Kate Jacobs by The Friday Night Knitting Club - [The Friday Night Knitting Club 01] Page B
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Georgia
never heard from her again, moping around the Ann Arbor campus and not making
much of an effort to get to know anybody. It was her junior year before she
even darkened the door of the newspaper. It wasn't until she got a summer
internship at a publishing house that she began to perk up, wasn't until she
fell in love with James Foster that she really felt complete again. To have a
friend who really cared, who really got her. And we know how that story goes,
she thought. A walk-up on the Upper West Side and single motherhood. Or a
gorgeous daughter and work she loved. It all depended on how you looked at it,
Georgia told herself. Were there things she'd change? Yes. Did she truly
believe her life would have been better if she'd gone to Dartmouth? That she'd
missed out on some secret world of connections and money? Only every other day.
But would she change her life if it meant there wouldn't be Dakota? Never.
Never ever.
* * *
The dress she could handle. The doorman, no
sweat. But the dinner? Now that was another question. Georgia secretly tried to
rub her clammy hands on the wrap she held in her arms, still wearing her good
cloth coat.
"Don't be nervous," James said, sotto voce, as they stepped into the
elevator.
"I'm not!" Her voice had a squeaky edge.
It had been one hell of a cab ride, sitting next to him, discussing the weather.
Sort of.
"How long do you think things are going to stay chilly?" he'd asked,
his tone ever so slightly challenging.
She'd been quite prepared to ignore him when his cell phone rang, and she sat
there, pretending to be uninterested.
" Lisette ! Lisette , il est après minuit ," he was saying. " Avez-vous l'insomnie encore?"
Lisette ? Poor Lisette can't sleep? Georgia rolled her eyes as the car sped down Broadway. Some things
never change.
" Oui , oui ," said James. "Ma fille est belle. Et aussi intelligente ."
They pulled up to Cat's building as James made his good-byes.
"I'll come around and help you out," he said to Georgia, who ignored
him and made her own way out of the taxi, marching through the front door.
Now they stood side by side inside the elevator.
"Don't be fidgety," he repeated.
She coughed. "I'm not—I'm just not used to leaving Dakota…on a
Saturday." Oh, that was lame. She knew Anita and Dakota had made it back
from the show and were busy eating popcorn and gossiping on her sofa. Probably talking
about her going out with James! No, not going out. Not like that. Attending the
same party together. Still, she was glad Dakota had someone to share secrets
with, was glad that Anita often spilled the beans later, revealing her baby's
crushes and feuds and worries. Especially since the closed-door policy meant
she and Dakota weren't talking quite as easily as they once did.
"She's fine with Anita, I'm sure," said James. "She's a pretty
amazing woman."
Georgia gave him a sidelong glance. Not like he knew Anita; he'd only met her a
few times in the store. "Yes, Anita is the kind of person you feel special
to know—" Georgia stopped short as the elevator opened. Directly into the
apartment. A beautiful, huge loft apartment. She could easily fit her shop—and
her apartment—into this space several times over.
"May I take your coat?" A thin young woman in a white blouse extended
her hands.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you. Do you know Cat? I'm Georgia Walker,
I'm…" Georgia, juggling her handbag and wrap from hand to hand, faltered
as the girl eased off her long coat.
"Thank you," said James, then turned toward Georgia, briefly touching
her back to steer her into the room. Of course, that was the coat check. Who
threw parties that required a special coat-check girl? Who had elevators that
opened up into their apartment? Cat, apparently. Georgia quickly slipped her
wrap around her shoulders as she scanned the room and the backs of several
well-dressed individuals, huddled in conversations.
A long exposed-brick wall faced the elevator; across the room and to her
never heard from her again, moping around the Ann Arbor campus and not making
much of an effort to get to know anybody. It was her junior year before she
even darkened the door of the newspaper. It wasn't until she got a summer
internship at a publishing house that she began to perk up, wasn't until she
fell in love with James Foster that she really felt complete again. To have a
friend who really cared, who really got her. And we know how that story goes,
she thought. A walk-up on the Upper West Side and single motherhood. Or a
gorgeous daughter and work she loved. It all depended on how you looked at it,
Georgia told herself. Were there things she'd change? Yes. Did she truly
believe her life would have been better if she'd gone to Dartmouth? That she'd
missed out on some secret world of connections and money? Only every other day.
But would she change her life if it meant there wouldn't be Dakota? Never.
Never ever.
* * *
The dress she could handle. The doorman, no
sweat. But the dinner? Now that was another question. Georgia secretly tried to
rub her clammy hands on the wrap she held in her arms, still wearing her good
cloth coat.
"Don't be nervous," James said, sotto voce, as they stepped into the
elevator.
"I'm not!" Her voice had a squeaky edge.
It had been one hell of a cab ride, sitting next to him, discussing the weather.
Sort of.
"How long do you think things are going to stay chilly?" he'd asked,
his tone ever so slightly challenging.
She'd been quite prepared to ignore him when his cell phone rang, and she sat
there, pretending to be uninterested.
" Lisette ! Lisette , il est après minuit ," he was saying. " Avez-vous l'insomnie encore?"
Lisette ? Poor Lisette can't sleep? Georgia rolled her eyes as the car sped down Broadway. Some things
never change.
" Oui , oui ," said James. "Ma fille est belle. Et aussi intelligente ."
They pulled up to Cat's building as James made his good-byes.
"I'll come around and help you out," he said to Georgia, who ignored
him and made her own way out of the taxi, marching through the front door.
Now they stood side by side inside the elevator.
"Don't be fidgety," he repeated.
She coughed. "I'm not—I'm just not used to leaving Dakota…on a
Saturday." Oh, that was lame. She knew Anita and Dakota had made it back
from the show and were busy eating popcorn and gossiping on her sofa. Probably talking
about her going out with James! No, not going out. Not like that. Attending the
same party together. Still, she was glad Dakota had someone to share secrets
with, was glad that Anita often spilled the beans later, revealing her baby's
crushes and feuds and worries. Especially since the closed-door policy meant
she and Dakota weren't talking quite as easily as they once did.
"She's fine with Anita, I'm sure," said James. "She's a pretty
amazing woman."
Georgia gave him a sidelong glance. Not like he knew Anita; he'd only met her a
few times in the store. "Yes, Anita is the kind of person you feel special
to know—" Georgia stopped short as the elevator opened. Directly into the
apartment. A beautiful, huge loft apartment. She could easily fit her shop—and
her apartment—into this space several times over.
"May I take your coat?" A thin young woman in a white blouse extended
her hands.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you. Do you know Cat? I'm Georgia Walker,
I'm…" Georgia, juggling her handbag and wrap from hand to hand, faltered
as the girl eased off her long coat.
"Thank you," said James, then turned toward Georgia, briefly touching
her back to steer her into the room. Of course, that was the coat check. Who
threw parties that required a special coat-check girl? Who had elevators that
opened up into their apartment? Cat, apparently. Georgia quickly slipped her
wrap around her shoulders as she scanned the room and the backs of several
well-dressed individuals, huddled in conversations.
A long exposed-brick wall faced the elevator; across the room and to her
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