by Thea Dawson
“He didn’t nap today. He’s just tired. He’ll be asleep in a minute or two.” Rowan’s eyelids were already starting to droop.
“They play together really nicely,” Angel nodded toward the play structure. “It’s so great that you guys can be with her. She was always telling me how she wanted brothers and sisters to play with.”
“My kids have had a good time with her. I’m so glad you’re coming back to look after her, though. She talks about you a lot.”
Angel’s big eyes got wider. “Oh, I’m not coming back to work for Richard,” she said. “I’m just in town for senior week and the graduation ceremony at Falls State. Then my boyfriend and I are moving to San Diego. We both got jobs down there.”
Celia blinked. “Oh. I thought … The way Richard phrased it, I just assumed you were coming back to work.”
Angel shook her head. “No, I’m just here to graduate. I could have walked in the winter ceremony, but I wanted to be here with my friends. I’m the first one in my family to graduate from college so all my relatives are coming. It’s kind of a big deal,” she said with shy pride. “But no. I wouldn’t mind looking after Peyton again, I just can’t.” Her brows knit with concern. “Are you not planning on staying?”
“Well …” Celia wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I’m just, you know, busy with other things.”
Angel stared at her appraisingly. “Is it Richard? I mean, I love the guy, he’s like my second dad, but he can be a real prick sometimes.”
Celia gave a short laugh at Angel’s blunt language. “Well, yes, there’s that …”
Angel sighed and shook her head. “His wife did a real number on him. I started working for them, let’s see, two summers ago, before things went bad. Before that, Richard was a sweet guy. Kinda … dumb sometimes with what he said, but you always knew he meant well. And he just adored Melanie. But then he got tenure, and boom—” Angel snapped her fingers. “Everything changed.”
Celia frowned, perplexed. “Why would tenure be bad?”
“You know Melanie?” Angel asked.
“I know about her. I haven’t met her,” Celia replied.
Angel’s pretty face grew dark. “Well, you know she’s a lawyer, right? When Richard started working here, she got a job in the legal affairs department at Falls State. But she never really thought she’d stay there. She wanted to be working for some big-time corporation in LA or New York or something. Even though Richard was on tenure track, I don’t think she really thought he’d stay in Silverweed when he could have been somewhere else. And when he got tenure, and it finally dawned on her that he was serious about staying …” Angel shrugged. “And that was that.”
“I see …” Celia was dying to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem too nosey.
“After that, Richard got really … bitter, I guess you’d say. Honestly, if I hadn’t known what he was like before, I probably would have quit, too. But he’s still just a big softie on the inside. You can tell by how protective he is of Peyton.” She laughed slightly. “He made me teach him how to braid her hair so he could do it himself. He really wants to do right by her.
“Anyway,” Angel spread her hands out in resignation, “I’m just saying that if it’s Richard’s personality that’s the issue, maybe give the guy another chance. He likes you, or he wouldn’t have let you look after Peyton this long. Trust me. He’s very selective about who comes into her life.”
“He does seem very devoted to her,” Celia agreed a bit stiffly.
“It’s a shame he just keeps pushing people away.” Angel sighed. “He’s the kind of guy who needs someone even if he doesn’t realize it.”
Celia looked down at Rowan’s sleeping face, unable to look Angel in the eyes. Richard was at the heart of the problem, but not the way Angel assumed.
She braced herself and asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d last seen Marcie. “Do you know anything about the police being called for a domestic violence dispute while Melanie was still here?”
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”
“Richard’s neighbor, Marcie, said something about it.”
“Esa perrucha,” Angel muttered, looking disgusted. “Yeah, I know about that. I’m the one who called the cops.”
Celia looked at her in surprise.
Angel put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Trust me, if you’re worried about Richard, don’t be. He can be a jerk, but he’d never hurt anyone,” she said earnestly. “He’s really protective. He’d never let anything happen to you or your kids, I swear.”
Peyton came running up then, holding hands with Rosie. “Angel, can you push us on the merry-go-round?” she asked breathlessly.
“Sure thing, pumpkin!” Angel leapt up to run after them, leaving Celia to wonder about what she’d said.
19
Richard stepped through the mudroom door the following Monday.
“Daddy!” Peyton careened around the corner and caught him in a big hug as he stepped into the house.
He swung her up into his arms and grunted. “Oof! Won’t be able to do that much longer. You’re getting to be pretty big.”
“I’m going to be big enough this summer to swim to the point.”
Richard put her down again. “Well, we’ll see.”
“No, I really am! I almost did it last summer.”
Richard grinned and ruffled her hair. “You got halfway across and I had to pull you into the boat, and that was with you wearing your life jacket.”
“But I’m bigger this year.”
“We’ll see. I need to ask Celia something.”
“Why don’t you go tell Lily and Rosie it’s time to leave?” Celia suggested.
Peyton zoomed off the way she’d come.
“What was that about?” Celia asked.
Richard began loosening his tie. “My family has a cabin south of here, a bit west of Salem, on a lake. We go up there sometimes during the summer. I made the mistake of telling Peyton once how I used to swim across to the point while my dad and mom would row out a picnic, and ever since she’s wanted to swim across herself. But it’s actually a pretty fair distance, and she’s not all that strong a swimmer. I think it’ll be another couple of years before she’s really ready.”
He slid the tie off completely, while Celia pretended to be busy looking at something else. The way he took his tie off first thing when he got home always made her feel a little warmer than was appropriate.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I have a work thing I need to be at next Friday evening. Any chance you could babysit for Peyton?”
Celia had been digging in her tote bag for her car keys and looked up as Lily, Rosie, and Peyton came back, Rowan tottering along behind them.
“Friday? I’m sorry. I have a … thing with my, uh, graphic design teacher.” She paused, feeling slightly guilty. After all, part of her unique selling point to Richard way back when was that she’d flexible enough to work on evenings and weekends if needed. “Um ... my neighbor’s looking after my kids. If you’re stuck, I could ask if she’d mind looking after Peyton as well.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it—” Richard started.
“Is that the lady with the guinea pigs and the goat?” Peyton interrupted, her face lighting up.
“Goats?” asked Richard.
“Just one,” Celia assured him.
“Oh, please, Daddy?” Peyton grabbed his arm and started jumping up and down. “Please, please, please?”
Richard looked nonplussed. “I wouldn’t have thought your neighborhood was zoned for goats,” he said.
“It’s … not, exactly. “I’m counting on your discretion to not call the zoning police.”
He shook his head. “I leave telling on the neighbors to the Marcies of the world,” he assured her. “But I don’t want to put your neighbor out. I’ll see if I can find someone else. If I get really stuck, I’ll give you a call.”
Peyton pouted. “Pleeeease
?” she begged. “They have so much fun over there. She has kittens, and rabbits and like, six guinea pigs, and Guinevere is the goat—”
Celia bit her lip and glanced at Richard’s face as he absorbed this information, wondering what the analytical engineer would think of the pet-collecting masseuse. She could almost see the wheels in his head spinning as he tried to politely deflect her well-intentioned offer and Peyton’s enthusiastic response.
Feeling impish, she decided to jump in with another suggestion he probably wouldn’t approve of.
“Peyton and Lily have been asking about a sleepover,” she said. “Maybe Peyton could just spend the night? I should be home by nine at the latest to get them from Tracie’s.”
He shot her an annoyed look but she took it in stride; she was almost immune now to his disapproval, so she smiled blandly in response as Peyton and Lily hung on Richard’s arm and begged.
He moved his gaze from Celia to Peyton. “I thought you didn’t like sleepovers.”
“It would be different with Lily and Celia,” Peyton insisted.
Richard looked somewhat sorry that he’d ever opened his mouth to see if Celia was free. “Well, we’ll see. I’m not a hundred percent sure I really need to be there anyway.” He turned to Celia again. “I’ll let you know, thanks.”
Celia nodded. “Okay. My crew, let’s roll!”
In the back of his mind, Richard had hoped that not having a babysitter might be a good enough excuse to avoid going to the reception, but the next day at a staff meeting, Dave Wiggenstrom, the head of his department, made it clear that he expected all engineering faculty to be there.
“Thanks to the hard work of the university development staff and several faculty members, the School of Engineering has received a $20 million dollar grant. I want everyone there to express our appreciation to the Gradios Corporation, and our university colleagues who’ve worked so hard to make this happen. Understood?”
Richard understood—and groaned inwardly. He had run his consulting work past Dave, but hadn’t yet gotten formal approval. It was doubtful that the administration would say no, but this was not a time to be tactless. Much as he loathed standing around making pointless small talk at events such as these, he’d have to suck it up and go.
Back when he’d been married, Melanie had made receptions and other networking events bearable. She was beautiful, smart, knew almost everyone, and had a gift for charming the most powerful people in the room. With her at his side, he’d hadn’t really had to do any work; he’d simply stayed near her, shaking hands and answering the occasional question, as she’d worked the room. On his own, however, making small talk with strangers seemed pointless and felt exasperating.
Unbidden, a picture of himself at the reception with Celia on his arm came to mind. He couldn’t imagine her being as agenda-driven as Melanie, but he could see her taking a sincere interest in a variety of people. He pictured her pretty face leaning in slightly, attentive to what people had to say, making them feel listened to and appreciated. With her as a date, the reception wouldn’t be just bearable; it might actually be fun.
But asking her to go with him would be ... awkward, even if he were willing to subject her to something that dull. And anyway, she had plans. Sighing, he sent her a text to ask if she’d ask her neighbor to look after Peyton after all.
A reply came back a few minutes later. No problem. What about the sleepover?
He thought about it. For months after Melanie had left, Peyton had suffered from nightmares, and he’d awoken more mornings that not to find her snuggled in bed with him. She’d been reluctant to let him out of her sight; now she was begging for a sleepover. Part of him wanted to not let her go—what if she had another nightmare?--but part of him knew that sleepovers were what kids did, and if she had to have one, at least he trusted Celia and liked Lily.
Goats. Sleepovers.
Peyton’s horizons were being broadened whether he liked it or not.
All right, he texted back.
He left work slightly earlier than usual on Friday. He hoped to catch Peyton for a goodnight hug before Celia took her over to the babysitting goat lady, and he wanted to grab a quick bite and change his clothes before heading back to the reception at six. He’d parked in the faculty lot behind the library, the route to which took him past the café where he and Peyton had had lunch with Celia and her family. He glanced through the large windows. It looked decently busy for this time of day. He hoped it would stay in business. The atmosphere was nice, and he liked the owner for giving Celia work. He should probably make a point of getting lunch there once or twice a week, he thought.
He turned away from the window, took a step and almost ran into a woman who was coming out the door.
“Excuse me—” He froze. “Joy.”
She was a striking-looking woman, about his age, with dark hair that fell to her shoulders, full lips, and a trim figure set off by a stylish summer dress. Her eyes were covered by huge sunglasses, but he could tell from her body language that she was as discomfited by the encounter as he was.
“Oh. Hello, Richard.” She paused, looking for the right words to say, and settled for, “How are you?”
Besides Melanie herself, there was almost no one he would have felt less comfortable running into. He tended to forget that Melanie’s affair with Scott had left other victims in its wake besides himself and Peyton. Scott had also been married, and had left his wife and his teenage daughter. Richard had known Joy Albright slightly before he’d found out about the affair—she’d served on the board of the Academy for a couple of years—but their paths had crossed only rarely since she’d resigned and their spouses had started a new life together.
“I’m … well. How are you and Charlotte doing?” It wasn’t just a formality; he sincerely hoped that things were going well for her. He prayed that she’d gotten a good lawyer and hadn’t suffered more than necessary in the divorce.
But based on her resigned shrug and her downcast expression, she was still struggling. “Oh, you know … just …” Her voice trailed off. “What are you up to these days?”
“Work, looking after Peyton, you know,” he said vaguely.
“It’s not easy, is it, doing it all on your own?” She sighed. “After this much time, I feel like I should have the hang of being single, you know—but I don’t.” She gave a humorless little laugh.
He wanted to say something supportive—to remind her what a jerk Scott had been to her, or tell her that she was a capable, attractive woman whom any man would be lucky to have—but he wasn’t able to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he managed and awkward shrug and said, “You deserved better, Joy.”
Her lips twitched a bit, though whether she was on the verge of smiling or crying, he couldn’t have said.
“We both did, Richard,” she replied. “I guess now we just have to get on with life, don’t we?”
“Yeah, I suppose we do.”
She patted him on the arm and managed—to his relief—a smile. “Take care, now,” she said quietly and stepped past him and down the street.
We just have to get on with life, don’t we?
Her words echoed in his ears as he continued slowly down the street toward his car.
20
The reception was, as Richard has suspected it would be, a crashing bore. It was held in the Exhibition Hall of the School of Engineering, a large modern space with polished floors and a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass windows. In the daytime, they looked out onto the main quad. Now, the dark night beyond them reflected back the crowd of professors, administrators, students, staff and corporate employees who had gathered for the reception. The president of the university, the dean of Engineering, and the CEO of Gradios Ltd. all gave speeches. Gradios was a leading manufacturer of medical imaging devices. It wasn’t Richard’s field, but he found the subject interesting and would have welcomed learning more about it. Unfortunately, the speeches contained very little science and lot of lip service and self-co
ngratulatory posturing.
But he was sorry once they were over and it was time to mingle. He glanced at his watch, wondering how long he’d have to stay before he could slip out gracefully. Hors d’oeuvres and wine were passed around by wait staff in black slacks and white shirts. He took a glass of Pinot Noir in order to give his hands something to do, and managed to strike up a conversation with a pair of chemical engineering professors whom he knew slightly. He kept half an eye out for Sam—surely he and Eva must be here somewhere; they at least would be enjoyable to talk to. But despite the fact that there were at least a couple hundred people in attendance, very few of them were familiar to Richard.
A large knot of attendees had gathered around the Gradios CEO, hoping to shake his hand. Richard caught a glimpse of Dave Wiggenstrom in earnest discussion with the University president close by. If Melanie had been here, she would have been in on the action, shaking hands and making an impression. She was a consummate networker, tactfully ignoring people who had nothing to offer her, seeking out and impressing the ones who did, always looking for opportunities.
Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to expect her to be content with a career at a suburban university, he thought. He would have moved for her, even after getting tenure; would have changed jobs, gone back full-time into private industry if necessary, but by the time he realized what she wanted, it had been too late. She’d understood before he had that his ambition—which had taken him through an undergraduate degree at MIT, a doctorate at Stanford, a decade in private industry, and tenure before he was forty—had plateaued. He had the degrees, the recognition, and the income that he wanted; he now was content to do his research, teach his students, and raise his daughter.
And Melanie, who was never content, had despised him for it.
The chemical engineers had been joined by a couple of graduate assistants and were earnestly discussing a recent conference at which Gradios researchers had unveiled a prototype of a new kind of molecular imaging device. Richard excused himself and drifted away from the conversation. He’d put in his time at the reception and was ready to go home—a home, he remembered with sigh, that wouldn’t even have Peyton in it when he got there. Well, he could get started on some research that Susan needed.