Page 66 of Babies at Coconuts

Alex held up her hands. “I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve thought about it.” She glanced at Cheri. “Maybe I should try some of those online dating sites you used.”

Suzy chimed in. “Because those freak shows worked out so well.” She turned to the socialite. “Sorry, Cheri, but—”

“You’re right.” Cheri shrugged. “They never worked out.”

Hope popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Too bad Gage isn’t around. You two had definite chemistry.”

Alex studied a crack in the table a little too intently. “I miss Gage. Too bad that stupid pop singer jumped his bones and kept me from seeing him again.”

Suzy giggled. “Somehow, I bet he misses you too.” Her phone rang but she ignored it. “This is our much-needed girls’ night. I’m ignoring my phone.”

“Good, because I want to change the subject.” Hope reached into her bulging, brown tote bag. “I have something for you, Cheri.”

The socialite’s eyebrows shot up. “For me?”

Hope plunked a thick envelope on top of the table. “Yes, for you. The Hilltop neighbors still talk about your generous donation for furnishings and appliances after last year’s tornado. Since they don’t know your name, they gave the letters to me to pass along.” Shoving the weighty parcel toward Cheri, she continued. “There are letters from parents, grandparents, and even sweet, scrawled thank-you notes from Hilltop students’ younger siblings written in crayon.”

Cheri blushed as she held the thick envelope against her chest. “You’re going to make me cry. I’m glad I had the resources to help. And thank you for keeping my name anonymous.” After setting the students’ notes on the table, she patted the hefty stack. “This means the world. I’ll read every single note.”

Hope beamed. “I’m thrilled they took the time to write. It’s hard in the days of email and texts to get kids to actually go old school.”

Reaching for her cocktail, Hope grinned at the New Yorker. “You did an amazing thing. I’ll never forget it and neither will they.”

“Enough about me.” Cheri reached for Hope’s hand. “That’s a cool ring.” She studied the oval orb. “It has changed colors since you first got here. What is it?”

Hope glanced at the antique filigreed silver ring. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s called a mood ring. This is one of the few things I have from my late mother. Officially, she’s my adopted mother. It’s confusing, I know, but I’m so thankful she left her ring beside my kitchen sink, likely after washing the dishes—right before I threw my parents out of my house. That was the last time I saw them.” Her voice broke. “After our horrific fight, they were killed in that wretched train accident—at least she was.”

Cheri shifted in her seat. “Sorry to be dense but I’m obviously behind on your family saga, Hope. I remember hearing something about the accident from Suzy or Alex. I wish I had been here to help you through that ordeal.”

“I’m okay. Really.” Hope sniffled. “It’s been a while now, although the memories still haunt me.” She brightened. “It seems my adopted dad somehow lived. Remarkably, he’s working as a janitor at my school. It’s unbelievable even to me. At first, Alex and Suzy didn’t believe me, but after seeing the tornado recognition ceremony including Larry, the janitor, on television, they agree it’s him.”

“Does your adopted dad remember anything about the accident?” Cheri asked.

Hope shook her head. “Nope, he doesn’t remember me, the accident, his wife, nor anything about his past. I haven’t pressed him and keep hoping his memory will return organically.”

Sighing, she said, “He calls himself Mac, but I know he’s Larry. In my head, I call him both names. Sometimes I call him Mac in front of the kids so they don’t ask questions. But I occasionally slip and refer to him as Larry. It’s baffling, plus he’s dating a colleague.”

Cheri swirled the cherries in her cocktail. “That must be uncomfortable.”

Hope’s head bobbed. “It is, and we were becoming fast friends. Willow—that’s her name—is an art teacher at Hilltop High. She’s really cool and a hippie like my dad. I’m sure that’s why they connected—”

Interrupting their conversation, Alex returned from the restroom. She glanced from friend to friend. “Why the somber mood. Did someone die?”

No one said a word.

After the uncomfortable silence, Alex said, “Foot in mouth, I see.” Alex screeched a barstool across the floor and lowered her voice. “Who is it this time?”

“You already know. Larry. Mac. My adopted dad.” Hope shrugged. “I was bringing Cheri up to speed.”

“Oh, that man’s definitely Larry. Remember we saw him on television last year? He’s a dead ringer—” Alex blew out her breath. “Dammit. Sorry, Hope.” She patted her friend’s arm. “I thought we already told Cheri about this.”

Cheri interjected. “If you did, I was so absorbed in losing my grandmother and adjusting to non-New York City living that it didn’t sink in.”

Hope waved both hands in the air. “Let’s don’t ruin our night out. It was tragic and horrible and the worst thing that has ever happened in my life. But I have all of you and my students. I’m good.”

Cheri tapped Hope’s finger. “I’m still curious about how that gorgeous ring changes colors.”

Hope glanced at her hand. Her ring had turned from black to yellow.

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