Too Good to Be True

“Oh, it’s great.” He grinned again. “I tend to log in too many hours at the hospital—hard to leave sometimes—but I love it.”

I bit down on a giggle. “That’s wonderful.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tipped his head. “Grace, would you like to join Tom and me for dinner?

It’s just the two of us here today…”

“Um, thanks,” I said, “but I can’t. My sister’s getting married tomorrow, and tonight’s the rehearsal.”

His smile dropped a few notches. “Oh. Well, maybe some other time?” He paused, blushing. “Maybe even without Tommy? We live in New York. It’s not that far.”

A date. The pediatric surgeon was asking me out on a date. A burst of hysterical laughter surged up my throat, but I clamped down on it just in time. “Um…wow, that’s really nice of you.” I took a quick breath. “The truth is, I’m…”

“Married?” he said with a no-hard-feelings shrug.

“No, no. I just broke up with someone, and I’m not over him yet.”

“Well. I understand.”

We were quiet for a second, both of us mildly embarrassed. “Oh, here comes Tommy,” I said, relieved.

“Excellent. It was great meeting you, Grace. Thanks again for all you did for my son.”

Tommy enveloped me in a hug. “Bye, Ms. Em,” he said. “You’re the best teacher here. I’ve had a crush on you since my first day of class.”

I hugged him back chastely, my eyes wet. “I’ll really miss you, buddy,” I said honestly. “Write to me, okay?”

“You bet! Have a great summer!”

And with that, my favorite student and his pediatric surgeon dad left, leaving me more bemused than ever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“AHAHAHA. AHAHAHA. OOOH. Ahahaha.” Mom’s society laugh rang out loud and false over the table.

“Hoohoohoohoo!” Andrew’s mother, not to be out-faked, chortled right back. From the other side of the table, Margaret kicked me meaningfully, making me wince in pain.

“Aren’t you glad you’re not marrying into that family?” she hissed.

“So glad,” I whispered back.

“Margaret, are you drunk?” Mémé asked her loudly. “I had a cousin who couldn’t hold her liquor, either.

Disgraceful. In my day, a lady never overindulged.”

“Aren’t you glad those days are gone now, Mémé?” Margaret quipped. “Would you like another Rusty Nail, by the way?”

“Thank you, dear,” Mémé said, mollified. Margaret signaled the waiter, then made a mocking toast to me.

“Oh, yes, a toast!” Natalie cried. “Honey, make a toast!”

Andrew stood up, his parents gazing at him with servantile adoration. “This is such a happy day for us,” he said.

Awkwardly. His eyes paused on me, then moved on. “Nattie and I are so happy. And we’re so happy that you’re all here to share our happiness.”

“I know I’m happy,” I muttered to Margs, rolling my eyes.

“Hardly a great orator, is he?” she said, loud enough for our mother to hear. Mom covered with another round of “Ahahaha. Ahahaha. Oooh. Ahahaha.”

The waiter appeared with our appetizers. Looking up, I saw it was Cambry. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, grinning.

“I hear we’re all having dinner next week chez Julian.”

“If he doesn’t bolt,” Cambry answered, setting down the oysters Rockefeller in front of me.

Julian was in a relationship. Granted, the mere word caused him stomach cramps and a cold sweat, but he was dating, and even he couldn’t find much fault with Cambry, who was waiting tables while he finished law school.

“You hang in there,” I said. “You’re good for him. He hardly ever wants to come over and watch Dancing with the Stars these days. I should probably hate you.”

“Do you?” he asked, raising a concerned eyebrow.

“No, of course not. But you have to share. He’s been my best friend since high school.”

“Duly noted,” he said.

“Grace, I thought the oysters here caused food poisoning,” Mémé bellowed, causing a nearby diner to spit abruptly into his napkin.

“No, no!” I said loudly. “No. They’re great. So fresh!” I smiled encouragingly to the napkin spitter and took a bite as he watched nervously.

“Well, didn’t they just about kill your doctor?” Mémé asked, turning to the Carsons, who were smiling politely. “He was in the toilet for twenty minutes,” she informed them, as if they hadn’t been there. “The trots, you know. My second husband had stomach problems. We couldn’t leave the house some days! And the smell!”

“It was so bad, the cat fainted,” Margaret intoned.

“It was so bad, the cat fainted!” Mémé announced.

“Okay, Mother,” Dad said, his face burning. “Perhaps that’s enough.”

“Ahahaha. Ahahaha. Oooh. Ahahaha,” laughed Mom, her eyes murderous upon her mother-in-law, who was knocking back another cocktail. Personally, I’d never been fonder of Mémé, for some reason. Cambry was struggling unsuccessfully to hide his laughter, and in a rush of warm sincerity, I said a quick little prayer that he and Julian would make it. Even if it meant I had no one to cushion my loneliness, poor lonely spinster that I was.

Perhaps Angus needed a wife. Maybe I could have his little snipping reversed and I could become a dog breeder for people who loved to have things destroyed by adorable barking balls of fur. Or not.

I looked down the table at Natalie. She wore a pale blue dress, and her smooth, honey-colored hair was swept up and held with the kind of clip my own hair ate like a Venus flytrap. She looked so happy. Her hand brushed Andrew’s over a roll, and she blushed at the contact. Aw. Then she caught my eye, and I smiled at her, my beautiful sister. She smiled back.

“Grace, where’s Callahan?” she asked abruptly, her head snapping around to look for him. “Is he coming separately?”

Drat. The truth was, I’d been kind of hoping not to have to discuss it. I hadn’t mentioned my breakup to anyone but Margaret. For two reasons. One, I’d been holding on to the hope that Cal might, well, forgive me, realizing that I was the one for him and he couldn’t live without me. And two, I didn’t want to rain on Nattie’s parade. She’d be worried about me, cluck and pat my back and puzzle over how someone could not want to date her big sister.

Someone other than Andrew, that was.

Lucky for me, I’d just taken a bite of my oysters, so I grinned and pointed and chewed. And chewed. Chewed a bit more, stalling as the oyster was ground into flavored saliva.

“Who’s Callahan?” asked Mrs. Carson, turning her beady eyes on me.

“Grace is dating someone wonderful,” Mom announced loudly.

“A convict,” Mémé said, then belched. “An Irish convict with big hands. Right, Grace?”

Mr. Carson choked, Mrs. Carson’s slitty eyes grew wider with malicious glee. “Well,” I began.

“He used to be an accountant,” my father said heartily. “Went to Tulane.”

Margaret sighed.

“He’s a handyman, right, Grace?” Mémé bellowed. “Or a gardener. Or a lumberjack. I can’t remember.”

“Or a coal miner. Or a shepherd,” Margaret added, making me snort.

“He’s wonderful,” Mom said firmly, ignoring both her eldest child and Callahan’s criminal past. “So, er, handsome.”

“Oh, he is!” Natalie said, turning her shining eyes to the Carsons. “He and Grace are so good together. You can tell they’re just crazy about each other.”

“He dumped me,” I announced calmly, wiping my mouth. Across the table, Margaret choked on some wine. As she sputtered into her napkin, she gave me a thumbs-up.

“The gardener dumped you? What? What did she say?” Mémé asked. “Why are you mumbling, Grace?”

“Callahan dumped me, Mémé,” I said loudly. “My ethics aren’t up to snuff.”

“The prisoner said that?” Mémé barked.

“Pish!” my mother said. No one else said a word. Natalie looked like I’d clubbed her over the head.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “Sorry to say, I think he’s right.”

“Oh, Pudding, no. You’re wonderful,” Dad said. “What does he know, after all? He’s an idiot. An ex-con and an idiot.”

“An ex-con?” Mr. Carson wheezed.

“No, he’s not, Dad. He’s not an idiot, that is. He is an ex-con, Mr. Carson,” I clarified.

“Well,” Mom said, her eyes darting between the Carsons and me, “do you think you might get back with your pediatric surgeon? He was such a nice young man.”

Wow. Amazing how a lie could be so powerful. I looked at Margaret. She looked back, lifted an eyebrow. I turned back to my mother.

“There was no pediatric surgeon, Mom,” I said, enunciating so Mémé could hear. “I made him up.”

You know, it was almost fun, dropping a bomb like that. Almost. Margaret sat back and smiled broadly. “You go, Grace,” she said, and for the first time in a long time, she looked genuinely happy.

I sat up a little straighter, though my heart was thudding so hard I thought I might throw up. My voice shook…but it carried, too. “I pretended to date someone so Natalie and Andrew wouldn’t feel so guilty. And so everyone would stop treating me like I was some sort of abandoned dog covered in sores.”

“Oh, Grace,” Nat whispered.

“What? Grace, you can’t be serious!” Dad exclaimed.

“I am, Dad. I’m sorry,” I said, swallowing hard. Here it was at last…my confession. I started talking again, and my voice grew faster and faster. “Andrew broke up with me because he fell in love with Natalie, and it hurt. A lot. But I was getting over it. I was, and if they wanted to be together, I didn’t want to be the reason they stayed apart. So I made up Wyatt Dunn, this impossibly perfect guy, and everyone felt much better, and I just ran with it because to tell you the truth, it felt great, even just pretending I had a boyfriend who was so wonderful. But then I fell for Callahan, and obviously I had to break up with Wyatt, and then, that night that Andrew came over and kissed me on the porch, Cal was really unhappy about that, and we talked and then I ended up telling him about Wyatt Dunn.

And he dumped me. Because I lied.”

My breath came in shaky little gasps, and my back was damp with sweat. Margaret reached across the table and put her hand over mind. “Good girl,” she murmured.

Natalie didn’t move. The Carsons’ heads swiveled to gape at their son, who looked like he’d just been shot in the stomach, eyes wide with horror, face white. The rest of the restaurant was so quiet, you could almost hear the crickets cheeping.

“Wait a minute, wait a sec,” my father said, his face slack with confusion. “Then who was I talking to in the bathroom that night?”

“Shut it, Jim,” my mother hissed.

“That was Julian, pretending to be Wyatt,” I said. “Any other questions? Comments? No? Okay, then, I’m going out for some air.”

On shaking legs, I walked across the restaurant, past the now-silent diners, my face on fire. As I entered the foyer, Cambry leaped over to open the front door. “You are one magnificent creature,” he said in an admiring voice as I walked out.