Sydney noticed Francie sitting on the couch the minute she walked in the door. "Hi," she said, trying to sound normal but failing.
Her friend didn't say anything; she simply stared. Sydney put down her purse and walked into the living room. "Francie--"
"I know you think you did the right thing. I know you think using Lance to point out how little your dad and I have in common in music and movies was a good thing." Francie turned to look at her, and Sydney was left in no doubt of her fury. "But it was sneaky, underhanded, and wrong."
"Francie--"
"You hurt me last night, Sydney. And you hurt Jack. Lance was a great guy, and you made sure to highlight all that I had in common with him, and you made sure that Jack felt totally left out as you and Lance talked about bands and movies and other trends he doesn't know anything about."
"Francie--"
"Yes, Jack and I have a huge age gap between us, Sydney. I know that. He knows that. But we enjoy being together anyway."
"I'm sorry," Sydney said. "It's just lately you've seemed sad--"
Francie shook her head. "I have been sad, Sydney. Jack's been working a lot. It's been bothering me, but not so much that I'd discussed it with him." She bit her lip. "Actually, you've been responsible for some of my doubts."
"Me?"
Her friend looked at her with regret and determination on her face. "You and Jack are a lot alike, Sydney. When Jack started working so much, I started thinking about all the times I've been left Bristowless during the major events of my life because of that damn bank. I was wondering if I could handle watching both of you walk out on my birthday parties or at some big event I was having at the restaurant."
Tears stung Sydney's eyes. "Francie--"
She held up her hand and shook her head. "I don't want any apologies for all the times you've left. I've gotten used to the idea. And thanks to last night, I've realized that I'm willing to be waiting when Jack gets home. Just like I've waited for you so many times."
Francie stood up and walked over to where Sydney was standing. "One reason I'm willing to wait for him is that because, unlike you, when he's with me, he's with me. He listens, he talks, and he doesn't act like his mind is busy elsewhere."
Sydney struggled to talk, but Francie wasn't waiting for a reply. "I love you, Sydney. I love him, too. And I want both of you in my life, but if you keep pulling the crap you pulled last night, keep trying to force me to make a choice, I'll make it. And I can't promise you'll like my decision."
Francie turned and started to walk away. "I'm going to have dinner with your father on Thanksgiving Day. Let me know if it's okay for him to come here and celebrate with all of us, or if I need to make our dinner at his place." She started to leave again and stopped. Her eyes were sad, but Sydney didn't doubt her sincerity when she said, "And if it'd make it easier on you for me to move out, just let me know that, too."
****
Sydney handed him the platter without saying a word. A few swipes of the towel dried it, and Jack set it down on the counter; he didn't know where anything went, but he'd insisted on doing the dishes.
He had two different reasons for volunteering. One was Francie; she'd looked exhausted from all the work she'd done earlier. As long as he was in the kitchen, he could keep her out of it. His reward was hearing her out on the balcony laughing with Will and Amanda.
His other reason was his daughter. He'd known that she would do the dishes, and he wanted to spend some time with her. Ever since the night her plan had backfired, she'd been avoiding him. He admired her strategy; using Dixon's brother to highlight the age difference had made him uncomfortable. The fact Dixon's brother had been Francie's age and handsome--"Man wasn't meant to look that fine," Francie had joked later--had made him jealous as hell. Both feelings had made him act like an idiot.
Fortunately, Francie had understood his reaction and forgiven him for it. The sex that night had been hot, fast, and furious. But the next morning had been incredible; she'd revealed how well she really knew him, and she'd told him that she loved him.
Turning away to hide the grin that was breaking across his face, he gruffly asked, "Where does this go?"
"Over there," Sydney said.
He turned to find her still elbow deep in water and using her toe to point to a cabinet. He wondered if she realized that Laura--and he--had insisted on the ballet lessons she'd taken as a small girl for the strength, endurance, and flexibility it would give her. Nodding, he walked over and stooped down. "It goes under the bowls," Sydney said from behind him.
A few minutes later, she passed him the broiling pan. It had taken some scrubbing on her part, but it looked like new. Jack started to use the damp towel on it, but Sydney said, "Leave it in the drainer. It has to be put up in the hall closet anyway. We only use it for Thanksgiving and Christmas."
Jack nodded and did as she said. She started to walk away, and he said, "Sydney."
She turned to look at him, her face a familiar mask. Only he'd grown familiar with it on his face, not hers. Sometimes she was too much like him, and it scared him. He heard Francie's laughter again, and smiled at the sound. "Thank you for inviting me."
He saw a flash of something--anger?--cross her face. She glanced in the direction of the laughter from outside and nodded stiffly before starting to leave again. He tried to stop her. "I--"
She stiffened and then spoke without looking at him. "I'm sorry about Lance. It was childish of me." She turned to look back at him. "But she was so hurt by your 'working' all the time, and I knew you would never be able to tell her the truth. I knew that you were lying, that you had to hide your wound, but I think Francie deserves to be with someone who can be honest with her."
"Sydney--"
"Brrrr," Amanda said as she strolled into the kitchen. "Sorry, but I felt like I should act cold after spending a part of Thanksgiving night out on a porch." Both women in the room now wore matching grins, but Jack knew Sydney's was faked. Amanda reached in and grabbed out a cold soda. "Where I'm from," she continued, "it's cold on Thanksgiving Day."
Jack smiled--slightly--when he answered, "It is cold."
Amanda laughed as she pushed back the flip-top. The can hissed in agreement. "I mean really cold."
"I've lived in Los Angeles for most of my life," he informed her, "and this is what I consider normal now, but I remember my first Christmas here. People were walking around with short sleeves and driving with the convertible tops down, and I was walking around thinking Christmas trees didn't look right in summer temperatures."
"Oh, yeah," Amanda said as she took a sip. Her grin was real. "It still seems strange to me. Will loves teasing me about it. But when I called my mom last night, she said it was three degrees back home. Three."
Jack didn't know Amanda's story, but Will had hinted at how tough her life had been. But even if Will had never mentioned this woman, there was no way to miss the sadness that had played across her face as she talked about calling her mother. Or the way she'd stumbled over the word "home." There was no doubt in Jack's mind that the conversation had not been what she'd wanted it to be.
"When I told Will that, he acted like I said my mother was living in hell. He immediately went upstairs and put on some sweat pants."
Sydney laughed and put her hand on Amanda's back. "Everything is done in here, so let's go out and enjoy sitting in our great weather." They walked out of the room, leaving Jack alone. Shaking his head, he reached inside the refrigerator and picked up a can of Coke for Francie before going out to join the crowd.
****
Sydney flipped through the magazine and stopped at one of the ads. It was a nice outfit, and she made a mental note to stop tomorrow at the advertised boutique. Then she remembered that tomorrow was the first official shopping day of the season. Maybe it would still be in stock some time in January.
"Sydney," Francie's hesitant voice said from the doorway.
Looking up, Sydney saw her friend standing outside the door. At one time, Francie would've walked straight into the room, excited by whatever she wanted to say. But six weeks ago, everything had changed. Their relationship was now strained, and Sydney knew it was her fault.
"Hey," she said. She tossed the magazine onto the nightstand and patted the bed in front of her. "Dinner was excellent, as always."
Francie smiled and walked into the room. She sighed as she sat down on the bed. Sydney grinned when she noticed Francie wiggling her toes. "Thank you. My feet are killing me. You'd think I'd be used to standing at the restaurant all day, but there was something about standing in that kitchen today. . .."
Sydney leaned back against her pillows, relieved to hear Francie talking to her normally. Not that Francie had been rude lately, but she'd been hurt, and she hadn't been herself since the night Sydney had worked to destroy her relationship with Jack.
She didn't blame her; it had been a mistake. "You get more walking in at the restaurant instead of just standing in the same spot."
"True," Francie said as she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.
Sydney was silent for a moment. "I thought you would be leaving with Dad tonight."
Francie tensed and opened her eyes. She studied Sydney's face and then relaxed. "I wanted to, but Jack told me to get some rest. He's taking me out to dinner tomorrow night."
Telling herself to be quiet, to not talk about the issue standing between her and her friend, Sydney said, "Where do you see it going, Francie?"
Her friend sat up and reached for a pillow. Gathering it in her arms, she leaned on it, and sighed. "Where do I see my relationship with Jack going?"
Sydney bit her lip. "Yeah."
"I don't know, Sydney. I really don't. I never thought to be with him, and I know it's not like me. Usually I like having everything planned out, but I'm okay just going moment to moment with him."
"You're afraid to push the issue," Sydney said and wanted to kick herself. It was something she'd realized earlier while watching Jack with her. They'd both been intimate but restrained.
Francie opened her mouth and then closed it. She laughed softly. Sydney heard the sadness. "You're right. I keep expecting him to say it was a mistake. Or maybe I'm thinking it won't work out, so don't push anything."
"You can't live like that forever," Sydney told her. She was sincere in her concern; if Francie were acting like that with any other man, Sydney would've said the same thing.
Francie stared over at the wall. "You're right. It's time to see if we're going to commit to this relationship." She tossed the pillow back on the bed and hugged Sydney. "Thank you."
Sydney sat on her bed not sure what she'd just done, but feeling good about it. And worried, too. Because she knew that Francie had already committed her heart.
****
"Happy Thanksgiving, Mom!"
"Hey, Francie!" Angela Calfo said from the other side of the phone. Her excitement made Francie grin. Hearing her mother's voice always made her feel like she was home again. Safe and secure. Her most difficult decision back then used to be what color top to wear with those jeans that weren't as tight as she wanted but were as tight as her mother was going to allow her to wear.
She heard the click that warned her that her father had picked up the other line. "How's my baby girl?" Chris Calfo asked.
Laughing, she sat down on her bed and curled up her legs to sit Indian style. "I'm doing good, Daddy."
"Still working too hard I bet," Angela said.
"Mom--" Francie said.
"Angie--" Chris said.
"I know, I know." Angela sighed. "She has to work hard to make sure her business is a success. But you looked really successful when we were there this summer."
Francie grinned, remembering how her mother had fretted about her opening her own restaurant. She had immediately started researching it when Francie had told them what she was going to do. She'd driven her daughter crazy citing all the statistics about failure rate and other items that concerned her.
Finally seeing the restaurant last summer had relieved Angela's doubts. Francie remembered the visit; she's been thrilled that they were there and disappointed that she hadn't been able to see Jack for almost two weeks. He'd understood, and had made no effort to see her while her parents were in town, which had pleased and upset her.
"It's still a lot of work, Mom." Francie wished phones still had cords. She loved the mobility, but the phone cord used to be great to keep her hands busy.
"I know, I know. I just wish you had a personal life to go along with that professional life," Angela said.
"Angie--"
"I'm her mother, Chris, and I think she needs to find a man."
Francie heard the determination in her mother's voice, and knew there was no way to stop the lecture tonight. Saying things like she didn't need a man to be happy had never worked before. Or there wouldn't have been any way if she hadn't already made up her mind earlier in Sydney's room to confess.
"I am seeing someone, Mom," she said. It was suddenly so hard to breathe. In. Out. Don't pass out.
"Really?" Her mother's excitement screamed across the phone lines.
She licked her lips, knowing that the excitement wouldn't last long. "Yeah."
"That's great, Francie. Is he a good man?" her dad asked.
"Really good," she answered, knowing that he would probably disagree. He'd never cared for Sydney's father.
"So tell me all about him. How long have you two been seeing each other?" She could picture her mom. She was probably sitting down in the big, overstuffed leather chair that she loved, and she was imagining that Chris would go to bed soon, and that she would spend hours on the phone with her girl hearing all about the new guy. Or at least as much as her daughter was willing to share.
Francie really didn't want to disappoint her, but she knew Angela was not going to be any happier with her boyfriend than Chris was going to be. "Seven months."
Silence filled the phone lines for almost a minute. "Did you say seven months, Francie?" Her dad was certain that he'd heard wrong; she could tell by his voice.
"Yeah, I did, Dad."
"You were dating him when we were there?" Angela sounded so disappointed in her. "Why didn't you introduce us?"
"I don't need to introduce you, Mom. You already know him."
"What?" She could imagine her dad shaking his head, wondering who his little girl was referring to.
"You're seeing Charlie again?" her mother gasped.
"No!" Francie said, shocked that her mother would ever think she'd take back that lying piece of--Of course Angela had made that mistake. She couldn't think of any other person her daughter would date and not tell them about.
"Who are you dating, Francie?" Her dad's voice had taken on the
"father" tone.
Standing up, Francie walked over to and stared out the window. The LA skyline was beautiful at night. "I didn't tell you about him because I knew you wouldn't like the fact I was dating him."
"Francie--"
"Listen to me, Dad. He's not the kind of guy you'd want me to be with, and I never thought we'd last. Or maybe I was too scared to believe we would. I hid him away so I wouldn't have to face people telling me 'I told you so' when it ended. I realized that tonight," Francie spit out like a machine gun.
"It wasn't fair to him, and it's not fair to you, either. Or me," she sighed.
She could hear her father breathing over the phone, and she waited for him to ask, "Who?"
Taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes, she said, "Jack Bristow."