Chicago Hope

by Carmen DeSousa

  He pointed to another hall. “Second door on the left.”

  How many flipping passages are in this place? she wanted to ask, but held her tongue. It wasn’t any more his fault that his daddy was rich than the children who had poor daddies … or mommies. How often, young people picked on someone’s upbringing, no matter their status. She would try her best not to do either, as hard as it was. After all, he was right, no matter his education, skills, or whether he’d paid his dues, he’d landed the position of CEO for one reason and one reason only: because his father owned the company.

  She passed an open room with a grand piano, a glassed-in wine room, and more views. Each side of the penthouse boasted windows and French doors that led to a patio that surrounded the entire condo. Each section was complete with lights, covered furniture, foliage. She could only imagine what it looked like in the summer.

  She stepped into the washroom and covered her mouth. Does the opulence never stop? How can people live like this? White marble flooring. The bathtub looked as if it were floating within a cedar wood box that went from floor to ceiling. Everything was pristine as if it’d never been used.

  She shared one bathroom with two other adults and four children, and here he had … what … how many closed doors had she walked past, six? She thought about the width and length of the building. The penthouse took up the entire roof, so … what, eight — nine-thousand-square feet? For one house?

  Maura took care of her needs, then rushed out. She turned right, walked into another living area, then turned back. How many living areas is that? Three?

  Ugh! You silly girl. How he must have laughed at you as he drove around town, as you worried about the price of markers and crayons. She turned down another hallway, recognized it as the entry hallway. She scooped up her purse and coat, not bothering to put it on. She tapped the elevator button frantically until it opened.

  “Maura?”

  She pushed the Close button, grateful when the doors shut before he reached her.

  Doors closed, she pressed the G, and let her tears fall.

  In some ways, she felt stupid. What the hell was she doing running out on the first man she’d cared about in five years? On the other, what if she pursued a relationship? What if it fell apart? Then where would she be? It wasn’t as if he was going to marry the first woman he met in Chicago. Not when he lived in a ten-million-dollar home.

  She clicked the fob for Brittany’s Malibu, thankful that she’d begged to borrow it. She’d only asked so that she could make a fast exit. She was so glad she’d thought to ask. How stupid she would have felt waiting for an Uber in a millionaire’s lobby.

  Chapter 12

  Maura watched from afar as the Dear Santa project was a success, the gift-giving anyway. She’d been able to go over the plans for the other projects, but apparently, even when someone wants to do a decent act for the city, the bureaucratic red tape could tie up those good deeds for months — if not years. Something as simple as putting in a park required meeting after meeting after meeting.

  As much as she’d wanted to help deliver the boxes, she ignored every attempt Rick made to contact her. She knew the job would get done. She wasn’t going to allow him an excuse to see her. In the end, he’d requested the help of mail-room employees, who were grateful for the overtime pay. That was something good in itself. Two of the employees had shown up at her door, delivering boxes to the four children mentioned in the Dear Santa letters that her cousin and son had sent.

  After the Santa Elves had parted, her cousins and Ben opened their boxes.

  Her son smiled politely, but she could see the question in his eyes. He led her to their shared room, then glared up at her. “What about Rick? Why haven’t I seen him? And what about the park?”

  “I don’t know, Ben.”

  “I sent a letter, too, you know. Why did you have to go and screw it up?”

  She folded her arms. “I don’t like your tone, young man. And for the record, I didn’t screw up anything.”

  He threw himself on the bed. “Yes, you did. You always do! You’re so worried about how I’ll feel that you ruin everything.”

  “Ben!” She didn’t want to yell at him, but … “What the heck are you talking about? What do I ruin? I’m working very hard to save money, so we have our own place —”

  He smacked the bed. “I don’t care about our own place! I just want you to be happy! Dad’s dead. He couldn’t deal with his pain, so he killed himself. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

  “Oh, Ben … I would never.” She’d never told Ben that his father had taken his life, the reason they didn’t get benefits or child support. How had he known? Brittany probably let it slip out … or Ben was too smart for her own good. Maura shook her head. Finding blame wouldn’t help. “Ben,” she turned him over, “I would never take my life. Even if I were sad, which I’m not. How could I be when I have such a wonderful son? Your father didn’t take his life because he was sad with us; he did what he did because he didn’t know how to cope with other troubles. He loved you. He loved me. He just … Sometimes, people just can’t make it in the world.” She wiped tears off his cheeks. “I promise you — thankfully — I am not one of those people. Yeah, sometimes I get sad, but I’m not suicidal. I will never willingly leave you, Ben.”

  “But sometimes …” He sniffed. “Sometimes we can’t decide. Like your parents’ car accident. Who would I have? I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Oh, honey.” She scooped him up into her arms. “Baby, I won’t leave you, and I promise I’ll take extra care not to get hurt.”

  He dropped his head. “I know.”

  She nudged up his chin. “Ben, what did you ask for in your Santa letter?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  It didn’t matter. She’d already received her Christmas bonus and had purchased him the one gift he wanted, which was the one gift she didn’t want him to have, but … she’d bought it anyway. “Well, then I’ll just have to guess what you want for Christmas. Hmmm … clothes?”

  “Mommmm …”

  “Hm?”

  He inhaled deeply, attempting to get over his crying jag. “Are you going to see Rick again?”

  “Probably not.”

  His shoulders lifted and dropped. “That’s sad.”

  “Yeah, but things don’t always work out the way we want, sweetheart.” She patted his leg. “Hey, it’s Christmas Eve. Let’s splurge. You know that restaurant around the corner … They have a new vegan burger, which means cheap fast food is back in for me. Wanna go? Brittany and I are going to make a huge Christmas dinner tomorrow, so why don’t you and I spend the evening together?”

  His eyes widened. “Can I get a milkshake?”

  “Sure. Enjoy milk while you can, baby. I wish I could splurge, but I’d spend Christmas in the bathroom.”

  “Ewww … Mommmm …”

  She ruffled his hair and stood. “You sure you won’t tell me what you asked Santa for?”

  He stared up at her. “Nope! Because if I say it aloud, I might not get it.”

  “That’s blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.”

  He shrugged. “Same dif. I’m holding out until tomorrow.”

  Christmas morning arrived, and Maura was exhausted. She and Brittany had spent half the night putting together bikes. Encouraged by Maura’s splurge of a bike for her and Ben, her cousin had bought two for her kids.

  Not that Maura would allow Ben to ride his alone, the reason she bought one for herself, but all kids had to learn how to ride a bike. If he learned now, he’d be able to ride to school in a few years. Maybe … She still wasn’t sure where they’d be in a few years.

  Since Jessica was away, she hadn’t been able to turn in her resignation. She’d do it Monday, she decided. It wasn’t as though she could leave before the new year anyway; that would be wrong. And, truly, it would be irresponsible for her to leave without finding a new job … and a new second job, she realized.
Ugh! She just wasn’t sure. Would Rick hold her back if she stayed, find a reason for Jessica to fire her? And if she did earn a promotion, would people always accuse her of sleeping her way to the top? She shook her head to clear it. It was Christmas. She didn’t want Ben to see her unhappy. She’d have to watch herself around him. Her son was too perceptive.

  Before the house awoke, Maura took a quick shower, dabbed on a bit of makeup for pictures, brewed coffee, then turned on Christmas music. She chose an obnoxiously loud version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town by The Pointer Sisters to wake up Ben and the rest of the house.

  It worked, Ben opened the door, sleepy-eyed. Maura had her phone ready to film his reaction when he saw the four bikes.

  “MOM!!!!” He turned and looked at her, smiled for the camera, then ran into it to hug her. “REALLY? One of those is mine?”

  “Really, really,” she said behind her phone’s video camera.

  “Which one?”

  “The bright green one.” She’d chosen the brightest color the store had.

  “Can we go ride now?”

  She stopped the recording. “How ’bout you brush them teethers while I finish my coffee? Then maybe your cousins will be up.”

  Ben ran to the bathroom and was out in less than two minutes. “Ready!”

  “Not if it rained last night. I don’t want you learning how to ride on ice.”

  He grinned. “I already know how to ride. I practiced on Billy’s bike. And it didn’t rain last night.”

  “Fine. Bundle up.” She downed her coffee and pulled on her sneakers and a jacket.

  Ben was waiting by the front door.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Mommm … Stop stalling.” Ben opened the door, struggling to carry the bike to the first landing.

  “Brittany said she’d make room in the storage area, so we can keep them downstairs, but you’re only allowed to ride when I’m with you, is that clear?”

  “Yes …”

  Maura carried her cruiser, along with their helmets.

  Ben waited patiently for her to get to the landing. He opened the heavy exterior door, and the wind whipped through the vestibule. “Whoa. What are those?”

  Maura followed Ben outside, then stared down at the rose petals. “How cute. One of the neighbors probably bought their significant other a car and was leading the way.” Brittany’s honey, as her cousin called him, would do something like that if she would agree to marry him. But Brittany loved her independence, said she didn’t want a man full-time. When Brittany got the itch, she made sure Maura would be home, and then paid her man a booty call, as her cousin referred to it. Maybe that’s why Brittany was okay with her living there. She had a good excuse not to have a man there.

  Maura handed Ben his helmet.

  He buckled the straps, then hopped on the bike. “The petals lead all the way up the block. Let’s check it out!”

  Maura tested the sidewalk. It didn’t feel slick; the salt had done its job. The streets and sidewalks were clear. The piles of black slush weren’t pretty, but Maura focused on the white that still topped the buildings and many cars. The one thing about snow … it covered all the ugly.

  “Come on, let’s go see what the person got for Christmas.” Ben started to pedal, carefully avoiding the petals.

  Once again, it amazed her how sweet her son was, purposely avoiding the petals so he didn’t ruin the surprise for someone else.

  “Don’t get too far ahead, Ben!”

  “Race you to the prairie,” he said.

  “Ben, I can’t race.” But she stood on the pedals, increasing her speed until she was right behind him. “Make sure you watch the driveways.”

  “I know, Mom.” Her son was a natural. Again, nothing like her. She wished his father could be here for him, playing sports, teaching him to ride. He shouldn’t have had to learn at another kid’s house. Maybe she should just move back to North Carolina. At least there she could find a little house —

  Ben squealed to a stop, and she looked up, nervous at once. She’d had her eyes on her pedals, not on her son.

  But then she saw it. Ben hadn’t run into a car or crashed. He’d stopped suddenly because of where the rose petals ended, she realized.

  The prairie, normally filled with trash and weeds, was bare. Around the property, a chain-link fence protected the area. The only thing inside the fence was a large dumpster, filled with what she could only imagine was the garbage that used to tarnish the area. A large sign in front read, Future Site of BARROS PARK.

  A flash of movement caught her eye. A man emerged from behind the dumpster. Arms full, he tossed the items into the bin.

  “Rick!” Ben called out before she could ask him not to.

  “Merry Christmas, Ben!” Rick pulled a plastic bottle out of his pocket, squirted the contents into his palms, then rubbed his hands together.

  “Merry Christmas!” Ben echoed. “I got a new bike for Christmas, so did Mom.”

  “Cool.” Rick smiled at her. “Merry Christmas, Maura.”

  She exhaled a breath, watching it crystalize in the air. “How did you — I thought they said it would be months to even vote on the project.”

  “Funny thing …” He walked toward her. “The only holdup was money, whether the city could make more by selling the property. So, I told my father that buying real estate in a refurbished neighborhood would be a good investment, but building a park for the city’s youth is even better PR. Both would be a no-brainer.”

  Maura sniffed. “That it is.” Ben rode his bike up and down the sidewalk, keeping his distance, but staying within eyeshot.

  “But you know that’s not why I’m here, right?”

  She rubbed her gloved hand over her cold nose. “I don’t know. Why would you be working on Christmas Day?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled out a handful of rose petals. “It took you long enough. I thought you said you were an early bird. Thought I might freeze out here.”

  She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “Why are you standing in the cold on Christmas morning, Rick?”

  He pulled out his other hand, producing a crumpled envelope. She spied the words: No Girls Allowed on the front — Ben’s Dear Santa letter.

  “When I showed up at the lobby bar, I was looking for the mother of the boy who wrote this letter. Then, when I came to the return address of the letter, I saw you and Ben. I still wasn’t sure. So I did some checking around.”

  He shook his head, turned to look at Ben, who’d found a stick and was writing something in the snow.

  “Go on,” she said, curious, wondering what Ben could have written in the letter.

  “Maura, I don’t want you to be upset … because it’s not your fault, but your direct supervisor will not be returning from her vacation. My father’s company has always had an open-door and open-submission policy. Other than the Dear Santa project you directed me to, I went back and searched the slush pile for the other articles you’d written. She never submitted one. And they were good.” He blew out a breath. “I’m not the one who would have held you back, Maura, your direct supervisor was.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want —”

  “Sorry. It’s not about you; it’s the way I work. I don’t stand for dishonesty, nor does my father. But it leaves me in a pinch. You’re capable of filling her shoes, but …”

  Maura covered her mouth. “I … can’t … I … they’d —”

  “If you’ll let me finish.” He smiled. “You could fill her shoes, but … I have a different position for you. I need someone like you. Someone who sees the community’s needs. Someone who can get the right articles out there to earn the community’s trust. And to head up the rest of these community projects. I can’t do this on my own. I need you.”

  “Rick …”

  “You’re still worried about what people might think … when this could give you everything you deserve?” He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a tiny box.
r />   She gasped. “Rick … I’m … I’m … not ready.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s not a ring. Not yet. I may be crazy, but I do know that good things take time.” He stepped forward. “It’s a signing bonus.” He held out the box, opening it for her. “All executives get bonuses, but I wanted yours to be a surprise.”

  Maura picked up the red ribbon with the key dangling from the end. An Acura key. “A car? It’s too …”

  “It’s right behind me.” He pointed behind him, to the silver MDX she had assumed was his.

  “Please say yes to the job and signing bonus … and to me, Maura. If we aren’t just sleeping together, but officially dating … would people still accuse you of sleeping with the boss?”

  She laughed. “I don’t know —”

  “Mom!” Ben shouted. “Come look at this.”

  Both she and Rick walked toward Ben. Maura stared down at the snowbank. Ben had used the rose petals to spell out his thoughts: PLEASE SAY YES.

  “Ben?” she asked. “What do you want me to say yes to?”

  “You’re so silly, Mom. To Rick. To everything. Can’t you see he’s in love with you? I’m only eight, and I can see it.”

  Maura turned to Rick. “Did you put Ben up to this?”

  Rick raised his hands. “Of course not.” He took a step forward. “Actually …” He pulled out the envelope again. “Your son put me up to this. He made me fall for a woman I’d never met. Your son thinks the world of you, notices all you do for him, and how you’ve been held back at my father’s company. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were the woman in this letter, a woman I’d already fallen for. And he’s right. You should say yes, to me.”

  “Is that all Ben’s right about?”

  “No … I think Ben’s a very astute young man whom I’d like to get to know much better, too.” He pulled Maura to him. “And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if we sealed this partnership with a kiss.” Rick pressed his lips to Maura’s for a quick kiss. “Merry Christmas, Maura.”