abilities is totally off,” I explained. “I can get to the bottom of this whole thing faster than he can. After I’ve beaten him at his own game I’m going to waltz off into the sunset without him, and eventually, when it’s too late, he’ll realize what he lost when he gave me up.”
Leah stared at me for a full minute before speaking. “You’re like a psychological case study,” she finally said.
“Okay, enough.” I rested my elbows on the table, ignoring her look of disapproval. “You obviously have a theory as to what’s motivating me to do all this, so why not just tell me what it is?”
Leah looked away and I watched as she fought some kind of silent internal struggle. “You need to figure this out yourself.”
“What? You are going to keep your opinions to yourself? Have you been possessed by a nonjudgmental alien?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” she said slowly, “but I’m going to therapy now.”
“Really? But you’ve always said that the only therapy you would ever engage in was the kind that involved an Amex and a Nordstrom shoe sale.”
“Jo-Jo changed my mind,” Leah explained. “You remember Jo-Jo, don’t you? She’s one of the women from the Junior League. She’s thirty-nine years old and up until recently she’s never been in a relationship that has lasted more than two weeks. A while back she started seeing this therapist who helped her realize what she was doing wrong, and now, after less than two years of weekly sessions, she’s managed to get a plastic surgeon to propose to her. Now Jo-Jo’s looking forward to a lifetime filled with love, security and free liposuction. As soon as I found out I made an appointment with the same therapist and he said that I need to let the people in my life figure out their own problems.”
“So you think I have a problem?”
“Too many to count. But my therapist also thinks that I push people away by being too critical of them, so I’m not going to criticize you until you’re out of hearing distance.”
“I’m fairly sure that telling me I’m ‘like a psychological case study’ is a criticism.”
“I slipped, sue me.” She gave an approving smile to the waiter as he served her a warm plate of ricotta cheese pancakes and me a seafood breakfast casserole.
“So what’s the goal here?” I asked. “To see this therapist until you get an M.D. to marry you?” I took a large bite of my casserole. Not good. Maybe this would be an ideal time to start my next diet.
“I don’t need to marry a doctor,” Leah said. “A lawyer would be okay, or even a dentist. Dental insurance is so pricey these days and it never covers the cosmetic stuff.”
“And you think I have issues,” I muttered. “Need I remind you that you were a married woman not too long ago and you hated it?”
Leah blinked in surprise. “I couldn’t stand my husband but I loved being married. I loved being part of a family unit, I loved showing off my ring, and I took comfort in the knowledge that I had crossed ‘get married’ off my to-do list. If I could just be married without having to actually have a husband, my life would be perfect.”
“I guess you could become a lesbian and do the whole civil-union thing.” I forced myself to take another bite of my food. Leah’s pancakes looked so much better.
“I’ve considered it,” she said, “but I have a feeling that being married to another woman would be even harder than being married to a man. What if I married a woman who was like me?”
“My God,” I gasped, truly horrified by the idea, “that would be unbearable.”
“Yes, it would be,” she agreed with an amused smile. “Too much of a good thing.”
We both laughed, but our moment of harmonious sisterly love was cut short by the ringing of my cell phone.
Leah glared at my purse. “Really, Sophie. The only people who keep their cell phones on in expensive restaurants are clueless teens and the nouveau riche.”
“It could be important,” I protested, not bothering to point out that she wasn’t exactly old money. “It’s Melanie,” I said once I had fished out my phone. “Would you prefer if I took this outside?”
“Or at least in the ladies’ lounge,” Leah said, pointing toward the restrooms.
I got up and made my way to the ladies’ room, wondering what Emily Post would say about cell phone/bathroom etiquette. “Hi, Melanie,” I said as soon as I was standing outside one of the stalls. “Everything okay?”
“I think so,” she said carefully. “I just received the strangest call from Flynn Fitzgerald.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, at first I thought he was just calling to see how I was holding up, but as the conversation progressed it became clear that he was really calling to find out about you.”
“Me? What did he want to know?”
“How long we’ve been friends, if you had published any other articles dealing with politics or had dealings with any other publications. That sort of thing. He seems to be under the impression that you work with the National Review.”
I braced myself against the sink. “Please tell me that you didn’t tell him otherwise.”
“I surmised fairly quickly that you had made up that story as a way to get an appointment with Fitzgerald, but I may not have covered for you very convincingly.”
“What do you mean?”
“When he first suggested that you were writing for that publication, I laughed. I laughed a lot, Sophie.”
Shit! “If Fitzgerald calls again, tell him that we met for tea or whatever and that now you realize that I’ve moved politically to the right. Tell him that I couldn’t stop gushing about the opportunity the Review has given me.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Fantastic, thank you, Melanie. I’m sure no harm was done. In the meantime, do you think you could help me get in to see Maggie Gallagher? I’ve been trying to reach her, but she never returns my calls.”
“I’ll try, but I don’t know if I’ll be much help. Maggie and I have never been close. I’m not even sure if she likes me very much. She was more Eugene’s friend.”
“Really? But how can anyone not like you?”
“I’m sure there are a slew of reasons,” Melanie said modestly, “but I have no idea what specifically caused Maggie to be so distant with me.”
“Huh.” I briefly considered the possibility that Maggie’s dislike of Melanie had something to do with an inappropriate fondness Maggie might have had for Melanie’s husband. It certainly was something worth checking out. “Listen, Melanie, I’m having brunch with Leah right now so I should get going, but thank you for telling me about Fitzgerald.”
“Of course, Sophie. Enjoy your meal.”
I clicked off and studied my reflection in the mirror. So what if Fitzgerald knew that I had lied to him? It wasn’t like he was a suspect. Still, the idea made me more than a little uneasy.
When I got back to the table Leah had almost finished her pancakes and was looking more than a little irritated.
“Sorry about that,” I said as I took my seat. “But I had to take that call.”
“Of course you did. It was Melanie after all,” Leah snapped. Then she paused and some of the irritation slipped from her countenance as she met my eyes. “Sophie, I’m not going to tell you what your problems are, but I am going to make three suggestions.”
“I can’t wait to hear this.” I looked down at my plate. I wasn’t going to eat my casserole. It wasn’t