It's a Waverly Life (20 page)

That Saturday morning I walked to Noah’s Bagels for a bagel and a coffee, then hopped in my car to drive to Sacramento. My dad wanted to take me to lunch at Applebee’s.

I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before twelve thirty. His truck was already there. When I opened the front door to the restaurant, I saw him sitting on a bench in the waiting area, working on the crossword puzzle in the
Sacramento Bee.

“I hear the one in the
San Francisco Sun
is trickier,” I said.

He looked up and smiled.

“Well hello there,” he said.

He stood up, and for a moment we faced each other in silence, as awkwardly as always. Finally I leaned into him to give him a hug, which clearly surprised him. He sort of returned the gesture by stiffly putting one hand on my back and patting me a few times. It must have been painful to watch, but it was a big step for us both.

“It’s good to see you, Dad.”

He cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet someone.” He turned to a pretty blonde woman on his left. She had short yet poofy hair and bright green eyes. She seemed about his age. “Waverly, this is Betty.”

Betty smiled warmly and held her hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you, Waverly. I’ve heard so much about you.”

I was totally thrown off guard. My dad was introducing me to a woman? He’d never done that before. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been on a date since my mom died.

“Hi.” I reached out my hand, which Betty covered with both of hers and squeezed.

“Betty works at the restaurant. She’s our top waitress,” my dad said.

I was in uncharted territory and had no idea how to respond.

“Sir, we can seat you now.” The perky voice of the hostess temporarily saved me. We followed her to the back of the restaurant, which smelled like maple syrup and was filled with families. I also spotted several college students, who, I couldn’t help but notice, were looking more like children to me every day.

The three of us settled into a booth, me on one side, my dad and Betty on the other. The waitress handed us menus and promised to return with water in a minute.

I unfolded my napkin across my lap. “How long have you two been, um, seeing each other?” Talk about an awkward question to ask your own father. But I was dying of curiosity.

Dad grinned, something I hadn’t seen him do in a long time. He put his arm around Betty. “How long has it been, sweetie? Two months?”

Sweetie?

She smiled up at him, then looked across the booth at me. “Nine weeks.”

“We met back when I started at the restaurant, but I didn’t have the nerve to make a move until right after New Year’s,” my dad said.

I flinched. Who wants to hear about your dad making a move? I hoped they couldn’t see how uncomfortable I was.

The waitress returned with a tray of waters, and as soon as she left Betty put her hand over her heart. “Waverly, I’m just so thrilled to meet you. Your father talks about you all the time.”

I smiled at her, feeling guilty for not having called my dad for so long, for not having visited since Christmas. Nine weeks they’d been dating, and I didn’t even know? Then again, I hadn’t told my dad a word about Jake. I made my hands into fists under the table.
Stop thinking about him,
I told myself.

“You write an advice column for the
San Francisco Sun
?” Betty said.

I blinked, snapping myself out of my thoughts. “Yes ma’am. Print and online. It’s called Honey on Your Mind. It’s mostly about dating, but a lot of people write in about other things too.”

“We don’t get the Internet, dear.” She turned to my dad. “Darling, we should have asked Waverly to bring us a copy to read.”

I took a sip of my water and wondered how people survived without the Internet.

The waitress reappeared, and after she took our orders, Betty interlaced her hands on the table. “How’s
your
dating life, Waverly? Your dad says you two don’t chat much about that.”

I looked at her.

Did she just ask me about my dating life?

In my thirty years on earth, my dad had asked me about my love life exactly twice, once after I told him I was getting married, and once after I told him I wasn’t getting married. Otherwise, our conversations were superficial, innocuous, light. We played Scrabble and talked about movies, weather, occasionally his latest get-rich-quick scheme, an interest that, thank God, had waned now that he was working steadily. The closest we ever got to a serious topic was around the presidential election every four years. And now, after ten minutes,
Betty
was asking me about my love life?

I took a huge drink of water. “It’s okay.”
If you only knew.

“Just okay?” She clearly had no idea how much she had freaked me out simply by asking a question that I imagine is totally normal in most American families.

“I told you,” my dad said to her.

I shot him a look to say,
What are you doing?

Betty put her hand on his shoulder. “Isn’t that just a shame, Paul? Such a beautiful girl should have men knocking down her door to get a date.”

He stared at his napkin, suddenly looking like he wanted to crawl under the table.

“Well, I think it’s just terrible,” Betty said. “Don’t you worry, Waverly, you’ll find him when it’s right.”

“Thanks.” I wished our food would arrive to put an end to this excruciating topic. I turned my head toward the kitchen, willing our waitress to emerge with a tray.

“So, tell me about this column of yours. Your father says you haven’t told him much about that either.”

My dad, who was now studying his fork, slowly looked up at me.

He didn’t speak, but I noticed something unfamiliar in his face.

It was…
interest
.

I turned from him to Betty, who had the same curious expression on her face.

Then I realized something.

He does want to know about me.

I was grown and long out of the house, but apparently my dad wanted to get to know his daughter better. And Betty was trying to help him do it.

Once we got off the topic of my love life, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed chatting with Betty. She was quite funny, and she clearly cared a lot about my dad, who sat next to her the entire meal in near total silence. But I could tell he was listening.

Only when we ordered dessert did my dad, who loves sweets even more than I do, finally speak up to vote for apple pie à la mode. A few minutes later, the waitress set a huge, steaming slice topped with an enormous scoop of vanilla ice cream before us, along with three spoons and three cups of coffee. We all dug in.

“So the new editor doubled your workload?” Betty said.

I stirred sugar into my cup. “She did. Everyone told me to be afraid of her, but she’s actually pretty nice. And she really seems to like my work.”

“That’s just wonderful. Paul, isn’t that wonderful?” She nudged my dad with her elbow, and he coughed into his pie. I tried not to laugh. Now that I’d gotten to know Betty a bit, I found their interaction endearing.

“Thanks. I’ve been having fun with it. And it’s given me an idea for something else I could do as well,” I said.

“More writing?”

I took a sip of coffee. “Sort of. It’s in the beginning stages, but I’m excited about it.”

“We think it’s great to stretch yourself like that. Don’t we, Paul?” She put both her hands around my dad’s arm.

“Yes.” I think it was his first non-food-related word of the entire meal. “Waverly’s always been the creative one in our family, the smart one too.”

I looked up from my coffee.

He cleared his throat. “She just needs to believe in herself a little more, not worry so much about how things will turn out.”

This was coming from…my dad? Was that really how he saw me? I thought I’d kept that side of myself hidden from him.

Betty smiled into his eyes. “I can tell she’s just wonderful, Paul.”

When we left Applebee’s, Betty hugged me like she’d known me forever. I hugged her back, truly glad to have met her. Then I looked at my dad, and we repeated our awkward half embrace, which was progress for us. I said goodbye and walked to my car. As I was about to unlock it, I looked back across the parking lot. My dad had opened the passenger door of his truck for Betty and was leaning in to give her a quick kiss as she buckled her seatbelt. He shut the door, tapped his hand on the top of the truck, and trotted around to the other side.

He was smiling.

I founded myself smiling too as I got my in my car.

I hoped Betty would stick around.

Later that afternoon I met up with Andie at Royal Ground Coffee on the corner of Fillmore and California. We grabbed a table near the front door and sat down.

“So what’s going on with CJ?”

She picked up her latte and smiled. “He’s still great. We’re going out to dinner later.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to cause trouble until I’d spoken to Ivy, so I wasn’t sure how exactly to proceed. “How often are you seeing him?”

“It’s been about three nights a week. Unless he’s traveling for work, which unfortunately is a lot.”

“He’s out of town a lot?” I raised my eyebrows.

“He takes a lot of overnight trips, for sales calls mostly. Like next weekend, for example, he’ll be gone from Friday morning until Monday evening.”

Hmm
. It sounded so innocent and yet so suspicious, depending on your perspective.

She took another sip of her latte. “Maybe one of these days you can finally meet him for real. I know you’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I will. I’m glad to hear it’s going so well.”

“I know, can you believe it? I don’t even have another guy on deck.
Me.
It’s been a long time since I liked a guy this much, Waverly. Maybe even since college.”

I sighed. “Ah, the good ol’ days. Remember Marc with a C?”

She laughed. “Oh God, how could I forget? Although that guy’s hardly worth remembering. What an ass.”

“Would you still do that now?”

“Do what?”

“Break up with a guy if you found out he was seeing someone else?”

She paused to think, then nodded slowly. “If we were exclusive, then yes, I’d have to. Why do you ask? Are you thinking about Jake and that girl?”

I wasn’t before that moment.

“Yes,” I said, looking at the floor.

Monday I took the bus to the
Sun
office to work on my column in an empty cube. I was feeling restless at home, so I thought a change of scenery would help me focus. I plugged in my laptop, then went to grab a cup of coffee in the kitchen. On the way I pulled the crumpled yellow Post-It that said HONEY BRAINSTORM from my pocket. For nearly two weeks I’d been doing my best to concentrate on that piece of paper and not on Jake. I hadn’t been entirely successful, but I’d made a ton of progress on the project. At least I was moving forward with my career, if not my heart.

On my way back from the kitchen, I ran into Nick. He was wearing a plain white button-down shirt.

“What’s wrong?” I pointed to his chest.

He shrugged. “Even the president needs a day off now and then. So what happened on your trip? You can’t leave your fans hanging.”

I made a sad face.

“Not good?”

“Not good. Want the executive summary?”

“Lay it on me.”

I gave him the highlights. Or rather, the lowlights. When I was done, I crossed my arms in front of me. “So what do you think?”

“You really hid behind a tree?”

“Oh yes. And did I mention I ripped my jeans when I fell on my face?”

“Impressive.”

I laughed. “That’s hardly the adjective I’d choose to describe it, but thanks. So what’s going on with you? Have you heard from Ivy?”

“Wasn’t that
your
move?”

“Oops, you’re right. I’m sorry, I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

“So I’ve heard. Just don’t forget. You
owe
me.”

“I know I do, and I won’t forget. I promise. I’m going to owe you even more soon.”

“For what?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Okay then, hang in there.” He blew me a kiss and started walking backward down the hall.

I sat down at my computer and scrolled through my e-mails. One was from a woman who went on a first date with a man who casually pointed across the bar and said, “That’s my probation officer.” Another woman wrote that she’d briefly dated a policeman, who apparently used his access to classified information to mysteriously show up everywhere she went, even after she’d stopped returning his calls. A third e-mail was from a male attorney who signed up for an online dating service and was unexpectedly matched up with a senior female partner in his firm—who, as far as he knew, was married with three kids.

Nothing to brighten your day like a reminder that we have kinks in all three sides of the legal triangle. No wonder
Law and Order
has been around for like fifty years.

I called Ivy later that afternoon, after I’d returned to my apartment. We’d never chatted outside the office, so I wasn’t sure exactly how to approach the call.

“Ivy, hey, it’s Waverly.”

“Waverly! How nice to hear from you. How are you?”

“I should be asking you that. I can’t believe the layoffs. I was so sad when I heard what happened.”

“I’m doing fine. Great, actually. I hated it there anyway, so this is forcing me to really give the photography thing a try.”

“Did they at least give you a severance?”

She laughed. “If you can call it a severance. I think I already spent it at Starbucks. But it’s all good. I’ll be fine.”

I swallowed. “So how are things going with Casey?”

“The same. I was hoping we’d be living together by now, but he’s been so focused on work lately I hardly ever see him.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, he’s been traveling a lot.”

“What does he do again?”

“He’s in pharmaceutical sales. He loves it though.”

I scratched my cheek, trying to figure out how to ask his last name without blowing it. I would have been a horrible trial lawyer. “So what’s going on with the photography thing?”

“I’m going to try weddings. I
was
thinking children, but then I realized that I don’t really know any kids out here, and I didn’t think putting an ad on Craigslist looking for
children to photograph
would be a good idea.”

I laughed. “You’re probably right. I’d hate to see you end up in jail.”

“So I thought maybe I should go the wedding route. You know how much I love weddings.”

I bit my lip. If Casey
was
cheating, I felt horrible for her.

“Good for you. I’d plug you in my column, but something tells me that most people who read it aren’t in the market for a wedding photographer.”

She laughed. “Actually, I already have a gig lined up. Well, sort of. They’re friends of friends. I’m taking their engagement photos on Saturday, and if that goes well, they’ll let me do their wedding.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“Thanks. It’s near your hood, so you should stop by to say hi if you’re out and about. Casey and I are meeting them at two o’clock at Crissy Field.”

“Casey?” Andie’s CJ was supposed to be out of town for the weekend.

“He’s my staff until I actually make some money. He’s going to help with the lighting and stuff.”

“At two o’clock on Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll try to stop by,” I said casually, trying to sound, well,
casual
.

“Cool. I’ve got to run now. Casey’s on his way over. I’ll see you Saturday, I hope?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Okay, cool. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone, then called Andie at work.

“Andrea Barnett,” she said in her work voice. I loved Andie’s work voice.

“Hey, it’s Waverly.”

“What’s up?” Her work voice disappeared.

“Just checking in. Want to have brunch at the Grove on Saturday, then maybe take a walk on the beach?”

“A walk? As in exercise?”

“Okay, let me rephrase. How about we take a stroll along the beach, drinking coffee and making fun of the windsurfers when they bite it?”

“Much better.”

“Okay cool, I’m going to see if Mackie can join us.”

I hung up and called McKenna but got her voicemail. I left a message, then pulled out the HONEY BRAINSTORM Post-It again and stared at it.

I took a deep breath and dialed Smithers Publishing. I made an appointment to go see them in three weeks’ time, then hung up the phone and made fists with my hands.

Crunch time.