Page 64 of A Change of Location
“Your personal life is a mess,” Mim drawled. “Big deal. I’ve had a professional setback.”
“I read about it in the Globe,” Eve told her. “The judge on your case declared a mistrial.”
“I was fired from my dream job on a major motion picture,” Hannah contributed.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Mim said.
“I could have been arrested on a visa violation. I had a torrid affair with a multi-millionaire aristocrat who begged me to stay with him. Which was impossible, for lots of reasons. My heart is broken. And unlike you two, I don’t have a job.”
“Here’s to Hannah, champion of the misery stakes.” Eve raised her martini glass.
Hannah said reflectively, “Sometimes I wonder if attending a women’s college messed up our ability to develop uncomplicated relationships with men. Do you think that’s possible?”
“No,” Mim answered.
“Yes,” Eve contradicted.
“Seems like girls from coed schools manage their dating lives better than I ever have. And enjoy plenty of great sex without commitments and drama.”
“Is that what you want?” Mim asked her. “A fuck buddy? No strings?”
She shook her head. “Definitely not. Though I feel like I should want to want it.” Uncomfortable with her reply, she clarified, “I’m not the type.”
“Neither are we,” Mim affirmed.
“The topic of men is off-limits,” Eve declared, pounding the chair arm for emphasis. “What are you doing about a job?”
“I’m waiting to hear if I landed a scouting assignment in Nova Scotia. The person who makes the final decision is out of the office for Canada Day. There’s also a location manager gig in Maine, for a television pilot. Or I can return to the advertising biz, producing promos for web and broadcast.”
“You don’t sound thrilled about any of your options,” Mim observed.
“If we’re going to drink, we’d better eat something. There’s a box of Chinese dumplings in the freezer, and I have a jar of spicy Asian peanut sauce. And ingredients for salad.”
During their improvised meal, the catching up continued. Eve, temporarily liberated from the myriad challenges of teaching elementary school, spent more time at her gym. Mim expressed the hope that the mistrial might enable a plea bargain favorable to her client or dismissal of charges by the prosecution.
“What will you do for the Fourth of July?” Hannah asked, carrying plates to the kitchen.
“Sleep in,” Mim replied. “My neighbors invited me to the Pops concert on the Esplanade, and the fireworks. The weather’s supposed to be good. Want to join us?”
“Maybe.”
Eve said, “I’ll keep my noise-canceling headphones on and listen to an audiobook and podcasts. I can’t bear to hear the pop-pop, bang-bang.” This was a rare reference to her post-traumatic issues. “What the hell?” she cried, as Big Ben’s deep boom rose from the depths of Hannah’s purse.
“Sorry about that.” With multiple professional balls suspended in the air, she wasn’t leaving any call unanswered. “Hannah Ballard speaking.”
Her friends smirked at her businesslike greeting.
“Hannah, dear, it’s Isobel. Latimer.”
“Hello.” She glanced at the illuminated digits of Eve’s microwave. “I guess I should say good evening.”
“I’m not in France. I’m at a hotel near Copley Square.”
Chapter 20
“You’re in town? For how long?”
“I’m not certain,” Isobel said. “I arrived two days ago. It occurred to me that you could provide some much-needed travel information. And useful advice.”
