These Girls (37 page)

Renee stretched out her other arm and folded Cate into the hug. “We’re here,” she said simply.

Twenty-eight

CATE WALKED QUICKLY DOWN
the sidewalk, her black wool coat wrapped tightly around her and her briefcase and purse slung over a shoulder, heading for the bar on the corner of Sixth and Forty-Fifth. She could see as she passed the big window overlooking the sidewalk that Trey was already inside.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. He reached over and lifted her heavy briefcase off her shoulder. It was such a casually intimate gesture that her heart did something that felt like a flutter kick.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

“We put the issue to bed today,” she said, sliding onto the tall wooden stool next to his. “With your story and Renee’s in it.” Sam hadn’t been happy about it, but Renee’s article was superior. “We’ll try to get yours in next month,” Cate had told him.

“How’s she doing?” Trey asked.

“Good,” Cate said. “You heard she got the beauty editor job?” Cate thought about Renee’s final blog post, in which she’d revealed that she felt like she didn’t fit into the magazine world because she wasn’t a size 4. The comments poured in, with some readers complimenting Renee on her honesty and others sharing their own private struggles with weight. Several people
linked to the blog via Facebook, and within days, Renee had a few hundred comments—along with the job offer from Nigel.

“Abby told me she got it,” Trey said. “That’s fantastic.”

Cate shrugged. “I think she’s beginning to realize it’s not the right fit for her. She’s not sure if she’ll stay in it for very long. She’s going to try to save up some money while she figures things out.”

“What else would she do?” Trey asked.

“I’m not sure she knows yet,” Cate said.

Trey nodded as the bartender came over to take their orders. “Red wine? Or do you want a vodka cranberry?” Trey asked. “I know you like both.”

“Just a glass of water,” she said. She wanted to keep her head clear.

Trey ordered a draft beer for himself and waited for the bartender to move away before he spoke again.

“Abby’s excited about rooming with you guys,” he said. Abby was bringing her backpack over for good tonight. The rest of her stuff would follow as soon as it arrived from Maryland. Trey had insisted on paying her rent for the next year while she finished school, she’d told them. She’d already begun researching local schools where she could complete her master’s degree, and she had applications in a half dozen Starbucks to help pay for it.

“Seems like everyone’s moving ahead,” Trey said. He put down his beer and shifted slightly on his stool to face her. “So what about us?”

Cate could see their future unfurling so vividly: She and Trey would become a couple. He’d write award-winning articles, and she’d edit some of them. They’d travel to incredible places, and spend weekends lounging on the beach in the Hamptons. They’d go running together in the morning, and he’d take the briefcase off her shoulder when she came home at night. He’d rub the tension from her back, and she’d bring him a beer as
they talked about their days. She wanted that—all of it—so badly.

Then she thought about Renee. Trey was right; Renee would understand. She’d forgive Cate. She’d join them in the cafeteria when she saw them sitting together, and come to their parties. If Renee left
Gloss,
she’d keep in touch with Cate, and give her a big hug whenever they bumped into each other. “I missed you!” she’d squeal, and she’d mean it. It might be awkward at first, but eventually it would be okay. Perfectly fine, even.

“Cate?” Trey asked. She drank him in for a minute—his blue eyes and broad shoulders and the mouth she could still feel against her own.

“I can’t,” she said.

He nodded. “I knew. You didn’t even take off your coat.”

She looked at him, fighting to keep from reaching out to touch him. “You could always spot the telling detail, couldn’t you? One of the reasons why you’re such a great journalist.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

There was another future Cate could see even more vividly. She’d keep living with Renee and Abby. They’d talk late into the night, trading stories about what they’d been like as teenagers. They’d laugh over their dating disasters and squabble over who forgot to take out the trash. Cate would talk about her parents, and how torn she felt when she visited home, and Abby and Renee would try to help. Cate would follow the story of Renee’s parents, and she’d call Renee every night when Renee finally went back to Kansas City to meet Becca. They’d cheer Abby on when she graduated from school, and help her get ready for her first day of teaching. Maybe Renee and Abby would even come with Cate on a visit back to Philadelphia, to see the house where Cate grew up and to eat her mother’s lemon chicken.

Renee would forgive Cate for falling for Trey—Abby would, too—but something in their friendship would inexorably shift.
Maybe if she’d connected with Trey two years from now, after she’d lived with Abby and Renee long enough to really cement their bond, it could have worked. But the timing was all wrong.

“I don’t want to be the girl who chose a guy over her friends,” Cate said softly.

“Why does it have to be either or?” Trey asked.

“It just feels wrong. I can’t, Trey. Not now, at least.”

Trey took a big swallow of beer. “I’ll still see you around, right?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to escape me,” she said. “We work in the same building, and I’m living with your sister.”

“Just remember how I went after the Reece Moss story,” he said. “I don’t give up easily, Cate.”

“I’ll consider myself warned.”

She stood up and brushed her lips against his, quickly, then left the bar before he could say anything else.

It had begun to snow outside, soft, light flakes that kissed her cheeks and eased the tightness in her chest. She stopped at the corner, pressed the Walk button, and stood with her face turned up to the velvet blue sky while she waited for the light to change. The noises of New York—honking horns and whistles for taxis and bright snippets of conversations as people passed by—surrounded her. She loved the way her city always sounded like it was celebrating.

She’d stop and pick up a bottle of good champagne at the next liquor store she passed, she decided. It was Abby’s first night as their official roommate. They needed to mark this beginning.

Acknowledgments

I could fill another book by typing the words “thank you” over and over, and it still wouldn’t show the gratitude I feel toward my publishing team, led by the three smartest, hardest-working women I know.

My agent, Victoria Sanders, is the perfect mix of kind, fierce, loyal, and funny. She’s also the most generous person I know. My editor, Greer Hendricks, has a magic touch with manuscripts, and takes exquisite care of every single detail relating to my books (Greer, I’d list the adjectives that describe you, but you’d probably cross them out and tell me no one would believe a character who’s this amazing). And Atria’s publisher Judith Curr has the kind of vision that makes ophthalmologists quiver with joy. She has also created a workplace that makes everyone want to stay around for decades—a rare feat in the publishing world.

To all the booksellers, book bloggers, and librarians, thank you for spreading around the love of reading, and for always championing books.

I’m still trying to figure out how I got lucky enough to be taken on as a client by super-publicist Marcy Engelman and her team, Dana Gidney Fetaya and Emily Gambir (but if it was
in error, I’m hoping they don’t read this)! Chris Kepner and Bernadette Baker-Baughman at VSA completely rock, as do Paul Olsewski and Cristina Suarez at Atria. And the indefatigable Sarah Cantin helped this book along in more ways than I can count. The first time I met Sarah, I knew she was going to be a star in publishing. Remember her name—and keep an eye out for the books she is now editing.

Yona Deshommes! Thank you for believing in me and for constantly talking up my books. I fully expect to one day see you tackle someone and hold them down while you read them my novel. Anna Dorfman created a beautiful cover for
These Girls
and copyeditor Susan M. S. Brown kept you from noticing all my errors.

Chandler Crawford does an amazing job of selling rights to my novels in foreign countries. My thanks to her, and to my readers and publishers overseas. And at Atria Books, my deep appreciation to Chris Lloreda, Carole Schwindeller, Lisa Sciambra, Lisa Keim, Hillary Tisman, Anne Gardner, and Natalie White. To Carolyn Reidy at Simon & Schuster, I’m so grateful for your support.

Anna Davies graciously provided invaluable insight into the world of glossy magazines. Chris Smith, Chuck Bieber, and Josh Welsh answered my questions about safety features in cars in the seventies (I really wish I’d called you guys first instead of spending all those hours on Google). And David Oliver provided details about California that helped set scenes for my short story “Love, Accidentally.”

Crystal Patriarch of BookSparks PR is as dedicated and hardworking as they come. Crystal, thank you for doing so much to spread the word about my novels. I’m also indebted to Jodi Picoult, Jen Lancaster, and Nicolle Wallace for their support (and to Emily Bestler for passing along my manuscript)! My gratitude to the sharp-eyed Laura Garwood Meehan for an
early critique, and to Amy Hatvany for helping me pin down a slippery plot point.

These Girls
is about female friendships, so it’s fitting that the idea for it was born while I was on a bus ride to New York City with Rachel Baker, my “frister” (a friend who turned into a sister). Rach, thanks for talking through book ideas and just about everything else in life with me.

Speaking of friends, I love connecting with readers on Facebook and Twitter. Thank you all for joining me on this publishing journey, telling me about your lives, and making me laugh (for any new readers who would like to connect online—please come find me)!

My dad taught me what it meant to be a writer when I was a kid, and he’s my inspiration and teacher in many more ways than just that. My mom showers me with support, kindness, sugary treats, and e-mails filled with exclamation points. Happy 50th Anniversary, you two.

Olivia Cortez, our “Alvie,” takes loving care of my youngest son (and of me!) during the hours when I write. I never would have finished this book without her.

These Girls
is the first book I’ve written that Anita Cheng was unable to critique in its early stages. It’s no coincidence that it’s the book that required the most revisions. I miss you, girl.

And, always, to my family—my husband Glenn and our boys, Jackson, Will, and Dylan. You guys are my heart.

Jodi Picoult interviews Sarah Pekkanen about writing, motherhood, and the magic of female friendships . . .

Jodi:
These Girls
explores the nuances of female friendships. How hard was it to create a sense of realism between your main characters—Cate, Renee, and Abby—and how much of that came from your own personal experience in your relationships with female friends?

Sarah:
Female friendships are vitally important to me, which is why I dedicated
These Girls
to my girlfriends, especially one I call my “frister” (a friend who turned into a sister). I’m surrounded by wonderful guys—I have two brothers and three sons—and I adore them. But female friendships nurture and uplift me, and I find them so textured and fascinating, which is why I’m drawn to writing about them. I love it that my girlfriends and I—often aided by a bottle or two of wine—can hopscotch from serious to silly to painful topics during the course of a single conversation, and end the night feeling as if we could’ve talked forever. I drew on all of those emotions while writing
These Girls
.

Jodi:
Your main characters in this book come to reevaluate what’s important in life as they navigate the complications of careers and love. As someone with three young children, and who has enjoyed a bit of success now as a novelist, how do you prioritize what’s important in life? Has this changed as you’ve grown older?

Sarah:
I knew I wanted to be a writer from the time I was a little girl. After college, I covered feature stories for the
Baltimore Sun
newspaper, but when my first son was born, I left that job because it required a long commute and frequent travel. And when I suddenly stopped writing, I felt as if I’d lost a crucial piece of myself. But I couldn’t figure out how to reconcile my need to write with my need to be with my children. Then one night after the kids were asleep (by then I had two young boys), I sat down in front of my computer and began to type. The words poured out of me, and turned into my first novel,
The Opposite of Me
. I never forget for a moment how lucky I am to have a flexible job that I adore, and it’s fairly easy for me to work in writing time around my kids’ schedules. My family is my priority, but I know I’m a happier—and better—mom when I’m writing, too.

Jodi:
As someone who has twists in books all the time, I get asked about my endings a lot.
These Girls,
too, has quite a surprise in store for the reader. Did you know it would end this way before you started writing the book, or did that evolve?

Sarah:
I love books that contain twists (which is one reason why I’m a big Jodi P. fan!), and I knew even before I wrote the first line of
These Girls
that it, like my previous two novels, would pack a big surprise at the end. I read a lot of thrillers and mysteries, and sometimes I even deconstruct them, studying how an author put together pieces of the puzzle and used tension-building techniques like foreshadowing. It’s my hope that readers feel as if my books have the same page-turning quality as a thriller—but with less blood and mayhem, of course!

Jodi:
What advice would you give to someone who is trying to break into writing as a career?