The Friends We Keep by Holly Chamberlin

pretty.” Just like the woman Vanessa and her ilk are sure I’ll be choosing. Assuming I can find someone who will have me.
    â€œWhat are we, stupid? Do you think I’d set you up with a moron?”
    â€œNo, but . . .” Maybe, I thought, this wasn’t such a good idea after all. “Look, don’t go out of your way,” I said. “It’s really no big deal. Just, if you happen to meet someone you think I might like, you might mention me to her. Don’t push it.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Teri said wryly. “I do have a life, you know. I can’t afford to spend all my time finding a girlfriend for my brother.”
    â€œThanks, Teri. I appreciate your help. And I appreciate the fact that you haven’t ribbed me about how pathetic I am, forty-two years old and asking his little sister to fix him up.”
    Teri laughed. “Oh, inside I’m ribbing away. Look, I’ve got to go. But I’ll talk to you soon. We’ll have you walking down that aisle in no time.”
    â€œOkay,” I squeaked, imagining a groom’s stiff white collar strained around my neck. “Okay.”

20

    Dear Answer Lady:
    I’m feeling kind of bad about something that happened recently. My wife and our neighbor, who is a single mother, wanted to spend an afternoon together without the kids so I volunteered to watch our son, two, and her son, eighteen months. Everything was just fine until Brooklyn, my son, pushed Bradley, the neighbor kid, down the basement stairs. See, the stairs are concrete and, well, Bradley got beat up pretty bad and has been in a coma for almost a week. Now, I know I shouldn’t have lied but Brooklyn was really upset and I kept thinking that our neighbor would sue us for not having a safety gate, so I told everyone that Bradley disobeyed my order not to go near the stairs and fell down all on his own. His mother believed me because Bradley often doesn’t pay attention and can be kind of clumsy. But just this morning I found out that our neighbor’s health insurance won’t cover the kind of rehab the doctors say Bradley is going to need. I feel bad. Should I offer her some money? But if I do, won’t she wonder why I’m doing it?
    Â 
    Â 
    Dear Morally Bankrupt Coward:
    I’ve taken the liberty of notifying your wife of your perfidy and suggesting to her a counselor who will address your son’s problem with aggression. This counselor will also attempt to eradicate the negative lessons you have imparted to your son by covering up his and your responsibility in this tragic situation. I have also contacted your neighbor with the name of a fiercely powerful lawyer with an unbroken record of success and he will be in touch with you shortly. Expect to be both divorced and destitute within the year. In the meantime, it might behoove you to childproof your home and to seek psychiatric counseling.

    E VA
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    About a week after the baseball game and the dinner with Sophie and John, I stepped off the elevator and into the lobby of the building that houses the office of Caldwell and Company—to find Sophie’s son leaning against a marble wall, legs crossed at the ankle, hands in the front pockets of his slouchy jeans.
    I’m rarely caught off guard—sometimes I wonder if I’ve lost the ability to be surprised—but the sudden appearance of my friend’s sexy son disarmed me. I continued to walk toward the big glass doors but felt a slight hesitation in my step.
    â€œHi,” he said when I came within earshot. “Remember me?”
    I stopped. “Oh,” I said, as if just recalling our first meeting, “that’s right, you’re Sophie’s son.”
    Of course, Jake didn’t believe for a moment that he’d slipped my mind. “Uh-huh. Jake.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked, innocently. “On your way to a job interview?”
    Jake pushed off the