Free November Surprise by Laurel Osterkamp

with a smile. Sharon walks
up to the makeshift desk where he’s sitting, between the kitchen and living
room, and offers him her outstretched hand.
    “I’m Sharon,” she says, “Lucy’s other best friend.”
    He shakes her hand and nods. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard a lot
about you. I’m glad we finally get to meet.”
    “Likewise!” Sharon turns away from him and strolls into my
kitchen. She instantly finds what she was looking for and returns to the living
room with a bottle of wine, three glasses, and a corkscrew.
    “No, really…” I say. “Make yourself at home.”
    Sharon shoots me a cross-eyed look in response to my
sarcasm, sets her stash down on my 1980s thrift-store coffee table, and tries
to open the bottle of wine. After she inserts the corkscrew in at a severe
angle, she stops and looks up.
    “Uhhgg! Why did you have to get the corkscrew kind?”
    “It was a gift,” I say. “Why do you think it’s been sitting
around, unopened for so long?”
    “You two are pathetic,” says Jack. He walks towards us,
grabs the bottle and pries the corkscrew out, inserts it correctly, and manages
to expunge the cork from the bottle in one fluid motion. Sharon looks at Jack
like he just solved an episode of Unsolved
Mysteries . Jack pours each of us a glass, and we sit on the floor, with its
light blue scratchy carpet beneath us.
    “So you’re in town to research restaurants? That must be
tough.” Sharon takes a swig of her wine and tosses her hair back so it’s no
longer resting on her shoulders.
    “It’s not like I have a boss who’s paying for the trip,
though,” says Jack. “Some friends and I are looking into opening a restaurant.
They wanted me to see what was doing well here, you know, just to get some
ideas.”
    Sharon scrunches up her face in thought. “But you’re going
to open it in Iowa, right?” She stresses each syllable of I-o-wa as she says
it, infusing the state’s name with attitude.
    “Don’t say Iowa like it’s a dirty word,” Jack responds. “Some of us actually like it there.”
    It’s funny that Jack and Sharon are only just meeting now.
Even though the three of us went to the same high school, it was a large high
school, and Sharon was two years ahead of Jack. Their paths just never crossed.
She did know Monty, but the two of them weren’t good friends despite having
graduated the same year.
    Sharon laughs. “I always thought people only stayed in Iowa
because they have to.”
    Jack doesn’t take offense. “That’s what Monty thinks too.”
    My pulse quickens at the mention of his name. “How is
Monty?” I ask.
    Sharon, who knows about my secret liaison with Jack’s older
brother, gives me a sideways stare.
    “Well, he’s not coming home for Thanksgiving,” Jack says. “I
guess he has some new girlfriend, and he’s visiting her family instead. My mom
is really bummed, because it’s been over a year since he’s been home.”
    I want to drill Jack about this new girlfriend. But to do so
could cause suspicion, like I’m Richard Nixon asking how a tape recorder works.
So I suppress a sigh, and say, “That’s too bad. We’ll still get to hang out,
though.”
    Sharon, who is enjoying her wine and the drama that has
nothing to do with her, nods her head emphatically. “Yes. The two of you will
have a good time without Monty. I wish I could be there, but alas, I have to
stay and work.”
    My butt is starting to ache a little from sitting on the
floor, so I shift and stretch, while trying to think of a way to change the
subject. I glance over at Sharon; she looks awfully pleased with herself.
    “You haven’t told us what you’re doing here,” I say. “What
were you doing earlier?”
    Sharon’s shoulders sag and she broadly exhales. “Just going
out with work people. Friday night happy hour and all.”
    Shouldn’t that make her happy? I should ask her what is up.
But my week is catching up with me, and the prospect of my head against a
pillow is extremely