Page 43 of The Space Between

“She does,” Bill says with a nod. “I think she does.”

Pete reaches over and holds the elevator door open with one hand. “Wait, you think she does, or you know she does? I don't want to make an ass of myself.”

Too late, Bill thinks spitefully. Something about Abernathy just really grinds his gears.

Bill steps out of the elevator and then pauses, turning to look back at Peter as he stands in the elevator car waiting for a response.

“She does have a boyfriend,” Bill says with a curt nod. “She most definitely does.”

CHAPTER 21

Jeanie

Miranda jumpsfrom her perch on top of the refrigerator the minute Jeanie closes the front door. The condo is quiet for the moment, and Jeanie takes advantage of it to slip her feet out of her shoes and pick up her cat.

There's a screened-in lanai off the living room, and Jeanie carries Miranda out there with her, inhaling the still-humid air of mid-September. She sits in a chair that overlooks the green grounds two floors below, watching as two older men in golf carts stop driving past one another in order to have a chat from behind the respective wheels of their carts.

"Hon? You here?" Vicki calls out, her keys jingling as she drops them on the coffee table.

"Outside," Jeanie calls back. She's got Miranda curled in her lap, and her bare feet up on the glass table where they normally sip their drinks while enjoying the lanai.

Vicki is breathless. "Hey, princess. How was work?"

Jeanie shrugs. "Work was work. I'm tired."

"I'm worried about you." Vicki flops down in the chair across from Jeanie and shoots her a look of concern. "It's not that I mind mothering you a little, hon, and I don't mind that you'restill recuperating from the accident, but I'm still worried that you're in a funk."

Jeanie tries to laugh it off, but it comes out sounding false. "Yeah," she finally admits. "I guess I am in a funk."

Vicki takes off her own sandals and curls her feet up under her. "So what can we do to fix that?"

"Not The Hungry Pelican," Jeanie says quickly. "Please, not that. I'm not in the mood."

It's Vicki's turn to laugh, but hers is real, and she flips her hair off her face with one hand. "Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won't try to drag you out for drinks at a bar where all the men were born around the turn of the century."

"Or before," Jeanie adds.

This makes Vicki laugh again. "Right. Or before." She folds her arms over her chest and looks at the golf carts below as the men finish talking and drive on. "But how about we go out to dinner with my son? Steven and his friend are here from New Orleans for a few days, and they asked me to go out for seafood tonight. Come with. It'll do you some good to be around other young people." Vicki leans over and slaps Jeanie's thigh lightly, teasingly. "And Steven is a handsome boy, if I do say so myself."

"But that's exactly what I don't want," Jeanie says. "I'm not looking to be fixed up with anyone, especially, and I mean no offense, a college boy."

Vicki holds up both hands in surrender. "No offense taken. I know you're a successful, grown woman, but being around cute young men and letting them fawn over you a little might do you some good.”

Jeanie is less convinced about this, but she grudgingly lets herself be guided through an after-work cup of coffee, a quick makeup session at Vicki’s hands, and a change into a pale blue sundress with one-inch thick straps that zips up the back.

By the time Steven and his friend, Dale, arrive, Jeanie has the buzz of caffeine flowing through her veins and a game smile plastered on her face. She runs her hands down the sides of the dress nervously.

“You look gorgeous, princess,” Vicki says, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. She holds out her arms and does a quick spin for Jeanie’s approval. “How do I look? Gotta be sure I’m making my boy proud.”

Jeanie eyes her from head to toe, and, as usual, Vicki is color-coordinated and dressed for a good time. “You look beautiful,” she says honestly. For the first time in quite a while, Jeanie actually feels a little burst of energy. It’s Thursday night, she’s dressed in something other than a nightgown with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she’s saying goodbye to Miranda rather than letting the cat curl up next to her on the couch at six-thirty in the evening.

Steven and Dale are waiting for them at a charming restaurant known for its crab cakes and fettuccini with lobster. Dale is short and freckled with a face that makes him look a bit like an overgrown Boy Scout, and Steven is tall, dark, and handsome.But young, Jeanie reminds herself.Oh. So. Young.

The guys pull out the chairs for Jeanie and Vicki, and the evening gets off to a good start as Vicki tells them all stories about raising Steven on her own after her divorce when her son was ten. It sounds to Jeanie like Vicki is exactly the sort of mom she would have imagined her to be: fun, great sense of humor, and always the one showing up places on the wrong day or at the wrong time or wearing the wrong dress.

“But I love her,” Steven says, looking at his mom with open adoration and the kind of love that makes Jeanie stop in her tracks. There’s a bond between them that’s enviable, and every time Steven says something that makes his mother throw backher head and give a throaty laugh, Jeanie thinks of her own mother—she can’t help it.

The waiter drops off plates of shrimp and scallops and fried grouper for the table to share, and Jeanie’s mind wanders. When her dad had died, rather than becoming a ballsy, “let’s get this done” kind of single mom, Melva had retreated into a shell that had forced Jeanie to grow up quickly. She’d checked out piles of books at the library and brought them home so that she could entertain herself while her mom slept or cried, and she’d learned how to cook basic meals at an age where most children weren’t allowed to even touch the stove.

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