by Karen Quinn
“You look very nice, Christy,” Steven said, giving her the once-over in the rearview mirror. “Important meeting?”
“Yeah, with the board.” Christy studied her presentation quietly as Steven drove.
“Whoops, look. Can’t stop in front,” Steven pointed out. An ambulance blocked the way.
“That’s okay. Just pull up beside it. I’ll bet it’s Mrs. De Mille,” Christy said.
“Gotta be,” Steven said, shaking his head. “And she just celebrated her ninety-fifth last weekend. What a damn shame. You know, she’s been in the building since it opened.”
“At least she lived a good life,” Christy said sadly. “She had her faculties to the end. She walked to the reservoir and back every day. We should all be blessed with a long life like that. Can you see if there’s anything we can do to help? Find out where the services are. I’ll send some flowers. Well, wish me luck.”
“Luck,” Steven shouted, as Christy barely dodged a kamikaze pizza-delivery guy on a bike that swerved between the ambulance and her Mercedes. They seemed to be the only remaining entity in New York that bowed to no law, wreaking havoc on the well-ordered world of Fifth Avenue.
Christy made a mental note to call Michael as soon as her meeting ended. More than once, he’d mentioned wanting to make a bid for Mrs. De Mille’s apartment after she died. Michael’s penthouse was small and they were desperate for more room. Combining Mrs. De Mille’s space with theirs would make a fabulous duplex. Christy felt terrible about acquiring it this way. But if she and Michael didn’t act now, the woman’s next-door neighbors certainly would. Someone would buy it. It was this kind of thing that made Christy uncomfortable about living in New York. You had to be tougher than everyone around you or you’d lose.
When Christy arrived upstairs, her front door was open. Walking inside, she spotted three uniformed people hovering over someone lying on the floor. Christy couldn’t see the face, but she saw the shoes. They were Maria’s navy blue Easy Spirit pumps. Yok Wah, the cook, and Cynthia, the maid, stood in the corner looking stricken.
“What happened?” Christy screamed.
“Stroke,” the female attendant said quickly.
One of the paramedics was on the phone conferring with the hospital. The other was injecting some kind of medicine into a bag that was hooked to a tube connected to Maria’s hand. The man on the phone said “thrombolysis,” but Christy had no idea what that meant. She approached Maria and peered over the heads of paramedics. The right side of Maria’s face drooped. “Is she…”
“She’s stable, but we need to get her to the hospital,” the woman whispered as the two men scooted Maria onto a gurney.
Christy took Maria’s hand and squeezed it. Maria opened her eyes, looking terrified. Christy felt the same but tried not to show it.
“It’s okay, Maria. You’ll be fine.”
Maria tried to speak but no words came. The attendants rolled the gurney into the hall and then the waiting elevator.
“Can I ride with her?” Christy asked, stepping inside with the medics and elevator man. She clenched Maria’s free hand, which was cold and shaking.
“Sure,” the female attendant said. “Is there family to call?” she asked.
“A granddaughter,” Christy answered. “I’ll do it. I think she needs more covers.”
The paramedics pushed the gurney to the front of the building and into the ambulance. Christy climbed in with the others. “Where are we going?”
“Lenox Hill.” The ambulance took off, and Christy could hear sirens blaring outside. The hospital was only blocks from the apartment. None of it seemed real.
A young dark-haired paramedic put another blanket over Maria, whose eyes were closed. Christy took her hand once more. “I’m here, Maria. We’re going to Lenox Hill. You’ll have the best doctors. I promise.”
Maria opened her eyes slightly and tried to talk. “R—…R—…”
“Renata will be fine, I promise. I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.” You have to get better, Christy thought.
The ambulance stopped, and the doors sprang open. In a flurry of activity, hospital attendants wearing scrubs evacuated the rolling bed from the vehicle. Christy’s stomach dropped when she saw the lost expression on Maria’s face. “R…Re…” she slurred again. Christy caught up with the gurney. She knew Maria was thinking the unthinkable. She tried to pretend she wasn’t more frightened than she’d ever been.
“Of course I’ll raise Renata if anything happens. You know I promised you that, Maria. But you’re gonna be fine.” That’s right, she thought, Maria will be fine. She just needs rest. When she gets out of the hospital, I’ll send her on a tropical vacation. A sunny place where she can sleep and get her strength back.
Maria visibly relaxed. She closed her eyes and Christy could see that her lashes were wet with tears. The attendants told Christy to wait outside. They were taking Maria to a restricted area. In an instant, she was gone. Christy stood there, staring, as the door slammed in her face. She wanted to call Michael, but he wouldn’t be landing for another two hours. She felt utterly and completely alone.
Christy found her way to an empty orange plastic chair in the waiting room, brushed away a candy wrapper, and sat down to think. How could this be happening? Was there time to run home, handle the luncheon, and then get back to the hospital? Maybe she should skip the board meeting. No, she had to be there. Maria may be dying. No, that’s impossible. Of course it’s possible. People die every day. Renata. She had to find the child and bring her to the hospital. Christy called Katherine on her cell but got voice mail. She explained the situation and asked her to cover the lunch. She promised to call back in a half hour to brief her on what she’d planned to say. It’ll be okay, Christy thought. Katherine has presented to the board before.
Christy called Steven and asked him to pick her up at Lenox Hill as soon as possible. Walking outside to Seventy-seventh Street, she realized she had no idea where the kid went to school. She knew it was in Queens, but that was all.
Steven pulled up and Christy hopped into the back. “Steven, you don’t happen to know where Maria’s granddaughter goes to school?” Christy was virtually sure that he didn’t, but she asked anyway.
“I don’t know the name of it, but I think I can find it. I drove Maria there in December for some Christmas show.”
“Thank you. God bless you,” she said. “Drive as fast as you can.” Christy sat back, closed her eyes, and tried to steady her hands. Her head felt like it would explode. Keep it together, keep it together, she told herself. She couldn’t show up at Renata’s school acting hysterical. Traffic was a nightmare. Christy cursed the big trucks that were double-parked leaving only two lanes open for traffic. She pulled out her phone and called the Lenox Hill emergency room.
“Hello. It’s Christy Hayes, and I was just there with Maria Ruiz. They said she had a stroke. I’m on my way to pick up her granddaughter. Do you have an update on her condition?”
Christy held long enough to hear “I Will Always Love You,” “Uptown Girl,” and the beginning of “Your Song” before the nurse came back. The music helped calm her. That was smart, she thought, playing lite FM on an emergency room’s hold line. Christy listened to the nurse’s update, then thanked her. She snapped her cell phone closed and stuck it into her purse. She found an unexpected pack of Big Red gum in the bag. She took a piece and offered one to Steven. Cinnamon gum is definitely the best kind, she thought. Maria is dead. Christy said these words to herself, but she couldn’t really take them in. Today is Thursday. The sky is blue. Maria is dead. Words, just words. So many things she’d never said to Maria. She just felt there would always be time.
Renata’s Big Day
Public School 223 was housed in a square, tan brick building with iron bars on the windows. After trying every door to the place, Christy found the only one that was open. She entered, passed through a metal detector, and approached the policeman on the other side. He made her show
two forms of ID and sign in before he would direct her to the office.
Making two rights as the cop instructed, Christy found the place. Other than a jeans-clad woman answering phones at the PTA desk, the office was deserted.
“Can I help you?” the lady asked.
“I’m looking for Renata Ruiz. I think she’s in fifth grade. Her grandmother, who’s also her caretaker, just, uhm, passed away.” Christy whispered the words passed away. There was an enormous lump in her throat, and she could hardly speak.
The woman looked up at Christy sympathetically. “I’m so sorry. And you are?”
“I’m her grandmother’s employer. I mean I was.”
“And I’m Jenny, Cecelia Moreno’s mom,” she said, extending her hand. “Ce Ce’s in Renata’s grade. Everyone’s at the concert. Come. I’ll take you.”
Jenny accompanied Christy down the hall and up some stairs. Inside, the place was like every school Christy had ever attended. Wide halls, white-painted cinderblock walls, Formica floors, children’s artwork on display, that faint sweaty-gym-sock smell. Christy shivered. The place gave her the willies. School was never her strong suit.
The two women entered the auditorium. A group of students were onstage, arranged as a chorus, singing a medley of Broadway songs in Spanish. A girl and boy were featured soloists, backed by their classmates. Both kids had soprano voices.
“The girl performing is Renata,” Jenny whispered. “You stay here. I’ll get the principal.”
Christy stood in the back, staring at the child who was singing a duet of “Sunrise, Sunset.” “Sol se suba, sol se baia.” It had been at least a year since she’d seen Renata. She remembered her as a chubby little imp. Now she was a head taller than the boy she was singing with and had the face of an Hispanic princess. Her lashes were so long that Christy could make them out from across the darkened auditorium. Her black curly hair was pulled up into the same French knot that Maria always wore when Christy had formal parties. Corkscrew tendrils fell lightly onto the child’s face. Christy let out a sob as she pictured Maria spending her last morning on earth styling Renata’s hair for the concert she would not be able to attend. Christy would never forgive herself for this. Never. She watched Renata’s full lips move purposefully as she sang. There was a cleft in her chin, and she imagined there might be dimples when the girl smiled. She wondered what her mother had looked like to produce such an exquisite daughter. Or maybe it was her father? She didn’t resemble Maria, who had been plain and dumpy in the most comforting way.
Christy was struck with a wave of grief for the child. Her world was about to fall apart, and she didn’t have a clue. Nothing would be the same after today. As Renata performed “Memories,” Christy wept quietly for the child and Maria. “Memoria, solo en la claro de luna.” An older woman tapped Christy on the shoulder and motioned that she accompany her outside. It was the principal, who introduced herself as Enid Greene.
Christy explained the circumstances of Maria’s death and asked if she could take Renata to the hospital to say good-bye.
The principal clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Does she have family? Should I call social services?”
“No, no. I’m taking her. Maria always put me and my assistant down as her emergency contacts. And I’m Renata’s godmother.”
“Why don’t you go back to my office? I’ll bring her to you when her class finishes singing.”
Christy agreed. She took a last peek at Renata, who was singing “Tomorrow” along with the rest of the chorus. “Mañana. Mañana. Te amo. Mañana.” The child sang more enthusiastically than before, probably relieved that her soloing was over. In a fog, Christy walked back to the main office. Stopping in the bathroom to splash water on her face, she thought about the day her own mother died. There had been no chance to say good-bye because the crash happened right after she dropped Christy off at school. Mom kissed her, said she’d pick her up at three, and that was it. She never saw her again. Just like Renata. Christy knew what the girl was about to feel. There would be a hole in her heart that would never be filled. A feeling that something was amiss every morning when she opened her eyes. Christy looked in the mirror and for a moment saw Maria’s face instead of her own. Tears spilled from her eyes, so she stepped into one of the stalls for privacy. Sitting with her head in her hands, she let out a wail. Then the sobs began, coming in waves and spasms. They were loud, plaintive, sorrowful cries between gasps for air. They were the cries of a child weeping for her mother and her beloved Maria, both of whom left the world way too soon.
What’s Love Got to Do with It?
Christy met Michael in Aspen on Friday as planned. She heard the telltale crunch of gravel as his Range Rover made its way up their driveway. Peeking out the window, she was momentarily blinded by the vehicle’s brights, which Michael always forgot to turn off after he navigated the steep part of the road. It was starting to snow.
Christy put down her mug of hot chocolate, threw a cashmere blanket around her shoulders, and curled up in an armchair. There was so much warmth in this home. Michael had bought the place as a wedding present for Christy so he could share his favorite spot in the world with her. He chose a house that wasn’t too big and grand—he knew Christy yearned for a simpler life than Manhattan and a more casual space than his penthouse. He had it decorated for her in a traditional American folk-art style. Christy loved it. From her spot in the living room, she could see mountains lit by moonlight in every direction out the windows.
Her stomach turned over in anticipation of Michael’s reaction to her news. She knew he wouldn’t welcome it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love kids; he clearly adored his daughter. But she had broken his heart. Every month, he wrote to her, telling her how much he missed her, asking to get together. The letter was always returned unopened. He gave Ali a Mac PowerBook for her birthday. It was sent back to his office. She refused to accept the new hiking boots he offered, even though Michael had heard she needed a pair. Michael would not want to make himself vulnerable to another little girl.
Christy knew she had to tell him in person. Under the best of circumstances, this wasn’t the kind of news you could casually drop over the phone. “Oh, by the way, honey, we have an eleven-year-old daughter now. Isn’t that super!” No, this was a conversation to have mano-a-mano. Eve, their assistant, would stay with Renata for the weekend. Christy felt awful leaving her alone just one day after they buried Maria, but getting Michael on board was critical. Christy had waited a lifetime to find this man, and she could not risk her marriage over someone else’s child. But she had also made a promise to Maria. She couldn’t renege on that, either. She wouldn’t even have Michael if Maria hadn’t given her the courage to go after him.
The front door opened. Michael walked inside and smiled. Christy’s stomach still dropped at the sight of him, after even a short absence. She was blind to his imperfections, amazed that he had chosen her.
“Come sit by the fire, babe. It’s freezing out there,” Christy said. She had a cup of spiked cocoa waiting for him. I’m a CEO, a new mother, and a damn good wife, she thought, pumping herself up for the pitch. See, a girl can do it all.
Michael wasn’t interested in hot cocoa. He pulled Christy passionately to him, kissing her as though they had been apart for four years, not four days. Christy finally pulled away, burying her face in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. She worried that her husband would whisk her straight to the bedroom. Then what would she do? If she waited until after sex to tell him about Renata, he’d think he was being manipulated. Christy didn’t want that. Her relationship with Michael had always been honest; they’d never played games. But if she told him about Renata now, before they made love, it would ruin his mood for the rest of the trip. Oh, screw it. It didn’t matter when she told him. This was a mood breaker if ever there was one.
“I brought you something, Beegee,” Michael said.
“Honey, I told you to stop buying me gifts. You’re spoiling me.”
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“You don’t want to deprive me of that pleasure, do you?” Michael said, making his sad-puppy-dog face. His employees and competitors would be shocked to see this side of him. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small, exquisitely wrapped package. “Here.”
Christy sat on the sofa to open it. Michael stood by the fire, watching her. The gift was from Sonny’s, a Denver jewelry store that was Michael’s favorite. Inside was a necklace made entirely of diamonds. Christy had never touched anything this beautiful. It looked like something a movie star would wear to the Academy Awards. “Wow,” she said. “Wow.”
“I saw it in Denver and couldn’t resist,” Michael said. “I wanted to cheer you up. Here, let’s see how it looks.” Michael put the necklace on her and then locked the clasp.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” Christy said, feeling nervous.
“Don’t you like it?” Michael asked.
“I love it. I love you for wanting to give it to me. I just…” Christy pulled back. “Michael, there’s something I have to tell you.” She couldn’t put this off any longer.
“You look serious. Is it about that article?”
“No, it’s not that.” Christy had been too preoccupied to think about that. Luckily, Katherine and Rick had handled the board at Monday’s luncheon, making them feel comfortable with their plan to repair the damage caused by Galit’s story. It felt like a year had passed since then. It had been four days.
“Maria died.”
“Our Maria?”
“Yes.”
Michael came and sat next to Christy, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know how much she meant to you. When?”
“Monday. And she did mean a lot to me. I loved her so much. But that’s not even the biggest part of the news.” Christy hesitated, wondering if her perfect world was about to implode. “Did you know she had a granddaughter she cared for?”