The Apple Orchard. Сьюзен Виггс
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must feel like to be surrounded by people you were connected to by blood and history.
Her friends were her family, her job was her life, and she had a dream for her future. But every once in a while, an intense yearning slipped in, sharp as a slender blade.
“Lydia and I wanted to get everyone together tonight,” Nathan was saying. “Our families and our closest friends. We have an announcement.”
“No way.” Neelie clasped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes sparkled with delight.
Tess’s heart sped up, because she suddenly knew what was coming next.
Nathan smiled with a glow of happiness so intense, Tess imagined she could feel the warmth of it. “Mom and Dad, Barb and Ed, we’re engaged!” Lydia took a small green box from her pocket and placed the diamond solitaire on her finger.
Lydia’s mother squealed—squealed—and the two of them shared a hug, their eyes closing blissfully. The sisters joined the group, and the two families comingled. Hugs and handshakes made the rounds. Neelie, ever the organizer, immediately took charge of finding out the date, the venue, the wedding party, the wine list.
Watching the happy couple, Tess was surprised to feel the burn of tears behind her eyes and a lump in her throat. “Congratulations, my friend,” she said to Lydia. “I’m so, so happy for you.”
Lydia clasped Tess’s hands. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. Can you believe it, me, getting married?”
Tess laughed past her tears. “We used to swear marriage was for girls who have no imagination.” She recalled the late-night dorm-room drunk-a-logues they used to indulge in when they were roommates just out of school. Whatever happened to those girls? Tess didn’t miss the drinking, but she did miss the camaraderie. Even as she felt a surge of happiness for her friend, there was another feeling tucked away in a dark corner of her heart. She felt the tiniest twinge of envy.
“That was before I learned what this kind of love felt like.” Lydia gazed adoringly at Nathan, who had abandoned his glowing-with-happiness look and was now chugging a beer, oblivious to the female sentiment. “Now I’m unbearable. Lately all I dream about doing is keeping house and making babies.” She giggled at Tess’s aghast expression. “Don’t worry. It’s not contagious.”
“I’m not worried. Just promise me you’ll talk about other things, too.”
“Of course we will. No talk of domesticity until it’s your turn.”
Tess admired the ring, a brilliant marquise cut diamond in a platinum setting. It was remarkable, seeing her friend so proudly displaying it, a glittery symbol declaring to the world that someone loved her, that she was no longer going it alone. “Don’t hold your breath,” Tess said. “I don’t actually want a turn.”
“You say that now. Just wait until you’ve met Prince Charming.”
“If you spot him, feel free to give him my number.”
Lydia went to show off her ring to her sisters and in-laws-to-be. Neelie was already taking down dress sizes for the bridal party. Still a bit startled by the emotion that sneaked up on her, Tess dabbed at her eyes with a cocktail napkin.
“I completely agree,” Jude said, moving next to her. “This is a tragic turn of events.”
“Don’t be mean. Look how happy they are.” She watched as Lydia’s family gathered around her—mom, dad, two look-alike sisters—and felt a lump in her throat again.
“Look at you, swept up in the romance of it all,” Jude said, studying the happy couple. Lydia and Nathan couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.
She sighed. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
“Come on, Delaney. You just said not to hold my breath until it’s your turn. Don’t go all soft and mushy on me.”
“Why not? Lots of people like things that are soft and mushy.”
“People in old age homes, maybe.”
“Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Then pour me another drink. I’m celebrating tonight, too,” she reminded him.
He refilled her champagne flute. “Ah, yes. We’re celebrating the fact that you’ve done the firm out of a Holmstrom original.”
“Don’t be bitter. We’re getting a mint condition Tiffany service, right down to the sugar tongs. The other things, as well.”
“I’d rather have it all. What was the old lady thinking, that hanging on to the necklace is going to bring her mother back from a Nazi death camp?”
“Gee, how about I ask her exactly that?” Tess drank more champagne.
“Okay, sorry. I’m sure you tried your best.”
“She’s a nice lady. Kind, filled with stories. I wish I had more time to spend with her. Do me a favor, and get a ton of money for her Tiffany.”
“Of course. I’ll send over our best appraiser. By the way, Nathan’s brother is checking you out.” He glanced over her shoulder.
“And?”
“And, are you available?”
“If you mean, am I seeing someone at the moment, the answer is no.”
“What happened to Motorcycle Dude?”
“Rode off into the sunset without me,” she confessed.
“And Popeye the Sailor Man?”
She laughed. “The navy guy, you mean. Eldon sailed off into the sunset. What is it with guys and sunsets?”
“You seem heartbroken.”
“Not.” In order to have her heart broken, she had to give it into someone’s care, and she simply wasn’t willing to do that. Too dangerous, and men were too careless. Both her mother and her grandmother were proof of that. Tess was determined not to become a third-generation loser. Tess knew what she was good at—primarily, her work. In that arena, she was in control; she had been raised to keep a firm grip on things. Matters of the heart, however, were impossible to control. She found intimacy unsettling, especially in light of her friends’ defection to marriage and even starting families.
“I’m going to stop trying to keep track of the men you date,” said Jude. “None of them stick around long enough for me to remember their names, anyway.”
“Ouch,” she said. “Touché.”
“Do you secretly hate men?” he inquired. “Could that be the problem?”
“God, no. I love men,” she said. She broke eye contact and turned to stare out the window. Night lay over the city in a blanket of gold stars. “I’m just not very good at keeping them around.”
“You want to get a room, make wild monkey love for a while?” Jude suggested, lightly running his finger from her shoulder down to her elbow.
She gave his arm a smack. “Don’t be a creep.”
“Just being practical. We’re the only ones here who aren’t coupled up, so I thought—”
“What, us? We would destroy each other.”
“You’re no fun, Sister Mary Theresa. When are you going to give in to my charms?”
“How about never?” She tossed back the last of her champagne. “Does never work for you?”
“You’re killing me. Fine, I’m going on safari to soothe my poor, rejected ego.” Bending down, he gave her a peck on the cheek, then smiled at her with fond familiarity. “Later, Gorgeous. I’ve got a one-night stand to organize.”
“Okay, that’s depressing.”
“No.