful and blooming. I love the smell of fresh soil, but I do hate the smell of the manure and fertilizing seed that some of my neighbors use. I’m sure if I used it, too, I wouldn’t find myself coming up short on the tomato scene as often, but smelling dead fish guts and cow dung is not my idea of an enjoyable morning activity.