Big Boned

“Uh,” Tad says, looking abashed. “What kind of outdoors activities do you enjoy?”

“All of them,” Muffy says, without skipping a beat. “Why? What are your favorites, Tad?”

Noticing that Cooper is still full-on staring at me—and also giving me come-over-here hand motions—I say, “Could you guys excuse me for a minute? I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Muffy purrs, reaching to adjust Tad’s natural hemp fiber tie, which has gone a little askew. Tad, naturally, looks alarmed.

But also a little excited. It’s pretty obvious he can’t keep his gaze from dipping below the kick pleat of Muffy’s pencil skirt.

Geez. Men.

“What,” I say, when I reach Cooper, who had started heading toward me the minute he saw me disengage from Tad and Muffy.

“What was that all about?” he wants to know, jerking his head in Tad’s direction.

“None of your business,” I say. “What do you want?”

“Did he ask you to move in with him?” Cooper asks. “Or not?”

“I told you,” I say. “None of your business.” I can’t help noticing that, over in one corner, Gavin and Jamie are making out. God. Get a room, already.

“It sort ofis my business, as I believe I’ve pointed out before. But I’ll let it go for now. I did a little digging on your guy Reverend Mark when I got home,” Cooper says. “Nice speech in there, by the way.”

“Thank you for clapping like that,” I say, meaning it. “Really. I mean, Owen was a bit of a stick in the mud, but nobody deserves to go that way.”

“Well, Halstead had reason to be scared,” Cooper goes on. “Maybe even reason enough to kill. He was fired from his last job for ‘undisclosed reasons,’ and the same thing with the job before that. You know what ‘undisclosed reasons’ means.”

“Sure,” I say bitterly. “It means that once again, the HR Department at prestigious New York College didn’t check a potential employee’s references before hiring him. So what do we do?”

Cooper looks over my shoulder. “I don’t know, but we better think fast, because he’s heading this way. I think he wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, I know he wants to talk to me,” I say. “I PNG’d him this afternoon. He’s probably stinking mad about it.”

“Heather,” Cooper says, taking my arm and dragging me toward him, so that suddenly his mouth is next to my ear, his breath warm against my cheek… causing an instant reaction down my spinal column, which seems to have turned to Jell-O. “Whatever you do… do not leave this room with him. Do you understand? Stay where I can see you.”

All I have to do is turn my head, just a tiny bit, and those lips that are next to my ear will be on my mouth.

I’m just saying. That’s all I’d have to do.

I don’t, of course.

But I could.

“Okay,” I say weakly.

And then he lets go of me.

19

Cashmere and suede from Milan and Paris

Coaxing me, why don’t you wear us

It’s not the cost, or that I’m mean

It’s just you don’t come in size 14

“Big-Boned Girl’s Lament”

Written by Heather Wells

Miraculously, I don’t fall to the floor. I don’t know how. But somehow, my knees support me, and I remain upright.

What is it about Cooper Cartwright that his merest touch is capable of turning my spine to Jell-O, and makes my knees weak? It’s just so… wrong. I mean, that he should be capable of doing that, whereas my own boyfriend—er, now ex-boyfriend—just… couldn’t.

Mark Halstead is smiling as he comes toward me, his stride unhurried, his face relaxed. Muffy is right. He is cuter than Jake Gyllenhaal. No wonder so many of the girls in Jamie’s youth choir didn’t mind it when he “accidentally” felt them up.

“It’s Heather, right?” he says, when he finally reaches me. He’s taken his robe off. Underneath, he’s wearing a navy blue sports coat and khakis. Khakis! At least they don’t have pleats in the front.

I check out his shoes, then quickly look away with a shudder.

Oh yes. Loafers. With tassels.

He looks like Tinker Bell. If Tinker Bell were dark-haired. And a lot hairier.

“Yeah,” I say. I have a sudden and nearly uncontrollable urge to rush at the cookie table and shove as many as possible into my mouth. They’re the good kind, too. Homemade (well, by the bakers over at the student center), not store bought. There are plenty of chocolate chips left. And even some brownies.

“Listen,” Mark says. “I know this probably isn’t the best place to bring this up, but I heard something kind of disturbing earlier today, and I can’t help thinking there must have been some kind of misunderstanding, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to try to clear the air now, if I can, so we can just move on as soon as possible… ”

That’s it. I need a brownie. I turn and head for the nearest table.

“It’s not a misunderstanding,” I say, as I carefully choose a chocolate chip cookie—without nuts—that’s nearly as big as my head. “I received a complaint about you from a resident, and for her physical and emotional safety, until you’ve been cleared in a formal hearing by the board of trustees, I’ve made you persona non grata in my building.”

Reverend Mark’s dark eyebrows go up—way up—in surprise. “A formal—wait. You’re kidding me, right?”

I sink my teeth into the cookie. Delicious. That’s the thing about homemade cookies, as opposed to the stuff you buy in stores. They’re made with real butter, none of this hydrogenated stuff that, let’s be honest, you really don’t even know what it is.

“No,” I say. I don’t chew. I don’t have to. The cookie is melting in my mouth. “I’m really not.”

“How can you just categorically take this girl’s word over mine?” Reverend Mark demands.

“Because,” I say. “I like her.”

“Don’t I even get a chance to defend myself?”

“Sure,” I say. “At the formal hearing.”

“But I don’t even know what I’m being accused of,” Mark bleats. “It’s not fair!”

“Oh,” I say, swallowing. “I think you know. You already spoke with—and I’m using the term loosely. A less generous person might have said ‘threatened’—the victim, and tried to talk her out of writing a formal complaint once. It’s just lucky for you the person she was supposed to meet with in order to issue that complaint died suddenly.” I narrow my eyes as I gaze up at him. “Isn’t it?”

But Mark doesn’t take the bait. Instead he says, looking agitated, “You don’t understand. Jamie Price is a sweet girl, but she’s… confused. She misinterprets gestures of friendship as sexual in nature.”

I sincerely hope he doesn’t turn around and notice that Jamie is currently off in one corner of the room in a clench with her tongue down the throat of a certain fellow New York College junior.

“She’s actually disturbed,” Mark goes on. “I was going to recommend her for counseling.”

“Really,” I say. The cookie, which I’ve finished, is not sitting well. Maybe I need something else, to sort of settle my stomach. Only what? I notice that Tad and Muffy, over by the punch bowl, are still talking. So punch is out. I also notice that Cooper is keeping an eye on me, as he’d promised. He’s standing by the Mexican wedding cakes. Mmmm, Mexican wedding cakes. Tender, flaky, buttery morsels…

“This is all stuff,” I tell Reverend Mark, “that you can bring up at the hearing. Although you might want to consider looking into some counseling for yourself, too.”

“Counseling for myself?” Mark looks astonished. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Well,” I say. My gaze lands on the Mrs. Veatches, who are shaking hands with President Allington and his wife, who appear to be leaving. President Allington is keeping a hand on his wife’s arm… the only thing, as far as I can tell, that’s keeping her upright. “The birds,” Mrs. Allington keeps saying, meaning her pet cockatoos, whom she often references in moments when she’s imbibed a little too much. “The birds.”