“Oh, besides developing my love of scrapbooking?”
“Look, honey, I know you’re white, you don’t have to rub my face in it.”
I cackled. “That’s where you’re wrong. Next to me? With dreads hanging down her back? A woman named Tamsin. Wearing kente cloth, no less.”
“Ouch. Okay, I’m toast. I might as well be dating the Irish carpenter if my sisters are pasting photos into albums with some weird-ass confetti and shit.”
“And next you’ll be following NASCAR.” She snorted. “Next up,” I continued, “I think John has some more work for me. I really can’t do much until I hear from the Teaching Fellows, which’ll be in late May. Hugh sent me the rent money, and I canceled my cell phone. Mom’s been doing some of the cooking—”
“God help you,” Keisha muttered. “—and she’s kept the foreclosure folks at bay while she tries to figure out her finances. Nick gave her some advice on that, too.” I continued speaking over her snort. “She’s been picking up a few things here and there, which is nice. Not enough to live on, certainly, but I think I can make it until I hear.”
“And then what?”
“Well, if I get in, I start training—and getting paid—a few weeks after that. If I don’t? I have no frigging clue.”
“It’s sort of a plan.”
I sighed, and looked out the window. “I don’t know, Keish. I really don’t. I know I have to do something, but I don’t know what.”
“What’s up with the divorce proceedings?”
There I knew I was on solid ground. “Well, I was going to do it all amicably, back when Hugh had a job, but when he lost his job, and told me he couldn’t pay that much, I lost it. He shouldn’t be able to just tell me he can’t support our child and have that be okay.”
She cheered. “You go! I told you not to go down easy. Can I be blunt?”
“Um, like you never have been before?”
“Yeah, right. Well, Hugh is a lazy fuckhead. But, and this is the good part, he’s also a pussy. See, he’ll cave on the whole divorce agreement thing, and you can move forward knowing Aidan will always be okay.”
“If Hugh doesn’t pussy out and become a deadbeat dad.”
“If he does, I am getting a law degree so I can sue his ass.”
“Thanks, Keish. It’s nice to know you have my back.”
“Always, honey. Always.”
“So?”
Dr. Lowell pushed her glasses back up on her nose. She was wearing her most intimidating therapist’s outfit: a tasteful plaid suit with a double strand of pearls wrapped around her throat. If I saw her on the street, I would assume she was smarter than me, richer than me, and happier than me. All right, maybe I shouldn’t be going there.
“Well, let’s see. I did that big presentation, and I didn’t fall on my face. Or have lettuce in my teeth. I went to somebody else’s house to do scrapbooking—”
She raised her eyebrows in a question.
“—I’ll explain in a minute. I made a lunch date with some new friends, I asked a man out, an absolutely stunning man wants me but I don’t want him, my mother is not driving me crazy, Aidan is a sweetheart, Hugh is a jerk, and Keisha still lives three thousand miles away.”
She leaned back, resting her hands on her knees. Her manicure was perfect. “Sounds like you’ve had a busy week.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“You sound good.” She sounded pleased.
“I am.” Now I sounded pleased.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Sure. I mean, besides the list?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know if I can explain it.” She wrinkled her nose at me. I held my hand up before she could speak. “Okay, I know, that’s why I’m here. To explain. Okay. Well, with Simon, the thing is—he’s gorgeous, but he knows it. And honestly, I’m not sure how much we have in common, besides both of us thinking he’s beautiful. He doesn’t read, he’s a total go-getter business guy, and Aidan doesn’t like him.”
“Has Aidan told you so?”
I grimaced. “He asked me if foreign people—Simon’s British, remember—were supposed to be here because we got our freedom from his country. And was there someone we should call to tell on him so he’d have to leave.”
“Okay, then. So you’ll dump him. That must feel—”
“Weird. Yeah, it is. I did dump him already, actually. And I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever dumped anyone before. Not really. Especially not someone I’d usually be gnawing on my arm to get.”
“But it’s not right. And you know it. So you did the right thing and stopped it before either one of you gets hurt.” She gave an approving nod.
“Mm.”
“How’s the financial situation?”
I heaved a sigh. “Bad. Not as bad as I’d first thought, but pretty bad. I’m checking into alternate insurance plans, and Mom and I are cooking, but—well, you know, I haven’t paid you in a while.” I knotted my fingers together and leaned forward on her couch. She waved her hand in dismissal.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s worry about getting you on your feet first and then paying me. I’ll survive.” Good, because without her, I couldn’t have survived myself this long.
“Do you really think I’ll be able to make it?” I watched my hands clench each other.
“Look at me, Molly.” I looked up and met her gaze. It was kind and warm. Immediately my insides relaxed a tiny bit. This was why she was worth every penny I didn’t have. “I have confidence in you. You have to have confidence in you. And I know you can do this, and be happy.”
“Funny, a lady at a bar told me the same thing,” I said in a reflective tone. I flapped my hands. “But never mind. Really, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I mean, Hugh always talked about getting things, and buying stuff, and eating fancy meals—me, I just want enough to be able to give Aidan some of the toys he wants, have seafood once in a while, and buy new jeans in the fall. That’s it. It doesn’t take much.”
“And you’re more than capable of managing it. I know you are. Do you know you are?”
I exhaled. A big, life-affirming sigh that seemed as if it could sweep away all my doubts and insecurities. “Yes. I know I am.”
She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “See? And once you know that, you can do anything.”
“Now you sound like Helen Reddy.”
She looked puzzled.
“ ‘I Am Woman?’ Australian pop singer from the 1970s? Don’t tell me you never heard that song.”
She chuckled. “Yes, of course. And speaking of which, how are things going with Hugh?”
I stretched my legs out in front of me and clasped my hands behind my head. “He’s going to regret my going all Helen Reddy on his ass. I’ve asked my lawyer to try to get sufficient child support, to put everything down in writing. Thank God I paid him in advance. Originally, we had a gentleman’s agreement without official documentation, but since he’s no gentleman, I’m not going to leave it up to chance. Of course, it could take longer this way, but that doesn’t matter to me.”
She beamed at me. “Roar away, Molly. You are Reddy for life.” She emphasized the word so I’d know she was making a pun. A really, really bad pun.
It was a little later than usual when I finally left Dr. Lowell’s office. I’d gotten stuck in the elevator with a messy kid who just had to press all the buttons on the way down. From the forty-third floor. His smile reminded me of Aidan’s. His baby-sitter shot me a thankful look as I told him it had always been my dream to do the same thing. It was about fifteen minutes later when I emerged from the double glass doors onto the sidewalk. The subway was a few blocks away, and it was fairly balmy, for March, at least.
I was just reaching into my bag for my MetroCard when I slammed into him. The impact sent my purse flying out of my hands, and I stumbled a little.
“Molly?” A firm arm held me by the elbow. Nick’s blue eyes held a look of concern. I guess
they should, given my legs were akimbo and my purse was upside down on the ground. If I wasn’t mistaken, a tampon was making its slow escape from the depths of my bag. I eased my foot around and stomped on it, then bent over and quickly stuck it back into the bag.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice all rumbly and gruff, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.
I nodded, zipping my bag closed. “Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I looked up into his face. It was very close to mine. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
He loosened his grip on my arm a bit and stepped backward, looking down at the sidewalk as he did so. I did, too, hoping something else hadn’t rolled out of my purse. Thank goodness, there was just some old gum and an empty Snapple bottle, neither of which was mine.
“Doing here?” He actually sounded—nervous.
“Yes. Doing here. You. What are?” I repeated.
“Um. I have an appointment.” He gestured toward Dr. Lowell’s building.
Interesting. As far as I knew, the only professional offices were therapists’ offices. And if Nick—professional, smart, and all that—needed help, what hope was there for the rest of us?
But of course I didn’t say any of that. Although I couldn’t resist throwing out a line to see if he bit. “Really? What a coincidence. I’m just coming from my therapist’s.”
The expression on his face grew even more anxious, if possible. “Nice to see you, Molly, see you soon,” he said, walking off with the stride of a man who did not want to explain anything else.
I wondered if his session was actually with Dr. Lowell. I chuckled as I walked away from the building. It was good to know even the most intently intimidating man needed help sometimes.
I pulled a Helen Reddy and roared as I headed toward the subway.
Pies-Fed Revisited
The day-old section at your local bakery has never been so . . . glamorous. Or so regally approachable. Take refuge here and reflect on yesterday’s freshness. Still delicious, just slightly past their prime. Half price, too. An economic way to save an outdated baked good.
22
THE BUZZER RANG RIGHT AROUND TWELVE FORTY-FIVE. I’D been glancing at the clock for the last hour, wondering just when he’d arrive. Aidan was all packed and dressed, wearing his special Justice League T-shirt, even though I told him he’d have to wear a sweatshirt over it. He groaned but felt better when I said he could wait until Nick saw his shirt to put the rest of his clothes on.
I opened the door, smoothing my suddenly damp hands on my thighs. I’d chosen my clothes carefully that morning also—I wore my favorite pair of jeans, the slightly stretchy bootcut Calvin Kleins, and a light pink top with a rose-colored cardigan on top. The cardigan had little sparkles all over it. I liked it because it looked so girly.
“Good afternoon,” he said as he strode into the apartment. He must’ve just gotten his hair cut—again—since it was shorter than a few days ago. A few specks of hair had settled on his shoulders, and I reached up to brush them away.
He reacted as if I’d tried to grab his ass or something. He ducked, his cheeks got flushed, and he swallowed hard.
“Sorry. I mean, I just thought I’d help you get that hair—” I flapped my hands in the air like a chicken.
He looked down at his shoulder and frowned. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He brushed the hairs off, and I watched them float to the ground. I quelled the impulse to pick them up and put them under my pillow or something.
“So. How are you?” I asked brightly, clasping my hands in front of me. He looked rumpled, newly shorn, and delicious.
“Good.” He cleared his throat. “The shop’s soft launch is coming up. Simon’s coordinating for the opening event.” A pause. “And nearly all of my work here is complete. Just tying some things up, and then . . .” His words trailed off.
Oh. He’d be leaving soon, then, I could figure that much out on my own.
Aidan bounded up, holding his Pokémon backpack. “Hi, Nick. Did you see my T-shirt?”
Nick squatted down and gave Aidan a piercing stare. “Pretty sharp, sport. Did you see my T-shirt?” He pulled open the button-down shirt he was wearing and showed his chest to Aidan. I’d never envied my son so much in my entire life. Nick wore a black Batman shirt with a yellow bat logo.
“Cool.” Aidan exhaled, his eyes wide. Nick straightened and rebuttoned his shirt.
“Should we go?”
Aidan headed for the door, Nick looking back at me for one long moment. “I’ll have him back in a few hours,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Take your time,” I said to the empty air. It was funny, I hadn’t known Nick that long, but I trusted him implicitly. So much so that I let him take my son out alone. Heck, I’d always felt a moment of panic when Hugh took Aidan off for a boys’ day out, and yet here I was, trusting someone with the most important thing in my life.
I wandered back to the kitchen and touched the coffeepot. Still warm. I opened the cupboard and took out my favorite mug, a wide, fat-bottomed cup with gay tulips painted all over it. Aidan had picked it out for me a few Mother’s Days ago.
As I splashed in the milk, I wondered when Nick would be leaving. And if he’d be going straight back to England. It bothered me I knew so little about him—I knew he had a sister, but was he going to visit her first? Did he still have family in New York? It shouldn’t bother me, but it did.
I wished things were different. I wished I could figure out why he didn’t feel comfortable dating me. And even if the reason was because of work, the point was moot, because when the job was done, he’d be gone, it sounded like. Darn. Darn, darn, damn.
The coffee did a little bit to bolster my spirits, thank goodness. It was strange, not having anything pressing to do. My day was usually filled with tons of errands: work on copy, clean the house of stray Lego parts so no one would lose a limb, laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, Mom’s finances, my worries.
Mom’s off-key warblings reached me in the kitchen. How many times had I heard her singing Gilbert and Sullivan lyrics? And every time, she got them wrong. I walked down the hall, smiling to myself. She was gaining volume as I entered the living room. It looked like she was in the midst of organizing her finances. Had Nick actually persuaded her to take charge of them? If so, I was really going to miss him when he left.
“It’s not ‘sinful economy,’ it’s ‘singular anomaly,’ Mom.”
She looked up and gave me a wry smile. “Oh, yes, it is sinful economy, Molly, my love.” She took her reading glasses off and placed them on top of the biggest pile. “Where did all my money go?”
“To some guy on the trading-room floor?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, I mean before that. I mean, yes, there, too, but even before that, I spent money so foolishly.” She gestured toward the papers. “Spa visits, books, the expensive car, the trip to Morocco, the pool, for God’s sake. I didn’t need any of that. All I needed was to pay the mortgage, the taxes, and eat. Maybe buy a book once in a while. It all seems so . . . meaningless.”
I patted her hand. “Why do you think you did it, then, Mom?” I asked softly. She shrugged, and I could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes.
“I thought I could make enough money from the stock market so I could stop worrying. So you could stop worrying about me.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Worry about you? I didn’t worry about you until you showed up on my doorstep wearing that old sweatshirt. Why, did I say something?”
“Not you. Hugh.”
I felt myself stiffen. “What did he say?”
“One time when you were over, and you and Aidan were out by the pool, Hugh told me you guys weren’t as solvent as he’d like.”
My mouth dropped open in amazement. “What the—?” Then a nasty suspicion entered my mind. “When was this?”
“Last summer.”
“The bastard.” She raised her brows at me. I felt myself zoom from zero to sixty in 4
.3 seconds. “He was already planning to leave. I was wondering where our savings had gone. I bet he squirreled it away before he told me, and now he’s crying poverty.” I stood up, shoving my chair behind me. “I’m going to call him now.”
Mom held my arm. “Molly, are you really sure you want to talk to him now when you’re so upset? I mean, what if you’re wrong? Maybe he was genuinely concerned.”
I sat back down again, shrugging her hand off my arm. “Mom, I know Hugh. And, forgive me for saying this about your favorite son-in-law—”
“My only son-in-law,” she said drily.
“—but he’s out for himself. And only himself. Even Aidan comes second to Hugh’s desires. Bastard,” I repeated, allowing her to take my hand again.
“Sweetie. You’ve got your lawyer working on this, right? And if you call and tell him you suspect Hugh’s buried some assets, he should be able to find them, right?” For once she wasn’t defending him—had someone challenged her to that “never in a million years” thing, too?
“Yeah. Although I’d love to give him a piece of my mind and find out if he really is that kind of lowlife. Grrr,” I growled.
Her eyes widened. “I’ve never seen you so—aggressive, Molly. You’re acting completely unlike yourself.” Her tone implied she didn’t like the change. “I mean, calling Hugh to yell at him is something you would never have done before. At least, before all this.”
I felt my lips start to smile, despite my anger. “I wouldn’t do it in a million years, would I? Sounds like a challenge.”
I rose again and headed into the bedroom to call Hugh. “Stay here, I don’t need an audience.”
“But—”
The rest of her words were lost as I stomped down the hallway. Well, at least now I had something to do while Aidan was away: call his no-good, money-stealing, wussy-acting father.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Hugh, it’s Molly. Nothing’s wrong with Aidan, I called to talk to you.”
“Oh, good, good, because I was hoping to talk to you, too.”
I adopted a deceptively sweet tone. “Well. I was talking to Mom—you know she’s staying here for a while—and she mentioned that you had said something to her last summer about us being in potential financial difficulty. Is that what you said?”
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