A Widow Redefined by Kim Cano Page A

you might enjoy these,” she said. “I know you work in an office, and I think these pieces will be just right.”
    “Thank you,” I replied, finally getting words to form in my mouth, “but I can’t accept these. They’re too expensive.”
    “No they’re not,” she said, waving them off like it was no big deal. “They’re samples left over from the show.”
    I’m smart enough to know (from watching Sex and the City) that runway samples were a size two. These were a six—my size. How the hell did she know my size? Something about this felt terribly wrong.
    “What do you think?” she asked.
    My first thought was “you’re giving me a present because you’re guilty about something, and you’re trying to make up for it.” My second thought was maybe rich people just did stuff like this; maybe it was normal, like giving half your sandwich to a co-worker who forgot to pack lunch. I’d have to decide on a correct answer to continue this charade, so I broke down and gave in to the truth. An embarrassingly selfish truth.
    “I love them,” I replied. “I was just thinking I needed to get out there and buy some new clothes.”
    We smiled at each other, then I took another glance at the daffodils sitting on Sabrina’s dresser. When my gaze returned to her, she wore a poker face.
    “Would you like to eat lunch first or go swimming?”
    The thought of eating and then putting on my suit didn’t appeal to me. “Let’s swim first.”
    I followed Sabrina back into the foyer, where she reached for my bag and showed me to the guest bathroom. Once inside, I changed and surveyed myself in the mirror.
    I was still average. None of the workouts had made a visible difference.
    Oh well, I thought, then slipped on my flip-flops, put my hair in a ponytail and stuffed my clothes back in the bag.
    When I stepped out of the bathroom, Sabrina wasn’t there, so I hovered in the hallway, mentally squashing my desire to meander about and snoop. Part of me feared Henry would show up— out of nowhere—with a Coke or Sprite in tow.
    “Looks like we’re all set then,” I heard Sabrina say.
    I turned and was stunned by what I saw. There she was in a black one-piece swimsuit with plunging neckline. Her long, dark hair was pulled up and wrapped in a salon-worthy twist. I looked down. She wore black kitten heels, too.
    A wave of depression hit me as I realized I could never compete with her. She was a Chanel ad; I was a soccer mom.
    “Yep,” I said. “All set.”
    We walked to the indoor pool area, kicked off our shoes and got in. The water was perfect, room temperature.
    “This is refreshing,” I said. “And a lot quieter than the pool I usually go to.”
    “Which pool is that?” she asked.
    “There’s an indoor pool at the health club, which I’ve been to only a few times, and there’s the outdoor community pool I take Tyler to in summer.”
    “That sounds like fun,” she said. “I’d love to have a child to go places and do things with.”
    Now we were getting somewhere, getting into her brain.
    “It’s fun, but it can be exhausting,” I admitted. “When there’s two of you to share the parenting, it’s easier.”
    “It must be difficult for you,” she said.
    We had stopped swimming and were just standing in the water, talking.
    “My mom moved in with us and helps out a lot. Plus, Tyler is like a thirty-year-old man in a child’s body.”
    Sabrina let out a laugh. “I remember Justin saying that.”
    Her familiarity with Justin was beginning to get on my nerves.
    “That’s my husband,” I said, “always the bragger.”
    Did I overemphasize the word “my?”
    “Yes,” Sabrina quickly added. “He always spoke very highly of both you and your son.”
    I decided to take the conversation back to where I wanted it to go. I was here to learn her secrets.
    “So you mentioned the outfits you gave me were leftover from a show?”
    “Yes,” she said. “We just had a show in Paris. It went well, but