The Friendship List

“What you have is an inability to move on with your life. Darling, I love you as much as if you were my own daughter, but come on. What are you doing? Pickleball with old people? The knitting club? Do you do anything with people your own age, ever?” She held up a hand. “Excluding Ellen and Cooper?”

Unity grabbed a slice of red pepper and took a bite.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dagmar sighed. “It’s been three years, Unity. You’re thirty-four. You’ve been in mourning nearly 10 percent of your life.”

Ten percent of her life? Unity had never thought about it that way. Not that it changed anything—time wasn’t the issue.

“I’ve buried four husbands,” Dagmar told her. “I loved each of them and the end was always painful, but you have to keep moving forward or you stagnate and die.”

Unity shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s different for me.”

“Because you loved Stuart more? You had a greater love? I’m a terrible person for finding someone else?”

“No, of course not. It’s just—” She looked at her friend. “I only want to love Stuart.”

“He’s not coming back. Would you rather mourn him and be alone than risk the chance of finding happiness again?”

Yes. Unity didn’t say it, but she thought it and knew it to be true.

“I would accept you not wanting another relationship if that was all it was,” Dagmar told her. “But it isn’t. You’re stuck, my love. What I don’t understand is how you can be that way with all you see around here.”

“What do you mean?”

Dagmar waved to take in the room. “We come here to die. Oh, it’s a lovely place with lots to do, but we are in the final years of our lives. Look at Betty. She has plans—a river cruise, Christmas in New York. Will she still get to do that? Who knows? How long until she’s gone? What about me?”

Unity’s eyes widened. “What about you? Are you sick?”

“Not that I know of. But at my age, we’re all one bad diagnosis away from a terrible turn in our lives. Yes, it can happen to anyone, but for those of us living here, it feels more inevitable.”

She squeezed Unity’s hand. “Darling, you’re so young and vibrant. I hate to see you hiding from your own life. I wish you’d make friends your own age and go do exciting things. I wish you’d find a handsome man and use him for sex. I’m not saying you have to find another one true love, but you do have a responsibility to be alive, and right now, you’re not.”

Unity knew the words were said with love, but they still hurt. She thought of Dagmar as a second mother and the scolding, however gently delivered, made her feel uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“Are you cutting me off?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Never. And if you stop coming to see, I’ll hunt you down and drag you back here.” Dagmar smiled gently. “Just think about it. Life is wonderful. I want you to remember there’s so much out there you can experience. If not with men, then at least new horizons, new experiences. Although some of the old ones are quite wonderful.” Her smile turned sly. “The feel of a man’s tongue on your—”

Unity jumped to her feet. “Oh, my God! Don’t say whatever you were going to say.”

“I can’t believe your Stuart never did that to you.”

Heat flared on her cheeks and it was all Unity could do not the cover her ears and hum. “Of course he did, but I’m not discussing sex with you.”

“Yes, you made that clear the time I started to tell you about my threesome. It wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made but it was a night.”

“I’m leaving,” Unity said, hurrying toward the door. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m alive. It’s something you should consider.”

Unity shoved her feet into her boots. “I’m alive, too. Just in a different way.”

Dagmar followed her to the door. Her expression was serious. “Before you know it, you’re going to be my age. It’s true what they say—regrets are the very worst.”

Unity hesitated, then nodded, as if she believed what she was being told. She hugged her friend, let herself out and hurried to her van.

What had started out as a good day had turned into something else very quickly, she thought as she headed for home. She felt battered and picked on and all she wanted to do was climb into bed and wish it all away. And if that didn’t work, she would think about Stuart because no matter what, he was always with her. And that was never going to change.

Four

“By the way, you’re fired,” Thaddeus Roake said as he used the bottle opener on his beer and tossed the cap into the trash.

Lela pulled a cookie sheet of mini quiches out of the oven. After setting it on the hot pads on the counter, she turned and grinned at him. “You can’t fire me. I don’t work for you.”

“You’re still fired. You’re a terrible matchmaker.”

The petite brunette sighed heavily. “Yes, well, I want to apologize for that last setup. I totally misread the situation.”

Thaddeus thought about the lunch Lela had arranged for him with Kristie—an attractive thirtysomething woman who seemed to check all the boxes on his wish list. She was smart, funny, caring and single.

He’d met her at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. She’d been upbeat, attentive and charming. Forty-five minutes in, he’d allowed himself to hope his dating situation might be looking up. Then she’d mentioned wanting two hundred thousand dollars for her charity.

“It was an ask, not a date,” he said.

Freddy, Lela’s husband and Thaddeus’s best friend from the age of six, wandered into the kitchen. He looked between them.

“What?”

“Thaddeus is firing me as his matchmaker.”

Freddy kissed his wife on the cheek. “A good idea. You’re not very good at it.”

“Hey. I know lots of great single women. I just haven’t quite figured out how to sort through them yet.”

Freddy leaned against the counter. “What about that one with the weird name. Katie-Jane, Katie-Marie—”

“Katie-Lynn,” Thaddeus and Lela said together.

“She’s very successful,” Lela said defensively.

“You’re right.” Thaddeus reached for a quiche. “She never got off the phone our entire lunch and when we were done, she called me Theodore.”

“It’s close,” Lela murmured.

“And that other one,” Freddy said, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. “The one who was—”

“Married?” Thaddeus asked dryly.

“I was going to say too old, but you’re right. One of them was married.” Freddy shook his head. “Honey, I love you to the moon and back but you gotta leave Thaddeus alone. He’s such a loser. You’re going to make things worse.”

Thaddeus eyed his friend. “I’m not a loser.”

Freddy waved away the comment. “Look at you. You’re what? Thirty-seven? So old with nothing to show for it.”

“I have a very successful business that employs you, along with a couple dozen other people.”

“That’s nothing. I got Lela and three kids.”

“Smug bastard.”

They clinked bottles.

“You know it,” Freddy said. “Come on. The Mariners are ahead.”

A huge sectional sofa sat in front of the TV mounted on the wall in the family room. The kids were off playing with friends. In a couple of hours, they would come racing into the house with demands for food and attention. The house, a sprawling two-story place with a big backyard, was often loud and chaotic.

Thaddeus looked around, admitting that after years of chasing his business and financial dreams, he was finally ready to make a shift in priorities. This was what he was looking for—home, family. He was finally ready to settle down and because life was a mean bitch with a sense of humor, he couldn’t find anyone he wanted to settle down with. In the past six months he’d been on more first dates than he could count. A few had led to second dates, but none to third dates. He could find a failing business, turn it around and then sell it for five times what he paid, no problem. He could chat up a gorgeous woman at any trendy bar in the area and get laid. But finding someone special, someone he wanted to have kids with and spend the rest of his life adoring, someone he wanted to introduce to his great-aunt Dagmar, was not in his skill set.

Was wanting to find someone special so impossible? He knew part of the problem was separating himself from his success. He wanted a woman who cared about him, not his bank account.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Freddy said, never taking his gaze from the TV.

“Sorting things through.”

“Should have married young, man. You could have had it all by now.”

“Not my style.”

“Your style has you screwed.” Freddy grinned. “Tell you what. If you end up old and alone, I’ll build you an apartment over the garage.”

Thaddeus sighed. “Sadly, that’s the best offer I’ve had this month.”

Freddy’s humor faded. “Seriously, bro, you’ve got to keep looking. There has to be someone out there hard up enough to want a guy who looks like you.”

“You’re right. You managed to convince Lela to marry you and I’m way better-looking than you.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I have a bigger dick.”

“Your mama.”

Lela carried in the quiche, along with egg rolls and dipping sauce. “Really? Is that what we’re reduced to? Bragging about your penis and talking trash about your mothers?”

Freddy waited until she’d put down the food, then pulled her onto his lap. “You picked me. You could have had any man you wanted and you picked me. Now you have to live with it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled close. “I know. Sometimes you get lucky.”

Thaddeus turned his attention to the game, ignoring the disquiet inside. Because saying disquiet was easier than saying loneliness, which was really what it was.

He swallowed the last of his beer, then stood. “I’m gonna go.”

Lela slid to her feet. “What? Don’t. Come on, Thaddeus. Stay to dinner.”

He kissed her cheek, then nodded at Freddy. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

His friend narrowed his gaze. “You’re going to the office, aren’t you?”

“Just for a couple of hours.”

Freddy rose and walked him out. “You okay, man? You need me to come with you?”

“To watch me work? I’m fine. I just have to figure it out.”

Freddy nodded. “Maybe plastic surgery would help.”

Thaddeus laughed and got in his car. As he drove the short distance to his condo’s parking garage, he told himself maybe it was time to accept the fact that he wasn’t meant to find “the one.” He’d already been married once and that had been a disaster. Maybe he was meant to be the fun uncle, the charming party guy who had a string of interchangeable women. There were worse fates. Think of the time he would save if he stopped looking. Given the choice between alone and disappointment—maybe alone didn’t look so bad.

At 2:57 a.m. Ellen woke from a restless sleep and sat straight up in bed. She didn’t know what she’d been dreaming but whatever it was, it had left her sweaty, with her heart racing. As she stared into the darkness, she was overwhelmed by a sense of dread. Not only did she have to worry about her son resenting her the way she’d resented her parents, but Cooper had been right. She didn’t have a life.

She did the same thing every day. She lived a routine that revolved around her work and her friends and her son. She didn’t date. She, in fact, hadn’t been on a date since she’d found out she was pregnant. Worse, she hadn’t had sex with a man since she’d gotten pregnant.

She flung off the covers and jumped to her feet where she tried to catch her breath.

How had it happened? How had she forgotten to do things like have a life? No wonder her kid was worried about her. She was pathetic, which she could live with, but she was also holding Cooper back, which was unforgiveable. And the worst part? Now that she knew the truth, she was going to have to do something about it.

Ellen never got back to sleep. Sometime around four thirty, she stopped faking it and got up and showered. She tried to distract herself by playing computer games, but her mind was too busy racing for her to focus.

Shortly before six, she wrote a note for Coop, in case he got up before she was back. As it was the first day of summer vacation, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t see him until noon, but if the unexpected happened, she didn’t want him to worry. She swung by Starbucks, got two venti lattes and a couple of breakfast sandwiches, then headed for Unity’s house, three blocks away.

She used her key to let herself in and tiptoed down the hall. When she saw a light on in her friend’s bathroom, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s me,” she called. “Don’t freak.”

There was a scream from the bathroom, then Unity stuck her head out, a toothbrush in one hand.

“You gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”

Ellen held up the Starbucks tray. “Sorry. I have a crisis. I figured you’d be up already.”

Unity, annoyingly pretty with bedhead and no makeup, stared at her. “It’s barely six. What time did you get up?”

“I don’t know. Fourish.”

“Then it must be bad. Give me thirty seconds.”

Ellen retreated to the kitchen. It was already well past sunrise, so she didn’t bother with lights, instead collapsing on one of the kitchen chairs and reaching for a coffee. A couple of minutes later, Unity joined her.

Her friend had pulled a T-shirt over jeans. Her feet were bare, as was her face. Unity wasn’t one to bother with things like makeup. Not that Ellen did much, either. It was such a pain in the ass, and time-consuming. Not only did you have to put it all on, later, when you were dog tired and just wanted to go to bed, you had to take it all off. She had better things to do with her life. Like panic.

Unity took the remaining coffee. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”

“I didn’t think it was bad. Or I was mulling.” Maybe she had been a little embarrassed to share. Yes, Unity was her best friend and they talked about nearly everything, but there was something about what Cooper had said that had made her want to go hide rather than spill her guts.

Unity passed out the sandwiches. She unwrapped hers and took a bite. “Tell me.”

Ellen sucked in a breath, then explained about the overheard conversation. As she spoke all the embarrassment rushed back, along with a good dose of despair, some fear and a bit of chagrin.

“I can’t believe he thinks I’m not capable of being on my own. I’m very capable. I’ve raised him. Yes, my parents helped and I’m grateful but it was mostly me taking care of him. I’m his mom. I handle things. Sure, we talk about being a team, but that’s a family thing, not an ‘I need him to survive’ thing.”

She finished in a rush, then sucked in a breath, only to realize that instead of looking sympathetic, Unity was smiling.

“You think this is funny?” Ellen asked, outraged. “It’s not funny at all. It’s awful. I love Coop with all I have and it turns out I’m holding him back.” She felt her eyes burning. “I’m making his life smaller. That’s terrible.”

Unity stunned her by giving a little wave of dismissal. “It’s not all that. Come on. Last week you were upset he wanted to go away to California to college. Now he doesn’t. Your problem is solved.”

Ellen genuinely couldn’t understand why her friend said that. She might as well have mentioned the price of grapefruit.

“This is serious,” she snapped, feeling tightness in her chest as different emotions struggled for dominance. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by a parent. My folks were great to me, but in order to live with them, after I had Cooper, I had to follow their rules. There was school and homework and taking care of him and going to my part-time job and nothing else. I never had a life and while I know they were trying to teach me a lesson, a lot of the time their actions felt vindictive and cruel. Every second of every day was spent making sure I remembered how I’d screwed up.”

She felt her temper rising. “After we graduated, you were gone. You don’t know what I went through. I’m not saying I shouldn’t have taken responsibility for my kid, but there was never a break. While I appreciate the support, I resented the hell out of them. When I finally got my teaching credential, it took me six months to save enough to move out into my own apartment. Coop and I were dirt-poor, but I didn’t care. I was finally free of them. I never want him to feel that way about me.”

Restless, she sprang to her feet and began pacing the length of the room. “I love my folks. I do, but there were times when I hated them.” She glared at Unity. “I don’t want Cooper to hate me.”

“He doesn’t.” Unity still looked amused. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t you get it? My parents aren’t bad people, but for them, the rules were more important than their only child. Since they’ve moved away, I talk to them every few months and that’s it. How much of that is because of their stupid rules? They were wrong in how they treated me and I never wanted to be that person with Cooper.”

“Ellen, you’re not,” Unity told her. “Cooper’s fine. You know he is. He adores you and he’s a really good guy. Just sit down and talk to him about all this.”

“And say what? That I have life? I don’t. I figured that out in the middle of the night.” Ellen looked at her. “I have school and you and Cooper and that’s it. I don’t have any hobbies. I don’t date. God knows I haven’t had sex since I was a teenager. I resented how my parents made me live and yet here I am, seventeen years later, still following their rules. Living the life they told me to live, even though I hated it.”

Unity reached for her sandwich and took a bite. “So change.”

The casual words felt like a slap across the face.

“That’s it?” Ellen asked bitterly. “That’s your advice? Change? How is that helpful? How does that show any understanding of the problem? How would you have liked it if when you called me to tell me Stuart was gone that I had told you to get over it?”

Unity’s eyes widened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? This is a crisis and you’re sitting there smiling, telling me it will be fine. It’s not fine. It’s my son and I want him to be happy.” Her voice was rising and she honestly didn’t care. Maybe shouting would get her point across. “I want him to have a wonderful college experience and not worry about me for even one second. Why can’t you see that? Why aren’t you helping?”

Unity stood and faced her. “I’m sorry you think I’m not being supportive. That isn’t how I feel. Of course I want to help you. I just think you’re making this way bigger than it is. You’ve lost perspective.”

“What perspective do you have about anything? You’re living in your late husband’s house, sleeping in his high school bed, wearing his old clothes, wishing your life away. It’s been three years and you’re still in the same place you were when I dropped everything and flew to South Carolina to bring you home. I handled everything, Unity. Everything. You needed me and I was happy to be there when you needed me. It would be nice, if just once, you could stop thinking about yourself and realize sometimes I need you, too.”

They stared at each other. Ellen’s chest hurt. She didn’t want to be fighting. She wanted understanding and support and maybe a hug. But Unity only stared at her, wide-eyed before saying, “You really hurt my feelings.”

“You hurt mine. You’re dismissing me and what’s going on.”

“Maybe because it isn’t a big deal. Certainly nothing like losing my husband. You still have your child. You’re not in pain every single day. You’ve never lost anyone and you don’t know what it’s like. Maybe when you understand that, I’ll decide to understand you.”

The words were like a physical blow. Ellen felt sick to her stomach. Was she wrong about every relationship in her life?

“I didn’t realize that caring and concern came at a price in our friendship,” Ellen told her, hoping her heart wasn’t really breaking. “It would be helpful if you’d send me some kind of accounting so I could see what you think I’ve paid for and what I haven’t. That way I won’t make the mistake of coming to you for help when there’s not enough credit in my account.”

She turned then and ran out of the house. She got in her car and drove home, then locked herself in her bedroom where she curled up, pulling her knees to her chest, and started to cry.

Five

Righteous indignation got Unity through most of the morning. She couldn’t believe how horrible Ellen had been and the awful things she’d said. They were family—you’d think Ellen would remember that. But by noon, Unity started to question what had happened and was thinking maybe she could have been a little more supportive.

Ellen had been her best friend her whole life. Before Unity’s parents had been killed in a car crash, she and Ellen had split their time between their two houses, understanding that when they were at Ellen’s place, there were lots of rules and when they were at Unity’s, they could do whatever they wanted.

After working in the garden for a while, she went inside for lunch, only to find she wasn’t really hungry. In fact, she felt more than a little sick to her stomach. Instead of seeing the contents of her refrigerator, she saw the tall, solemn-eyed policeman telling her that her parents weren’t going to be coming home.

She’d been thirteen—old enough to understand but too young to truly process the information. She shut the refrigerator and sank down on the floor as she remembered Ellen and her parents holding her tight as she sobbed out her pain. She’d gone to live with Ellen and her folks—there’d never been a question of that. Although she had her own room, for the first year, she’d slept with Ellen, her friend hugging her when Unity woke screaming from the nightmares.

Years later, Ellen had helped her plan every part of her small, inexpensive wedding to Stuart. They’d made the centerpieces themselves, after they’d finished the beading on Unity’s dress. Ellen had been her maid of honor and Ellen had emailed her every single day that Stuart was deployed. And yes, when Unity had once again opened her front door to find stern-faced men waiting to tell her Stuart was gone, Ellen had dropped everything to fly out to South Carolina and bring her home. Because Ellen showed her love by doing. She always had.

Unity leaned against the cabinets and closed her eyes as the uncomfortable truth wormed its way into her soul. Ellen had needed her and she hadn’t been there. Worse, Ellen had asked for help and Unity had practically laughed in her face as she told her to get over herself. So what if she didn’t think what Coop had said was a big deal? Ellen did and wasn’t that what mattered? Only the things Ellen had said—they had been awful.

Unity forced herself to her feet, made her way out to her work van and drove to Silver Pines.

She’d joined the Saturday afternoon Moving on After Loss grief group shortly after coming home. The group met in one of the community center rooms. A licensed therapist acted as facilitator, but there was no set agenda. People were allowed to talk or not talk, sharing as they liked. Just being with other people who had gone through what she had made her feel less alone.

About a year ago they’d gotten a new facilitator—Carmen. She was a fortysomething woman with dark hair and eyes, and a calming way about her.

Unity walked into the community center room and saw there were about fifteen people attending today. She greeted everyone as she made her way to the coffee machine in the back. Every few weeks someone new joined, but today all the faces were familiar.

When Carmen announced it was time, they took their seats in the loose circle formed by their chairs. Carmen welcomed them and asked who wanted to share. Unity tried to listen but kept finding her attention slipping back to her fight with Ellen. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she’d been wrong.

Just considering the possibility made her sick to her stomach again.