Finally, Rhonda glanced at the kitchen clock and stood up. “I have to go. And you, young lady, need to get to bed. Do you want to go to school tomorrow or would you rather stay home for a day?”
“I'd like to go to school, ma'am. My mama says school is very important.”
“Your mama is absolutely right, but you can take one day off if you'd like to.”
Sallyanne shook her head.
“All right. Do you mind sitting in here while I tell Charlie all she needs to know about your school?”
“No, ma'am.”
Rhonda and Charlie went into the living room and held a low-voiced consultation about Sallyanne's life for the next week. When they had worked it out to both their satisfaction, Rhonda said, “That was a good idea, baking the cookies.”
“I felt horrible when it reminded her that her mother is dead.”
“No, it was a good thing. She needs to grieve, but she can't do that until she accepts her mother is truly gone.”
“She doesn't have to do it so soon, does she?”
“Everyone is different,” Rhonda shrugged. “Some folks, even children, need to deal with harsh realities immediately. It's healthier than denying them indefinitely.”
“I suppose.”
“You're doing just fine,” Rhonda assured her as she walked to the door. “By the way, best wishes on your marriage. I'll need the adoption paperwork from your husband.”
“I know. We're working on it already.”
“I don't think you'd be crazy enough to get married just to adopt a baby, or if you were that crazy, that you could find a man who was equally insane. But I want to meet Jack Lanett as soon as possible.”
***
Charlie got Sallyanne into her pajamas, supervised tooth-brushing and face-washing, knelt awkwardly beside her when the little girl reminded her about bedtime prayers and swallowed hard when Sallyanne asked God to be nice to her mama in Heaven. The girl's face lit up when Charlie told her the Beanie Babies were hers to keep, and she carefully arranged them so their heads rested on the pillow beside her. Charlie left the closet light on as a nightlight because she remembered waking up in strange houses in the middle of the night and not knowing where she was in the dark. Then she kissed Sallyanne on the forehead and wished her sweet dreams.
She went down the hall to let Major out of her office. He licked cookie crumbs off the floor while Charlie cleaned up the kitchen. “You're going to have to go live with Isabelle until Sallyanne gets over her 'allergy,'” Charlie said, taking Major's muzzle in her hand and looking him in the eye. “If anyone can help someone get over their fear of dogs, it's you. I'm going to bring Sallyanne over to visit as soon as I think she's ready.”
Twinkle strolled into the kitchen, having emerged from whatever hiding place she had been sleeping in.
“You!” she said, opening a can of cat food. “What kind of a therapy cat are you? You vanish just when I need someone soft and cuddly the most.”
She sat down at the table. The cat jumped in her lap and Major laid his head on her knee. She stroked them both absently as she stared out the window toward the channel. “My new hubby is going to find the works all gummed up, isn't he? This is going to be interesting.”
***
Her alarm went off at 6:30 the next morning. Charlie hit the snooze button, then sat bolt upright as she remembered she had a child to get ready for school. She threw on slacks and a T-shirt, fed Major and Twinkle, shut the dog up in her bedroom and went upstairs to waken Sallyanne.
The child lay on her side facing the Beanie Babies. She looked peaceful, but when Charlie brushed against the pillow it was damp. The poor little thing. Charlie's heart ached for the girl. She sat down gently on the side of the bed and touched Sallyanne's shoulder.
“Sweetheart, it's time to wake up.”
“Mama?” a sleepy voice whispered.
“No, it's Charlie.”
Sallyanne opened her eyes, and the misery in them made Charlie gather her up onto her lap. The little girl clung to her and sobbed.
“I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm here. Go ahead and cry,” she whispered as she stroked the girl's sweet-smelling silky hair. “It's fine to cry. I'm here as long as you need me.”
“I'm sorry for wetting your shirt,” Sallyanne said after the storm passed and she was wiping her eyes and nose with the Kleenex Charlie handed her. “I miss Mama so much.”
“Of course you do. I know all about missing mamas.”
“What happened to your mama?”
“Both my parents were killed in an accident when I was four years old.”
“I'm sorry, ma'am.”
“I was too but I'm okay now. I still wish I had them, but I've learned how to be happy even without them. You will too but it takes time—and some crying.”
“Yes, ma'am. Should I get ready for school now?”
Charlie reached out to smooth the little girl's hair back from her face. “You don't have to go today if you don't want to. Your teacher will understand. You can stay home with me, and we can watch the boats going by in the channel.”
“I'd like to, ma'am, but I'm going to do what Mama wanted.”
“Then let's get you to school.”
While they were eating pancakes, Rhonda called to say she was setting up a meeting with the school officials and wanted Charlie to come. “I'm introducing you as a friend of the family who is temporarily taking care of Sallyanne until relatives can be found,” the social worker said. “You might want to coach her a bit, so she doesn't tell her teacher something else.”
“I hate to ask a child to lie,” Charlie said in a low voice, glancing at the kitchen.
“It's for her own good, believe me. And I'm doing more lying than anyone here so don't be so queasy.”
“I like you, Rhonda,” Charlie said, grinning. “You surprise me, but I like you.”
“That's a great comfort to me. I'll call you when the meeting's set.”
Charlie was still smiling when she walked into the kitchen. But her good humor evaporated as she explained the necessary white lie to Sallyanne, who didn't think it was right because God and her mama objected to lies. Eventually, Charlie got her to promise she simply wouldn't discuss where she was living with anyone at school.
Packing lunch was an adventure. Charlie's pantry wasn't supplied with much in the way of a children's menu. She borrowed all-natural peanut butter from Isabelle and used the least peculiar mixture of organic preserves she possessed. Potato chips were an immediate hit as were the Junior Mints Charlie was addicted to. All in all, she thought she improvised pretty well.
Making sure the little girl was securely buckled in, Charlie drove her to school. She ascertained that Sallyanne's mama did not walk her to “line-up,” and much as Charlie wanted to do it, she decided not to change the routine any more than was absolutely necessary. However, she did get out of the car and give Sallyanne a hug and a kiss.
“If you decide you need to leave school any time today, you ask the teacher to call me. I put my cell phone number in your backpack, and I'm going to call the school office and give it to them too. I'll come pick you up right away. Your mama would understand if you got upset or tired today. You're allowed.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Sallyanne said dutifully.
Then she turned and marched off toward the big brick school building, joining the stream of children headed for the lines forming on the playground.
Charlie waited and watched, and was relieved when two other little girls ran up to join Sallyanne. Having friends always helped. It had been a rare pleasure in her own childhood since she had been moved so often.
She went to the grocery store on the way home. After unloading the groceries, baking a chocolate cake, arranging for Major to stay with Isabelle afternoons and nights, and unpacking the newly-unearthed Chronicles of Narnia into the bookcase in the guest room, Charlie picked up the phone.
“Hello, Jack, it's Charlie.”
“I think I can recognize
my wife's voice.”
Hearing him call her his wife brought memories of the weekend's activities back to vivid life. “Yes, well, I suppose so. Listen, I have to be in New York on business tomorrow,” she lied. “I wondered if you were free around noon.” That gave her time to meet with Rhonda and the school officials first thing in the morning.
“Noon? Sounds good. Come to my apartment and we'll have lunch.”
“Hmmm.” The last thing Charlie wanted to do was commit to sharing a meal with him after she dropped her bombshell. And she had to be home to pick up Sallyanne at school. “I'll take a rain check on the lunch, thanks. I have a lunch meeting already scheduled.”
“Fine. See you then.”
She was not looking forward to announcing they had acquired a child slightly ahead of schedule, since it meant he was going to have to play father whether he liked it or not. During the night, it had occurred to her that she could probably have done some negotiating with Rhonda and negated the necessity for a husband. She had disclosed her marriage before she had thought things through. It can't be helped now.
She and Jack would just have to make the best of it.
The phone rang. “Hello, Mrs. Lanett. This is Warren Bixby.”
She was about to tell him he had the wrong number when he continued, “The photographer at your wedding.”
“Of course,” she said, shaking her head.
“Your prints are ready. Can I drop them off about five?”
“Sure.”
After she hung up, she looked at Major. “Mrs. Lanett.”
He wagged his tail. She shook her head again.
Eleven
“Come on up, dear!” the voice from the intercom said.
“On my way!” Charlie took her finger off the talk button. “Babycakes.”
The doors swung open, the elevator beckoned, and soon Charlie was facing Jack in the doorway of his apartment. “You know, all this automation is sort of creepy,” she commented. “I'm glad you at least have to open your own door.”
“Actually, I don't. I could press a button and it would open itself.”
“Weird,” she said, walking beside him to the living room.
“Good security. Doormen can be bribed. That's why I rent this place. It used to belong to an art dealer.”
“I see.” She had safely navigated past the issue of whether to say hello with a kiss and sank onto the couch with a sigh of relief.
“Something to drink?” he asked. Jack was wearing a black shirt, black trousers and a blazer in a salt-and-pepper fleck. He looked quite devastatingly attractive.
“Some water would be great.” She stood back up and followed him into the kitchen. “Did you track down any meteorites from the fireball?”
“Not yet, but I have some leads.” He poured a glass of water and handed it to her.
“I know I can't write a book but would you object to an article about meteor-watching with the world's foremost meteorite hunter? It would be such a great story, especially if you actually find some meteorites,” she said wistfully.
For a moment she thought he was going to blast her. Then the corners of his mouth quirked up just the slightest bit. “And who would you sell it to? Hustler?”
She gaped at him a moment before realizing what he was hinting at, then laughed. “No, I'm going for a G rating, so I'd have to do some editing.”
“If I have final approval.”
“Deal.” She thought of offering a handshake but decided against it on the grounds that touching him was risky.
“I have a wedding gift for you,” he said, gesturing her back to the living room. He picked up a large black envelope from an end table and handed it to her.
“I didn't know we were exchanging gifts…”
“We're not. Open it.”
She lifted the flap and pulled out a large rectangle of black paper. Glittering bits of silver were embedded in the thick handmade stock. In stark silver letters she was invited to a private viewing of the Sahara-Mars meteorite at the Rose Center for Earth and Space in New York City the following Tuesday. She had read about this event in Page Six. Only the most serious dealers and collectors would be there. It was an invitation to die for.
“This is a wonderful wedding present! Thank you so much.” She tilted the invitation back and forth in her hands, creating little flashes of silver, and a thought occurred to her. “Will I be attending as your wife or a journalist?”
“That's a question I debated at length,” he said “On the one hand, a wife might distract serious attention from the meteorite. On the other, she would definitely attract more publicity, as a sort of double story.”
“And any publicity is good publicity,” Charlie interjected.
“Also, it will make for more photographic coverage. A tall blonde is more interesting than a black rock. However, a tall gorgeous blonde standing beside a black rock from space will make the photographers salivate. So I'd like you to come as my wife who's also a prominent journalist.”
“Why do I feel I'm being treated as an object? I'll let it go only because you used the word 'gorgeous.'”
“It's black tie. If you need a dress, I can recommend someone.”
“I can dress myself, thank you.” Although she had no idea how—she couldn't wear a pair of black silk pants and a beaded top, her usual formal attire. Lots of very rich people would be at this party and, of course, the photographers. She could feel a small bubble of panic forming in her throat.
“I'll send a limousine for you.” As she started to protest, he cut her off. “I'm not having my new bride arrive in a beaten-up Volvo station wagon.”
“I understand. You have your image to consider.” She took a sip of water. “Jack, there's something else we have to discuss.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I'm fostering a nine-year-old child, temporarily.”
“What?”
She quickly told him Sallyanne's story. By the end, she was relieved to see him looking more irritated than furious.
'That's a hell of a way to start out in life,” he said with surprising compassion. Then his tone changed. “But if this Rhonda Brown trusts you enough to drop a nine-year-old in your lap without any paperwork whatsoever, why are we married? It seems to me we can file for divorce immediately.”
Charlie winced. “Being married for five days wouldn't look good on my record.”
“So keep it off your record—”
“I can't. Rhonda already knows.”
“Damnation.” He sat down, drumming his fingers on one knee.
“I've explained that you're not going to be around much until the auction is over, but I think you're going to have to spend a couple of days playing father and husband.” She tried to make a small joke. “Rhonda has an inside source now.”
Jack wasn't smiling. He pulled an electronic calendar out of his jacket pocket and punched a few buttons. “I can come down Thursday afternoon and stay through Friday night. I have to be back here on Saturday to meet some dealers.”
“Great. That's great!” Charlie said. He was taking the news with remarkable equanimity. She glanced at her watch, and put her glass down on the end table. “I have to get to my lunch appointment.”
“An editor? An agent?” He rose fluidly.
“Editor.” She couldn't bring herself to embellish her lie anymore than that.
“What project are you discussing?”
“A travel article.” She made a beeline for the door.
“An interesting location?”
“Very.” She stepped out into the hallway before turning. “Thanks so much for the invitation. I'll try to do you proud.”
“I don't doubt you will.” He escorted her to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, he said, “Just one last detail. If you ever call me 'babycakes' again, I'll tell Rhonda Brown you posed for the centerfold in Playboy.”
“No problem,” Charlie grinned, “stud muffin.”
The doors slid shut.
***
When she picked Sallyanne up after school, Charlie suggested going down to the channel to watch the boats go by.
“Mama always made me do homework as soon as I got home, ma'am.”
“Well, then why don't we bring your homework with us?”
So they set up chairs and a table down by the wall of the channel. While Sallyanne did her math, Charlie skimmed through the book the fourth grader was reading so she could help with the comprehension questions. But Sallyanne didn't need much help. She answered the questions fully and with imagination.
“You're a really good reader and writer.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Her face lit up. “I take books out of the library, and the librarian says I read three years above my grade level.”
“Have you read the Chronicles of Narnia?"
“The first two. I really like them.”
“I put the whole set in your room. Tomorrow we'll go to the library.”
They both jumped as a fishing boat's horn sounded right beside them. “Hey, Charlie. Who's your friend?” the captain shouted from the helm of the Rosalie.
“This is Sallyanne. She's come to live with me for a while,” Charlie called back.
“Ahoy there, Sallyanne! Welcome to Corbin's Canal!”
“Thank you, sir,” the child called, waving.
“Now we've got two beautiful mermaids to greet us when we come home.”
Much to Charlie's delight, Sallyanne giggled.
The Rosalie was only the beginning of the procession of returning boats. Sallyanne was introduced to every fisherman Charlie recognized. Pretty soon she was reading the names of the boats and asking who the captain was and what they caught. One young man even tossed her a conch shell. It landed unscathed on the grass and Sallyanne touched it as though it were the most delicate porcelain.
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