Page 44 of Trusting You
“Soon, Jackie. I promise.”
“Good. Nora, sweetie. That nice Thompson girl was in here yesterday with her mother. What’s her name?”
Jackie turned around and let out an ear-piercing scream. “Joe. Joe!”
“Yeah,” Joe answered from the kitchen.
“Joe, what’s the name of the Thompson girl who came in yesterday with Marie?”
Joe shouted from the counter. “The one who had the weird mole as a kid?”
“Oh, Jesus.” She turned to us. “I swear he’s senile.”
“No, Joe. The other one, the younger sister.”
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know.” And went back to his paper.
Emily hesitated. “Violet Thompson?”
“Yes, that’s the one.” Jackie slammed the coffee pot on the table for emphasis, and I was terrified it was going to shatter. It looked like it was manufactured in the early eighties. “Nice girl. Married a bad guy and had a couple of kids. She’s divorced and is feeling pretty sorry for herself. I told her to come down to your store and you would get her some new duds to make her feel good.”
Nora nodded, sipping her coffee.
“Keep an eye out for her, okay?”
“Of course, Jackie. I will give her the friends and family discount too.”
“Attagirl. Your grandma taught you right.” Jackie was the lifelong bestie of Nora’s grandmother, Nonna Riccio. They had been knitting, drinking gin, and gossiping together for many decades.
Jackie filled up our coffee mugs and went back to yelling at Joe behind the counter. The place had changed a lot since I was a kid. The newsstand area had shrunk to a corner, understandable with the death of print and all. Gone were the racks and racks of international magazines and newspapers and a whole wall devoted to comic books. Instead they had expanded the luncheonette into a full-fledged diner with tables and booths in addition to the counter.
Back in high school, Nora and I would come in here, read fashion magazines, and eat piles of grilled cheese while gossiping about boys. It has always been our special place where we could just let go and be ourselves. Jackie and Joe had known us since we were born, and I loved them like extra grandparents.
The menu had also changed to reflect the Havenport spirit. The old standbys were still there. But now you could also get avocado toast and tofu scramble with your corned beef hash or tuna melt.
The bells above the door jingled, but I didn’t look up from my menu.
“Don’t be mad, but I invited your sister.”
I popped my head up. “What? Maggie? Nora, you should have told me.”
“I’m telling you now. When your mom called me thinking you were dead, I texted her. Given your recent sex fest with the hot brewer, you need all the feminine wisdom you can get.”
Maggie strolled in, immaculately dressed in a blue sheath dress without a hair out of place. She warmly greeted Jackie and Joe and waved to some of her patients seated at the counter.
She plopped into the booth beside Emily, in a most un-Maggie-like manner.
She removed her sunglasses, and I could see dark circles under her eyes. “Would you judge me if I ordered a mimosa? I’m not on until one p.m.”
We all shook our heads and decided to join her. Monday breakfast was nothing if not a tolerant and open-minded event.
Nora put her menu down. “Now that we’re all here, it’s time to start talking, Ms. Cecelia. Did you have sex with Liam?”
“Nora, keep your voice down.”
“She totally did. Look at her face. Her skin is glowing,” Emily said, while stirring ten sugar packets into her coffee.
Maggie was massaging hand sanitizer into her palms. She always had several varieties in her designer purse. “We all knew it would happen. I’m surprised he didn’t drag you behind a brewing tank during Oktoberfest.” She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at me, and I shrank back into my seat.
