He laughed. “Naw. I just know a lot of people on South Beach.”
“A lot of female people.”
“And now I know you.” He smiled at her.
Lucy was not often tongue-tied, but she was a little rusty at engaging in small talk with gorgeous hunks. The truth was, she felt just plain defenseless against Theo Redmond and his enchanting smile.
“Where are we going, Lucy?”
She’d apparently been staring at him in a trance, walking aimlessly. It was a wonder she hadn’t flattened a few pedestrians.
“Wherever you take me,” she said, flinching at the lovesick eighth grader she’d become, worrying she’d just officially blown her second chance at a first impression.
But Theo only laughed. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You’re in good hands, Lucy Cunningham.”
Office of Doris Lehman, MSW, PhD “Help. I have the hots for my trainer.”
Lucy had barely flopped down into the familiar peach damask love seat when she made that pronouncement. She let her eyes settle on the peaceful Japanese paper folding screen in front of the window, the focal point for her meditative stares the whole year she’d been in Miami. Her eyes scanned the familiar graceful sweep of bamboo leaves and transparent cherry blossoms, the little tiny female mouths of the little tiny women in tiny kimonos and tiny wooden platform sandals.
Tiny, tiny, tiny.
Lucy’s therapist sat as she usually did, serene, neat, notebook perched on a crossed thigh, eyeglasses tucked on top of her heavily sprayed salt-and-pepper pageboy like a headband.
“Have you told him you find him attractive?”
“I can’t stop drooling long enough to form the words.”
“I see.”
“Besides, it’s the Brad Zirkle thing all over again, you know?” Lucy leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. “Why do I always go for the ones who are out of my reach? Why do I set myself up like that?”
Doris smiled politely. “From how you’ve described him, it would seem Theo is much nicer than Brad Zirkle.”
“Yeah, Mr. Wonderful is still wonderful.” Lucy sighed, then snarled at the geisha girls, trying to picture how her size 22 hips would look in a kimono pulled that tight at the waist. If she had a waist. She used to have one, if she recalled correctly, but she couldn’t remember how it felt to walk around with an indentation somewhere near the center of her body.
“I sense some anger in how you describe him.”
Lucy had to laugh. “Not anger. I’m just kind of ashamed of myself for fantasizing about him the way I do-you know, him naked, feeding me Lorna Doone cookies while I watch Andy Griffith reruns.”
Doris began to scribble on her clipboard.
“Am I having a breakthrough?”
Doris grinned. “I’m not sure yet. Please go on.”
“Theo seems pretty shallow, but God is he hot, Doris. I’m talking perfect. Theo Redmond is perfect. He’s so perfect that it doesn’t even matter that he’s shallow. Did you know that most of his clients are models?”
“Shallow.”
“Yes.”
“And you know this how?”
Doris’s tone of voice surprised Lucy. “Look, he’s very nice. All I’m saying is based on all that perfection, I’m thinking he must focus more on his appearance than his character. It must take all his time to have that perfect body. The perfect hair. That perfect smile.”
“I see,” Doris said. She put down her pen. “Just as one might assume that an overweight person is a lazy slob?”
“Doris!” Lucy sat back in the love seat and blinked a few times.
“Just a little food for thought, Lucy.”
Chapter 2
January
Journal Entry Jan 1
Breakfast: 3A c oatmeal; 1 c skim milk; ` c strawberries; half decaf/half regular coffee
Lunch: 3 oz chicken breast; 1 slice whole wheat bread; 1 tbsp light mayo; celery; lettuce; tomato; 1 med apple
Dinner: 3 oz corned beef; 1 c cooked cabbage; large salad w/orange and red peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and 2 tbsp light ranch dressing
Snack: 1 c plain yogurt; 1/4 c light granola; 1 orange
Affirmation for Today:
I am strong enough to refrain from killing any or all
members of my family.
“Lucinda, honey, would you pass the soda bread?”
Lucy handed the still-warm Irish bread to her mother and tried not to let the heavenly scent enter her nostrils and pierce her primordial brain, which would force her to stick her face directly into the basket and growl like a starving alley dog as she ripped off giant hunks with her incisors.
“You’re eating like a bird.” It was the fifth time her father had made that observation since they sat down to dinner. “No potatoes. No bread. Are you sick?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Bill. Leave her alone. You know she’s on that diet.” Lucy watched with envy as her mother slathered butter all over a thick chunk of soda bread and savored a healthy bite.
Lucy reached for her glass of ice water and sipped demurely, looking around the New Year’s Day table, wondering why she’d thought she could survive another visit to the Land o‘ Food when Christmas had been such an unmitigated disaster. She still hadn’t come clean to Theo about the pecan pie from December 26 and the deception was gnawing a hole in her soul. She’d promised that everything that went into her mouth would go into her food journal, and she’d already blown it, not even a month into her new life. And tomorrow was her first weigh-in! On live television!
She had no choice but to come clean. It’s not like she could say she forgot she ate half a pie.
“What kind of diet is it again, honey?”
The kind where you sneak a half a pecan pie.
“It’s not a diet, Mother. Lucy calls it a fitness and nutrition plan.” This clarification came from Lucy’s older sister, Mary Fran, who was shoveling some kind of green bean paste from a jar into the open maw of her youngest.
Lucy watched her nephew spew most of it out and bang his fists on the high chair tray. She could relate. If she didn’t get a piece of that soda bread in the next five seconds, she’d be banging her fists on the table as well. Somehow, she’d survived an entire month eating nothing but whole grains, fresh produce, and lean cuts of meat. What the hell kind of torture was that! Nothing fried. Nothing gooey. Nothing with icing on it. Nothing even vaguely cupcake-shaped. Lucy didn’t think she’d make it through this dinner without shaming herself.
“She doesn’t need to diet. She’s beautiful.” Her father patted Lucy’s hand. “Have some potatoes, sweetheart. You won’t have good luck this year unless you do.”
“Where do you get this stuff, Daddy? I swear!” Mary Fran wiped a green smear off little Holden’s face while attempting to feed herself. Lucy decided it was no wonder Frannie was thin. She never had a second to eat. Maybe having three babies in five years was the secret to staying thin.
Lucy’s eyes strayed to her mother. Cancel that.
“So how much poundage you dropped so far, Luce?” Dan could always be counted on to cut to the chase. That’s what brothers were for, she supposed.
Her mother gasped. “Danny! What a rude thing to ask! I hope to God that’s not the way you speak to your patients!” Then, from across the table, she produced a sympathetic smile for Lucy. “So how much have you lost, honey?”
Lucy was in the throes of a bad case of deja vu and looked at her watch. It wasn’t like she could feign a work emergency today and get in the car and drive the forty-five minutes to Miami. Even Stephan Sherrod, the world’s worst boss, managed to avoid marketing and advertising emergencies on New Year’s Day.