Pete shifted his mind to a neutral zone and closed his eyes. He thought about his family back at the farm in Idaho where they farmed potatoes. They’d all be getting ready for Christmas. One of his brothers had probably cut the tree down by now, and it was sitting in the living room just waiting to be decorated. His nieces and nephews were probably driving everyone crazy to decorate the tree, but his mother would make them wait for the branches to settle themselves so, as she put it, her heirloom decorations wouldn’t fall off. He wondered what his mother would serve for Christmas Eve dinner. Perhaps a turkey or a ham. Maybe both. Five different pies. Probably just the turkey or the ham, but not both. Maybe just two pies this year, since his father told him it was a bad year with a blight that had hit the plants midseason. His mouth started to water at the thought of what he was missing. Oh, well, five more months and he could go home for a week or so before he started job hunting.
Pete’s thoughts shifted to his three-and-a-half-year struggle to get through college. He thought of the lean meals, the long days of work followed by all-night study sessions, and getting by on only a few hours’ sleep. So many times he wanted to call it quits, but something deep inside him wouldn’t allow it because he was determined to be a self-made millionaire by the age of forty.
The day he made his first million he was going to do two things. The first thing he was going to do was send his family to Hawaii and set them up in a nice house right on the ocean. The second thing he was going to do was buy this goddamn place, and the minute the ink was dry on the contract, he was going to burn it to the ground.
A chunky woman in a nurse’s uniform appeared in the doorway. “Number 8446. You’re up next. You’re late this morning, 8446.” Not bothering to wait to see if he would offer up an explanation, the woman said, “Room 5. You know what to do.”
Yeah, I know what to do, Pete thought as he brushed past the woman. He knew she didn’t approve of what went on there behind the numbered doors, but she worked there anyway, collected a paycheck. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t make it compute in his head. At one point he decided she was a hypocrite and let it go at that. He didn’t give a good rat’s ass if she approved of what he and hundreds of other guys were doing or not. He always stared her down when she handed him the envelope at the end of the session.
Pete entered Room 5. The setup was always the same. Small TV. Porno movie in the VCR. Dozens of what his father would call girlie magazines. Equipment. He argued with himself for a full five minutes. I don’t want to do this again. I can’t do this anymore. You have to do it. If you don’t, the next semester is gone. Just close your eyes and do it. No. Yes. In the end, he lost the argument. He unzipped and turned on the VCR.
* * *
In the building next to the sperm bank, Lily Madison entered the egg donor clinic for her last session. She looked at her watch, knowing she only had an hour. She hoped that day would go as quickly as her other sessions. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what she was going to feel when she picked up her last check for $6,000. Relief? Guilt? Satisfaction that her last semester was going to be paid for. Maybe all three. When she left after graduation, she would never ever come back to this place. Never, ever.
Lily adjusted her homemade denim hat with the big sunflower on it as she walked through the swinging doors. For some reason, wearing a hat gave her confidence and courage. She’d tried to explain it to her roommates, but they just laughed at her. They said she wore hats because she hated her kinky, curly hair. Maybe it was both. Her head up, she marched to the desk and signed in as Donor 1114. Within minutes she was whisked into an examining room.
When it was all over, Lily dressed and sighed with relief. She could leave the place and never come back. Her eyes filled with tears. How weird was that? She swiped them away as she walked toward the payment window. She handed the clerk the slip the doctor had given her and waited. She almost swooned when the check was in her hand. She thought about buying a bottle of wine and drinking it all by way of celebrating the end of this … this … experience in her life. It was such a stupid thought, she chased it out of her mind. From here on, what had transpired over the past months would be a memory. A memory she could think about or forget about. It’s no big deal, she told herself as she walked out into the late-afternoon sunshine.
Her thoughts were all over the map, so she didn’t see him until she landed on the ground, and a hand was outstretched to help her up. “You knocked me down,” Lily said inanely.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I mean it, I’m really sorry. Are you all right? Can I do anything for you?” He smiled, and Lily was charmed.
“I like your hat!”
“I made it.”
“Wow! Are you sure you’re okay?”
He sounds like he cares if I’m all right or not. She nodded and held out her hand. “Lily.”
“Pak,” Pete said, electing to go with his initials instead of his real name. “Are you … what I mean is … did you?”
Lily nodded again. “I guess you did the … ah …”
“Yeah, it was my last session.”
“Mine, too.”
“This is embarrassing,” Pete said, offering up his megawatt smile.
“Yes, it is. Are you a student? Do you suppose that when we meet up at one of our reunions, we’ll remember this moment?” Lily asked as she jammed her hat more firmly on her head. Like she was ever going to go to a reunion.
“Yeah. I’m studying to be a teacher. I bet we do. Well, I’m really sorry. If you’re sure you’re okay, I have to get going or I’ll be late for work.”
“I’m okay. I have to get going myself. Good luck.”
Pete turned to walk away, then walked back. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Lily shrugged. “Try me.”
“Did you … ah … did you go to any of the counseling sessions?”
The expression on Pak’s face told her he was serious. “No. I wanted to go, but my schedule … no, I didn’t. Did you?”
“No. I hope neither one of us regrets it.”
“You sound like you regret it already. It’s not too late if you feel like that.” Lily wondered if what she was saying was true or not. “Hey, wait a minute. Let me ask you a question. That concrete building that runs across the back of the sperm bank and the donor clinic … what is it, do you know? Did you ever hear who owns this place?”
Pete shook his head. “I asked one time, and they more or less told me that it was none of my business. I walked around the block after … well, after, and thought it a little strange that the building doesn’t have doors or windows. Is there a reason why you’re asking? Some rich guy with tons of money probably owns it. Isn’t that the way of the world, the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer?”
“The first time I went to the clinic, I sort of got lost and wandered down the wrong hallway and you would have thought I was going to plant a bomb. An amazon of a woman shooed me away. I guess the building belongs to the bank and donor center. I’m just curious by nature. Like you said, no windows or doors. I find that strange.”
“So, are you thinking something sinister is going on? That’s what I thought at first. Now, I couldn’t care less. I’m outta here.” Pete narrowed his gaze as he waited for her to reply.
Lily laughed, but it was an uneasy sound even to her own ears. “No. Just my womanly curiosity.” But she knew that it was not just “womanly curiosity” at all.
He didn’t know anything about “womanly curiosity.” It was Pete’s turn to shrug. “See ya,” he said, waving airily in her direction.
“Yeah, see you.”
A brisk late-afternoon wind whipped up. Lily clutched at her hat as she headed for her car, a rusty Nissan with more than 150,000 miles on it. Before unlocking the door, she said a prayer, as she always did, that the car would start. To her delight, the engine turned over on the first try.
Lily drove aimlessly, up one street, down another, seeing Christmas shoppers out in f
ull force. It was going to be her first holiday alone. Since her grandmother’s death earlier in the year, there was no reason to go back home to South Carolina. Her parents had abandoned her at the age of four to be raised by her grandmother, then left the country. She didn’t know where they were or even if they were alive. There had been no way to notify her mother when her grandmother passed away. Her eyes filled with tears. She was so alone.
Lily continued to drive and finally decided to stop at a café for a late lunch. She parked the Nissan, climbed out and entered the cheerful-looking little restaurant where she settled herself in a far corner. She was shocked out of her wits when she saw the guy with the beaming smile walk toward her table. She gasped. He stopped in his tracks to stare at her.
Pete took the initiative. “I’m not intuitive or anything like that, but do you suppose our meeting like this means something?”
Lily felt her face grow warm. “That we’re both embarrassed? How’s the tuna?”
“Too much mayo. Try the corned beef.”
“Okay. So you work here, huh?”
“Yep. Just the lunch hour. Three hours, actually. Then I pack groceries for three more hours. The jobs work with my schedule, but since we’re on Christmas break I log all the hours I can. How about you?”
“Okay, I’ll take a corned beef on rye. I waitress and tutor. I owe a ton of money on my student loans,” she blurted.
“Yeah, me too. Coffee or soda?”
“Coffee.”
“I’m about done here, so I’ll bring your order and have coffee with you, if you don’t mind. I get to eat here for free—that’s why I keep this job. That’s probably more than you wanted to know.”
Lily shook her head and smiled. Suddenly, she wanted to know everything there was to know about the guy standing next to her.
While she waited for her food, Lily looked around. Crisp blackand-white-checked curtains hung on the windows. There was nothing fly-specked about this eatery. The floors were tile and exceptionally clean. The chairs had seat cushions with the same black-and-white-checked pattern. Green plants were on the windowsills. On closer examination, Lily decided they were herbs and not plants. She wasn’t sure, but she rather thought the special of the day was meat loaf. The aromas were the same as she remembered from her grandmother’s kitchen.
“This is a nice place,” Lily said, when Pete joined her with his own lunch.
“Two sisters own it, and they do all their own cooking and baking. Once in a while they try out new recipes on me.” He laughed as he wolfed down his food.
Lily loved his laugh, his smile. An awkward silence followed.
Pete stopped eating long enough to ask, “So, do you want to talk about it, or do you want to talk about … stuff?”
“By it, I guess you mean our donations at the clinic. I’d just as soon forget it. It’s no big deal, you know.”
Pete rolled the words around in his head. No big deal. He looked at her. Her eyes were telling him it was a big deal. “Yeah, right, no big deal. Well, I have to run. It was nice to meet you, Lily. Maybe we’ll run in to each other again someplace.”
He wasn’t interested in her. For some reason she thought he was going to ask for her phone number or her address. “Yeah, right,” she said flatly before she bit down into her sandwich.
At the door, Pete turned and waved. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the young girl with the sad eyes and the sunflower hat. I should have asked her for her phone number.
The minute the door closed behind Pete, Lily placed some bills on the table and left the café. It’s no big deal, it’s no big deal, she told herself over and over as she slid into the Nissan. Five more months, and I can put all this behind me. Just five months.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she drove away from the café.
Little did she know how wrong she was.
CHAPTER ONE
Peter Aaron Kelly looked around his suite of offices and grinned. He’d done it. He made it happen. And he’d pulled it off right on schedule. He patted himself on the back as he made his way into the private lavatory that was as big as his family’s living room back in Idaho.
Pete, as he liked to be called, stared at his reflection in the huge plate-glass mirror that took up one entire wall of his private bathroom. He straightened the knot in his tie. Not just any knot but a Windsor knot. He loved Windsor knots because they looked so neat and finished. The suit wasn’t half-bad either. Custom-made Armani that draped his lanky frame to perfection. Not that he normally wore such attire, but it was a special day, and he owed it to his people to look his best. If he showed up in his jeans, a washed-out, ragged Berkeley tee shirt, and his tattered baseball cap, no one would take him seriously. The power suit and the Windsor knot shrieked, PAY ATTENTION.
The eight-hundred-pound gorilla and founder of PAK Industries continued to study himself in the mirror. No one would ever call him handsome. Nor would they say he was cute. Articles, and there were hundreds of them, said he was interesting. One even said he was chameleon-like, whatever the hell that meant. Those same articles then fast forwarded to his financials and more or less said he could be ugly as sin because no one cared, and with all that money in the bank, he was the CIC. His secretary had to translate that for him. CIC, she said, meant Cat in Charge. If he wanted to, he could start purring right then. He laughed at the thought.
“Hey, Pete, you in here somewhere?” his longtime motherly secretary shouted from the doorway. Pete ran a loose ship, and as long as the work got done, he didn’t care who wore what or who said what. Familiarity in the workplace worked for everyone’s comfort zone.
“Just checking my tie, Millie. Do you need me for something?”
Hands on her plump hips, Millie stared at ther boss. “Well, would you look at you! You want some advice?”
“No, but that isn’t going to stop you. Spit it out.”
“You look silly. Ditch the duds and go back to being you. You only get dressed up like that when you go to funerals. Did someone die, and you forgot to tell me? We always send flowers or a fruit basket. By the way, some personal mail just came for you. I put it on your desk earlier while you were getting dressed. I think it’s the third request for your RSVP in regard to your alma mater’s fund-raiser. You might want to take care of that.”
Pete walked over to his desk to see a large, cream-colored square envelope with the return address of his alma mater. Millie was right, he needed to get on the stick and make a decision one way or the other.
“Well? So, who died?”
He was off-balance. Just the sight of the cream-colored envelope and the return address rushed him back to another part of his life. A part of his life he didn’t want to deal with just then. “No one died. I’m dressed like this for the ten o’clock meeting. Then I have that photo op with Senator what’s-his-name. I still don’t know how I got roped into that.” His voice was so cool, so curt, Millie drew back and closed the door. She rushed around the floor warning everyone that the boss had his knickers in a twist and was all dressed up. Something was going on. The entire floor huddled as they tried to understand why the boss would attend a meeting in a suit and tie even though he was going to have his picture taken later. Peter Aaron Kelly didn’t give a damn about suiting up for photo ops. Everyone in the whole world knew that.
“And,” Millie said importantly, “the boss is wearing Armani and not his regular hand-stitched Hugo Boss funeral attire. Something is definitely going down this morning. He’s chipper, though, so it must be a good thing. Well, he was chipper until the mail came,” Millie muttered as an afterthought.
While Pete’s staff whispered among themselves, he was busy ripping open the envelope Millie had left for him. She was right, he had twenty-four hours to say yea or nay. Even at that late date they were still willing to have him as their guest speaker if he would commit. “Well, boys and girls, I don’t see that happening anytime soon. I’ll send you a check, and we’ll call it square.” To make himself feel
better, he scribbled off a sizable check and tossed it in the drawer with the invitations. Millie would take care of it. He’d have her send off an e-mail or overnight letter nixing the speaking gig.
Screw it all. Now he was in a cranky mood. He flopped down on his custom-made chair, whose leather was butter soft, and propped his feet on the desk. He had fifteen minutes to, as his mother used to put it, woolgather. He made a mental note to ask her if she still used that expression.
Pete opened the drawer again and reached for the invitation. He twirled the cream-colored square in his hands. Maybe he should go back. So what if he’d made a promise to himself never to do so. People broke promises all the time, especially when the person made the promise to himself.
As the minute hand on his watch crawled forward, Pete slid the invitation back into the top drawer of his desk along with the two previous invitations. Maybe he’d think about it later. ot too much later, he cautioned himself. The reunion was across the country in two days.
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