Eight Hundred Grapes

I felt myself take a deep breath in, relieved to hear her Southern drawl, mad and loving and true.

“Saloom is pissed that you aren’t here, by the way.”

Saloom was the managing partner of the firm. His defining characteristic was that he was pissed.

“And don’t tell me that it’s Sunday or that you’re taking this week off for the wedding anyway,” Suzannah said.

“What should I tell you?”

“Did Ben show up?” she said.

“He did.”

“Okay. Am I still a maid of honor?”

“Do you think you should be?”

She paused, considering the question. “Well, on the one hand, I can’t fit into my dress. On the other hand, I bet that you look stunning in yours.”

I laughed.

“In all seriousness, I just keep thinking about the turtles,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“The turtles. Ella’s turtles.”

She offered no further explanation, leaving me to figure out what she was saying. I’d bought her daughter turtles for her birthday, mostly because she wanted a dog, and Suzannah had said no way. But she was happy with the turtles. She named them Lily and Jake. And she absolutely loved them. What that had to do with my current situation, I had no idea.

Suzannah got tired of waiting for me to figure it out. “Remember how Ella left the door open and the male turtle ran away? And the girl turtle was so sad, she never left her shell again?”

I took a deep breath in, sinking deeper into the bubbles. “You’re saying if I let Ben go, I’m going to be sorry?”

“No, I would never say anything that dumb.”

“So what are you saying?”

She sighed, loudly. “I’m saying we make up all sorts of stories when really we should just keep the door closed.”

There was a knock on the door, and Margaret walked inside, without even waiting for an invitation. She sat herself down on the edge of the tub, her hair wet from her own shower, her hands full with towels and the baby monitor and hair clips and a spoon and an open container of yogurt. She rearranged, leaning over the tub, putting one leg inside.

“Holy shit, are you okay? I passed out when I saw her there. Maddie’s her name?”

That was the thing about your brother marrying his high school sweetheart. You’d known her since you were a tiny person. She’d sat before you in many more inappropriate positions than this. She thought nothing of walking in on you in the tub and going about the business of prying. She was your sister too.

She was dripping all over with that hair, her voice low, confirming Maddie wasn’t the only child taking a nap. The twins were down as well, which was probably the reason Margaret had taken a minute to shower herself.

She pulled her hair into two tight buns, the spoon in her mouth. “What a shit,” she said. Then she motioned toward the phone, talking loudly. “Tell Suzannah to call back later.”

Suzannah screamed through the phone. “Tell Margaret I’m already hanging up and going back to doing your work. So Saloom doesn’t fire your ass!”

Margaret took the phone away, leaning in with a demanding look.

“Well, what’s the story, already? I have so many questions.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know who the mother is?” she said. “Some ex-girlfriend?”