by Joan Cohen
Vince opened the door as she gathered her coat and purse and gave Lou a quick nod goodbye. As she walked out, he added, “Please remember our preference that you finish the month working from home.” She walked slowly down the hall, trying without success to replace her misery with indignation. Not till she reached marketing, where her staff crowded around her, did she recover.
What would she do next, they wanted to know. Would she join another technology company? Would she take them with her? Jeanne laughed. “Six months into a pregnancy isn’t the most propitious time for a job search, but, if I haven’t made it clear before . . .” She looked from face to face. “I value each and every one of you.” Clara and Mariana hugged her first, and the others followed. Jeanne choked up and silently vowed to stay away from Salientific, for her own sake, if not the board’s.
Maggie refused to tell her where they were going but insisted they leave early in the morning. “It’s a long drive, so wear something comfortable.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can’t fit into anything that doesn’t have an elastic waistband. I’m not even sure I can fit in your car. How long a drive is long?”
“I’m not telling you. You’ll go look at some online map and plot the circumference. Then you’ll start calculating the probabilities of different destinations.”
Jeanne pretended to be miffed. “When did you become so mean? You’re a nurse.”
“Yes, but not your nurse.” Maggie instructed Jeanne to be ready at eight thirty.
The morning air smelled like snow, and the clouds were a textured gray. Although Jeanne knew the driving might become difficult later, Maggie was in charge. How freeing that was. In fact, Jeanne had begun to appreciate being without responsibilities. She felt lightened by having shared what she knew about Parker and Alberta with Lou and Vince. She’d heard not a word from Salientific and hoped Bart had followed her advice.
She and Maggie were on the Mass Pike and had passed Worcester when Jeanne asked if they were headed for Western Massachusetts.
“You mean what the weather forecasters call Western Mass? Springfield?”
“Where then? The Berkshires?”
Maggie laughed and didn’t respond. When they took the Lee exit at ten thirty, Jeanne’s hunch was confirmed. They followed local roads traveling north and turned off Route 7 after passing Lenox. The area was sparsely settled, but the views were lovely, and Jeanne felt herself growing drowsy. Suddenly Maggie turned left into what appeared to be a farm and stopped at the main house. Jeanne jerked awake.
She could hear mooing and a dog barking, but the rest of the animals must have been in the fields or the barn. A short, sturdy man with a ruddy complexion emerged from the house, donning a parka and baseball cap as he approached. “Welcome to Pine Tree Kennel. James Murdock.” His handshake was vigorous.
Maggie was triumphant. She turned to Jeanne. “You had no idea, did you?”
Jeanne had no chance to answer before James interjected, “I understand you’ve recently lost a dear canine friend, a golden, and are in need of another.” He winked at Maggie. “We’re in the business of helping people like you.” He gestured for them to follow him and led them through the house and down the basement stairs. Jeanne needed only a glimpse of the low-fenced pen with its eight golden puppies to sigh with pleasure.
Five were playing, two were sleeping intertwined, and one stood by the fence looking at them. The mother sat down beside James, who proceeded to scratch her behind the ears, but she never took her eyes off her offspring. “I’m afraid two of Amber’s puppies are gone already, but there wasn’t a bad one in this whole litter. Want to know about the father?”
“Not important to me,” Jeanne replied with a meaningful glance at Maggie.
“What kind of dog do you like? Real active? Low-key?”
Jeanne knelt beside the pen and looked up at James. “Which one would make a good therapy dog?”
Maggie’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were thinking about that.”
James took off his cap and scratched his head. “The parents, Amber and Rudy, neither one of them is aggressive—nice dispositions both. Just pick the puppy you like best. That’s always my advice. A dog that’s good for therapy is well trained, so you’re the one who makes the dog fit the job.”
Maggie crouched beside Jeanne. “Don’t you just want to take them all home?”
Jeanne nodded and watched. She held her hand out to the puppy eyeing her at the fence, and he came right over. She petted him gently and picked him up. “He has that wonderful puppy smell.” She rubbed her cheek on his head before reluctantly placing him back in the pen. One by one, she engaged with each puppy. Maggie cooed to whichever dog seemed to want her attention. The first male trotted around the inside of the fence as Jeanne visited with each of his siblings.
“I’m not sure which one you’re going to choose,” James said, “but that little boy seems to have chosen you.”
“He can tell he’s my favorite, and he’s just waiting for me to admit it.” She laughed and picked up the squirming puppy. She cuddled him while he licked her face with his tiny tongue. “Could he be any sweeter?”
“Good thing we have a two-hour drive home,” Maggie said, reaching out to pet him. “Plenty of time to come up with a name.”
“Since he’s going to be a therapy dog and bring comfort and pleasure to all, his name will be Mac, short for mac ’n cheese.”
“That’s a new one,” said James, scratching his head again, “but I guess Mac is manly enough for when he gets to be a big boy—and he will be big. You have some space for him to run? These dogs need exercise.”
Jeanne thought of her last sad walk through the conservation area to spread Bricklin’s ashes. Returning with a bounding puppy would be a welcome change. She assured James that Mac would get to run. She couldn’t wait to call Scott and tell him he had a new client.
James went to get the necessary papers, and Jeanne placed Mac back in his pen so she could find her checkbook. When she looked up, Maggie was staring at her.
“What?”
“I just can’t remember seeing you beaming like that.”
“I can’t remember either.” She threw her arms around Maggie’s neck. “In case I forget to tell you, you’re the best.”
CHAPTER 17
By the end of February, Mac was enjoying Jeanne’s undivided attention. She’d completed her obligation to Salientific and forced herself to stay away from her team and former fellow executives. She hadn’t even bothered to pick up her usual technology periodicals, renewing instead her acquaintance with the fiction section of the Wellesley Bookstore.
Mac was getting big but still seemed far from growing into his large paws. Jeanne enrolled him in puppy kindergarten and began to research the necessary course of training for therapy dogs. She had frequent conversations with him, as she had had with Bricklin, and though they were one-sided, she had no doubt a dog with such intelligent eyes could understand her every word.
“Your first real test,” she said to him one morning, “will be whether you can get along with the baby. Sooner or later, I’m sure, you’ll be friends.” She leaned over from her kitchen chair, a movement her belly was impeding more each day, and took his muzzle in her hands. “I don’t know how you do it, but you seem to absorb the heartache of those around you and provide contentment the way a plant takes in carbon dioxide and gives off oxygen.”
At the end of Mac’s day, a day that included a class, a run in the woods, errands in the car, and his long-awaited dinner, he stretched out for a nap on the living room rug. Wednesday evening meant Weight Watchers for Jeanne. She buttoned up her maternity coat and wrapped a blue scarf around her neck.
Winter seemed to have taken up permanent residence in New England, and though Mac was unfazed, Jeanne was sick of it. It didn’t help that she felt as wide as she was tall. “Ugh,” she said, jamming her wool hat down on her head till her ears were covered, “I can’t believe I have to weigh in.” Ma
c seemed unsympathetic, merely opening his eyes halfway.
Maggie grabbed Jeanne’s arm as soon as she arrived at the weigh-in area. “I thought you’d never get here. Someone asked me out today.” Her smile was triumphant.
“I want to know everything.”
Maggie glanced into the meeting room where Lucy was beginning her talk. “I’ll tell you later.”
After a sobering encounter with the scale, reaffirming the bad news delivered by the one in Dr. O’Rourke’s office, Jeanne slipped into the meeting and took the seat next to Maggie’s. She looked over at Maggie’s profile, which appeared to be that of a younger woman than the Maggie Jeanne had first met at Weight Watchers. She was lovely, and though to Jeanne it seemed every pound Maggie had lost had attached itself to her, Jeanne was thrilled to see her friend’s diligence paying off.
At the end of the meeting, Maggie pulled Jeanne to the last two seats in the back. Lucy was chatting with several members while the newbies arranged themselves in the front row waiting for her to begin her overview of program basics. “We should be able to grab a few minutes,” Maggie whispered.
“Why are you whispering? Is this guy a wanted criminal?”
“He’s perfectly lovely, the son of a resident. He’s come to talk with me a couple of times about his mother’s meds and potential drug interactions, and we just clicked. Today he asked me if I’d have dinner with him Sunday night.”
“To explore potential interactions?”
Maggie tossed her hair. “Maybe. What of it? More important, I have nothing to wear. I can’t wear scrubs, and the few nice outfits I own are too big. Do you have any time to shop with me Saturday? You must have some things you need for yourself too. It wouldn’t have to be all about me.”
Jeanne laughed. “Let’s see. In my current state, I can buy, uh, an umbrella, a scarf, and, of course, there’s always lipstick. Shoes? No, my feet are swollen.”
“Okay, it’s all about me.”
“Of course, I’ll go with you. Didn’t you take me shopping for maternity clothes? Just need to keep in mind Mac’s walk schedule. He and I pee equally often.” Lucy was starting her overview and made shooing motions in their direction, so they made hasty arrangements and bundled up to face the wind. As Jeanne hurried to her car, she smiled to herself at the happy prospect of a love interest for Maggie and forgot to grumble about Bertucci’s seductive aroma and infernal proximity to Weight Watchers.
Not until the next morning, as she lay in bed, did it occur to Jeanne that Maggie might well meet someone and marry, if not this new man, then someone else. Maggie’s husband and the probable father of her children could be cool at best to the idea of taking on Jeanne’s son. No matter how unwavering Maggie’s commitment, she’d have to put the needs of her own family first.
Jeanne massaged her belly. No turning back for me, she thought, but I have to let Maggie off the hook. Time and the changes it brought seemed to be on amphetamines this year. Even alone in her own home, with no job and few contacts, she couldn’t insulate herself. She reached down to pull Mac onto the bed. He sat as close to her as he could and offered his paw in sympathy.
Mariana’s call to Jeanne’s cell came in during what was now a waddling trek through the conservation area with Mac. If not for the sight of Mariana’s name on her caller ID, Jeanne would not have pulled off a glove to answer. Her curiosity about the company refused to be quashed, so when Mariana asked if she and Clara could meet her for lunch, Jeanne eagerly agreed.
California Pizza Kitchen was busy on Friday, a popular day to lunch out for the office crowd, but Jeanne had arrived early and snagged a table affording a clear view of the door. Clara’s towering figure was easy to spot, especially with her high-heeled black boots. Mariana trailed her, but she saw Jeanne first and told the hostess they knew their destination.
As they both tried to embrace Jeanne at once, Mariana pulled away. “Wow, you’re a lot tougher to hug now.”
“My doctor tells me the baby is the right size for approaching my ninth month, but I’m the one who’s extra-large.”
“Don’t complain to me about extra-large,” Clara said with a laugh, pulling out her chair. Jeanne agreed. No more body image discussions. How would the svelte Mariana have joined in anyway? They perused the menu quickly to ensure Clara and Mariana could return to the office for an afternoon meeting. Once they had ordered, they talked about Jeanne’s pregnancy, her ultrasounds, and how she felt, and Jeanne was grateful she didn’t have to field any at-your-age questions.
While Clara and Mariana shared the latest news in marketing, Jeanne started in on her greens with grilled chicken and wondered how she might elicit the information she really wanted. According to the two women, the company was close to hiring a new VP of marketing, and Clara, Mariana, and other key marketing staffers had been given an opportunity to interview the finalists. Jeanne was pleased the department would have a say in the hire—or, at least, management wanted the staff to feel they did.
Jeanne urged them to eat their lunch and promised not to ask any questions for at least five minutes, though she held herself in check for barely two before asking if Parker had returned from his medical leave. “It’s kind of weird,” Clara replied. “He’s back, but Vince is still there. It’s sort of like Parker reports to him, at least that’s what people in accounting say.”
“Vince?” Jeanne tried to be casual. “I thought Parker might be asked to fill Jake’s position. I’m sure Lou is maxed out, at least he was the last time I talked to him.”
Mariana leaned across the table and spoke softly. “I know I shouldn’t spread rumors, but the board has supposedly initiated a search for a CEO.” Jeanne brought her napkin to her mouth to hide her self-satisfied smile. She wondered whether the push for the search came from Lou or Vince.
“I have to confess,” Jeanne said, “I haven’t paid much attention to the trade press lately, so shoot me an email if someone gets the job, okay?”
They nodded, and Jeanne noticed when the check was paid, Mariana seemed reluctant to leave. “I wanted to say this earlier, Jeanne, but I wasn’t sure quite how to say it. I need to apologize to you. As many times as I go over the sales kickoff in my mind, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m responsible for what happened to Jake.”
“He would have unraveled at some point from his PTSD. I was the head of marketing. I should have forced Bart to abandon the military theme. Clara, help me out here.”
“Believe me, we’ve all been telling her it wasn’t her fault.”
“Suicides make everyone feel guilty. If you can’t shake the guilt, perhaps you should see a therapist for a bit.” Mariana nodded. “I bet Alberta can make a recommendation.”
“Gone,” Clara said, as they pulled on their coats. “Quit.”
“To go where?”
“Nowhere, at least no one knows where. I think she’s at home. We’ve got an HR consultant in the job as a temp.” Clara led the way out, and Jeanne put her hand on Mariana’s shoulder.
“Has Bart backed off?”
Mariana nodded. “All business.” For now, Jeanne thought, or perhaps he’s learned to be more discreet.
Over the next several days, Jeanne considered what Clara and Mariana had shared with her, and though much of it was welcome news, she couldn’t seem to put Salientific out of her mind. Every time she thought about the company, Parker’s sneering face surfaced. He excelled at creating the impression his every action was for the benefit of the company. He seemed to believe it himself. He was a negative leader, the worst kind.
When she and Maggie made their way through the Saturday foot traffic to Macy’s, Jeanne related her concern. “What’s the probability he won’t undermine the next CEO? Miniscule.” Maggie stopped in her tracks. “Look out,” Jeanne said, grabbing her as a stroller plowed into the back of Maggie’s legs.
Maggie and the young woman pushing the stroller apologized to each other, and Maggie turned an accusing eye to Jeanne. “That was your fault. I wasn�
�t expecting to hear the word probability come out of your mouth again, and what happened to disengaging from Salientific? Any further signs of a relapse, and I’ll be forced to confine you to a padded cell.”
“No need. Having to watch you try on all the clothes I can’t fit into will be punishment enough.” Jeanne sighed. “This is going to be a tough month for me—no job, just a lot of long walks with Mac.”
“You poor thing. Where did I put my hanky? Now that I think of it, I know something you can do. I’ve been reading up on an illness that was discovered relatively recently called Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy.”
“Is that the professional football player condition?”
“It’s called CTE for short. You’re partly right. It is a syndrome seen in professional contact sports like football, hockey, and boxing, in which concussions are frequent, but signs of it have been found in the brains of amateurs too. Some parents are even pulling their kids out of contact sports. CTE causes personality and cognitive changes, depression, and memory loss, among other symptoms, and it’s similar to early-onset Alzheimer’s. Didn’t you say your father was a jock? I mean, not to raise false hopes or anything, but isn’t it possible that was what was wrong with him rather than a genetic defect?”
“From your lips to God’s ears, Maggie. I’ll check it out.”
March passed, and Jeanne did her research on CTE. She arranged breakfast with Luke Menton to hear about the latest research, and while she wouldn’t go so far as to say she was comfortable with ambiguity, she was growing accustomed to living with indeterminate risk. She had no way of knowing for sure just how much football her father had played or how many concussions he’d had, but maybe, just maybe, CTE was what he had and not Alzheimer’s.
Mac, Jeanne’s constant companion, passed from puppy-hood into doggy adolescence. He was growing large enough that one vigorous wag of his tail could clear a coffee table. He had the sensibilities of a puppy with the stature of an adult golden, yet he showed no signs of reaching his full size.