didn’t think it up,” Chita said. “I read it.” She put her cup on the carpet, and then, balancing her plate on her lap, reached for the book she’d brought in. “I’d like us to read this for the new year.”
She passed it to Cass, who held it at arm’s length and squinted at the title. “Simplicity?”
“It’s not a novel,” Chita said.
“Oh.” Cass was obviously disappointed and handed it to Juliet.
“We just got this in at the bookstore,” Juliet explained. “It’s Muriel Sterling’s new book.”
“I love her books,” Charley said.
“This one is all about simplifying your life,” Chita told them. “She talks about discovering what’s important and learning to shed what isn’t.”
Was this some kind of decluttering, purge-your-closets book? Stacy felt herself squirming.
“You mean having fewer things?” Juliet asked.
“Having less, period. Less stuff to deal with, less stress, less craziness in your life. I’m only halfway through it but there are some really good ideas in here.”
“Well, it’s your pick.” Stacy knew her tone of voice probably betrayed that she was less than thrilled with the selection.
“I think it’ll be worthwhile,” Chita said. “I mean, we’re always talking about how busy we are.” She shot a look at Juliet. “And how tired.”
“This will only help me if it comes with a bottle of vitamins and a live-in nanny,” Juliet quipped. “But I’d love to read it.”
“And if it’s by Muriel we know it’s going to be worth reading,” Cass added.
Chita smiled. “I think this book could change our lives.”
Change. Stacy wasn’t fond of it...unless it was good and it was happening to her. And she wasn’t sure there was going to be anything all that good for her in this particular book.
“I think it’s a great pick for the new year,” Juliet said.
“Sounds great to me,” Charley said.
“Me, too,” said Cass.
“Me, too,” said Chita.
“Anyone want more eggnog?” Stacy asked.
Life should be a joy, not a burden.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Jen was rushing down the street, late for lunch with her sister, when her cell phone rang. It was her friend Ariel.
“Hey, a bunch of us are going to try that new restaurant in Belltown Friday night. Want to come?”
A night out with the girls would have been a welcome change but... “I can’t. I have—”
“A candle party,” Ariel finished with her. “All you do is work. Nobody sees you anymore.”
“I know.” Boy, did she.
“I’m not sure why I bothered to call,” Ariel complained.
She was one of the few who did keep in touch. Most of Jen’s other so-called friends had given up. “I’m glad you did.”
Ariel gave a snort of disgust. “You’re in deep shit with Caroline for missing most of her bachelorette party.”
“I know, but I had—”
“A candle party. There’s more to life than work. And you’d better realize that before you don’t have any friends left.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Jen said. “Glad to see you’re so supportive.” And understanding. Not. She couldn’t help it if she had bills to pay and a failed starter marriage to recover from. And family obligations.
“You wanna talk supportive? Who got you through your divorce?” Ariel demanded. “Who hosted your first candle party?”
Actually, her sister had. She’d been there for Jen when she was going through her divorce, too, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. Anyway, she wasn’t the total scum girlfriend Ariel was making her out to be. “Yeah? Well, who’s always been your designated driver whenever you wanted to go out dancing and get drunk?”
“Saint Jen, who I guess is now too good for her old friends.”
“I’m just busy!”
“If you’re too busy for your friends, you’re too busy,” Ariel snapped, and ended the call.
Jen stared at her phone in disbelief. What was that? Had Ariel just dumped her over the phone?
The clock on her phone screen told her she didn’t have time to stand around trying to figure it out.
Late. It seemed as if she was constantly running to something, constantly trying to catch up with her own life. But, like a dog chasing its tail, she never seemed to. She picked up her pace.
“So you finally got here,” her older sister, Toni Carlyon, greeted her as Jen approached their table at the Pink Door in Seattle’s Post Alley.
“I’m lucky I could get away at all.” Jen took in the antipasto platter sitting on the table. “Aw, you ordered my prosciutto.” She hugged Toni, then settled in her chair and snagged a slice of meat.
“Of course,” Toni said. “I always watch out for you, baby sister.”
Watching out for and bossing around were synonymous in her sister’s mind, but Jen let it slide. Bossiness was unavoidable when your sister was five years older than you. This lunch was a command performance, and Jen suspected she’d be getting a sisterly lecture along with the meal Toni had offered to buy her.
She could feel her sister’s eyes on her as she gave the waitress her order.
“You look like death on a stick,” Toni said once the waitress was gone. “Mom’s right. You are going too hard.”
Jen opened her mouth to say, “I am not.” Instead, she said, “I hate my life,” and burst into tears.
Toni set her glass of wine in front of Jen. “Drink this.”
“I have to go back to work,” Jen protested.
“Drink it, anyway.”
Jen managed to stem the tears enough to take a sip of wine.
“Jen-Jen, you’ve got to stop doing so much,” Toni scolded. “Start saying no.”
“I
