Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“That’s a good thing. And your parents? Are they still working?”

“Mom retired, but Dad’s still at it full time.”

“Still working on his car?”

“Every weekend.”

“And your mom?”

“She’s now a member of the Red Hat Society, and she wants to plant tulips.” When Emily furrowed her brow, I told her about the week before.

“You know you can’t be mad at her for that. She already fulfilled her parenting duties.”

“That’s what Marge said. Marge wouldn’t help me either.”

“And yet, you got everything done anyway.”

“Marge said that, too.”

She let out a long breath. “It’s amazing where life has taken us, huh? Since we knew each other? Of course, we were just kids back then.”

“We weren’t kids.”

She smiled. “Are you kidding? Maybe, technically, we were old enough to vote, but I can definitely remember some youthful exuberance on your part. Like the time you decided to see whether you could eat that monstrous steak, so you could get your picture on the wall of the restaurant. How big was that steak again?”

The memory came back in a rush. We’d been out at the lake with a group of friends, and I spotted the restaurant sign just off the highway, advertising that in addition to my photo on the wall, there would be no charge for the meal. “Seventy-five ounces.”

“You didn’t even make it halfway.”

“I was hungry when I started…”

“You were also drunk.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Good times.” She laughed. She lingered before me before finally gesturing toward my computer. “But unfortunately, I should probably get going. You need to work, and I’ve really got to get that stuff shipped off today.”

I became aware of the fact that I didn’t want her to go, even if it was probably a good idea. “You’re probably right.”

She stood from the table. “It was nice seeing you again, Russ.”

“You, too,” I said. “It’s been fun catching up.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Later?”

“When the class ends?”

“Of course,” I said. “I knew that.”

As she used her shoulder to push open the door, I couldn’t help but notice that she glanced back at me and smiled before finally vanishing from sight.

I spent the next hour in the coffee shop researching on the Internet and was able to find two commercials for the law offices of Joey Taglieri, one of which was no longer airing. They were professional, informative, and, I had to admit, nearly the same as the kind of legal commercials I used to film. I also watched commercials from almost a dozen other law firms in town, concluding that, if anything, Taglieri’s commercials were no better or worse than any of the others.

Why, then, had Joey Taglieri thought of them as idiots?

If the commercials weren’t that bad, however, I still didn’t think Taglieri was getting his money’s worth when it came to the overall campaign. His website was distinctly out of date and lacked pizzazz, and a phone call to a buddy let me know there was nothing going on in the way of Internet advertising. Another couple of calls let me know that he didn’t advertise in print or on billboards either. I wondered if he’d be open to those ideas while doing my best not to get too excited.

A call to my office helped-there was zippo, nada, zilch in the way of messages-and after leaving the coffee shop, I collected London from art class. She proudly pointed out a bowl she’d made, and I waved at Emily on my way out the door. She smiled and raised a hand-she was talking to the teacher at the time-and after bringing London home, I was unsure how best to spend the next few hours until dance class. It was too hot to bring London outside, and her day was already so full, I suspected that she might simply want to relax and play for a while.

In the end, I decided to make Vivian dinner. I perused a few cookbooks, recognizing that many of the recipes were beyond my culinary capabilities. There was, however, a recipe for Chilean sea bass, and a quick search of the cupboards indicated I had most of the ingredients. Perfect. I brought London to dance and while the class was no doubt disappointing the grim Ms. Hamshaw, I swung by the grocery store and picked up the rest. Dinner was well under way by the time Vivian walked through the door.

With rice pilaf and green bean almondine going on the stove, I couldn’t step away.

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called out, and soon afterward I heard Vivian’s footsteps behind me.

“Wow,” she noted, walking toward me. “It smells great in here. What are you making?”

When I told her, she leaned over the pots on the stove. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just thought I’d try something new. And after dinner, I figured that I’d get the bike out so you could watch London ride.”

She opened the cupboard and pulled a glass from it, then the wine from the fridge. “Let’s do it tomorrow, okay? I’m tired and London’s had a big day. She seems wiped out already.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

She poured herself a glass. “How did she do at tennis?”

“About the same as everyone else. First day, learning to hold the racket at the proper end, all the basics. There were a couple of girls from the neighborhood, so she seemed happy to be there.”

“I think tennis will be good for her. It’s a great sport to socialize.”

“And the girls look cute in those shorts, I might add.”

“Ha, ha. How about art class? And dance?”

“She had fun at art, but as for dance, I don’t think she likes it very much.”

“Give it time. Once she starts competing, she’ll love it.”

I wondered who Vivian imagined would be bringing her to the competitions, but kept my thoughts to myself. “Were you able to get a workout in?”

“I squeezed it in at lunch,” she answered. “A pretty good one, in fact. I felt great the rest of the afternoon.”

“Good for you,” I said. “And how was your day?”

“Nothing like last week, that’s for sure. Things are a lot calmer in the office. For a few minutes there, I felt like I had time to actually settle in at my desk and take a breath.”

I smiled. “My day was pretty interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever heard of a guy named Joey Taglieri?”

She frowned. “You mean the attorney?”

“That’s him.”

“I’ve seen his commercials. They run in the mornings.”

“What do you think about them?”

“About what?”

“The commercials.”

“I don’t really remember much about them. Why?”

I told her what we’d talked about and my thoughts in the aftermath.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked, sounding skeptical.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think that it’s kind of lowbrow? Lawyer commercials? Didn’t Peters stop taking on attorneys because other clients didn’t approve?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as though I’ve got any other clients to worry about. I just want to get something going, you know? And he clearly spends a lot on advertising.”

She nodded and took a sip of her wine. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think is best.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but because she seemed to be in a better mood than she had been lately, I cleared my throat. “Have you found a day care center for London yet?”

“When have I had the chance?”

“Would you like me to start getting some recommendations?”

“No,” she said, sounding put out. “I’ll do it. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Do we really have to sign her up now? She’d have to give up piano and tennis and art, and you’ve been able to get her everywhere she needs to be so far.”