The Life You've Imagined Read Online Free PDF Page B

wasn’t like I hired a skywriter. I seem to remember everyone asking everyone else for their scores. Anyway, it was just a number, wasn’t it?”
    “Well, since you’re a lawyer now,” Sarah says, “I don’t suppose it was just a number.”
    I say, “Well, I think—”
    “Oops, I’m getting a call. If you’ll excuse me,” Anna says, rummaging in her purse. I don’t remember hearing a ring, or even a vibration. She continues, “This could be a client. Nice to see you all. Congratulations, Amy.”
    She cuts across the grass toward the house, murmuring into the phone.
    I whirl on the girls. “Why did you have to be like that?”
    “Like what?” Sarah says. They stare at me blank-faced. “We were just kidding around. It’s a compliment that she’s so smart and did so well.”
    “Yeah,” Kristi says. “Not our fault she can’t take a compliment. She always did have a stick up her ass.”
    “She was always very nice!” I shout, sloshing my drink again, so I suck it down to keep from spilling it. Nicer to me than you ever were , I almost say.
    “Geez, Amy, relax. What’s gotten into you? We better get you something to eat.”
    “Not too many carbs,” I say, watching my feet wobble in the grass as one of the girls steers me toward the food. “No pasta salad and definitely no bread . . .”
    I don’t feel so good. Paul is saying something to me, but it’s echoing funny, like he’s speaking into a metal pipe.
    He’s talking about getting me home, but I’m having a hard time going down this hill, was it always so steep here, whoops!
    He scoops me up like a doll. “I’m glad I’m so thin you can do this,” I tell him, but I don’t think he hears me. He’s saying something like “good grief” and “how many did you have?”
    My fingers won’t hold still long enough for me to count.
    He plops me into the passenger seat of his car and hands me a bottle of water, but I can’t get the cap off. As the car starts to turn in the circle drive, it’s like a rollercoaster and . . .
    Uh-oh. That’ll be tough to clean up.
    “Dammit!” Paul says, stopping the car and pulling out a hanky from his pocket.
    I lean against the cool glass of the window and mumble, “I was only trying to live a little.”

Chapter 7
    Anna
    “N ice to see you all,” I lie, and then, “Congratulations, Amy,” which is not a lie, because I’m happy for her that she lost all that weight and landed an eligible bachelor.
    Bully for her.
    When I’m pretty sure the girls can no longer tell I didn’t get a real phone call—though it wasn’t so plausible, since my phone never rang—I drop the phone back in my bag and turn toward the bluff over the lake, always my favorite spot here at the Beckers’.
    The sun is poised like a diver, ready to plunge into the haze over the lake. The sun burns red and casts the clouds around it in blushing pink. There are probably pretty sunsets in Chicago, but frankly I never see them. My office window doesn’t face west.
    When will Cami get back with the food? I feel like the rest of the party is circling me, wondering why I’m here, and it’s only a matter of seconds until someone else approaches to fish for whether I’ve returned for good. Can’t a girl take a vacation? Bereavement leave, whatever.
    “Anna? Anna Geneva?”
    “Anna-Anna Geneva, at your service.”
    “As I live and breathe!” Mrs. Becker swoops in on me and touches my shoulders lightly. “I’m so happy that William ran into you at the store!”
    Sure, he ran into me there. As if the county’s most successful property developer stops by the Nee Nance Store to buy Miller Lite. No, he heard from somebody who heard from somebody . . . but anyway, I don’t care how. “I’m happy to be invited,” I tell her. “It feels like home here.”
    Mr. Becker comes up behind her, and as he moves to stand next to his wife, I see his son coming up behind him to join us.
    I step forward into Beck’s embrace, and it’s