Page 13 of The Comeback Summer

Libby shoots me a death glare that says,I am not going to love it and you know that very well and why couldn’t you suggest a one-mile fun run at an elementary school or something?

But Lou beams at me. “That’s a fantastic idea, Hannah. A strong support system is key to crushing your comfort zone.”

And damn it all if I don’t glow at the praise. There’s a reason Lou has millions of podcast listeners, why her book sold for a rumored two million dollars in a seven-publisher auction. She inspires people to follow her.

With my phone, I do a quick search for the Chicago Down & Dirty. If we start next week with the challenge, the race will happen after the twelfth week of the program. Almost like it was meant to be.

“Now, listen up, girls,” Lou says, turning serious. “I’m going to check with you every few weeks. I expect you to follow my method to the letter—it’s crucial that you understand my philosophy if you’re going to represent my brand.”

“What about the PR plan itself?” I ask.

“I’d like a proposal by the end of the summer,” Lou says, tapping a pink fingernail on the table. “I’ll see how you do with your challenges, review the proposal, and make a decision.”

Libby’s eyes widen in panic. “But shouldn’t we discuss a contract or—or a letter of intent? If we’re doing all this, it would be nice to have some kind of...”

“Guarantee?” Lou finishes. Libby and I both nod, but Lou shakes her head. “Sorry, ladies, life doesn’t work that way. If you want to win, you gotta play the game, am I right?”

I don’t like the sound of that, but before I can say anything, Lou’s already moving on. She gives us more details on the program, showing us the Crush Your Comfort Zone journals she developed, with prompts for each day. She reminds us to listen to the exclusive webinars she’s developed, and then she’s out the door, leaving the office sparking with electricity.

As soon as she’s gone, Great Scott peeks in. “So... how’d it go?” When he hears about the dates I have to go on, he sucks air through his teeth. “Thatwillbe a challenge.”

“You think that’s bad?” Libby bursts in. “Hannah’s making me do the Down & Dirty!”

“Oh shit,” he says, his jaw falling open. “Isn’t that the one where you have to crawl through a mud pit under electrified wires?”

Libby turns to me, eyes wide. “Hannah!What the actual f—”

“Look,” I say, jabbing a finger in Libby’s direction, “you’re the one who wanted to work with Lou, remember? Now we’re in this together. And as for you.” I point to Scott. “We need four people for our Down & Dirty team. Welcome aboard.”

He blanches. “Oh no—”

“Oh yes,” Libby says, then turns to me. “What about a fourth?”

“I’ll ask that running group I used to be in,” I tell her. The group fell apart when most of the members got married or had kids, but I’m sure I can convince someone to join us.

With a heavy sigh, Libby collapses into her chair. “It’ll be fine, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

I’m about to say,Being murdered by one of my dates, chopped into pieces, and mailed around the world, when Scott cuts in.

“Besides being forced to face your deepest fears, delving into the hidden corners of your psyches, and bringing up old wounds that have haunted you both since childhood?” He laughs darkly. “Sounds like a piece of cake.”

Seven

LIBBY

Later that afternoon, I’m sitting on the couch at home, cocooning myself in comfort by eating ice cream and planning one of my movie theme nights, which I love and Hannah tolerates. I’m thinkingWhen Harry Met Sallyfor the movie, with pastrami sandwiches (from the “I’ll have what she’s having” scene) and coconut cake with chocolate sauce (on the side, of course).

I used to throw parties all the time, back when I had a lot of friends—people from college, people from trivia nights at Four Farthings and euchre night at McGee’s. But Hannah needed me when she moved back to Chicago, and when you say no to invitations enough times, people stop asking.

My parties back then were epic and always on theme. Like the Passover Is Over party, where I served nothing but dips and leavened bread, and the Yellow Party, where everything from the food (popcorn and banana pudding) to the drinks (spiked lemonade) and people’s outfits were all the same hue.

These days, Hannah humors me by participating in my “parties for two,” as I call them. Usually, they are just the thingto make me feel better—but the nauseous feeling I’ve had since Lou dropped her comfort zone bomb on us has only gotten worse.

It’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. I could take the leap and be a hero, saving our family business—or I can take a step back like a coward and only save myself. Of course, if I was really a hero, there would be no hesitation.

The front door opens and Hannah walks in, fresh from a casual, just-for-the-fun-of-it five-mile run. Her face is red and wisps of curly brown hair are plastered to her cheeks—but she still looks beautiful.

Our whole lives, Hannah has been the smart one, the pretty one,andthe fit one. I’ve been the... other one. I know our parents didn’t set out to treat us differently, but it was hard to ignore the fact that my mom bought “the family” a treadmill for my thirteenth birthday, while Hannah got a leather jacket for hers. GiGi was the only adult in my life who loved me for who I was and didn’t try to change me.

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