But she kept looking at her watch through the afternoon, and when four o’clock neared, she was in her car and on her way. She didn’t make a conscious decision to take part in the protest. But something caught her up and kept her there.
It wasn’t until the whole front of the meadow was filled and the sign had been raised—wasn’t until they had all stood there in silence looking up at the windows behind which the fate of Middle River was being decided—wasn’t until Annie Barnes came around the corner of the building and was mobbed first by her sisters, then by everyone else—that Nicole knew what the something was that had caught her up and kept her there, and it had nothing to do with mercury.
It was her daughter, likely not even aware Nicole was there but looking totally comfortable—and totally right—in that group surrounding Annie. It was her daughter, looking totally attractive with these people, certainly accepted by them and clearly happy. Her daughter. Her daughter. Was this Kaitlin? Grown? Independent? Perhaps acting more on what she believed than Nicole did herself?
Nicole couldn’t stop staring at her. Inevitably, Kaitlin glanced her way, did a startled double-take, and stood looking back.
Nicole tried to smile, but failed miserably. She was too confused.
That must have come across, because when the others around Kaitlin started to head for their cars, the girl held back. She seemed as confused as her mother.
At last Nicole approached her. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Even in confusion, there was a touch of defiance. “We closed the store early. I thought you were sick.”
Nicole might have said that she had been sick that morning but was feeling better now, only that wasn’t true, and suddenly she was tired of making excuses. “I needed a break from the office. When I found out about this, it just seemed like the best place to be.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
Nicole knew she meant Aidan. She thought of the possibilities—his getting a call from the guard at the gate, seeing her out the window, hearing it through the grapevine after the fact. Did he know at that moment?
She shrugged. She had no idea.
“What about your job?” Kaitlin asked. “He fired Sabina for daring to mention the word mercury to someone, and, like, here you are, taking part in a protest? He’ll fire you if he finds out.”
“If he does, he does.”
Kaitlin seemed shocked. “I can’t believe you’re so calm. Your job means the world to you.”
“It did. Maybe it doesn’t anymore. I just don’t know.”
The girl was suddenly nervous. Her expression changed in the space of a breath. “Has something happened? You and Dad…?”
Nicole shook her head. She smiled sadly. “No. Everything’s the same. I’m not even sure your father knows anything about this.” It was pathetic, truly. Anton was a nonplayer in her life. They passed in the house like ships in the night. It wasn’t much fun. And was it reparable? She just didn’t know. But Kaitlin was waiting for her to say something. “So,” she said, “you like working at the store.”
“Yes.”
“They’re your friends, the Barneses?”
“They like me,” Kaitlin said, defiant again.
“So do I,” Nicole argued. “You’re my daughter, for God’s sake.”
“You think I’m a loser. They don’t.”
“I never said you were a loser.”
“You don’t have to say it to make the point, Mom.” Her chin came up in an ominous way. “I have a boyfriend. You didn’t even know that, did you?”
No. She hadn’t. A boyfriend? What did that mean?
“His name is Kevin Stark,” Kaitlin hurried on, “and he’s from th’other side, and before you get all hot and bothered and tell me that you’ll have Aidan fire his dad, you need to know that I know what I’m doing. I am not marrying Kevin. He is my boyfriend right now. That’s all. I’m going to college, so I can get out of Middle River, and I’ll get married after I have a career, so that it’ll never matter again whether I’m ugly or fat, because people will see me for who I am,” she thumped her chest, “me, first.”
Nicole didn’t know where to begin. She wanted to know about the boyfriend part, but this was paving new ground. So she said meekly, “You’re not ugly or fat.”
“The thing is, Kevin doesn’t care. And my friends at school think it’s really cool that I’m with someone.”
“With. What does with mean?”
“With. You know, Mom.”
“Are you sleeping with him?” Nicole asked.
Kaitlin didn’t blink. “Are you sleeping with Aidan?”
“Hold on, there. I’m an adult. I know how to take care of myself. You’re a child.”
“I am not!” Kaitlin cried. Her body had gone rigid, but there were tears in her eyes. “That’s the problem with you and me. I am not a child. Why can’t you see that? I’m more than able to have a child, which is what three of my classmates in school are doing, but you probably don’t know that, because you’d look at the loose clothes they wear and just think they’re fat. I know how to protect myself, Mom. And I know what I want. Kevin treats me like a someone. Same with the people at Miss Lissy’s Closet. I want to be with people who treat me like a someone.”
Abruptly she stopped. It was as though she had reached the heart of the matter and had nothing more to say.
The ball was in Nicole’s court. The problem was, she had never been good at sports. So she tried to clear her head and distance herself from the emotional tangle that had always tripped up Kaitlin and her. She tried to think of what she would say if Kaitlin were the daughter of a friend.
“I would like to treat you like a someone,” she said quietly.
“So do it,” Kaitlin begged.
And Nicole wanted to. “But I can’t do anything if I don’t know what you’re thinking and feeling. Maybe I still see you as a child because you don’t share your feelings and thoughts.”
“It’s my fault?” Kaitlin asked in dismay.
Quickly, Nicole said, “No. Mine. I don’t ask. So maybe I can change that.” She was the one who stopped this time. She had hit on the heart of the matter.
Kaitlin must have sensed it, too, because the chin came down and there was suddenly such a look of wanting in her eyes that Nicole was touched. Without another word, she closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around her daughter, and it felt good, felt really good. She didn’t know what to do about her husband and didn’t have a clue what to do about Aidan. But Kaitlin was different. Here was something to save.
Sabina felt victorious as she left Northwood. She was proud to be a Barnes and the sister of Annie—was proud to be a Middle Riverite and a friend to all those who had come out to the mill. She was even humbled to be the mother of Lisa and Timmy, who had seen all there was to like in Annie long before she had.
Victory. Pride. Humility. Beyond it all, though, was a hollowness. It didn’t take a name or a face until she pulled in at the pale blue Cape on Randolph Road and the embodiment was there in the flesh, leaning against the trunk of his car with his arms folded and his ankles crossed, looking for all the world like he was waiting for her.
Ron.
He didn’t look angry, exactly. She couldn’t quite gauge his mood.
She parked and went forward, stopping just beyond arm’s reach. “Hi,” she said tentatively.
“Hi,” he said in kind, then, “I guess there was quite a show?”
She nodded. “Did you hear about James?”
“Yes. Word spread through shipping in no time. People are pleased.”
“Are you?”
He nodded. “The change will be good for the mill. Sandy deserves a rest, and Aidan, well, maybe James will rein him in.” He nodded again, more slowly this time, seeming to not know what to say.
Sabina knew what he needed to say, certainly knew what she needed to hear. What he proceeded to ask wasn’t it.
“Do you think you’ll get
your job back?”
“I have no idea!” she burst out. “That wasn’t the point of the protest. The people who came to the mill today did it knowing that they were risking retaliation by the Meades, and still they came. This was about something bigger than my job or your job, Ron. It was about right and wrong. It’s about the world we leave for our kids.”
“I know,” he said, sounding duly chastised.
“I’m not sorry for anything I did, Ron, certainly not for talking to Toni even if she did go to Aidan. What happened today would have happened whether I’d lost my job or not, because one person in this town took on the cause. Annie has more courage than the whole of us on this block combined!”
“I know.”
“I sold her short. I’m ashamed of that.”
“I sold you short. I’m sorry for that.”
Hearing the words, it struck her that what she had seen on his face earlier was remorse. She hadn’t recognized it, because it was new. Ron had never before had cause for remorse. This was the first real blowout they’d ever had. That was really quite remarkable.
He reached out with arms that were longer than hers, snagged her wrists, and pulled her close. “You’ve been a better person than me in all this. Can you live with me, knowing that?”
The hollowness in Sabina dissolved. She smiled. “I think I can.”
James didn’t breathe freely until the last of the board had left. That last member was Lowell. His father’s lawyer, longtime friend and confidant, he held tremendous sway when it came to helping Sandy accept defeat.
“Not defeat,” James had suggested to Lowell. “Can’t we call it semi-retirement?”
But Lowell knew Sandy well. “He’ll call it defeat. You definitely trumped him, James.”
“That wasn’t my bottom line. If he’d agreed to clean things up, I’d have stayed where I was.”
“This is fine. It’s time. Your papers are duly signed and witnessed. I’ll add my resignation in the morning.”
“No, Lowell. There’s no need for that.”
“I’m old-school. You’ll want your own team.”
“But this team is good. A change in quarterback may be enough. I want you to stay. I’ll need your help. Let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater.”
“Speaking of which—”
James held up a hand. “Mia’s for another time.” He extended the hand. Lowell shook it, lifted his briefcase, and left—which was when James went to the window and took a long, relieved breath. Triumph, smugness, and certainly satisfaction were mixed in. Plus excitement. That was there, too. Mostly, though, it was about relief. He had been fighting his father for too long. Finally it was done.
A movement off by one of the trees caught his eye. It was Marshall Greenwood, in his denim shirt, jeans, and brown boots, looking up at the window.
James gestured for him to come inside and pointed toward the back door. He was waiting at the top of the stairs when Marshall labored up.
“You were waiting for me,” James surmised.
One step short of the top, the chief of police put a supporting hand on the banister. His breath was short and his voice raspy. “We know your father’s out. I’m wondering if I am, too.”
“Not unless that’s what you want.”
“No matter what I want. You’re the boss now.”
“Only of the mill. I won’t be controlling the town manager like my father did. I have enough work to do without that.”
Marshall seemed dubious. “You won’t fire me just because…because…”
“Because you were hard on Annie? You backed off. That’s done. But what you have to do next is to make it so that you aren’t afraid of people finding you out.”
Marshall stared at him. “What do you mean?”
James didn’t say. He simply stared right back.
Marshall was the first to blink. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
James went to the table, took a piece of paper from the cube in the middle, and jotted down the name of a treatment center. He handed the paper to Marshall. “It’s in Massachusetts. You and Edna can take a ‘vacation.’ No one’ll even know you’re there.”
“Is this a requirement if I want to keep my job?”
James shook his head. “Just a suggestion from a caring party.”
Marshall stared at him a minute longer, then turned and plodded down the stairs. James had no idea whether the man would take his advice, but he had given it. That was all he could do.
Besides, he was suddenly eager to leave. Back in the conference room, he gathered up his things. He didn’t know where Annie had gone, but he needed to find her. They had to talk.
Chapter 31
I WAS INSTANTLY alert when he appeared, and I have to say, he was something. In a business suit, he was as dignified as any Washington luminary I had seen. The slim build, chiseled features, and salt-and-pepper hair only augmented the image. Eyes on the SUV parked in the lot, he was striding forward when he glanced to the side and saw my car. Ours were the only two in sight.
His features lifted—and, oh my, what that did to me. I actually put a hand to my chest to calm my traitorous heart lest it take off and run on its own.
As he strode my way now, he loosened his tie and took off his jacket. He was grinning by the time he reached me. Leaving the jacket on the hood of the car, he opened the passenger door and slid in. He sat at an angle to face me, then put a hand on the back of my seat.
I saw triumph on his features and was fully expecting him to remark on the victory that had just been won for the mill and the town, when he said, “You were remarkable.”
I think I blushed—I think, because I hadn’t had much cause to do that when I was growing up, and when I was an adult, well, blushing wasn’t particularly cool. “I just talked about what I knew,” I said.
His smile vanished. “I’m sorry I had to be secretive beforehand, but I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. When the opening came, I knew I had one shot. If something went wrong, there wouldn’t be a second chance. So I was paranoid. I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t find out and sabotage our efforts. My father is very good at that. Money talks. I was afraid.”
“I understand.”
“But I was wrong. Relationships, capital R, imply trust.”
Capital R ? I was suddenly feeling equal amounts of wanting and fear. The wanting was pure heart, the fear the better part of the rest, and that had to take precedence, didn’t it? My fear involved practicality. It involved reality. It involved fact.
I shrugged. It was my best shot at being casual. “Ours is so new. We barely know each other.”
James’s eyes were midnight brown and intense. “Then if I asked you to stay here and move in with me, you wouldn’t?”
Forget casual. My breath totally left me for a minute. That hand went back to my chest. “James,” I protested, “don’t say things like that.”
“I mean every word.”
“But we do barely know each other. You haven’t a clue what happens to a writer when she’s in the throes of writing a book.”
“Is it like being in the throes of orgasm?” he asked, straight-faced.
“No,” I replied. “Absolutely not. It’s like you’re living with someone who isn’t there.”
“Greg has managed.”
“Greg isn’t—he doesn’t—it’s just different, James. But there’s one basic fact. I live in Washington. I own a condo and I have a life. For another, I’m a Barnes and you’re a Meade. Barneses and Meades don’t—don’t cohabitate. For a third, there’s Mia. If I were to move in, find that you and I hated each other, and move out, Mia would be hurt.”
“I don’t think that will happen.”
“What, Mia being hurt?”
“Your moving out. I think this is good, Annie. I haven’t felt this way about any woman. Ever.”
“But I’m Annie Barnes!” I cried, saying the name with a teenager’s pique.
“Yes, you’re Annie B
arnes,” he repeated, but instead of the pique, there was reverence.
Reverence? For real? What woman didn’t want to be revered by a man? What woman didn’t dream of it? But dreaming didn’t make it so.
“What about April?” I asked, grasping at straws. “You were with her for six years before you realized it wouldn’t work.”
James was shaking his head even before I finished. “I was with April that long because I realized it wouldn’t work. At least, deep down I realized it. I never asked her to marry me.”
I held up both hands. “Don’t say that word. It’s terrifying right now.” Prior to dropping my hands, I used one to swat at a fly that buzzed around my head. “Truly, James,” I said in earnest. “Look what you have ahead of you. However you look at it, you have just taken on a major headache. You have the whole mill to head now, not just product development, and then there’s the work involved in finding out who all was affected by those spills and making arrangements for their care. This is not the time for you to make a major change at home.”
“I disagree. It’s the best time,” he reasoned. “I’m going to want to come home to someone.”
“Mia.”
His look said it wasn’t the same.
“Okay,” I said, “but the three arguments I made before still fit. We’re adults. We have to be sensible.” The fly was buzzing around his head now. I watched him swat at it. “I think that’s Grace, by the way.”
James snorted. “It isn’t grace. It’s annoyance.”
“Grace Metalious. She takes various forms. A cat purring. A fly buzzing.”
He seemed both curious and amused. “Grace Metalious has been dead for years.”
I looked him in the eye. “I have conversations with her.”
“Do you?” he asked indulgently.
I nodded, daring him to laugh at me. “We started talking when I was a kid.”
He was suddenly as serious as I was. “If you’re trying to scare me away by suggesting you’re nuts, it won’t work. You’re a novelist. Having an imagination goes with that. I’d also guess that when you were a kid you needed a friend. I can’t imagine it was easy for you growing up here. So tell me what she said.”
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