The two little old ladies were planning something. Natalie had joined the sorority for old ladies solely because her daughter, about to go off to college, was suddenly looking at her stretch schools as her most likely candidates and at the advice of her counselor was filling out applications to the Ivy League.
At the meetings, Joan and Patty, sisters in their sixties, were as no-nonsense as the rest of the little old ladies planning fundraisers and looking for women's causes to spend the money on. After the meetings, with nothing else to do, they tended to wander into the bar of whatever restaurant the meeting was held at and drink wine or margaritas all afternoon. Natalie stayed around with them more often than she should have.
As a realtor, she really didn't have much else to do on Tuesday afternoons. Her daughter was largely self-sufficient and was never home. Her husband was hardly ever there either. They didn't have a bad marriage; the truth was it wasn't much of a marriage at all anymore, more of a professional partnership with the purpose of getting their daughter into USC or Northwestern. She didn't really expect him to hang around very long after high school graduation and she wasn't sure but she thought she liked the idea of being alone for a while.
That particular Tuesday afternoon the conversation centered on Joan's daughter in law. It could best be summed up by saying Joan felt the woman was a lazy bitch who took advantage of her son and was slowly killing him.
The two sisters squabbled a little over the woman. Joan, of course, sided with her son. Patty, despite feeling a soft spot for her nephew had to side with the woman. She had been badly divorced decades ago and was still bleeding from the wounds after all this time.
"Would you hire her again?" Joan asked her sister.
"No," said the woman that had just stuck up for her for an hour. "She's mean!" the woman added and they both laughed.
The second round of margaritas was ordered. The women drank the good stuff and Natalie was feeling no pain. The conversation switched to Friday happy hour. It was a tradition that went back to the days before Joan's husband had passed. They started at a restaurant with wine and appetizers and finished on Joan's patio with Cosmopolitans.
"Do you think your husband would let you out on a Friday night for a couple of hours?" they asked Natalie. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between the two, especially since Joan had started cutting her hair short just like Patty.
"I'm not sure he would even notice," Natalie replied.
"Good. You are coming then."
The two sisters looked at each other a moment and Natalie suddenly felt uncomfortable about the whole thing but she didn't know why.
Natalie no longer needed to ask what to wear anywhere. When she had gone back to work she had dressed up a little too conservatively. Now that she had been doing it for a while she had dressy jeans and skirts and a whole closet full of tops that could pass as business casual with the buttoning of an extra button or the addition of a safety pin. They also converted easily for a happy hour. She religiously carried an extra ten pounds. Since crossing 45 she thought it made her look younger. It kept her breasts plump, her chest from looking bony, and hid the wrinkles on her neck and face. She wore her long chestnut hair back most days but releasing the hair clip and crunching her fingers through it gave it a carefree messy look appropriate to any of the bars in the neighborhood. The women had chosen Un-Wined for Friday night drinks and she sat at a corner table with them. She was getting looks. It made her feel good.
The conversation centered on Joan's grandson and his college search so Natalie had plenty to contribute. Other than her daughter applying to Vanderbilt and Joan's grandson applying to Loyola the lists were almost identical.
"I still can't believe she sent that email."
"I know. She is just inconsiderate."
"What did it say?" Natalie had to ask.
She never got to find out exactly what it said. An immense man with broad shoulders and a full beard appeared from out of no-where. He was too old to be a hipster and too well dressed to be a lumberjack. He stood over Joan like a knight would stand over his queen. His eyes sparkled a blue color that looked fake and full lips scowled beneath his facial hair. Suddenly his face lit up as if someone had flicked a switch. Natalie watched him. She was almost unable to speak as he hugged the waitress and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. He spoke to the waitress in French. There was giggling.
"Oh my god, Michael, how long have you been standing there? You scared me to death. Come, sit."
"No, I just moved us outside. The weather is perfect and the band is playing, or the singer is playing. Or is she singing? She plays too so yeah, I guess she is playing, come on."
Joan followed her large son to the patio. Natalie and Patty brought up the rear. He greeted people along the way. He talked to two tables outside. The oversized sofa and chairs around the firepit/table had been marked reserved but the little waitress took away the sign and they all sat down. He was apparently a regular.
The night turned cool. The woman playing guitar and singing was quite good. She played folk classics and acoustic versions of classic rock. The man stopped talking and listened as she covered Beast of Burden and then took a twenty up and dropped it in her jar. For his money, he got to request Gold Dust Woman and Natalie watched him watch the singer.
Although he was a little heavy he carried it well on his large frame. She thought he was rather like a male version of herself. He was dressed well but not dressy. He had on cowboy boots. The sisters sat huddled together on a little sofa getting drunk and when he wasn't interested in the song the woman sang he sat in the chair beside Natalie leaning forward so they could talk. They both sat more or less the same way on the edge of the oversized cushions their foreheads close together.
The sisters decided they'd had enough wine and Natalie was sad the night was over. Everyone exchanged goodbyes and Micheal shoved away their attempts to pay something toward the tab. Natalie hugged her two friends and held out her hand to shake Michael's hand. "Do you have to go?" he asked her.
"I guess not," she said.
From the patio they watched the women get into a car he had summoned on his phone and drive off.
"What was in the email?" she asked finally. She didn't want to admit it but she knew what she was doing. She was sizing up the competition.
"I don't want to say."
"That's okay," Natalie said.
"I don't want to speak ill of her, you know, it would seem like I was trying to complain about my wife. It would be like I was hitting on you."
"If I tell you what an asshole Patrick is, it would be hitting on you?" she asked. She didn't think it sounded right but somehow she understood.
"Exactly."
"Okay, so no talk about our spouses."
They went back to talking about their kids. They talked about how after the third one, every campus tour felt identical. They laughed about the surfers at UCSB and the idea of their children going off to Chicago to go to school after spending their whole lives in the desert south-west. They were going to freeze their asses off.
They killed another bottle of wine and an order of flatbread and decided they needed to get home. It was almost eight. As early as that might sound, it was only supposed to be a quick happy hour. He paid the tab. She insisted the next one was on her.
