Conversation – Anne

Conversation -- Anne

He didn't really know her

In sticking with the theme of some other conversation stories, this is one continuous (long) conversation. It isn't anything terribly serious, fairly light, really. This story involves the aftermath of cheating, in this case nearly two years after the cheating and over a year since the divorce. If you're looking for a cheating story, then you probably should skip this one.

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Jim Davidson was looking forward to the evening. He was cutting out a few minutes early on a Friday afternoon to buy a few things for a nice evening by himself. Being your own boss allows you to get away with things like that. His partner and their admin were glad to see him in good spirits. It had taken him over a year since his divorce to be the guy they were used to working with.

His favorite Friday afternoon grocery was The Fresh Market on 280 in Inverness, Alabama just south of Birmingham and the redneck autobahn, a.k.a., Interstate 459. The grocery was only ten minutes from his house which sat on a nice lake near there.

Financially, he had survived his divorce in decent shape, and his architecture firm continued to consistently grow a little each year. Except for the occasional sad memory, he was doing well...purposefully alone.

Since his grown kids were busy that weekend, he was planning on a little grilling that evening and began filling his cart with items he would need for the night and the weekend.

Anne Grantham had been alerted to his leaving work, and high-tailed it to The Fresh Market to hopefully await his arrival. It had been nearly two years since they had spoken, but she had snuck a couple of glimpses over the recent months, liking what she saw.

Seeing him enter the small grocery store, she waited a few minutes to let him get started. As she exited her car, she thought to herself, "Why am I nervous? I've only been planning this for six months and am probably one of the last people he wants to see. Oh, well. Here goes nothing?"

Entering the grocery, she picked up a handbasket and began searching for him. Once located, she casually, but deliberately, worked her way towards him trying not to be noticed, and once she was close enough, she acted surprised to see him and said, "Jim? Is that you?"

He truly was surprised. He didn't think he would ever see Anne again. The last he had heard she was still in Atlanta. To bump into her so close to his work or home was quite the shocker. Anne was his ex-wife's best friend for decades since they graduated from the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, together. They were each other's maid of honor.

His insides clenched at seeing her because the last time they talked didn't end very well, so any pleasantries coming from her were unexpected.

"Anne? Wow. What has it been, two, three years?" The last time he had laid eyes on her was when she had visited him and Stacy, his now ex-wife, at their house. He was in the doghouse at the time, again. He didn't know, then, that he was being kept there while his wife's affair was flaming hot.

She replied, "Almost three since we've seen each other, two since we've spoken. How have you been?"

"Oh. Okay, I guess. You know. Just keep plugging away at work and trying to see the kids when I can now that they have their own lives."

Truthfully, he wasn't thrilled to see her. Well, that wasn't quite accurate. He was always pleased to see her. Even at her current fifty-one, she could turn heads. Her auburn hair now had a few streaks of grey. He liked that she didn't seem to color it. She was about five-four, with an attractive figure. It did look like some of the cushioning she usually carried in her hips was missing.

She appeared to have just come from work, wearing a white blouse with a couple of buttons undone, and it was just thin enough to reveal something lacy underneath. Her wide-leg pants and low heels were very fashionable. She looked good, but then again, she usually did.

The truth was that while he always admired her appearance, he currently didn't have the desire to talk to her. The last time he did, she was supporting Stacy during the divorce, trying to get them back together, which kind of put them at odds. Shame. Before that, he had always liked her, even if they had never been great friends, themselves.

Trying to be polite, he asked, "How about you? How have you been?"

Anne recognized the disapproving look in his eyes, which didn't quite match the smile on his mouth. Ever the gentleman, she wasn't surprised at his politeness. As a matter of fact, she had been counting on it.

"Fine, I think. I've been here for about six months. I'm the new co-administrator down the street at Grandview Medical. With Tom, my son, out in Austin, and Jennifer, my daughter, here in Birmingham. I didn't have any reason to stay in Atlanta, so I moved here. This is practically next door to my parents' place down in Vance. It was an easy decision."

He thought Stacy was probably loving having her best friend in town.

"Oh. I didn't know you moved here. Uh, since the divorce, Stacy and I don't really talk."

Stacy, the ex-wife, is a professor at UAB, the University of Alabama at Birmingham. He was tipped off to her having an affair with a graduate student working on a Ph.D. He hired a PI to get evidence, which was accomplished quickly and easily. Their marriage had already been strained for years, so with the confirmation of her affair, he divorced her.

He asked, "Does that mean you and Adam are no longer together?"

"I thought you knew." She suspected that he didn't, because she was quite certain that he had stopped talking to Stacy long before the divorce was final, which meant it was unlikely that he would know of her divorce. She continued, "I found out he was cheating, again, around the same time you found out about Stacy's affair."

He replied, "Wow. I'm sorry. What is wrong with people? No, she never told me. Well, as I said, we don't talk much anymore."

"I'm sorry about you and Stacy. You didn't deserve that."

"Thanks, I didn't think so either. Well, neither did you."

"Thanks," she said.

Given that this was a conversation he didn't really want people to overhear, he guided her towards a quieter corner of the store. With more than a little heat in his voice, he asked, "If you mean that, then why were you so determined for me to forgive her? You were pretty hard on me."

She said, "I was just trying to be persistent and persuasive. I'm sorry if I hurt you. She was my best friend."

"You didn't hurt me. She did. You just took her side."

Anne tried to defend herself, "I didn't deliberately take her side. I just tried to support her. I despise what she did. At the time, I had hoped you could forgive her. Each of you had a lot invested in each other."

With obvious bitterness, he scoffed, "Apparently not enough for her."

She tried to get him reined back in. "I don't mean to get you riled up. Like I said, at the time she was my best friend."

He asked, "That's the second time you said, 'was'? You're no longer?"

"I try to be kind to her, but I don't really want to have much to do with her anymore. She became even more self-absorbed if that's possible. She still doesn't think she did anything wrong. Even if I hadn't experienced being cheated on myself, I happen to disagree."

"Tell me about it."

"It was her attitude that led me to recognize the signs, or symptoms, in my own husband. Which led to the investigator, who discovered his multiple affairs. God, I felt so stupid. I've wanted to apologize to you for the last two years. I was such an idiot. I'm truly sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. You don't owe me anything. I'm sorry to hear about you and Adam. I never knew a partner at a law firm could be so stupid as to cheat on someone as pretty and sweet as you."

She smiled and replied, "Who knew Ph.D. stood for Philandering ho Dumbass."

He smiled, "Did you just come up with that, or have you been working on it for very long?"

She laughed, "I've been working on it and other things. It was the best I could come up with."

He said, "I like it. My personal favorite is Pathetic harlot Dipshit."

She returned his smile.

Then he said, "It's the 'h' that causes the problem. If you throw it out it's much easier to come up with Pussygiving Devil or Philandering Dicksucker or Pretty Dumbslut.

She laughed out loud and nodded her head in approval.

He said, "Those aren't much better. Yes, you can tell that I was bitter for a long, long time, which is how I came up with those. But, no, I don't even try anymore. I've realized that thinking about her is just a waste of...well, of anything. So, I've stopped for the most part."

She looked in his cart and amongst the fruit and veggies, she spotted a large steak, a bottle of cabernet, and a tub of ice cream.

She asked, "Planning on eating that slab of beef tonight all by yourself?" She knew he was.

"That was the plan. I eat fairly healthy six days a week, but on the Friday nights when I'm alone, I splurge. I also plan to catch some of the Braves game."

"Hoping they can repeat?"

"Ha. As a long-suffering Braves fan, I know not to get my hopes up too high," he replied.

Smiling, she nodded her affirmation. "I've read where your firm has done well. Why isn't there a little honey sharing that steak with you tonight? They should be lined up waiting for you?" His firm had done well. Having graduated from Auburn with a degree in architecture, he and his business partner had slowly built themselves a successful firm.

He pretended to be indignant and asked, "What makes you think I don't have several at my home waiting for me in various states of undress?"

She laughed, liking this side of Jim that she rarely saw. She said, "Because I remember what Stacy said about you and what you liked to do on Friday nights when you're alone, and that, my friend, is a single steak for one. A big-assed steak, mind you, but it's just a single."

He chuckled a little, mostly to himself. "He noticed her basket was empty. "Are you still deciding what you want for tonight?"

"I already know exactly what I want. But it remains to be seen what gets eaten."

He was taken aback by that statement. Was she teasing him?

"What are you playing at Anne?"

"Ohh? What makes you think I'm playing at something?" There was a hint of innocent flirtation in the way she said that, but there was nothing innocent about what she had said previously.

"You're my ex-wife's best friend."

"Ex-wife and ex-best friend, remember?"

"I still feel like I'm wading through molasses trying to catch up with what is going on here. Is there something you want from me?"

"Seeing that you are alone for the night, I want to buy a bottle of wine and a steak, and I want you to cook it for me, while I make for you the best ratatouille with creamy parmesan polenta that you've ever had. Then we're going to sit together, eat our dinner, and consume that tub of ice cream directly from the container, and we're going to enjoy spending our time together until you get tired of me and kick me out."

He was stunned. Not at her boldness. She was always feisty, but with her offer.

"I don't get it, Anne. Not that I'm complaining. It's been a long time since I've cooked for anyone at my house except for my kids. So I love the idea of sharing a meal with a beautiful woman, but that's just it. I've seen half a dozen guys, many a lot younger than us, checking you out just since we've been talking. You're the one that has them lining up. Why me?"

"I'll tell you, but only if you cook for me."

He teased, "What if I'm a terrible cook? What if I turn your steak into a briquette? Are you sure you want to take that chance?"

"There is no chance involved in any of this. Besides, if that happens, then we'll eat what I fix and the ice cream. Problem solved. If worst comes to worst and I burn mine, too, then we'll order something and still share the ice cream."

"Who am I to turn down such a beautiful woman?"

She smiled at him and replied, "Flatterer. Just give me five minutes, and I'll check out with you."

She hurried through the store, getting each item from her already prepared list while he finished his shopping. A few minutes later, she met him at the checkout line.

As they walked out of the store, he asked, "Do you remember where I live, or do you need to follow me."

"I remember, but I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Ten minutes later, they were pulling into his garage, and grabbing their groceries.

As she got out, she asked, "Do you mind if I borrow your fridge, so these few things don't spoil?"

"Not at all. Help yourself."

She had always liked the house. It was a nice-sized house with plenty of wood and stone showing inside and out. Inside, it had an open floorplan and large windows that looked out across the flagstone patio and down towards the lake. Her previous house in Atlanta, Adam's monument to his success, had been much larger, but she always felt comfortable in Jim and Stacy's home.

Once inside, he saw her put a medium-sized bag of things in his fridge, and then she started getting her veggies ready and she found a pot for the polenta. He got the grill ready and prepped their steaks and the asparagus he planned to grill also.

While they worked on dinner and caught up with each other about their jobs and children, he offered her a glass of sangria from the fridge.

She accepted, took a sip, and said "Wow. You made this? This is really good."

"Thanks. I made it last night. I like to have a pitcher on hand for the weekend. The bottle of wine I bought tonight was to replace the one I used in this."

She took another sip and smiled at him. "I feel fairly certain that you didn't make enough. It's a good thing we each bought another bottle."

Okay. He realized that she was openly flirting with him, not that he minded because she was an attractive woman...or at least he was attracted to her. He assumed she had something on her mind regarding tonight. While the period of time during the divorce wasn't one of her best, she had at least always been friendly to him. He would try to enjoy the evening until she sprang what she wanted to say. He hoped she wasn't wiggling in some way to try to convince him to go back with Stacy, because that ship had not only sailed, but sunk.

They shared some light chit-chat while finishing dinner and grilling the steaks. They ended up sitting outside at the patio table to enjoy their dinner. It looked and smelled divine.

She said, "Thank you for cooking for me. This is the nicest meal I've had in some time."

"Thank you for coming. Your veggies and polenta are delicious, truly. I'm claiming those to be my leftovers for the week."

She chuckled at that and said, "I'm glad." She looked around and shook her head while saying, "I still cannot believe you got the house from her."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I made her an offer she couldn't refuse."

"So I heard. Still, I'm surprised."

He mused to himself the threats he used to get Stacy to agree, which was that he would send the PI report, photos, and videos to every single person they knew, plus to every administrator at the university. The split was still close to 50/50, and he bought her half of the house and kept his business. Their salaries were similar, so no alimony. He wasn't trying to bury her financially. He just wanted out...and the house.

Stacy had said, "He wasn't my student. It won't hurt me."

He had told her, "It may not hurt your career, but it won't exactly help your reputation."

Her parents were in their late seventies, and she was still on one committee at their church. He was filled with fury and righteous indignation at the time. Remembering it now, he was just sad.

Anne said, "I've always loved this place. You and she did well when you picked it out."

"I've always liked it too. Honestly, though, as much as I like it, I don't love it anymore. It's too big and contains too many memories. I just wanted it to spite her. Besides, in the two years since it's been mine, it's gone up in value another fifteen percent. When I retire, I'll sell it and move somewhere else.

"Oh? Retiring so soon? I just moved here."

He smirked at her. She was up to something. He would be surprised if it was the path she seemed to be pursuing. He wondered what her game was, but he would let it continue for now. He was enjoying himself with an attractive woman, on a Friday, for the first time in a long time.

He said, "I don't know. I'm not in a huge hurry to retire. I had envisioned us retiring together and traveling to those places we wanted to visit. I still want to go, but the idea of traveling alone has lessened any immediate desire to retire."

She said, "I know what you mean."

He shrugged. "I never did get to go to Spain. They have some great architecture there and many different historical styles. Classy. Beautiful. Not the modern crap that gets built so frequently these days. I will design whatever my clients want, but I try to push them towards classic beauty versus the monstrous modern trends."

"I've never been to Spain either. At least we all went to Paris together." She smiled while remembering the trip.

"That was mostly for you and Stacy. Adam and I were stuck watching the two of you shop most of the time."

"Hey. I happen to know she bought some nice lingerie for you while we were there."

Grumbling, he replied, "And she wore it exactly once."

"Oh." She paused.

Returning to a better subject, she asked, "Any other places you'd like to go?"

"Australia is pretty high on my list. If I ever make it to Spain, I might take the short flight to Marrakech. I hear it's relatively safe for what many consider an exotic location. After those? The usual. Milan or Vienna or maybe Argentina for a little tango in Buenos Aires or hiking in Tierra del Fuego."

"Wow. She never told me about your wanting to go to those places. She always talked to me about the two of you buying a place in the Caribbean or a timeshare in Hawaii."

Jim slowly nodded, "She always wanted to veg out on a beach for her vacations. I prefer to do things and see things. I will admit that I liked vegging-out the time that you joined us in Saint Martin when Adam had to work. I enjoyed that trip."

That brought out a chuckle from her, "As you should have. You mostly enjoyed it when all the strippers from that club started laying their towels next to ours on the beach and then asked you to rub sunscreen on them. They didn't even bother with bikini tops or cover-ups. They came straight from their cars that way. I thought Stacy's glare was going to burn a hole right through you. There must have been seven women and you rubbed sunscreen on at least four of them."

"Heh. It was five of the seven. Stacy and I were already having serious problems back then, so I didn't care if she got upset. It's not like she could talk to me even less or withhold more sex from me. I mean, once I was cut off, I was cut off. Hmph. I've remembered that afternoon many, many times over the years. I still think they were a little jealous of you."

Anne choked on her drink. She sputtered, "Me! Are you kidding? They. Were. Strippers. And they were gorgeous. Why would they be jealous of me?"

"You were the prettiest and classiest woman on the beach that day."

That threw her for a loop. "Thank you, Jim, but I think you're losing your mind. Those strippers were all fifteen to twenty-five years younger than me at the time. I was forty-five then, and my fair skin and freckles were nearly blinding everyone on that beach. I already had a few varicose veins showing. Even with sunscreen, I still had to stay under the umbrella to keep from burning. Besides, you weren't rubbing lotion on me, were you? And with my fair skin. I actually could have used the help."