The Last House on Sycamore Street

by Paige Roberts

  “What about work? Are you still freelancing?”

  “Yeah, I’m not loving it, though. I’m ready to get back into something more substantial.”

  “I still can’t believe you quit your job back in DC. I mean, I totally get it, but you were always such a gunner! I thought you’d be running your own nonprofit by now.”

  That was the other thing about old friends: They didn’t mince words. Amy tried not to feel insulted, but it was hard, especially when she knew Jess was right. “Yeah, well . . . kids,” she finally said.

  “Trust me, I understand. I wish I could step back and spend more time with ours. But we need the extra income.”

  She was careful not to add what Amy assumed was the reason, which was that they had two kids and not just one. Jess had always been sensitive to the fact that Noah wasn’t an only child by choice.

  “So when are you going to visit us?” Amy asked.

  “When my kids are old enough to fend for themselves for the weekend?”

  Amy laughed. “Seriously—I miss you. I’d love for you to visit.”

  “We’d love it, too. It’s just hard for us right now with the two monsters. But maybe if we could get my parents to visit and then stay on to watch them . . .”

  “The kids are welcome to visit, too.”

  “You say that, but you haven’t witnessed one of our dinnertimes. The kids—they’re animals. I love them, but honestly, I don’t know what we’re doing wrong. Penny usually spends most of the meal on the floor, screaming because her blood sugar is low and she is refusing to eat. And Zander . . . whatever. He has his own issues. All I’m saying is, it would be a lot more peaceful and fun without them.”

  “I think Rob’s company might be sponsoring a benefit for a friend of ours in the fall—actually the husband of the woman I mentioned earlier.”

  “The one who sold you the house?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know the details, but it could be a fun night out. Plus, with MediaCom as the sponsor, there might be people Dave wants to talk to for business. Last we talked he was working on some telecom deals.”

  “Actually . . . yeah. That isn’t a bad idea. If I can sell it to Dave as both a social and a business trip, he would probably be on board.” She paused. “Oh my God, are we doing this? Are we actually going to see each other?”

  “I need to get the details on the fall benefit, but assuming that all works out—”

  “Don’t say any more. I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “Okay, I won’t. Let’s just think positive.”

  “Yes, positive. I’ll send good vibes into the universe, and you do the same, and hopefully all of those vibes will come back to us.”

  Amy knew that wasn’t how things worked, or at least she didn’t think it was, but at this point she was so anxious to see an old friend—a real friend without secrets or boundaries or agendas—that she was willing to give anything a try.

  Chapter 12

  Amy didn’t actually know much about the Food Fight sponsorship. She didn’t even know if Rob’s superiors had signed off on it. But he’d run the idea up the chain and seemed to feel positive about the response he’d received, so she felt fairly confident MediaCom would back the event.

  Before, she’d hoped the idea would move forward because she wanted to give Julian the second chance her brother never had. But now that the event might entice her best friend to visit, Amy was even more enthusiastic. She hadn’t seen Jess in almost three years, and that last encounter was only a brief drink at a bar in DC as Jess passed through on a business trip. Jess was extremely pregnant with Penny at the time—possibly even too pregnant to have been flying, though Jess was the type who wouldn’t let pregnancy get in the way of a free trip to her old stomping grounds. The two laughed and commiserated like old times, but before Amy knew it, they were hugging goodbye so that Jess could make her red-eye back to Seattle. Amy remembered feeling like the evening was such a tease. “We need more time,” they both kept saying. And now, if Jess could fly in for a weekend, they’d get it. Amy tried not to get her hopes up, but she was already getting excited.

  For Amy, getting excited about something meant planning, and when she started planning, she ended up chattering at Rob and peppering him with dozens of questions.

  “Would we pick them up at the airport? What do we need to do to fix up the guest room? Do you think your parents would babysit both nights so that we could take them out to dinner the night before the event? Or maybe we could use the Durants’ sitter. What was her name? Kara?”

  And on and on. To most of these questions, Rob would merely shrug, which didn’t really bother Amy because most of the questions were just her way of processing her anticipation. But she did want a little more reassurance that the event would actually go forward, and unfortunately, Rob didn’t have much useful information.

  “I told you,” he said, when Amy asked for a status update for what was probably the eleventh time. “I’m not in charge. I sent the information to the team in charge of corporate sponsorships, and they sounded intrigued, but that’s the last I heard about it.”

  “The event is only, like, two and a half months away. I feel like if MediaCom were in, we’d know by now. Don’t you think?”

  “Maybe? Why don’t you ask Grace? I was just the messenger. She probably has more up-to-date information.”

  Amy conceded this was probably true and rang up Grace that Wednesday while the kids were at camp.

  “Your ears must have been burning,” Grace said when she picked up the phone.

  “Oh, yeah? Why is that?”

  “Because I was just telling my mom about the Tim Tam Slam and how I made you and Emily do one on Sunday.”

  “Aha. Well, in case you couldn’t tell, I was a fan.”

  “Pretty sure the chocolate all over your face was a giveaway. I mean, come on, what’s not to like?”

  “What’s dangerous is how easily they go down once they’re all soft and gooey like that. I could easily have eaten five or six that way.”

  “I think that’s kind of the point.” She covered the phone and told someone she’d be off in a second. “Sorry, my mom just stopped in.” She lowered her voice. “Between you and me, I think she wants us out of here ASAP, so she keeps checking on whether we are still comfortable, mostly by commenting on how cramped we must feel in such a small space.”

  “Subtle.”

  Grace laughed. “Trust me, I want us out of here, too, but we need all our ducks in a row before we can do that. We actually found a place in Elkins Park that we like, but there’s always a lot of red tape with buying a house. You know how it is. Anyway—sorry, I’ve totally dominated the conversation, and you’re the one who called me. What’s up? Everything okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just wondering if Julian had heard anything from MediaCom about his fund-raiser.”

  “Yeah, I thought . . . didn’t he call Rob?”

  “Not that I know of. Rob said he hadn’t heard anything, but he was just the messenger anyway.”

  “Seriously? I’m going to kill him. Yes, he heard back from the guys at MediaCom, and they liked his proposal. I think they still have to work out the contract, but they’re going to sponsor the event.”

  “That’s great!”

  “I know.” Grace didn’t sound as overjoyed as Amy expected.

  “Is it... I mean, this is a good thing, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, of course. No, it’s great. Sorry.” She paused. Was she still annoyed that Julian hadn’t thanked Rob? Amy supposed that was understandable. Rob had stuck his neck out when he didn’t have to, and doing so meant the profile of Julian’s event would now be raised exponentially. At the very least, Rob deserved to know.

  Or had Julian lied to Grace?

  “So when do the invitations go out?” Amy asked, trying to chase that last thought from her mind. Because Julian wouldn’t lie about something like that, would he? Not when it would be so obvious by the time the eve
nt rolled around. When there weren’t black-andred MediaCom logos all over the event, it would be pretty obvious they weren’t a part of it. And what would be the point of lying, anyway? Grace already knew about his problems and his recovery. It’s not as if he had anything to hide.

  “In a few weeks. I think part of the sponsorship deal involves the MediaCom logo being on the invitation and response card.”

  “Ah, got it. Well, I was talking to one of my college friends last night, and she was thinking of coming out to visit this fall. I thought she and her husband might have fun at Julian’s event, so I invited them. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind? Why would I mind? The more, the merrier. Every ticket sold means more money for Food Fight’s programming.”

  Every ticket sold. A sudden panic swelled in Amy’s chest. She knew the event would cost money—obviously. It was a fund-raiser. But in all of the excitement over Jess’s visit, she forgot that sometimes tickets to fund-raising events cost a lot of money. Hundreds of dollars—sometimes thousands if the events are targeting a particularly moneyed crowd. Jess and Dave were both lawyers and made good money, but Amy had invited them as her guests, and they’d be spending hundreds of dollars on plane tickets. What if the tickets were $500 each? Could she and Rob really afford to spend $2,000 on a night out? The answer was an unqualified no.

  “Great,” Amy said. “If you don’t mind my asking . . . how much are the tickets . . . ?”

  “I’m not sure. Nothing crazy. Maybe seventy-five bucks a head or something like that.”

  Amy’s shoulders relaxed. Seventy-five was doable. It would still mean $300, which was still a very (very) expensive evening out, but this would be for a good cause. Community centers would get money to increase their programming, Julian would get a fresh start, and Dave might even make some professional contacts.

  “Definitely put us on the list,” Amy said. “Rob and I would love to support you and Julian.”

  “Thanks,” Grace said, and though Amy tried to ignore it, should couldn’t help but note the continued lack of enthusiasm in Grace’s voice.

  * * *

  “So Julian finally called me today,” Rob said as he rested his briefcase on the counter. He loosened his tie and gave Amy a kiss. He always looked thoroughly drained after work these days, but even at his most exhausted, Amy found him utterly adorable. The tie certainly helped. Amy had always had a thing for men in ties, and Rob looked particularly good in one, like her very own James Bond.

  “I thought that might happen,” she said.

  “Why?” He gave Amy a suspicious look. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing! I talked to Grace and asked if they’d heard anymore from MediaCom. Apparently they had, and Grace was pissed that Julian hadn’t said anything to you about it.”

  Rob shrugged. “I was only the messenger.”

  “That’s what I said. But come on, it’s a little weird that he didn’t thank you.”

  “What’s to thank? All I did was get his proposal in front of the right person. It was a seriously low lift on my part.” He poured two glasses of water and handed one to Amy.

  “Yeah, but for a period of time, you weren’t even sure you wanted to do that much, given his history.”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  “True. Still, I think a one-sentence e-mail letting you know everything worked out would have been nice. It just seems like common courtesy.”

  “I don’t disagree. But for all I know, he has all sorts of other shit going on, and this fell through the cracks.”

  Amy took a long sip of water and stared at her husband. “I can’t believe I’m more peeved about this than you are. And the fact that you don’t seem bothered is making me even more peeved, on your behalf.”

  Rob heaved a sigh. “Do you want me to make some snide, sexist comment about women and emotions and grudges? Is that where you’re trying to take this conversation?”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “No, but since such a comment seems to be right at the tip of your tongue, have at it! By all means.”

  “Mommy?”

  Amy jumped as Noah crept up behind her. He had been playing in the family room, and she didn’t know how long he’d been within earshot of their conversation.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “What are you and Daddy talking about?”

  “Nothing important. Have you washed your hands? We’ll be eating dinner soon.”

  “You were yelling,” he said.

  “We weren’t . . . we were just having a conversation.”

  “A . . . what do you call it? A dis . . . a . . . ?”

  “Disagreement.”

  “Yeah.”

  Amy’s and Rob’s eyes met. “We weren’t really disagreeing,” Rob said. “Someone just didn’t say thank you to Daddy, and Mommy thinks they should have.”

  “Saying please and thank you is the nice thing to do,” Noah said.

  Amy smiled smugly. “That’s right.”

  Rob grinned in spite of himself. “The two of you. Like peas in a pod.”

  Noah frowned. “Like peas? Whaaaaat?”

  “It’s an expression.” Amy tousled his hair. “It means we’re alike.”

  “I’m like Daddy, too. Why can’t we be three peas in the pod?”

  Rob wrapped his arms around both of them and squeezed them tight. “How’s this for a pod?” He kissed the top of Amy’s head.

  “Oh, I like this pod,” Amy said. “I’ve got my best guys right here with me. Couldn’t be better.”

  “It could maybe be a tiny bit better with a puppy,” Noah said. Amy’s and Rob’s eyes caught and rolled in tandem. “And maybe a baby brother.”

  Amy’s smile faded as she looked at Rob again. Noah hadn’t brought up a sibling in months, much to her relief. For period of time, from about age three to three and a half, he brought it up almost every day. She knew that was because several kids at his school had become big brothers and sisters, but the constant nagging only added to her stress and frustration. How was she supposed to explain to a three-year-old that acquiring a sibling was not like acquiring a train set? Eventually he started asking only once or twice a week, then once or twice a month. But since the move, he hadn’t said a word about it, and Amy assumed he’d given up on the idea, like she and Rob had.

  “Sweetie, we’ve talked about this . . .” Amy said delicately.

  “About the pea pod?”

  “No, about . . . a baby brother.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I know.” His shoulders slumped.

  “Hey, listen—it’s cool being the only child. You get all the love from me and Daddy, you never have to worry about anyone taking your toys, you learn to be really independent. And Ethan is an only child, too. How cool is that?”

  Noah’s eyes brightened. “Maybe Ethan and I could be brothers!”

  Amy smiled. “Sometimes when you find a really good friend like that, it feels like having a brother, which is the next best thing.”

  “Could he come live with us?”

  “No, silly—he lives with his parents.”

  “But I mean if something happens to them.”

  Amy and Rob gave each other a worried look. “That’s not a very nice thing to talk about,” Rob said.

  “No, no—I just mean if they get in trouble or something and need to go away and can’t take Ethan with them, could he stay with us?”

  A chill ran through Amy. What was Noah talking about?

  “Who said anything about Ethan’s parents going anywhere?” Rob asked.

  “No, I’m just saying. If they did.”

  Amy and Rob were both momentarily at a loss for words. Amy knew this was probably just another instance of Noah’s imagination gone wild. He frequently asked what-if questions that strayed into somewhat morbid or inappropriate terrain. “What if you and Daddy die before I’m a grown-up?” “What if I eat a mushroom and it turns out it’s poison?” “What if a bee stings me in my eye?” Those were just a few of the questions that
had rendered Amy speechless. The What to Expect books didn’t really prepare you for those sorts of queries, and although Amy eventually came up with suitable answers, they weren’t the sort of responses that leapt from the tongue.

  “If something did . . . well, he’d probably live with his grandma and grandpa.”

  And although she knew this isn’t the response he was looking for, she kissed him on the head, grabbed the box of spaghetti off the counter, and decided to leave it at that.

  * * *

  Amy and Rob were reading in bed, when Rob put his copy of the latest Harlan Coben novel facedown in his lap.

  “Do you think we should get a puppy? Or maybe a kitten?”

  Amy’s eyes remained glued to The Hate U Give. “Absolutely not.”

  “I don’t mean right now . . . although I guess we could . . .”

  “No.”

  “I mean in a few years. If the kid can’t have a sibling, don’t you think we at least owe him that?”

  “We don’t owe him anything, other than the best parenting we can provide, which will enable him to be a fully functioning adult in the real world.”

  Rob let out a long gust of air. “Well, okay then.”

  Amy’s retort had come out snippier than she’d intended, but any discussion of her inability to provide her son with a brother or sister put her in a foul mood. Even though they’d given up on the idea, talking and thinking about it still stung. The subject made her feel . . . well, like a failure. She’d gotten pregnant with Noah. Why couldn’t she do it again? As she’d learned, with “secondary infertility,” it didn’t matter that she’d conceived once before. In fact that was the point; that’s what made it “secondary infertility.” She knew that intellectually, and she knew it wasn’t anyone’s “fault,” but emotionally she couldn’t help but feel that her body had let her, Rob, and Noah down. About a year ago, they’d discussed the possibility of adoption, but Rob was never entirely on board with the idea. Rob’s lack of enthusiasm, combined with the cost and red tape, meant that they’d eventually given up on the possibility of adoption, and of a sibling for Noah. She had nothing against puppies—she’d always loved dogs—but part of her resented feeling like they needed to overcompensate for her fertility woes by buying their toddler a pet.