I found him in the living room watching World News Tonight with Peter Jennings. Peter is my favorite news anchor, but I’m never telling Dad that because I’m sure he’ll find some way to turn it into something twisted he can use to manipulate me, like he did with the books. Theresa was working late and Constance was giving Cassie a bath, so it was the perfect time to talk to him. I was really nervous and Dad must have seen me wringing my hands out of the corner of his eyes.
“Stop hovering and have a seat.”
My dad is wicked bossy. He’s the boss at his job too, and I guess it’s hard to be responsible for all those people, but I wish sometimes he would just chill out when he’s home. I did as he said but didn’t know where to begin.
“Well? What is it?”
“I . . . I need to go to the doctor.”
He looked at me like I was a three-headed monster. “Why do you need to see a doctor?”
“It hurts when I pee and my stomach hurts all the time.”
“Really?
That’s Dad’s code word for “I think you’re up to something.”
“I didn’t want to say anything before. I thought it would go away but it keeps getting worse.”
He was quiet for a while, like he knew something I didn’t, which he probably did. He shut the TV off, which surprised me.
“Who did you tell about this?” he asked, shaking my shoulders.
“Nobody. I haven’t said anything. It’s too embarrassing.”
“Good,” he said, relieved. “See that you don’t.”
“So can I go to the doctor?”
“Not yet,” he said. He started to pace. “It’s probably nothing serious. It could just be a yeast infection. It’s no big deal. I’ll talk to the pharmacist.”
I don’t know what a yeast infection is, so I looked it up in the encyclopedia. Maybe I need a medical dictionary, but I don’t know how to get my hands on one. I mean, the only yeast I know of is the one Mom uses to make bread. I have no idea how you can get an infection from that. Maybe that’s it, though, because I like bread a lot.
“But what if it gets worse?” I asked him.
“I said I’ll take care of it. Just see that you don’t tell anyone about this.”
And then my dad acted like nothing happened. He went back to the sofa, flipped on the TV and continued watching the news. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I started to leave. Then he called me back to the living room.
“You know I love you, right? Very, very much.”
I shook my head. Maybe he felt bad for yelling at me or because I had this yeast infection thing.
“How about a treat? That Madonna cassette you wanted? You won’t have to spend your allowance money on it, and we could go to the mall to pick it up—if you don’t mind being seen with dear old dad.”
Well, Dad must have forgotten to call the pharmacist, because two days later I was doubled over in pain on my bedroom floor when Constance found me. I told her I didn’t know what was wrong and asked her to call Dad. I read all about yeast infections, which was pretty yucky stuff, but nowhere did it say I was supposed to be on the floor crying.
Constance drove me to the doctor’s office and Dad met us there. The doctor did an internal exam, which was way embarrassing—even worse than the time Melissa Matthews told Doug Johnson she liked him but he didn’t like her back, and the whole school found out about it. The doctor was a man and I had to open my legs really wide while he put some cold, hard, metal thing in me. He took samples or whatever—I wasn’t listening too much, since I was trying so hard not to cry.
Today the results came back. It turns out I don’t have a yeast infection. What I have is much scarier. The doctor told Dad I had a sexually transmitted disease. Mr. Duggan talked about those in health class but you never think something like that is going to happen to you—at least, I never thought this would happen to me. Dad won’t speak to me. He does that when he wants to punish me. I don’t know what his problem is. I’m the one who should have an attitude.
A woozy Nina slowly opened her eyes to find a beaming Marc looking down at her.
“Welcome back, sleepy head.”
“How did it go? How many eggs do we have?” She propped herself up on the pillow.
He leaned in closer and whispered, “The doctors were waiting for you to wake up so they could tell us, but I heard one of them say eleven.”
Nina’s eyes widened. “Eleven? Are you sure you heard right?”
“There’s only one way to find out. Here comes Doctor Lee.”
The embryologist, a burly Asian man with a baby face, approached them.
“Good news. We retrieved eleven healthy eggs, more than enough for a few rounds.”
“We won’t need a few rounds, Doctor Lee. The first one will take. You’ll see.”
“Keep that optimism going, but remember nothing is guaranteed. Doctor Bennett is going to prescribe some medications, so she’ll see you before you leave.”
“What kind of medication?”
“An antibiotic to prevent infection and a steroid to help reduce inflammation of the reproductive organs. The ovaries were working overtime to produce multiple eggs. Hormonal supplements will help support the endometrial lining so it’s nice and thick and ready to support the embryos when we do the transfer. I’ll see you in three days.”
* * *
SIX WEEKS LATER, AFTER HER weekly staff meeting wrapped, Nina asked her assistant, Eric Zaslow, to remain behind. If she was serious about reducing her workload and stress levels, she had to take a closer look at her calendar. She was glad a couple of her direct reports were receptive to taking on additional responsibilities, grateful for the opportunity to beef up their resumes and boost their profiles.
“Killer flats, Nina. You giving up heels?”
Eric’s knowledge of and penchant for high fashion were two of the things that enhanced their working relationship. He was always impeccably dressed from head to toe, in strong colors that offset his pale, almost translucent skin and jet-black hair. When Nina took over as CMO, Eric thought she was the second coming after having served under her predecessor, basically a despot in a designer suit. Nina’s management style was laid back, but she demanded excellence. Eric thrived on the challenge. He was smart, efficient, and discreet. He also suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, an asset in his role.
“Not entirely. I’m a little tired of being the skyscraper around here.”
Eric looked doubtful.
“Okay, I’m giving Marc a break from massaging my aching feet every night.”
“Torture, I’m sure.”
Her body was changing and she was afraid she would lose her balance and have an accident with heels. Flats were the safest choice, though she realized she had bigger priorities than fashion. She was beyond thrilled that her prediction had come to pass. She was in the first trimester of her pregnancy.
“What do we have on the calendar?”
“Your keynote presentation for the Marketing Executives International Conference.”
“Shoot. I’ll get that to you this week.”
“You said that last week, and the week before. I can’t make your powerpoint sparkle if I don’t have content.”
Nina snapped her fingers. “I’ll take the Acela Train for the New York trip, work on the presentation on the way down, and refine it on the way back. Next item, please.”
“Great light bulb moment. The rest should be a snap.”
It was. Nina eliminated or cut short lunches, meetings, speeches and any work that could be delegated, freeing her to focus on her health and big picture challenges related to her role.
Later that day, Nina was powering down her computer when Eric came barging in after a single knock. He was grinning ear to ear.
“Somebody’s been awfully good.”
“What do you mean?”
He removed one hand from behind his back to reveal a Tiffany’s shopping bag.
“This came by mess
enger a little earlier but I wanted to clear my desk before I gave it to you. So here it is,” he said, handing her the bag. “Tomorrow, I want to hear what new fabulous jewelry Marc bought you this time.”
After Eric left, a pumped-up Nina opened the bag. It was just like Marc to send her something sweet and special after they’d gone through a rough patch. Inside was a signature blue Tiffany gift box wrapped in white ribbon. Her hands nervously untied the ribbon and pulled aside the pristine white tissue paper. Inside was a beautiful sterling silver baby rattle. She felt her knees go weak as she removed the rattle from the box. The inscription read, Baby Kasai.
“Oh, Marc, you shouldn’t have,” she whispered. Nina could barely keep it together; her heart was overwhelmed with gratitude to the man who had changed her life, and who still never failed to show her how much he treasured her. She rubbed her stomach lovingly. “I can’t wait for you to meet your dad. He’ll be the most amazing man you ever meet.”
She carefully deposited the rattle back into the box and noticed a white card sticking out from under the wrapping paper. Congratulations, Gazella. I wish you every happiness.
Nina recognized the handwriting as Phillip’s and her joy instantly turned to anguish, then rage. If only he knew how much she despised that name and the reason behind it. She scanned her office for the heaviest thing she could find and settled on a marketing award she had won several years ago. She picked up the large, cube-like object made of heavy glass and pounded the rattle until all that remained was flattened, twisted metal.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lunch patrons formed long lines at McDonald’s, Pizzeria Regina, and Master Wok, and the clacking of the departure board updating every few minutes served as background noise for anxious travelers and commuters cruising the bookstores and newsstands for something that would make the wait bearable. South Station welcomed millions of people to Boston every year and was the perfect venue for an investigator to discuss a case with a client. It was also convenient, only a ten-minute walk from Nina’s office.
“Please tell me you have good news.” Nina didn’t see the point in wasting time, since this was her first official face-to-face meeting with Sean Merriman since she hired him to investigate Phillip.
Merriman began cautiously. “No criminal record, perfect credit, no oddities in his finances. He goes to church at St. Patrick’s every Sunday morning, the nine forty-five a.m. mass. He’s married to a professor at Tufts who moved here from England,” Merriman explained. “Second marriage for him, her first.”
Actually it was Phillip’s third marriage, but there was no way Merriman would have discovered that one. It went too far back and Nina was only interested in the here and now. She was a little disappointed Merriman hadn’t turned up anything she didn’t already know. His next words got her out of her funk.
“I think I may have found something you could use,” he said, as he removed a brown manila envelope from his briefcase. “He’s been taking trips to Worcester, mostly on the weekends. But on one week day in particular two weeks ago, he paid a visit to a St. Joseph’s Catholic School, serving kids K-8.”
“Worcester? Why would he visit a school that far away? Come on, Sean, don’t keep me in suspense.”
Merriman pushed the envelope across the table. Nina reached in and removed the contents. The first document caught her attention right away. It was a photograph of a little boy, around eight years old. The resemblance was uncanny. Nina felt her stomach churn. The boy had two front teeth missing, like most kids that age. He was a handsome little boy with copper brown skin, large round eyes and dimples. He wore a dress shirt and tie with a sweater that sported the school’s emblem on the left breast pocket. She didn’t need to be a detective to figure out who the boy’s father was. The next document in the envelope was a birth certificate. The boy’s name was listed as Alexander Phillip Forbes. His mother was twenty-five year-old Tracey Forbes. Nina did a quick math calculation and what she discovered made her sick to her stomach. Merriman must have sensed something was up because he kept asking her if she was okay.
“Do you want me to get you a drink? We could continue this later if you’re not up for it.”
“I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting this.”
“You’re upset that he has a son you didn’t know about?”
“Yes and no. It’s complicated.”
“I could see that.”
Nina picked up the photo again and traced her fingers across Alexander’s face. She couldn’t stop herself. She and Merriman agreed to be in touch soon and Merriman disappeared into the noisy crowd. Her emotions were all over the place. She didn’t know what to do with what she just found out or why it was affecting her this way. Would she have been better off not knowing she had a brother? Obviously, Phillip hadn’t bothered to mention the kid, not even to Cassie, which says he wanted to keep Alexander’s existence hush-hush. Plus, now that Cassie was living with him, he couldn’t tell her and risk Geraldine finding out. Nina was fairly certain Geraldine was uninformed about her husband’s illegitimate son. She put the photo back into the envelope and tucked it under her arm. She asked Merriman to dig for dirt on Phillip but she wasn’t sure she could handle any more surprises. She would have to consider calling off the investigator.
Nina decided she deserved a pick-me-up and indulging in the sweet, rich decadence of Aunt Clarice Cupcakes, just yards from where she was sitting, would make her feel better. They made the most delicious cupcakes she’d ever tasted. Even Boston Magazine agreed with her, three years in a row. She lightly tapped her fingers on the countertop while the server put together her order.
“My goodness, look at you. You grew into a breathtaking woman.”
Nina turned around and stared at the stranger behind her, perplexed.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” The woman had high cheekbones and wore her hair in tiny braids she pulled back in a bun.
“It’s Jenny Obasanjo.”
“Oh,” Nina said, her memory coming into focus. “Your son used to pinch me and run away whenever I came to your house.”
“That’s right.”
When Nina was growing up, Jenny and her husband Ben Obasanjo were close friends of her parents. Nina remembered Ben as an intense man who was in a perpetual state of seriousness. She had made a habit of ducking for cover whenever he was around, afraid that her mere presence would offend him. The irony was that his two sons, Kevin and Ben, Jr. were nuts in Nina’s opinion, and would probably be treated for severe ADHD today.
“How is Doctor Obasanjo?”
“He’s fine. We’re divorced.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was for the best. How are your parents?”
“Divorced.”
“A lot of that going around, I suppose.” Jenny smiled warmly at Nina, then looked down at her left hand.
“You’re married. Good.”
There was something about the way Jenny said it that made Nina curious. There was satisfaction and conviction in her tone. Nina picked up her order and paid the man behind the counter. Jenny said she had to pick up her brother, who was coming in on Amtrak from Philadelphia. When the women parted ways, Nina had an eerie feeling they would cross each other’s path again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Line three lit up on Nina’s desk. She picked up the internal call.
“I have your mother on hold,” Eric blurted. “She’s not happy.”
“Put her through.”
Nina smiled to herself as the call came through. Daphne Lockwood’s sole purpose in life was to keep her daughter’s affairs running as smoothly as possible by dispensing her own fiery brand of mother-knows-best guidance. The distance that separated them made no difference. Daphne lived in Dallas, but acted as though she and Nina lived next door to each other. Her mother probably called Eric because Nina didn’t pick up her cell phone, and she knew Eric was afraid of her.
Nina picked up the phone. Her mother didn’t give her the chan
ce to make polite inquiries about her health or well-being.
“Did your father buy you a baby gift? Why didn’t you tell me he was causing trouble again? It wasn’t enough he drove you away with his controlling, domineering ways?”
Nina would have to have a talk with Charlene about her loose tongue later. But she thanked God her mother never knew how awful things really were and never would.
“I didn’t want to worry you, Mom.”
“You know what this is, don’t you? He wants to get in your good graces so he can control your life. Over my dead body that’s going to happen.”
“You’re making too much of this, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“But does your father know that?”
“Mom, I have no desire to figure out the inner workings of Phillip’s brain.”
“Have you told Marc?”
“I don’t need Marc to fight my battles for me.”
“In other words, no. When are you going to stop playing that man for a fool and tell him Phillip is your father, and he lives four towns away from you? Don’t you think he deserves the truth? As patient as he is, no man wants to find out his wife has been deceiving him.”
“Is that from personal experience?” Nina asked, flippantly.
“Don’t you get fresh with me, young lady. Marc is a good man. I’d hate to see you lose him over some nonsense with your father.”
Nina ended the conversation with her mother and promised to call her when she got home. Line three was lighting up again.
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