in a long line, Press figured. Anyway, practices interfered with his job as a research assistant in his advisor’s lab, and he wasn’t about to give that up.
He waited outside of the store for Matt. The two of them had worked together at Apple Farm Country Club last summer, Matt manning the cash register in the pro shop and Press as a teaching pro for kids. Sometimes when they got in early and before the kids’ Swedish and French au pairs swarmed around Press, they’d go to the driving range and hit a bucket of balls. Matt was hopeless, but Press was a natural, hitting three hundred yards every time. It didn’t matter much because the point was really just to talk—about school, music, their parents, life. A bond had formed, and the two kept up on Facebook during the school year when Matt started Yale and Press finished up his junior year at Grantham.
Press watched as Matt stumbled out the front step and onto the sidewalk. He had tried to open his can of Arnold Palmer iced tea and walk at the same time. “Focus, Matt Brown, focus. How many times do I have to tell you,” he ribbed his friend.
Matt managed to stop next to him without tripping. “I know. I’m pathetic. But before I forget. I gotta ask you. Did you say Lilah Evans?”
“I THINK YOU LI - IKE HIM ,” Mimi taunted Lilah.
“Oh, please. This isn’t junior high school. And I’m too old to have crushes,” Lilah replied. She let her eyes wander around the kitchen, anywhere but on Mimi. How often did someone use two dishwashers? she wondered.
“I don’t know what you’re so defensive about. What’s the big deal about being forced to stay close to a man who is drop-dead gorgeous—and as we now have personal proof of—gentle and gifted and loves children?”
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?” Mimi grabbed for the gin bottle again. “Don’t tell me you still have a thing for Stephen?” She poured two fingers and didn’t bother with the tonic water.
“No, of course not. Not anymore.” Lilah eased herself onto a stool. The night was growing longer by the minute. “You know, I looked him up on Google when I decided to come back.”
“As anyone rightly would.” Mimi took a swallow.
“Seems he’s a partner in a big law firm in Cleveland. They even had a picture up on the website—he’s gotten fat. Which is kind of ironic when you consider how he always used to be on me about my weight.”
“ And he’s married with two children and a third on the way.”
“You’re kidding? How did you find out?” She realized she experienced a glimmer of jealousy—but not for Stephen. Her breakup, which was once so heart-wrenching, now only held a faint “what if?” No, the pang she felt was for the idea of children. Lilah rested her chin on her hand.
“Excuse me. I’m a reporter. I’m supposed to get that kind of information.”
“Well, did you also find out that he’s not coming to Reunions?”
“That I don’t know. It seems you have your own sources. Speaking of sources—” She glanced down at her watch. “Where is that little brother of mine? I’m beginning to think he didn’t turn out so well after all.” Then she looked back at Lilah. “Hey, no pooping out yet. The night is still young—especially because we still haven’t cleared up this matter.”
“What matter?” Lilah stifled a yawn.
“About Justin? You and Justin? C’mon. Let’s wait outside by the pool. We’ll spot Press sooner that way.”
Lilah took the remnants of her second drink and dutifully followed Mimi. “There is no me and Justin.” Lilah settled into one of the deck chairs around the pool. Tiled dolphins cavorted as in some Roman mosaic. For all she knew, it was a Roman mosaic. She squinted and peered more closely. No, it couldn’t be, could it? “You know, maybe I shouldn’t have had this second drink.”
Mimi settled into the chaise next to her. She flicked off her sandals and ran her bare feet up and down