He released her and backed up. Now she wondered if she had misread the situation. Maybe Ari’s jealousy had planted the seed in her brain. She decided that had to be it. Nathan had simply seen her as right for the part. She gave him a cheerful thanks, and hurried toward home.
On the way, her cell phone rang. It was Chelsea.
“In a little while, you’re going to get a call from Jennifer inviting you for dinner tomorrow,” her sister said, referring to the cardiologist her father had married over the summer.
“Suddenly you can see the future and that’s your heads-up?” Dana said. “How about a stock tip?”
Chelsea ignored the joke. “I want you to say yes.”
“Can’t. I have rehearsals.” Dana hitched her purse up on her shoulder and hurried her pace. She was almost at her apartment building, and a night chill was descending.
“Reschedule it,” Chelsea pleaded. “I need you.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Dana joked. It had been their most heated phrase as kids—the one that always preceded a fight.
“This isn’t funny.”
Dana sighed. “You can’t reschedule rehearsals,” she said. “Anyway, why do you need me?”
“We’re going to be telling them about the pregnancy. But we’re bringing Wesley and I need someone to distract him while we’re sharing the news. I just don’t want him to know yet. It’s so far off he won’t understand.”
And you’re still afraid you might miscarry, Dana thought. “How about if I meet up with you after rehearsals?” she said. “Around 8:30.”
“Are you kidding? We’ll be leaving by then. We have to get him home to bed. It’s an early dinner.”
“You want me to miss rehearsals?”
“Please.”
“That’s a big ask, Chelsea. What about Rachel?” she said, referring to her sister’s live-in babysitter.
“She had to rush back to Missouri. Her mom is sick. And anyway, Dad and Jennifer want to see Wesley. They want to see you, too.”
Dana’s eyes rolled so far back in her head she was afraid they’d get stuck. “Yeah, I’m sure,” she said.
“Stop it.”
“Can I let you know?” Dana said, struggling to find a way to wriggle out of this.
“How often do I ask for a favor?”
Never, Dana thought, and felt a rock of guilt drop in her belly as she recalled the money Chelsea and Brandon had given her when she was unemployed and couldn’t make rent. That was after she got fired as a waitress and before she got hired and then fired as a Hot Topic cashier. They never made her feel guilty, never asked her to pay it back. Hell, they even wired the money right into her account so she could have it immediately.
“But I have a commitment,” Dana pleaded. People who weren’t in the theater didn’t seemed to understand its importance, how you had an obligation to the rest of the cast. They seemed to think it was just a bunch of adults having a playdate.
“It’s not like you’re an indentured servant,” Chelsea said. “Tell them you have a family emergency. Even people in the theater have family emergencies, don’t they?”
Dana thought about all the people she knew who went onstage in the midst of crushing family crises. The show must go on, and all that. Then again, this was just a rehearsal, not a performance, and she guessed she could ask Nathan if they could do without her for one night. The timing sucked though, because he might think her request had something to do with the weird moment they just shared.
“Come on, Dana. Please. It’s just this one night. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Dana sighed. “Let me call you back,” she said, and then rehearsed a little speech for Nathan—something compelling and not-at-all-weird. She would take him into her confidence so he wouldn’t feel like she was simply wigging out after their exchange.
It worked, of course, and he said they would rehearse scene two, which she wasn’t in. Then Dana called her sister back and told her she’d be there.
“You promise?” Chelsea asked.
“Of course.”
Her sister paused, as if she didn’t quite believe her. But at last she said, “I’m counting on you.”
* * *
Monday’s show was another holiday push, divided between sweaters (which sold well in the northeast), and chenille bathrobes (which were strongest in the Midwest). It wasn’t a particularly challenging sell-through, but the pressure was on for high volume. Even in the best of times, the holiday season could make or break their whole year. Fortunately, Dana found the energy to gush and coo over every color and style, and orders were strong.
Afterward, she went back into her dressing room to change into her street clothes, so she could scurry over to Dad and Jennifer’s apartment on the East Side. Ari was meeting her there, and had been briefed on their mission to distract Wesley.
She had just slipped on her jacket and was freshening up her lipstick when Ashlee knocked on her door.
“You’ve been summoned to a meeting in Mr. Honeycutt’s office,” she said.
“Now?”
“Sherry said I should tell you it’s important.”
If it was anyone but Sherry, Dana would take that as an ominous request. But it was probably nothing. At least she hoped it was, because she simply couldn’t blow off her sister.
“I have a previous engagement,” she said. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Ashlee said. “But Sherry looked like she was fixin’ to cream somebody’s corn.”
Dana had never heard the expression, but the context made it an easy translation. “Doesn’t Sherry always look like that?”
“Not this bad. She didn’t say so precisely, but I got a dark sense. Like you were in some kind of trouble.”
“Trouble?” Dana said, tightening the belt on her coat, as if the sudden chill she felt came from the outside and not the inside, where her blood temperature dropped.
“I could be readin’ it wrong, but I don’t think so.”
Dana wondered what Sherry could be so mad about she would want to involve Honeycutt. It couldn’t be her sales figures, which had been right on target that day.
“Ashlee, I have to ask—did you tell anybody about the other night?”
“No ma’am! Not a soul.” She held up her hand in solemn oath and Dana could tell she was genuine.
Dana considered dashing upstairs and trying to make quick business of whatever they needed from her, then arriving at dinner just a bit late. But she didn’t think that would be possible. If something serious was going on, it would require a long meeting. Besides, if she were really in some kind of trouble, she would want Megan there.
She shook her head. “I can’t do it, Ashlee. I have to leave.”
“Want me to say I couldn’t catch you?”
“No,” Dana said quickly. She didn’t think it was fair to ask Ashlee to lie for her on top of what she had already done. “Just tell them I had a previous appointment and I’ll see them tomorrow.”
“You sure?” Ashlee said. She didn’t seem convinced it was the best course of action.
“Not even a little,” Dana said, but she grabbed her purse, and left.
19
Though only a few minutes late, Dana was the last to arrive. She knew this before she even stepped off the elevator, because her sister had texted to say: Everyone is here. Where are you?
She pressed the buzzer on apartment 7F and the door seemed to swing open on its own. Then she looked down and saw her four-year-old nephew.
“Well hello, Dad,” she said to the boy.
“I’m Wesley.”
Dana crouched to give him a hug. He smelled like peanut butter and crayons. “I always get you guys mixed up,” she said.
“Guess what we’re eating,” he said.
&nbs
p; “Reese’s Pieces?”
“Nope.”
She put her finger to her chin. “Green beans?”
“Ghost cheese!” he proudly pronounced. Then he curved his little hands and held them up in approximation of a terrifying spirit.
“Goat cheese,” his father, Brandon, corrected from the living room.
Dana entered the apartment and shut the door behind her. “Sorry I’m late,” she announced.
“They make cheese from goats?” the boy asked, incredulous.
“From goat’s milk,” Brandon explained.
Wesley frowned. “Why do they take milk from goats? Can’t they buy their own?”
As Brandon launched into an explanation of how all mammals produce milk—a lesson that would no doubt come in handy once the baby was born—Dana shrugged off her coat and hung it on a rack near the door.
Ari rose from the couch and came to hug her. She held tight and breathed him in. He smelled even better than peanut butter and crayons.
“How was work?” he asked.
“I’ll know more tomorrow.”
He backed up to look at her. “What does that mean?”
She glanced over her shoulder at her father, who was in the brown leather easy chair listening to the conversation.
“Nothing,” she said to Ari, and they exchanged a look. He nodded, understanding that the conversation would be continued in private.
Dana said hello to everyone in the room, and took a seat on the couch with Ari. Wesley picked up a cracker with cheese and handed it to her.
“It’s made from the milk of goats,” he explained, proud of his new expertise.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Jennifer asked her. “White wine?”
Dana agreed, then turned her attention to her father, who leaned back in his chair as he sipped what looked like scotch.
“Ari was telling us about the murder investigation,” he said.
Dana turned to her boyfriend, surprised. “You were?”
“Just that it’s in full swing,” Ari explained, “and that we’re following a number of leads.”
“What do the people in your company think?” Jennifer asked, handing Dana her wine.
“The same thing the police think—that nearly everyone’s a suspect. But Ari and I really aren’t allowed to talk about it.”
“Why not?” her father asked, his brow tightening. “Are you a murder suspect?”
Wesley looked at his mom, excited. “Did Aunt Dana kill somebody?”
“No, sweetheart.”
Dana inhaled, trying to figure out how to explain to her father why she and Ari couldn’t talk about it. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him she had no memory of the night because someone has slipped her a date rape drug. Before she got a word out, Ari stepped in, intuiting her discomfort.
“It’s just that she was at the party,” he said, “and I don’t want to taint the investigation by discussing it.”
Kenneth gave a nod, as if no one could understand the complexity of a police investigation better than he. As Dana watched him, she tried to wrap her mind around the thought that her father had come to accept and even admire Ari. When they first started dating, he couldn’t understand why she would choose a cop when there were single neurologists and cardiologists available. Even an internist would have been acceptable. But a cop? Preposterous.
Funny thing is that until she met Ari, Dana, too, thought dating a cop was preposterous. She just didn’t think rule followers were hot. Guys with a little edge were the ones that rocked her world. Then in walked this man. This too-tall grown-up man with his serious face and his serious suit. A man whose job was catching the bad guys. It all seemed so very wrong. She had resented him immediately, but couldn’t stop thinking about him. Eventually, her head caught up to her heart.
“Maybe we should change the subject,” Chelsea said.
Dana agreed, looking around. “Did you repaint this room?” she asked, noting that the walls, previously a pale cream, were now a light golden beige. The apartment had been Jennifer’s before they married over the summer, at which point Kenneth sold his house and moved in.
“Your father picked the color,” Jennifer said.
Dana tried to imagine Dr. Kenneth Barry, MD, examining paint chips, and couldn’t. Her father had been so completely removed from the domestic affairs of her childhood that he often seemed more like a boarder in the house than a member of the family. She could still hear her mother trying to involve him in a decision on kitchen cabinetry or carpeting. “Rhonda, please,” he would say, exasperated, as if insulted that she would try to lower him to such trivial matters. Then it would fall to Chelsea and Dana—who were sensitive enough to intuit their mother’s hurt feelings—to jump in with opinions.
And now, her father was examining paint chips in different shades of vanilla? It almost didn’t seem fair.
“It’s lovely, Dad,” Chelsea said.
Dana popped a cracker into her mouth and grunted.
“I understand you’re moving into a new apartment,” Kenneth said, turning to her.
Dana nearly choked. “Where did you hear that?” She glared at Chelsea, who wasn’t supposed to say anything about the apartment in front of Ari.
“My fault,” Brandon chimed in. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“Why should it be a secret?” Kenneth said.
“It’s not a secret. It’s just...it’s sort of a sore point right now. Can we talk about something else, like—” she looked around, picked up a cardiology journal from the side table and read from the cover “—trends in surgical and transcatheter mitral valve repair?”
“A sore point?” Kenneth asked. “With whom? Ari?”
“Dad,” Dana pleaded.
“It’s okay,” Ari said. “You can talk about it.”
She looked at him. “You sure?”
“Why not?” he said, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Dana sighed, relenting. “I signed a lease on an apartment for Ari and me. But I didn’t check with him first. I got carried away. So I’ll be taking the place on my own.”
Ari laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
His hands went up in good-natured surrender. “I meant you could talk about the apartment itself. But if you want to talk about this part, that’s fine, too.”
Dana groaned. “Oh god. I can’t stop putting my foot in my mouth.”
Wesley, who was on the floor, looking from one grown-up to the other, raised his shoed foot toward his open mouth.
“Wesley, no!” Chelsea said.
“Aunt Dana did it.”
“She didn’t, sweetheart. It’s just an expression.”
“So can we hear about the apartment?” Jennifer asked. “Unless you don’t want to—”
“No, it’s fine,” Dana said, and took out her phone. She scrolled to the pictures of the apartment and handed it to Jennifer.
“Oh!” she said, swiping through. “Look at those windows. And floors. It’s beautiful. One bedroom?”
“Two,” Dana said.
Kenneth’s brow tightened. “Can you afford that?”
“Yes, Dad,” she said, and braced herself.
“A two-bedroom on the West Side?” he asked, dubious.
“I just said yes, didn’t I?”
Kenneth took the phone from Jennifer and swiped through the pictures. “This looks prohibitively expensive.”
“Would it kill you to have an ounce of faith in my judgment?” Dana asked.
“You just said you got carried away. I just want to make sure you didn’t get yourself in over your head.”
“Trust me, I got a bargain.”
Kenneth looked from Dana to Ari and back to Dana. “But you’re going to be paying the rent on your
own?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”
“In one of those articles about the murder, it said the Shopping Channel is having financial difficulties.”
Dana sighed, exasperated. “Can you please let me worry about my own finances?”
“I’m just saying this might not be the right time to take on such an expense. I’m sure your current apartment is adequate for a single woman.”
Dana’s jaw went so tight she had to unhinge it to speak. “You’ve never even seen my apartment.” Despite the many times I invited you up, she thought.
“Irrelevant. I know that it’s a one-bedroom, and that Manhattan is among the most expensive places to live.”
“It’s not even a real one-bedroom,” Dana said. “It’s a studio with an alcove I turned into a bedroom. It’s miniscule, and I’m done with it. Besides, I can afford a bigger place.”
“Well,” Kenneth said, “if Ari’s not moving in with you, perhaps you should get a roommate. That would help with the rent.”
This, Dana thought, was the perfect time to take a breather with Wesley. She stood, hoping it would equalize the pressure in her brain and keep it from exploding. “I think I’m going to get some air,” she said. “Wesley, would you like to go out for a walk with Ari and me?”
“You’re here for dinner,” Kenneth said. “You can go for a walk on your own time.”
“I’m sure Jennifer wouldn’t mind if they went out for a bit,” Chelsea said. “Would you?”
Jennifer said it was fine, and that they would be eating in about half an hour. So Dana, Ari and Wesley put on their jackets, and left.
They headed west and then walked up Fifth Avenue, with Wesley in the middle—his tiny hands held by the grown-ups.
“Do you like New York City?” Wesley asked, looking up at his aunt.
“Sure I do,” she said. “Don’t you?”
“It’s okay.”
Dana studied his sweet little face, so painfully earnest. “You like Roslyn better?” she asked.
Wesley nodded decisively.
The Rooftop Party Page 13