The Good Provider

by Debra Salonen

  “Well, Mother was a medical student at Harvard when my father had a visiting fellowship in economics. It was the late sixties, and the sexual revolution was in full swing. My father was handsome and lonely. My mother was feeling adventurous. They had a semester-long fling that resulted in me.”

  “Oh.”

  He tossed out his hands. “They chose convention over abortion, for which I’m thankful.”

  She sensed a great deal more emotion behind his cavalier attitude than he wanted her to see. “Me, too,” was the only thing she could think to say.

  The awkwardness of the moment was relieved by Hailey who ran up them. “Mommy, Mommy, look at all my tickets!” she said, holding out a fistful of hot pink tickets. “Come see all the cool stuff we can buy. I wanna get something for Great-Grandpa Cal, but I don’t know if I have enough, and Miranda won’t share hers.”

  Daria glanced longingly at the wine carafe. Some days the competition between sisters got very old. To her surprise, William jumped to his feet. “Prizes? I didn’t know there were prizes. What say we buy some more tokens and grow that stash of tickets into something really substantial?”

  Hailey clapped with glee, even though Daria was quite sure she didn’t know the meaning of the word. “Mom? Will you play with us, too?”

  Daria knew what kind of faux treasures awaited them—the stuff you paid a fortune to “win.” But what the heck. It beat the alternative—sitting in a motel room worrying about the juggernaut she’d unleashed.

  “Sure. I’m pretty good at skee ball, if I do say so myself.”

  She wasn’t really. In fact, she was terrible, and she proved it a few minutes later, but William wasn’t a darn bit better.

  “They must not have this game in England, huh?”

  He fished a handful of tokens from his pocket, handing her half. “That is an excellent excuse and I’m going with it. What’s yours?” he asked after tossing the first of his heavy balls toward the ridiculously challenging arrangement of holes and plastic ledges.

  She selected a ball of her own. She could have resurrected any number of slights Bruce had used to describe her lack of athletic prowess in the past, but she didn’t. “My balls are out of balance.”

  William laughed. “Definitely not an excuse I’m tempted to steal.” He tried another pass, this time scoring the highest number on the machine. Hailey clapped and cheered. She’d lost interest in the game twenty or thirty dollars earlier. Daria had lost track of how many times William had returned to the counter to purchase more tokens.

  Truthfully, she didn’t really care. She was having fun. A woman running away from her ex-husband probably didn’t deserve to have fun, but Daria refused to think about that, either. For once, she gave herself permission to do what felt right—even if she might regret it tomorrow.

  “Well, Hailey, I fear we’ve come to the end of our token supply. Will you and Miranda collect all our tickets? Let’s go see what we can buy for Cal.”

  Daria paused to gather their jackets and tidy up the area where they’d been playing. When she joined them at the redemption counter, she heard Miranda tell William, “He’s our great-grandfather. Our mom’s dad lives in Florida with a young wife Mom hates. Our dad’s dad is dead. Our Grandma Hester lives close by us in Fresno. Mom doesn’t like her much, either, although she says she does.”

  The insights and personal revelations robbed Daria of speech—momentarily. “Miranda Grace, that was entirely uncalled for. You may wait for us at the table while Hailey picks out something for Great-Grandpa Calvin. You, young lady, may use the time to rethink what is appropriate to share and what is not.”

  Miranda blushed and dashed away, diving for the obscurity of the booth. Hailey moved a little closer to Daria, taking her hand for comfort.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. Miranda is still upset because I won’t give her back her phone.” To William she added, “You’d have thought I untethered her lifeline and set her adrift in the Atlantic.”

  William extended his hand to Hailey. “Miss Hailey and I can browse while you discuss matters with Miranda, if you like.”

  She looked toward the booth where they’d been sitting earlier. Miranda—her stubborn, strong, too-savvy-for-her-own-good child. “Good idea.” She dropped a kiss on Hailey’s cheek and cautioned, “Nothing big. Grandpa doesn’t have a lot of space, remember?”

  William knew that message was for him, too. And he tried to keep the child’s purchases to a ticket-only minimum, but it became imminently clear that even a basketful of tickets wasn’t worth squat. Anything of quality required cold, hard cash.

  Hailey proved to be a serious shopper. After a great deal of deliberation, she finally settled on two very realistic-looking stuffed animals—a sober-faced black bear for Miranda and a velvety plush polar bear with a cub that Hailey and her mother would share. For Cal, she chose a whimsical two-story birdhouse, which, much to William’s amusement, turned out to be from an artist whose name he recognized from Sentinel Pass.

  “One thirty-seven sixty-four,” the cashier mumbled after cracking a large wad of gum.

  “How much?”

  “One hundred thirty-seven dollars and sixty-four cents,” she repeated, slowly and loud enough for everyone in the entire facility to hear.

  He winced. “Thank you. I’m an American, and I’m not deaf.”

  “Is that a lot, William?” Hailey asked, looking worried. She coughed suddenly—a low, raspy sound that sounded like it came from a set of ninety-year-old smoker’s lungs.

  He handed the clerk his credit card. “No, love, that’s half what it would have been if we hadn’t won all those tickets. Good thing you’re such a pro at that dance game you and your sister were playing.”

  He hastily signed his name and collected the large, reinforced shopping bag holding their treasures.

  He took Hailey’s hand and was halfway across the room when Miranda suddenly jumped up from the table where she and her mother were talking and rushed past them to the main entrance. William could see the girl was crying.

  Daria followed, pausing to ask William in a low voice so Hailey couldn’t hear, “Would you and Hailey give us a few minutes more? I told her we might not be going home right away and she’s pretty upset.”

  “Of course. Hailey and I will catch up after—” he looked around, wondering how best to stall “—dessert. We forgot to order dessert.” He used his free hand to cover his mouth in mock horror, which made Hailey burst out giggling, her concern for her sister apparently forgotten.

  “Can we get ice cream?”

  William shook his head. “Oh, dear me, no. Ordinary ice cream is simply too…ordinary. We need sundaes, at the very least.”

  “Thank you,” Daria mouthed on her way out the door.

  The hotel was less than a block away and William had a clear line of sight to see Daria catch up to Miranda at the intersection. As they waited for the light to change, he saw Miranda throw herself into her mother’s arms, obviously sobbing.

  “So, my friend, what will it be? Chocolate, strawberry or butterscotch?” he asked when it was their turn to order. He was tempted to order tea, but he knew he’d be disappointed; authentic tea was the one thing he missed about England.

  “B’nilla,” Hailey said.

  “Vanilla.”

  “No. B’nilla,” she insisted, emphasizing the B. “It’s how Mommy makes our ice cream. You put white ice cream in the blender with a banana. It’s my favorite. Miranda likes Blu-nilla best.”

  Blueberries and vanilla ice cream, William guessed. Tasty and more nutritious. Clever mum.

  “Maybe these nice people might make that for you. It can’t hurt to ask.”

  “Can we take some to Miranda, too?”

  “Yes,” he said, impressed by her generosity and fealty toward her sister. “Absolutely. In fact, we’ll order them both to go.”

  Ten minutes later, they left the restaurant with two bags in hand. The air was a good twenty degrees cooler than it ha
d been when the sun was up. William feared his young charge might suffer another coughing fit in the cold air, but her breath formed smooth and steady little white clouds, the same as his.

  “I don’t wish to be nosy, but did I hear someone say you have asthma?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I cough a lot. Sometimes I miss school. My teacher is Mrs. Bennett. She’s nice. She has brown hair and brown eyes like our president. Some people call her black, but she’s really brown.”

  William was still grinning when he knocked on the door adjacent to his room. Daria answered it right away. The TV was on in the background, but William didn’t see Miranda. “Hi, sweetness,” she said, giving Hailey a quick hug as she helped her out of her jacket. Hailey handed William the milk shake bag to hold.

  “Thank you so much for dinner, William. And for your patience with Hailey. She’s a very serious shopper. Aren’t you, baby? She didn’t buy out the store, did she?” She glanced at the two bags with that worried look William was beginning not to like.

  “No, Mommy, we shopped good ’cause we had so many tickets. Huh, William?”

  “Indeed, we did. And we supported a local Sentinel Pass artist, as well. Hailey has excellent taste.” He set the bag containing the gifts to one side and held out the one containing their desserts. “You should probably pass these out, Hailey, before they get warm.”

  To Daria, he said, “Milk shakes. B’nilla and Blu-nilla.”

  Miranda, who must have been eavesdropping in the bathroom, opened the door across from them. “Really? You got me one, too? Thanks.” Aside from a little redness around her eyes, she looked fully recovered from her emotional outburst.

  “Why don’t you open those in the kitchen?” Daria suggested. “I saw some spoons in the drawer if you need them.”

  Miranda took the bag from William, flashing him a wide smile. Hailey hurried after her but stopped suddenly, turned around and came back. “Thank you, Mr. William. I love you.”

  William’s throat closed tight, but he managed to smile. “You’re most welcome. And don’t forget your presents.”

  Hailey gave a loud, excited squeal. “We both got new bears, M’randa,” she cried.

  Daria grabbed the bag before Hailey could. “After your milkshake, please.” She peeked, inside then gave William a questioning look. “You bought all this with tickets? I don’t think so.”

  William flushed under her scrutiny. “I’m a sucker for a sweet smile. She didn’t ask, I offered. And like I said, the gift for your grandfather is not only something useful, the sale helps a friend of mine fund a very good cause. Okay?”

  Daria took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.”

  He wanted to ask if her phone call with her ex had gone okay, but he didn’t. This was her business, he reminded himself. “I’ll be next door if you need anything,” he said, stepping back into the hall.

  He reached in his pocket for the key card, ignoring as much as possible the odd shake of his hand as he tried to swipe it. The red light remained red.

  “Here,” Daria said, coming to his aid, “let me. You foreigners.”

  Her tone was teasing, but he said in his own defense, “I have dual citizenship, I’ll have you know. I’m not a tourist, just clumsy.”

  The light turned green on her first try. She pushed on the handle and the door opened smoothly. “Well,” she said, grinning, “that explains the skee ball, doesn’t it?” The mischievous twinkle in her eyes made him completely fumble with the key card when she tried to hand it to him. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”

  Then she disappeared back into her suite.

  He walked into the ugly room, shrugged off his coat and kicked the foot of the ugly sofa as he walked past. His laptop was on the desk, waiting for him to wade through the hundred or so e-mails that were undoubtedly in his in-box. Instead of pulling out the chair, he emptied his pockets. Key card. Wallet. Phone.

  He checked the number of messages. Eleven. “Later,” he muttered as he sat on the foot of the bed to remove his shoes. Directly across from him was a wide-screen TV. He could probably choose from several dozen channels if he was so inclined.

  He wasn’t.

  He suddenly felt terribly alone.

  Seclusion was a good thing, he told himself. Silence and routine helped him compartmentalize and concentrate. Unfortunately, at the moment, all he seemed capable of focusing on was what was happening next door, and how much he wished he were a part of it.

  “DO YOU LIKE YOUR BEAR, Miranda?” Hailey’s question was muffled by the towel Daria was using to dry her hair.

  Both girls had showered and were dressed in pajamas. Hailey had asked to have her hair braided before bed. “It’s okay.”

  Daria couldn’t decide if the ennui in her daughter’s tone was real or fake. Sometimes, Miranda tried to distance herself from things that seemed too childish, but Daria had seen her petting and admiring the highend stuffed animal when she didn’t think anyone was looking.

  “I think your bear is handsome. Like Mr. William.”

  “Daddy’s more handsome.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Daria picked up the large comb she always used on Hailey’s thick, curly hair. “Ahem. Ladies. Both men are very attractive. May we please leave it at that?”

  She slowly, carefully teased loose a knot of snarls while Hailey cuddled her new toy. Hailey hummed a lullaby under her breath for a minute or two then brought the bear close to her lips and whispered, “And Mr. William is nicer than Daddy, too.”

  Daria felt a lump form in her throat. She’d tried so hard these past few months to help her daughters through this difficult transition. She’d sacrificed, backpedaled, and had given up so many concessions she’d practically lost sight of her original divorce offer. She told herself that if she remained calm, patient and flexible, Bruce would play fair. He hadn’t. Not once. And even a child Hailey’s age could tell the difference.

  “I wanna call Dad,” Miranda said, idly surfing the menu on the TV screen.

  “He’s at a big party with the governor tonight, remember?”

  Bruce’s boasting about the black-tie event had helped nudge Daria into making her move that day. She’d figured the party would make an excellent excuse to avoid that call.

  “Maybe he’s Twittered about it. I told you we should have brought the laptop.”

  They’d had this argument before. “If we were at Grandpa Cal’s, like we’d planned, you’d be able to check your social networking sites, so we had no reason to cart along something that could get dropped or broken. Plus, my laptop isn’t nearly as fast as your father’s, and half the time it won’t hook up with a Wi-Fi signal.” Bruce made sure he had the fastest, most current technical gizmos, and Daria got his cast-offs. If she was lucky. His last laptop had gone to the student intern who’d worked for Bruce over the summer.

  “I’m bored,” Miranda said.

  “Not for long. We’re going to watch a little TV then go to sleep early in case William decides we need to leave first thing in the morning to beat another storm.” She had no idea if that was even a possibility, but it sounded logical. Fortunately, neither of her daughters argued with her, for once.

  I’m bored, Daria decided two hours later. Both girls were sound asleep in the king-size bed beyond the room divider that made the place a suite. The TV cast an eerie glow in the otherwise darkened room, although Daria had long since turned the volume to mute. She’d settled into bed with the girls to watch the animated show they’d finally compromised on, but had dozed off even before they had.

  She’d awoken with a start, panic-stricken that she was home and Bruce would find her asleep when she should have been working. Unfortunately, the adrenaline rush had robbed her of the ability to go back to sleep.

  Maybe a cup of cocoa, she decided, poking around the small kitchenette. She filled a cup with water from the tap and set it in the microwave. Resting one hip against the counter, she li
stened to the loud hum. A sharp “ping” made her jump to retrieve the cup.

  She was in the process of stirring the thick, aromatic powder into the water when she heard a soft knock on the door between William’s room and hers. She opened it hesitantly. “Yes?”

  He smiled apologetically. “I heard your microwave ding. Mine isn’t working. I wondered if you’d mind me heating a cup in yours. You can take a Brit out of England, but you can’t take away his tea.”

  Mind? You’re paying for this room. How could I mind? “Of course not. Come in.”

  He shook his head. “Are the girls sleeping? I don’t want to disturb them.” He handed her a mug identical to her own. “Give a knock when it’s ready and I’ll come back.”

  As he closed the door on his side, she caught a glimpse of an open laptop. Miranda’s comment about Twitter had started Daria thinking. Maybe Bruce had posted something about the gala that night. Or maybe he’d made good on his threat to put out an Amber Alert.

  Once the water was boiling, she carried both cups into the adjoining room, leaving the door open slightly behind her. “Here you go,” she said, setting his near the basket of tea bags and premeasured coffee packets.

  William, who was standing at the window staring out, looked around. “Thank you.” He started toward her. “I was checking the sky. Nothing but stars as far as I can see. Hopefully that bodes well for our travel tomorrow.”

  “Hopefully,” she repeated.

  He walked past her with a tentative smile. “Are you a tea drinker, too?” he asked, nodding toward her cup.

  “Not at night. Caffeine would not be a good idea right now. My mind is having a hard time shutting down as it is.” She took a sip and licked her lips before adding, “This is cocoa.”

  “Ah.” He ripped open two tea bags and plopped them into the cup, then used a second cup to cover the steaming brew. “Not a fan of late-night television?”

  She shook her head. “Not since Miranda was born. Once you have kids, you take all the sleep you can get.” She stepped closer to the coffee table where his laptop sat. “Do you have Internet service?”