Bittersweet (4 page)

“Michael—”

“Michael
is good at management. At details.” His voice held more texture than normal.
“He doesn’t have the vision, and he doesn’t have Josh’s skills. He knows this
as well as I do. He can’t run Byte Tech on his own. If you want to try to take
it on yourself and hire some more talent to do the technical work, I’ll do what
I can to help.”

She
didn’t want that. She wasn't remotely fit by training or by nature to run a
company like that, and she had no idea what to do. Josh should have left her more
guidance, but he hadn’t wanted to admit the cancer was going to defeat him.

Zoe
stood speechlessly, torn between Logan’s screaming and the intensity of Adam’s
eyes and voice.

He
continued, “If this company is Josh’s legacy, Zoe, then please let me make sure
his legacy is preserved for when Logan is old enough to claim it.”

To
her dismay, a tear streamed out of Zoe’s eye and down her cheek.

For
the first time, Adam’s calm broke. His features tensed up—almost like a
wince—and he looked away from her with a jerk of his head.

Zoe
hugged Logan, who was still crying loudly, although the deafening wails had
lessened a bit. She managed to say, “I need to think about it.”

“Of
course. If you’d like, I could flesh out several options of how we could handle
it. Then you and your lawyer can discuss it, or you could get advice from
someone else.”

She
nodded, hating the idea of having to make a decision like this. Josh had tried
so hard to remain independent, to not cling to Adam’s coattails, but she
couldn’t insist on independence if it meant destroying everything Josh had worked
for.

“Is
that all?” Zoe asked, looking over at the file of paperwork on the conference
table. “I should get Logan home.”

“Yes.
That’s all we need to do today.” Adam’s eyes scanned over Zoe from her tousled hair
to her worn shoes and settled on Logan crying in her arms. “I’ll get a car to take
you home.”

Zoe’s
spine immediately stiffened. “I don’t need—”

Adam
just ignored her objections. He walked over to pick up his phone and instructed
his assistant to have his car service have someone come by to pick her up.

“I
don’t appreciate being pushed around like this,” she said stiffly, feeling like
she wasn’t at her best to wage this particular battle. “If I say I don’t need
your help, then I mean it.”

“You
mean you don’t
want
my help. Not that you don’t need it.” His tone was
matter-of-fact. Not angry or defensive at all.

“I
don’t need—”

“You’ve
had a hard day and a hard conversation, and Logan is very unhappy. Why
shouldn’t you accept a ride home instead of trying to find a cab?”

Zoe
didn’t have a good answer to that question. Because the answer was simply that
she didn’t like to accept help from Adam.  “I don’t like feeling like a charity
case.”

“Zoe,
you’re my cousin’s wife. There’s no charity here.”

She
stared at him for a long moment, breathless and still on the edge of tears. For
some reason, his words reassured her.

She
finally nodded. “All right.”

“So
can my car take you and Logan home?”

“Yes.
Thank you.”

*
* *

The next day Zoe
was determined to accomplish yet another difficult task. She needed to start
going through Josh’s things.

She
hadn’t touched anything yet, but she was determined not to be one of those
people who kept their dead loved one's belongings untouched as a sort of
permanent shrine in the house.

She
was just steeling herself to start on Josh’s desk when an old high school
friend called. She appreciated the gesture, but the stilted conversation and
attempts at consolation only made her feel worse.

She
couldn’t take another call like that today, so she turned off the ringer on her
phone, set Logan down on a blanket on the floor with his favorite felt blocks,
and started to work on the desk.

Josh
had been a bit of a packrat, so it took a long time for her to go through it.
Most of what filled the drawers was junk—newspaper clippings, old shopping
lists, scrawled notes about possible projects, dog-eared magazines, pens that
no longer worked, and hundreds and hundreds of rubber bands. She put aside
everything that looked important or work related so Michael could go through
it, and she filled up most of a garbage bag with what remained.

The
only really hard part was when she found a little leather box—one she’d never
known Josh possessed—filled with cards and notes she’d given him, ticket stubs
from shows they’d seen, the receipt from her engagement ring, the brochure from
the hotel in St. Lucia where they’d spent their honeymoon, and other random
items that held only sentimental value.

She
had a good cry over that box, until Logan needed his diaper changed.

After
lunch, Zoe and Logan both took a nap. She surprised herself by sleeping almost
three hours. Feeling a new burst of energy, she ran for forty-five minutes on
the treadmill in the bedroom and, after a shower, decided it was time to face
the closet.

The
clothes were much, much harder than the desk.

Josh
hadn’t been very neat, so his dresser drawers were a mess. He’d loved graphic
t-shirts, and he had a ridiculous number of jeans. After she pulled them out of
his drawers, she felt totally surrounded by them. By
him
.

In
the closet, she found the old sport coat she’d tried for years to get him to
throw away, and she smelled the aftershave he used to wear.

She
ended up sobbing on the floor of her closet, hugging the jacket to her chest.

She
had no idea how long she would have cried if she hadn’t been startled by a loud
knock on the door. She jumped up and hurried to the door, disoriented and very
confused since the doorman hadn’t called up to ask her about letting in a
visitor.

“Zoe,”
a familiar male voice came from outside the door. “Zoe, open the door.”

She
jerked to a stop in the middle of her living room, still holding Josh’s sport
coat, unable to process why Adam was here.

“Zoe,
let me in,” he called through the door, “or the doorman will unlock it!”

With
an indignant gasp, Zoe marched over and threw open the door. “What the
hell
are you doing here?”

Adam
pushed his way into her loft, his face not as composed as usual. It looked
tense and damp, as if he’d been sweating, and there was a strange sort of
urgency in his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice inexplicably
thick.

“Yes,
I’m all right. What’s wrong with you? And how did you manage to bully my
doorman to let you up?”

“Why
haven’t you been answering your phone?” Adam sounded every bit as annoyed as
she was.

“Oh,”
she mumbled, realizing what must have happened. “I silenced the phone so people
wouldn’t bug me.”

Adam
took a deep breath—so deep she could see the inhale and exhale in his chest. It
seemed like he was suppressing something he wanted to say, like he was holding it
back by force.

“Now
what exactly are you doing here?” she asked, pleased when she sounded mostly
calm.

“I’ve
been trying to call you all day. This afternoon, when I couldn’t reach you, I
contacted Jane to see if she could—since I thought maybe you just didn’t want to
talk to me. But she couldn’t reach you either. So I came over. Then you didn’t
pick up when the doorman called up, so he let me in.”

As
he spoke, Zoe had gone over to pick up her phone. When she glanced at the
screen, she saw she’d missed twenty-seven calls in the eight hours her phone
had been silenced.

Her
eyes widened. “I just turned off the ringer,” she said, starting to feel a
little guilty and then annoyed that he’d made her feel that way.

“I
know that now.”

She
looked at Adam closely and saw the twitching of a muscle in his jaw, the way
the collar of his shirt and tie were slightly askew. She realized he’d been
genuinely concerned about her. “I’m sorry,” she said—more because he’d been
worried than because she’d done anything wrong. “I didn’t realize anyone was
trying to reach me.”

Adam
opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted when his own phone rang. He
answered it with a brief, “Peterson.”

After
a moment, he handed the phone to her. “Jane.”

“Hey,
Jane,” Zoe said into the phone, rather sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

“Shit,”
Jane said with a loud, gusty exhale, “Why the hell didn’t you answer your
phone?”

Now
Zoe felt a little defensive. “I’m allowed to turn off the ringer and have some
peace and quiet occasionally, aren’t I? I didn’t know everyone would act like
there was a national crisis. I mean, really—do you all think I’m about to do
myself in or something?”

“No,
no,” Jane assured her, sounding rather sheepish now herself. “I wouldn’t have
been worried, but Adam sounded worried. And it was so weird to get a call from
him at all. So then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Anyway, glad you’re all
right.”

“I’m
fine,” Zoe announced—both to Jane and to Adam, who was standing in front of her
and blatantly eavesdropping on her phone conversation. “I didn’t mean to worry
you.”

When
she hung up, she handed the phone back to Adam. “Sorry you made the trip over
here.”

He
gave a half-shrug. It was hard to tell from his expression what he was feeling
now. He didn’t look urgent anymore, but he looked tired and maybe a bit
disgruntled. “Just leave your phone on from now on.”

She
tensed. “I won’t leave it off for so long—in case people need to get a hold of
me. But I have every right to do with my phone what I want.”

His
eyes narrowed, but he didn’t object. “Fair enough.”

Zoe
stood in front of him for a moment, feeling awkward, expecting him to leave now
that he’d ascertained her continued existence. But he didn’t. His gaze moved
from her face—which she realized was still probably tear-streaked from crying
in the closet earlier—to her unflattering sweats to Josh’s jacket, which she still
held.

“What
were you doing?” Adam asked at last, as if he had every right to know.

“I
was going through some of Josh’s things,” she admitted—not because he needed to
know but because there didn’t seem to be any point in withholding the
information.

“By
yourself?”

“Why
shouldn’t I do it by myself?”

  Adam
slanted a quick, impatient look at her—the one that indicated she’d said
something foolish. But all he said was, “Where’s Logan?”

“In
the bedroom, playing with his animal table. He may actually have fallen
asleep.”

As
if her explanation was an invitation, Adam strode back to the bedroom. Logan
wasn’t asleep. He was sitting up next to his plastic table top that had bright
animals and shapes that he could move around in different configurations. One
of his hands clutched the shape of a cow.

When
he saw them, he clapped his hands and jabbered something Zoe took to be a
greeting.

“Hey,”
she said gently, “Have you been playing by yourself all this time?”

When
he reached out to her, babbling sounds like, “Da-la-ga-la,” she leaned over to
pick him up and pull him into a hug.

“He’s
sitting up on his own?” Adam asked.

“Yeah.
Didn’t you know that? He’s been sitting up for a few weeks now.”

“Isn’t
he kind of young to sit up on his own?”

“No.
I think it’s about normal.” Zoe gave Adam a curious look, wondering what had
prompted the sudden interest in his sort-of nephew. “Although I’m quite sure
he’s a child protégé just the same.”

 His
eyes warmed slightly. “Naturally.” He glanced around the room then, obviously
taking note of the piles of Josh’s clothes she had everywhere. “This can’t be
fun,” he murmured at last.

Zoe
swallowed, strangely touched by the mild words. “Yeah. It’s horrible. I’m trying
to give away as much as I can, but it’s so hard to give things up.” She stroked
Josh’s jacket, which was still slung over her arm.

“Do
you want some help?”

If
he’d just assumed he could help her, she would have refused him. But since he’d
asked, and since he’d seemed to be genuinely worried about her before, it seemed
silly to say no.

“All
right. If you think you can help without being too bossy.”

Adam
gave her an odd look—she couldn’t figure out if it was surprise, amusement, or
annoyance. “I’ll restrain my bossy tendencies for the greater good.”

To
her surprise, Adam actually did help. Not just with the practical matters, sorting
and folding the clothes, but with the harder task of deciding what to keep and
what to give away.

She
kept a few things, like his sport coat, but there was absolutely no reason for
her to keep twenty-three pairs of men’s jeans, just because they had been Josh’s.