Free This Christmas by Jane Green Page B

her from a table downstairs in the corner of the room and makes her way down as a couple of waiters bow and grin at her with approval.
    “Wow! This place is great!” Sarah gives Caroline a quick hug.
    “I know!” Caroline squeezes her friend. “I asked them to move us over here because it’s away from the speakers. The music’s so loud in the front.”
    Sarah laughs. “I love salsa music, but it makes me feel so old to admit that I can’t stand loud music in restaurants. But I can’t!”
    “We’re not old; we’re just interesting, and interested in actually hearing what one another has to say.”
    “Speaking of one another, where are the others?” As Sarah speaks, Lisa and Cindy appear, both with the requisite flowers, closely followed by Nicole.
    “I love this!” Cindy says. “Why didn’t we decide to go to restaurants before? This is a great idea, Sarah!”
    “Thank you. And may I say you girls all look gorgeous.”
    “As do you.” Lisa smiles. “I love your gardenia.”
    Sarah shrugs. “Fake. But the best I could do in early December.”
     
    Cocktails are brought; menus are studied; food is ordered. There is the usual, cursory pretense of them having come together for some intelligent, intellectual discourse about the book, and then Cindy and Caroline break off to talk about the First Selectman’s latest comments about the educational system at the town meeting two days prior, and soon they have all abandoned the book.
    “Poor Isabel Allende,” Sarah says. “I hope she forgives us.”
    “Okay, I’m going to be honest,” Cindy says. “I did read the book this time”—the others applaud as Cindy does a mock bow—“and I loved it, but there’s nothing I need to say about it. Was it beautifully written? Yes. Did I sympathize with Eliza? Yes. Was it engrossing? Of course. But the bottom line for me is I come to book club every month to see you guys, not to talk about the book. I come because I get more friendship and support from all of you than anywhere else, and because you keep me sane, and reading a book is just an excuse to come together and talk about real life.”
    Caroline makes a face. “Does that mean book club is coming to an end?”
    “Cindy is right, though,” Nicole says. “I never have time to read the book and I come because of you. Maybe we should rename it dinner club.”
    “Or we could have a poker night instead,” Lisa offers. “Actually, no. Gambling probably isn’t a good idea.”
    “Given that we usually end up grumbling about our husbands we could be Wives Anonymous,” Caroline jokes.
    “Except of course for me,” Sarah adds wryly. “Given that I no longer have one.”
    A silence falls upon the table.
    “What do you mean, you no longer have one? Are you getting”—Lisa’s voice drops to a hushed whisper—“divorced?”
    The shock shows on Sarah’s face as she adamantly shakes her head, and soon she is pouring out her confusion to the women.
    “So give it another go,” they all say. “If you feel that confused and you’re that lonely, try again.”
    “But I can’t,” Sarah moans. “I can’t put the kids through this again, let alone myself. I can’t let him come back if it’s going to continue the same way, only to have to split up again, next time permanently. I’m only going to damage them and myself even more.”
    “You could always put yourself out there and try dating. Just dip a toe in the water to see if you could face it.”
    “Are you nuts?” Nicole looks at Cindy as if Cindy is completely mad. “How is that relevant? And, anyway, Sarah’s loneliness isn’t going to be solved by dating.”
    Sarah shrugs sadly. “First of all I absolutely, positively do not want to date anyone at all, not to mention that I am a middle-aged mother of two living in the suburban heartland where ninety-nine percent of the people are married and there really aren’t any decent men to date over the age of twenty-four.”
    “So?” Cindy