Finola took a drink of her wine. “How did it end?”
“I woke up in a hotel room in Rome and he was gone. The bill was paid and he’d left two tickets for us to fly home. I remember lying in bed thinking I had to start living a real life. That I was done with pretend and done with Hollywood.”
She picked up a small ring box and opened it. Finola gasped when she saw the large ruby surrounded by diamonds.
“You could have sold the jewelry and lived off the proceeds for a few years.”
“Oh, I was going to, if it became necessary.” The smile returned. “I wasn’t foolish enough to think Parker’s gifts were to be kept sacred. But I wanted to see if I could support myself first. I did sell a couple pairs of earrings to pay for secretarial school, then I got a job as a receptionist at the ABC television studios and that’s where I met Bill.”
Finola thought about her handsome, movie star biological father, and then Parker, a man from the same mold. “Did you marry Bill because he was a regular person?”
“I thought things would be better if I admitted to being ordinary. And for a while, they were. We had good years.” She drank more wine. “But I could never give him what he wanted.”
And vice versa, Finola thought. She would guess Bill had seen Mary Jo as an exotic flower. He would have admired her but not known exactly what to do with her.
“In the end,” her mother said, “I couldn’t make him happy. I suppose after a while I stopped trying.”
“That’s what he said,” Finola told her. “Dad called me when he found out about Nigel. He wanted to tell me that even though Nigel cheated, I still had some fault in the failure of the marriage.”
Her mother looked at her, her expression sympathetic. “Not what you wanted to hear.”
“Of course not. Nigel humiliated me. He didn’t just cheat, he made it public.”
“He did all those things and he’s a horrible person for doing it, but Bill isn’t wrong.”
“Mo-om, you’re saying it’s my fault?” She didn’t care that she sounded like she was seven. “I’m the injured party.”
“You are if you think you are.” She slipped on the fur wrap and slid the ring on her right hand. “But being the injured party is an easy trap. If you spend too much time feeling sorry for yourself, you never act.” She looked at Finola. “It took me until I was fifty to figure that out. You might want to learn the lesson a little sooner.”
* * *
Zennie and Gina stood by the bar area, searching for an open table. It was nearly five and The Cheesecake Factory at the Sherman Oaks Galleria was starting to fill up.
“There,” Gina said, pointing.
Sure enough there was an empty booth in the back by the bar. They hurried over, each sliding onto the bench seats.
“I claim this for me and my friends,” Gina said with a laugh.
“It’s an interesting choice for us.” The group tended to go out to local bars rather than brave the Galleria.
“DeeDee’s been talking avocado egg rolls for two days,” Gina admitted. “After a while, I caved. I mean, who can resist those?”
“I’m in.” Zennie might not be drinking these days, but she was still eating. And after days of following her prenatal diet perfectly, she figured she was due something fried.
Cassie and DeeDee joined them, DeeDee sliding in beside Zennie.
“You’re lucky you didn’t scrub in today,” DeeDee said with a sigh. “Dr. Chen was on a tear. He had Rita in tears before we’d even opened up the patient. I missed having you there to act as a buffer.” She grinned at Gina and Cassie. “Zennie’s his favorite.”
“Oh, we know,” Gina said. “He makes it very clear.”
“Why didn’t you scrub in?” Cassie asked.
“There was an emergency bypass this morning around five. I was on call.” Her phone had gone off at four o’clock and she’d been in the OR by five. Six hours later, their patient was in recovery and doing well.
Their server appeared to take their orders. Everyone got cocktails, DeeDee ordered two plates of avocado egg rolls and then it was Zennie’s turn.
“Club soda,” she said, bracing herself for the onslaught.
“What?”
“You’re not drinking?”
“We’re going to Uber home. Come on, Zennie, forget that it’s a school night.”
She smiled at the server. “Club soda,” she repeated.
When the server left, Gina looked at her. “What’s up? You’re not feeling well?”
“I, ah, had an early morning.”
No one looked convinced, which was not a surprise. Four wasn’t really that early, not when her alarm typically went off at five. She drew in a breath and quickly explained about Bernie and the surrogacy and the fact that she was pregnant.
All three of her friends stared at her. DeeDee recovered first and grinned. “That is the coolest thing. Congrats. I can’t believe you’re doing something so wonderful for a friend. I mean I knew you were amazing but this is—”
“Too dumb for words,” Gina said flatly. “What were you thinking, Zennie? Having a baby you’re not even keeping. What if something goes wrong? What if they change their mind?”
The questions stung. “You sound like my mother.”
“Maybe because your mother’s right.”
The attack shocked Zennie. DeeDee came to her rescue.
“Back off, Gina. What Zennie’s doing is fantastic.”
“No, it’s not.” Gina’s expression was serious. She shook her head. “How long until Dr. Chen takes you off rotation? You might be his favorite, but he’s not going to want you in surgery if you’re pregnant. What if you get nauseous or pass out or something?”
Zennie hadn’t thought of that. “He can’t do that. It’s illegal.”
“He’ll find a way,” Cassie said gently. “Zennie, what you’re doing is really wonderful for Bernie, but have you thought about how it’s going to screw up your life?”
“I’m having a baby, not taking on a terminal illness.”
“Pregnancy’s hard,” Cassie continued. “I’ve watched my sisters go through it and it truly sucks. You have no idea what you’ve signed up for. I hope it’s worth it.”
DeeDee glared at both of them. “Don’t listen to the sourpusses. You’re my hero. Good for you, Zennie. Dr. Chen isn’t going to do anything about your being pregnant. He’s a sweetie.”
All three of them stared at her. She blushed. “Okay, maybe not a sweetie, but he’s not that awful.”
“You said he had Rita in tears,” Gina muttered. “Rita was a Marine.”
Zennie did her best to process her friends’ reactions. Having her parents object was one thing, but she’d really expected her friends to be more supportive. And what if they were right about Dr. Chen? What if she did get thrown off the team?
“You know the worst part?” Gina asked. “What if you find the right guy? How are you going to explain being pregnant?”
“I’m not looking for a guy.”
“That’s when you always find him,” Cassie pointed out. “Oh, Zennie, I wish you hadn’t done this.”
Zennie glared at the two of them. “You know what I wish? That I had friends who could be happy for me and support what I’m doing.” She turned to DeeDee. “I need to go.”
DeeDee slid out of the booth. Zennie followed. She faced the table.
“I can’t begin to tell you how much you’ve disappointed me,” she said before hugging DeeDee. “Not you, my friend.”
“Thanks. You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do.”
She threw twenty dollars on the table to cover her drink and share of the egg rolls, then walked out.
As she got to her car, she was overwhelmed by nausea. She didn’t know if it was mistimed morning sickness or just because she was upset. Regardless, she took deep breaths until the sensation passed, then drove home.
When she was safely in her apartment, she threw herself on the sofa and decided she was perfectly justified in having a mini pity party—at least for a couple of hours. Her parents objecting was one thing, even though she was still mad about what her dad had said, but Gina and Cassie chastising her was harder to deal with. So far she only had Ali and DeeDee on her side. She’d been hoping for a larger contingent in the support department.
She did a few breathing exercises, then tried to gather some enthusiasm about dinner. She knew she had to eat. Maybe she would feel better if she texted with a friend. Only who? DeeDee was still out with Gina and Cassie, and Zennie couldn’t discuss her problem with Bernie—it would only upset her.
She started to text Ali, only to stop herself. She was stronger than this—she didn’t need to bother anyone. If only she didn’t feel so alone.
Maybe she needed a pet, she thought. Not a dog—she wasn’t home enough. How about a cat? Cats purred and that would be nice. She could go to a local shelter and adopt a nice adult cat who would be there for her. A cat would—