Free A Girl's Guide to Moving On by Debbie Macomber Page B

tuna fish, I made tuna sandwiches with Nikolai’s latest offering of bread. I cut thick slices, savoring the aroma of the dill weed and something else I couldn’t name. Along with the sandwiches, I put together a fresh fruit salad from the berries I’d purchased Saturday morning at the farmers’ market.
    Owen had been with Jake for the weekend. My son hadn’t taken the news that Nichole had decided to sign the divorce papers very well. When I gently inquired how he was doing, he’d burst into a tirade against his now ex-wife, bitterness and anger spilling out of him.
    “I was willing to do anything if she’d take me back. Well, screw her. If this is what she wanted, then fine, I don’t need her.” He’d gone on for several minutes, blaming Nichole, claiming she was an unreasonable shrew, and casting blame on me, accusing me of siding with her against him. I tried to explain this wasn’t a matter of taking sides, but Jake clearly didn’t want to hear it. The decision had been hard for Nichole, and when she told me she’d planned to go ahead with the divorce she’d been in tears.
    I closed my eyes as Jake continued to rant. I did my best to encourage him to move on. He didn’t want to hear it and considered me a traitor both to him and to his father, claiming I’d had the power to persuade her to reconsider. To Jake’s way of thinking I could have done a lot more to help him and I hadn’t. To put it mildly, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation and I felt emotionally and physically shaken afterward.
    Because Kacey was notoriously late I gave myself an extra fifteen minutes before I set the table. Predictably, Kacey showed up at twelve-fifteen, bursting with life, enthusiasm, and the latest gossip from the club she was certain I would want to hear.
    I led her into the kitchen and poured us each a tall glass of sweetened iced tea.
    “I so love this apartment,” Kacey gushed as she looked around. She’d been to my place before but never for any extended period of time, which was one reason I’d decided we should eat in.
    I had another reason, too; I was rather proud of my decorating efforts. In the divorce settlement with Sean, I’d basically left everything in the house to him and purchased all new furnishings for my apartment. I’d placed three short lime-green sofas in a U shape around a large square white coffee table in front of the fireplace. Both sides of the fireplace had mahogany bookshelves bursting with books, many of which were autographed. This was a thirty-year collection I treasured; my books were one of the few things I’d brought from the house.
    My kitchen was a bright, cheerful shade of yellow. I’d painted it myself shortly after moving in. I’d arranged white ceramic accent pieces across the counter. The second bedroom was where I chose to place the television. I had two chairs with an end table between. The closet was full of Owen’s toys and he knew right where to go when he came to visit.
    “You’ve decorated it so beautifully,” Kacey said once she’d arrived. “You could have gone into home decorating if you’d wanted to,” she added, and then grew thoughtful. “Actually, you still could. Have you ever thought of that? Because you’re a natural. I always liked the way you did your house, but you’ve excelled with the apartment. If this is something that interests you…”
    “It isn’t,” I admitted, reveling in Kacey’s praise. “I enjoy doing my own, but wouldn’t presume to know anyone else’s tastes.”
    “Staging, then. I know this great real estate agent who…”
    “Kacey,” I said, smiling, holding up my hand. “I don’t need anything to fill my time. I’m perfectly content with my life as it is. Now, come eat before our sandwiches get soggy. I made tuna fish, your favorite.”
    “You’re happy? Really?” Kacey took her place at the table and removed the soft orange-colored napkin from its holder and spread it across her lap.
    I considered the