by Jo Goodman
What she felt now was just edgy.
Thea stood, cinched her robe around her waist, and padded softly to the kitchen where the phone was. Except for the flickering images from the TV, the house was dark. She hovered beside the base unit for a moment, staring at the phone as if she didn’t know quite what to do with it. Joel would still be at the symphony so there was no point in calling him. She tapped her index nail against the smoky granite countertop as her mind raced.
God, she hated this feeling! Arching her back, she stretched so that her vertebrae popped. She rolled her neck, first clockwise, then counter. The refrigerator captured her interest briefly but when she opened the door and saw that her choices were rancid orange juice, an assortment of condiments, something green that might have been a dairy product, and congealed Chinese takeout from better than a month ago, she closed it again.
Where was her phone book? She absolutely needed to make the call and she realized she shouldn’t have put it off until she was practically unhinged. Why hadn’t she asked for the number when she had a chance? Now she thought she would be lucky to find it.
Hands shaking, Thea found the directory in one of the cabinets and dropped it on the breakfast bar with a resounding thump. She opened it randomly and began flipping through the thin pages, softly reciting the alphabet song as she made her search. She had no clear idea of how long she spent on this task before she was forced to conclude the number wasn’t there.
Thea shoved the book away. It was so heavy that it didn’t go very far but the act of pushing it, the pent-up violence inherent in the movement, frightened her. This is not the way she wanted to be.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. On the second inhale/exhale she closed her eyes. The simple relaxation technique actually worked and she wondered why she had always resisted these little tricks when they were suggested to her. With the third breath she didn’t think about it anymore and tried to clear her mind instead.
For a few brief moments calm embraced her. Thea felt it like something thick and heavy and liquid that slipped over her skin and then was absorbed by it. It was an uncertain state but while it lasted Thea learned that she had the capacity to appreciate it. She had not known that about herself.
Picking up the phone, Thea walked to the sliding glass doors that opened on the rear deck. She spent a minute contemplating what she was going to do before she stepped outside. It was cold and she was barefoot, but the moon was full and the outdoors were better lit than the tomb she’d allowed her home to become. Holding the phone so she could make out the touch pad, she punched in directory assistance. It didn’t take long to get the computer-generated voice to give her the numbers she needed.
Thea sat down on one of the Adirondack chairs that she had never bothered covering for winter and pulled her feet up under her. It was a balmy night for February, but it was not exactly deck weather. She pressed the numbers before she lost her nerve.
“Hello?”
The phone was picked up so quickly Thea wasn’t prepared. The fact that it was picked up by a woman also caught her off guard.
“Hello?”
The voice was impatient this time. Thea cleared her throat. “I think I have the wrong—”
“Mitch! I think this one’s for you!”
In the background Thea could hear Mitch calling back, “Take a message.” There was some grumbling about getting caller ID and then the woman’s clear voice was back on the line again. “I’m sorry,” Gina said. “Were you calling for Mitch?”
“I ... this was a mistake,” Thea said. “I didn’t mean to disturb—” She hung up before she said anything else. In spite of the cold, her palm was sweating. Thea practically launched herself out of the chair and into the house. She was putting the phone back in its base when it rang. Startled, she almost dropped it. Her thumb reflexively hit the talk button before she was certain she wanted to have a conversation with anyone.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Thea?”
It was Mitch. Thea had no difficulty recognizing the pleasantly deep, slightly gritty timbre of his voice. She could picture him standing with the phone in one hand, the other making a raking motion through his hair. “Er, yes. It’s Thea.”
“Did you just call me?”
“Umm, yes. Yes, I did. How—how did you ...” She sighed, impatient with herself for this hesitancy and stumbling. “It’s just that the woman who answered the phone said something about you needing to get caller ID.”
“It’s on the to-do list. Mostly I use my cell,” he said. “I took a guess.” He paused a beat, then added, “Actually, I hit star sixty-nine.”
“Oh. Then I’m glad I didn’t lie.”
Mitch caught himself before he let his smile seep into his voice. He’d called her back out of curiosity, not because he was feeling in a particularly forgiving mood. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly.
At her end, Thea started. His initial friendliness was gone. It was not even that he was wary; just that he was cold. “I was wondering ... that is, you mentioned that I might be able to ...” She realized her heart was hammering in her chest and there was a softball-size lump in her throat. “I’d like to visit the children,” she said in a rush. “I thought I might come out. I could be there in under an hour.”
Mitch blinked. He held the phone away from his ear and stared at it a moment, not quite believing what he’d heard. Slowly, he returned it to his ear. There was silence on the other end. “You still there, Thea?”
“Yes ...”
“Do you have a clock nearby?”
She glanced at the one on the microwave. “Yes.”
“You can read it, can’t you? Big hand. Little hand. If it’s digital it should be—”
Thea hung up. She was walking away when the phone started ringing. She let it go. If it was Joel, he’d think she had gone to bed. If it was Mitch, he’d learn soon enough that she had no intention of talking to him. Whoever it was gave up by the time Thea reached her bedroom. She turned on the bedside lamp long enough to turn down the covers and remove her robe. When she lay down she knew immediately that sleep was not going to happen without help. This is what she had been afraid of all day. Thea looked toward the bathroom. The door was open and she could see the reflection of her medicine cabinet in the mirror above the sink.
She picked up the phone instead and scrolled the database for the number she needed. This time when a woman answered, she expected it. “Hi,” she said softly. “It’s Thea.”
“Hey. When I saw you tonight I thought you might be calling.”
“You should have told me. It took me a long time to figure it out.”
“You got me now.”
“It’s not too late?” Thea recognized the pause in the conversation as Rosie looked around for a clock.
“Hell, it’s only a little past ten. Early in my book. What’s up?”
Thea took a deep breath. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke again. “I’m exhausted and wound up at the same time. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep on my own.”
“Go make yourself a cup of tea. I’m on my way.”
Chapter 3
Thea’s cell rang as she was merging into rush hour traffic on Route 28. She had little patience for the intrusion, but it was her weakness that she was as well-conditioned as one of Pavlov’s dogs. Her car came with Bluetooth, and she was almost helpless to keep from answering when she heard a ringtone. She waited until she was safely in line before she began talking. “I’m here. What do you need?”
“It’s Joel, sweetie.”
Her voice softened. “I thought you were someone from the Blue Team.”
“I take it they weren’t exactly on their game yesterday.”
“That’s an understatement. Where are you?”
“On Greentree Hill, crawling toward the tunnels. You?”
“Ready to grind to a halt on 28.” She applied the brake as she was speaking. “I should have left
earlier.”
“How did you sleep?”
Thea knew that’s why he had called. “It was tough at first. I had to call Rosie.” Joel’s silence let her know he wished she had called someone else. “She helped me, Joel. I don’t think it would have been a very good night without her.”
“Well, that’s all right, then.”
“You don’t like Rosie, do you?”
“I don’t really know her.”
Thea eased on the gas as traffic started to move. In the rearview mirror, she caught the disapproving look of the driver behind her. He looked as if he wanted to report her to the phone police for driving under the influence of conversation. If they had been going more than ten miles an hour she wouldn’t have blamed him. “That’s right,” she said. “You don’t really know her. She’s a very nice person.”
“You hardly know her yourself.”
“That’s going to change, Joel. Last night wasn’t the last time I’ll be calling her.”
“I just wish—”
“What?” She glanced in the mirror again and saw the driver behind her was picking his nose. Now there was a reportable offense. Shaking her head, she let someone slide into the lane in front of her just to piss him off.
“I wish you had found someone more like ...”
Thea waited for him to finish the sentence, afraid she’d lost the connection. “Like whom, Joel?” she prompted.
“Well, like you.”
“Rosie is like me.”
“You know what I mean.”
Thea did, but she wouldn’t admit it. Rosie wasn’t terribly sophisticated and that was putting it in a very flattering light. She was brash, large, and spoke with such a heavy Pittsburgh accent that to an outsider she would sound like she had a speech impediment. “I think she’s the perfect right one for me, Joel. She makes me laugh.”
“Just so you don’t make her your maid of honor.”
Thea couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. She was afraid he might be. “You’re a snob, Joel Strahern. Did you know that?”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“I have to go. The man tailgating me in his BMW is making a sexual proposition.” She smiled sweetly so the driver would know she had seen him flip her off. “I’m ending this before there’s road rage. I’ll call when I get to work. I want to hear about the symphony.” She disconnected before Joel could reply and turned on NPR.
A seven-story atrium was the centerpiece of the renovated office complex that Foster and Wyndham called home. Formerly a department store, the site was now the Heinz 57 Center, home to the headquarters of Heinz’s U. S. Consumer Products and Foodservice businesses. In addition to Heinz, a variety of other firms—accountants, real estate developers, attorneys, medical practitioners—rented the spacious floors while retailers on the ground level brought in pedestrian traffic.
Thea passed on the elevators and walked up three flights, her heels clicking lightly in the empty stairwell. There were already more than a dozen people working when she walked into the lobby at Foster and Wyndham. An inflatable beach ball sailed out of one of the small conference rooms as she passed. She automatically batted it back and heard someone call, “Way to go! Three points!” Smiling, she walked on. It was a whatever-helps-you-think working environment that was first cultivated by Alvin Foster and suffered by his founding partner William Wyndham. Thea’s own father had been only a little more tolerant than his parent but the Fosters still liked to have a good time on their way to triple bypass surgery and stress-related breakdowns. Thea’s position was more practical: if inflatable beach balls were what it took to make the ideas flow, she didn’t have a problem. She shared her partner’s need to see results at the end of the day.
“Good morning, Hank.” She stuck her head through the open doorway to Hank Foster’s office. The CEO was tipped so far back in his chair that he was practically reclining. His hands were folded behind his head and his feet were propped on one corner of his desk. Thea couldn’t tell if he was sleeping. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses with blue jewel-toned frames and mirrored lenses. “Nice shades. Indisposed or incognito this morning?”
“Indisposed,” he said. “I was with clients at Rosebud last night.”
“Drink too much, did you?”
He shook his head. “No, we ended up at Primanti Brothers at three in the morning. I had a cheese steak with fries and coleslaw.”
Thea knew the fries and coleslaw weren’t served on the side. They were on the sandwich. “Yum.” She meant it; it was a terrific sandwich. Primanti Brothers was a Pittsburgh institution and a must-visit for clients who wanted a taste of the city’s blue-collar cuisine. “You need some Pepcid?”
“I need a stomach transplant.” He patted the offending portion of his anatomy which, even in his almost prone position, was distended above his belt line. “How can something I love so much do this to me? It’s not right.” He moved his feet gingerly off the edge of the desk and sat up slowly, pushing the garish sunglasses past the bridge of his nose until they rested against the blunt slope of his forehead. Now he regarded Thea with what looked like four eyes. “You have any luck with the Carver Chemical stuff?”
“No. We were here until almost seven.”
“Go easy, Thea,” he said lightly. “Your vacation will have been worthless if you come on like gangbusters.” When she didn’t respond, he went on. “What’s the word on your friends’ kids?”
“Mitchell is going to keep them.”
“You’re kidding.” Between the pairs of eyes his brows arched in surprise. He studied her for a moment. “You all right with that?”
She nodded. “Sure.” Thea backed out the doorway. “Let me know about the Pepcid.” She was gone before Hank, who knew her just about as well as anybody, could guess that maybe she wasn’t as all right with it as she had been yesterday.
In her own office Thea kicked off her shoes and put her purse and coat in the closet. She twisted the buttons on her black Donna Karan jacket so it opened casually to reveal a white silk shell. Once she was sitting behind her desk, Thea picked up the pink message slips that Mrs. Admundson had placed on her blotter, and swiveled to face the windows while she read them. Most of the employees had voice mail but Thea hated it and preferred callers leave their messages with a real person. Mrs. Admundson almost qualified.
There was one from Joel this morning, before he reached her on the cell phone. He must have guessed that she had spent the night at the office. Thea crumpled it and tossed it over her shoulder onto the desk. There were two from locally based corporations, one an Internet firm, the other a health maintenance organization. She would return those quickly then set them up with Hank if they were looking for consultation. He would bring her back after he had some idea of how serious they were about changing advertisers. In the meantime she would put the creative teams to work developing something interesting for them to consider.
There was a message from the secretary of one of the local family service organizations where she sat on the board of directors, reminding her there was a luncheon meeting on Thursday. Yes, she thought, wouldn’t she feel like a complete hypocrite attending that function? She slipped it in her pocket.
Flipping through the rest of the stack she saw that a colleague at another firm had called. There was a message from a Carolyn Schafer in human resources at Dwight Ennis, Inc. requesting a reference check, which meant that someone at Foster and Wyndham was jumping ship, and either he hadn’t told Hank or Hank had forgotten to tell her. There was a message from Avery Childers and the Chronicle called and ...
Thea’s fingers stilled. It wasn’t the paper specifically that had called, but Mitchell Baker. Mrs. Admundson, always playing her cards close, had pretended not to know his connection to Thea and had asked where he worked. Thea saw her assistant also made a note in red that there had been three calls. One of Thea’s brows lifted. All of them were before eight o’clock. She looked at the number and saw it was the local exchange. He was
in town, then, not at home.
She stared at the pink slip a long time before she made a tight fist around it. Turning ninety degrees in her chair, Thea sent it sailing toward the wet bar where it fell in the sink. She threw up her hands and made crowd noises. “And the fans go wild!” Finishing the turn so she faced her desk, Thea picked up the phone and called Joel. She listened while he told her about the concert. He passed on his daughter-in-law’s thanks for thinking of her as a replacement and then they broke away, each with their agendas for the day in front of them.
Thea spent the next hour on the phone with the Net firm and the HMO. Then she initiated a few calls which took another hour. The call to Avery took longer than expected. The attorney didn’t want to hear that she was firing him. During all the calls, the earbud let her move around the office. She dallied in front of the window, looking down on Smithfield Street while she talked and watching the pedestrians jostle for position on the sidewalk and dart willy-nilly between the moving cars. She watered her plants, pulled the dead leaves, and straightened the books on her shelves. For a while she walked on the treadmill, stopping short of glowing or labored breathing. It hardly qualified as exercise, but it was better than nothing and she didn’t want to beat Hank Foster to that first bypass.
When she finished with business calls she made one more personal one. She got voice mail. “Hey there. Unless you’re new to the planet, you know what to do.” Thea smiled. That was pure Rosie. “Hi. It’s Thea. Just checking in. Thank you for last night. It helped.” Thea almost asked if she wanted to be a bridesmaid but managed to stop herself. “I’ll be in touch.” She ended the call, removed the earbud, and put on her shoes. She left her office to pass out assignments to the Green and Yellow Teams and round up the Blues.
When Thea didn’t call by eleven-thirty, Mitch decided she wasn’t going to return his call at all. He didn’t blame her. He knew he’d been a first-class ass last night when she’d phoned unexpectedly. In her sexy Ferragamo sling-backs, he wouldn’t return his calls either. Clearly some act of contrition was in order.