Childless: A Novel (5 page)

“Floor?” asked
a thirtysomething gentleman, appreciating Maria’s skirt and heels. His tailored suit and silk tie made the perfect package for a visible confidence.

“Ten, please,” Julia replied.

“Me too,” he said, tossing a wink toward the younger sister.

“Are you here to see Troy?” Julia asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Troy Simmons of TS Enterprises. You?”

“I’m Julia, Troy’s wife.” It felt good to say it when standing beside Maria. Her kid sister still turned heads like few other women. But Julia had managed something even less common, a committed relationship.

“Nice meeting you.” A slight nod in Julia’s direction finally acknowledged her presence. “Robert Wilkie.”

“Hi, Robert. This is my sister.”

Maria offered her hand to formalize the handoff from married to available woman. “Maria Davidson. A pleasure.”

Julia marveled once again at the subtle movements and voice inflections that made her sister irresistible to the opposite sex. In less time than it took an elevator to climb ten floors she had turned a complete stranger into a promising romantic prospect.

“What time is your meeting?” Julia asked as the doors slid apart.

The man glanced at his watch. “Eleven thirty. I’m a bit early.”

Maria’s eyes met Julia’s. Both seemed to imagine the same scheme.

“Listen,” Julia began. “I need to pop into my husband’s office for a quick conversation. Do you mind keeping my sister company in the lobby for a few minutes? I won’t be long.”

Robert smiled at Maria, releasing Julia to approach a vacant assistant’s desk in front of her husband’s closed office door. She paused before entering at the sound of muffled conversation within. After a few moments she discerned a solitary, agitated voice.

“I understand you took a big hit last month, Marcos,” Troy was saying. “Times are tough for all of us. But we moved forward in good faith assuming you would deliver your part of the funding.”

Julia turned the handle to peer inside. She found Troy’s eyes. He eagerly motioned her to enter but seemed a bit embarrassed by her sudden presence, as if she had stumbled upon a messy room in his otherwise tidy life.

He moved toward Julia to position himself for the expected embrace. Both waited impatiently while Troy listened to a voice apparently making more excuses or offering inadequate apologies.

“Listen, Marcos.” He broke the silence. “All I need you to do is buy us both a few more days. I’m meeting Wilkie from Peak Capital for lunch in five minutes. I can’t ask him to invest in a deal you plan to abandon or the conversation will end before we order appetizers. It’ll be better for both of us if you hit the pause button until I can raise more cash. Two days.”

Troy resumed listening while Julia reached for his left hand to pull it down from his forehead and place it around her waist. Then she removed the chewed-up pencil from his right hand to place it on the desk before forcing clenched fingers open onto her other hip. His frame seemed to welcome the soft distraction from beleaguered tension.

Julia didn’t like or recognize the look in her husband’s eyes. Troy’s habitual confidence appeared shaken. Whatever deal he had made seemed very important. It also seemed to be unraveling.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “I’ll talk to you after three.”

Troy took a deep breath after ending the call. Julia rose on tiptoe to offer her lips. He accepted them less enthusiastically than she had expected.

“Let’s try that again,” she ordered. “Only this time imagine I’m your wife rather than your sister.”

He released a reluctant smile before accepting the invitation.

“Much better,” she responded afterward. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She knew he did even as his head shook from side to side.

“No, thanks. I’m good. Especially now. This is a pleasant surprise.”

She slid his hands upward until they cupped her face as if to frame a message she wanted him to hear.

“Troy Simmons,” she began. “It’s me, Julia, your wife. Talk to me.”

He appeared reluctant, as if ashamed at her discovery of a chink in his masculine armor.

“A big deal?”

“One of the biggest,” he explained. “I’ve called in every favor on this one. I’ve also met with most venture capitalists this side of the Rocky Mountains. They all like the concept but seem skittish. Everybody’s nervous about another dip.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” she said reassuringly.

He fixed intently on her eyes while gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry your pretty head, my lady. Everything will be fine.”

He gave her another quick peck on the lips that told her he didn’t buy his own propaganda.

Julia let a momentary silence linger between them. Then she hesitantly asked a question he wouldn’t like. “Have you talked to Kevin about it?”

She braced for impact. Troy took pride in his ability to navigate complex situations and in protecting his longtime partner. Kevin Tolbert had too much to worry about already, he insisted. That’s why Troy had volunteered to move back to Denver in the first place. He missed the excitement of Washington DC and the influence of serving as Kevin’s chief of staff. But somebody had to shore up what remained of their business holdings.

“No need,” he lied. “Besides, I can update him in person tomorrow.”

She decided to retreat.

“Are we still meeting at the Beltway Bistro?” He seemed eager to turn a corner. “I could use a good power-broker steak.”

“Afraid not,” she explained. “I got a message from Angie saying the baby is sick and asking if we mind coming to the house instead.”

“Leah’s sick?” he asked with concern.

“Not Leah…Ricky. Nothing serious, just a cough. Angie doesn’t want to take any chances. I said we’d come over after we settle in at the hotel.”

“How old is Ricky now?”

“Let’s see. He was born about six weeks after our wedding.” Julia began tapping fingers while running a mental tabulation. “Almost five months old.”

Troy moved back toward the desk, his mind clearly someplace else. Capitol Hill, Julia assumed. She knew that Troy loved his visits to Washington DC, where he breathed the air of an influence he’d held before the economic crisis forced him to reassume the reins of TS Enterprises. The company he and Kevin had birthed and grown together had been hit hard during the prior twelve months. They had majority interests in seven distinct small businesses. Two had since gone under. A third was starting to sink. The money that had enabled Kevin to run for Congress and that allowed Troy to serve as his friend’s loyal general was drying up. Now, rather than help steer the ship of state, Troy Simmons seemed to spend his days bailing water from leaky budgets.

“Earth to Troy,” Julia teased.

“Sorry, babe,” he replied. “Five months old. Wow.”

She drew closer. “Are you sure you’re OK? You seem worried.”

“Just tired.”

“Do you want to skip tonight’s session? We fly out pretty early in the morning.”

“Not a chance.”

Troy definitely liked their Exploring Christianity class more than Julia. The weekly ritual took place in Reverend Ware’s living room, where a half dozen lapsing pagans tried to understand the fine print before buying faith. Troy had insisted they attend together. Julia had reluctantly agreed, unsure whether she was ready to dive deeper into the religion she had recently come to admire from a safe distance. Christ appeared far less demanding from the sixteenth row on Sunday mornings than he did when she read his specific words. She wouldn’t have minded skipping now and then, but Troy refused to miss a single session.

“I’m fine, babe, really.” He reached for a blue blazer hanging on the arm of the desk chair. “I’m expecting a lunch appointment to arrive any—”

“Robert Wilkie,” Julia interrupted. “He’s in the lobby with Maria.”

“You’re kidding. He knows Maria?”

“No. Well, he does now. We met him in the elevator. He seemed smitten.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “I need every angle I can get with him. Maybe he’ll make a deal if I offer to set him up with my sister-in-law.”

“I think she’s probably beating you to that punch right now.”

They shared a laugh.

“Eating at Panzano?” Troy asked.

“Vesta.”

“My next guess.”

Troy retrieved his tablet from the desk and placed it in his jacket pocket. “Did you finish your column?”

“Nearly,” Julia said, tightening her husband’s tie. “It needs a few tweaks. I’ll get it done after lunch. I might even have time to outline the Bing Media story they requested about—”

Julia cut herself off when a hint of tension returned to her husband’s torso. While Troy had often said how proud he was of her journalistic resurgence, she feared it also spawned other feelings. Her rising notoriety highlighted his descent into obscurity. He had done the right thing by voluntarily leaving the circle of power to mind the shop. But such things could emasculate even the strongest male ego. Even though Troy hid it well, Julia felt his struggle.

“Oh, never mind about that. You have far more important things to think about right now. What do you say we go rescue your lunch partner from mine.”

They left the office hand in hand. Julia noticed the still-vacant assistant’s desk.

“Where’s Maggie?”

“She left the third week of July.”

“You haven’t had an assistant for over a month?”

“Nope.”

“No wonder you’re feeling stressed. Any prospects?”

“I haven’t really tried to find one,” he admitted. “Can’t afford the salary just now. I’m doing all right.”

He placed his hand on her lower back to usher Julia away from another uncomfortable conversation. She refused to take the hint, pausing to glance at the adjoining office.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Wasn’t that Steve Reynolds’s office, your controller? Is he gone too?”

A sheepish nod. “Since late June.”

“Then who’s been managing the books?”

Troy bowed his head while raising his right hand like a schoolboy caught cheating in class.

“So you’re doing Steve’s job on top of everything else, and all without an assistant?”

“Look, Julia—”

“Why haven’t you told me about this?” she interrupted. “No wonder you’ve been working such long hours and feeling so stressed!”

“I didn’t want to burden you with—”

“Burden
me?
What about you?”

“I can handle it, babe. It’s only temporary. You’ll see.”

She crossed her arms like a girl threatening to hold her breath.

“Please,” he said. “I might be just one lunch meeting away from the solution. Let’s talk about it later, OK?”

Julia forced herself to soften, unwilling to further upset Troy before an important meeting. “OK. But I want us to talk about it tonight.”

“Deal.”

As they rounded the corner Julia saw an all-too-familiar sight. Her sister sat cozily close to a man she had met minutes earlier, who was now enthralled with chatter about nothing in particular. Julia smiled at the couple, then halted her advance and faced her husband to cut a different deal.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it tonight,” she whispered. “I want you to tell Kevin what’s going on when we see the Tolberts tomorrow. You shouldn’t have to carry this by yourself. I don’t care how busy he is, Kevin is still your partner.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll discuss everything with him tomorrow.”

“Promise me,” she insisted.

“I promise,” he said in a hushed voice. “Now can we go? I really need the time with Robert if I’m going to make this deal work.”

Satisfied, Julia squeezed her husband’s hand. Then she turned toward the lobby to greet the potential investor with the most charming voice she could muster.

“We’re gonna
miss you,” Sarah said while Matthew placed a chair on top of the table she had just finished cleaning.

“Thanks,” he replied, forcing an upbeat grin. “Back at’cha.”

The thud of the last wooden stool settling onto the flat surface created a disquieting sensation in Matthew. He had volunteered to stay and help Sarah close up shop, buying him a few extra minutes in a job he had never really liked but that had given him a place for nearly ten years.

Campus Grinds was where Matthew had voiced his frustration back when the University of Colorado rejected his first attempt to enroll, still one of the most disheartening moments of his life. His dream had died. Or so he’d thought at the time. His coworkers might not have cared all that much, but at least they offered a semblance of sympathy.

Watching Sarah clear the last bit of clutter from the counter prompted a twinge of grief. Matthew would miss her, his favorite of the many part-time employees who had come and gone over the years. He would miss waxing eloquent on a range of academic-sounding topics while she nodded with varying degrees of interest. The tiniest possible audience, she had given him a sense of validation the enrollment office seemed unwilling to bestow.

Sarah had been most thoughtful during his mother’s worst years. A willing shoulder if he had been inclined to cry. But his mother’s decline had fueled anger, not tears. So he never took her up on the offer.

“I’m not sure I ever told you how much I appreciated your kindness during my mother’s illness.” He paused to watch her reaction before saying more. She appeared momentarily puzzled, as if reaching to recall any sympathy she might have offered.

“Oh,” she muddled, “don’t mention it.”

They both moved toward a small closet door in the corner behind the counter, where Sarah retrieved a broom and dustpan while Matthew grabbed a small garbage bucket he had filled and emptied hundreds of times before.

“How is she?” Sarah asked while maneuvering the broom into a corner.

“Who?” he asked.

“Your mom.”

Matthew’s brow furrowed. Then he remembered that he had never told Sarah about the transition. He’d told her about getting accepted as a full-time student. He’d sought and received her smiling approval when he said he could finally pursue his dream. But he hadn’t mentioned his mother’s death. Why would he? The money that would have freed him to quit his job still hadn’t been released. Had that happened he might have told her about the inheritance. So, with the exception of a few shift-change requests to accommodate Tuesday and Friday classes, nothing was different about Matthew from what Sarah had observed over the prior four and a half years.

“My mom is…” he began, then stopped. “Actually, she’s doing great. Never better.”

He almost believed it after months of telling himself his mom was now free from the limitations of a decaying body.

“Glad to hear it.” Sarah seemed eager to change subjects. “Remind me again why you’re moving to Denver.”

She knelt and positioned the dustpan in front of a freshly swept mound of dirt while handing Matthew the broom.

“Littleton, actually,” he said.

“That’s right. Littleton then.”

He hadn’t had time to invent an impressive reason for the change, so he told her the embarrassing truth. “I need to pay down my loan before I can fund another semester.”

“I see,” she replied, emptying the dustpan into the bucket. Then she stood and waited for the rest of a story he hadn’t intended to tell.

“I grew up in Littleton. Lived there until about ten years ago when my mom retired.”

“What brought you to Boulder?”

“Naïveté,” he said, laughing. “I assumed living close would improve my chance of getting into the university. Mom agreed. Of course, she never went to college herself, so knew even less than I did about what it takes.”

Matthew took two steps forward to accompany Sarah, who had inched her way toward the front of the shop for one last inspection of the floor.

“It took me seven years to get accepted, one of them driving to Front Range Community College to prove I have what it takes.”

“Uh-huh,” she said robotically.

He kept talking despite losing her attention. Closing duties completed, she appeared eager to lock up and head home.

“Anyway, there are more jobs in the Denver area. Besides, I still have a few high school friends living in Littleton. I figure I’ll hang there to save for ten or eleven months and then come back to school next fall.”

Matthew was glad she didn’t ask what job he had lined up. The only thing less impressive than cleaning coffee mugs was taking care of old people. But senior-care services paid a premium wage. Short of receiving the inheritance, he knew of no other way to get the kind of money necessary to enter his sophomore year.

They returned the cleaning supplies to the closet before Sarah retrieved her purse from behind the counter.

“Well,” she began, “I guess this is goodbye for a while.”

“For a while,” he said with a tentative smile. “Thanks, again, for being a great shift boss. And for being a friend.”

“You bet.” She extended her free arm for a side embrace, less than he wanted but all he could expect.

“I’ll miss you,” Matthew heard himself say.

“Ditto,” she said awkwardly. “So I’ll see you in about a year?”

“For sure,” he agreed. “In a year.”

Matthew stood outside in the warm August air watching Sarah enter the locking code on the front door. They walked silently in the same direction, the space between them widening as each veered onto diverging paths.

He gradually slowed his pace until he found himself standing still on the university lawn while Sarah continued toward the parking lot. He waited for her to move out of visual range before turning back. Matthew needed to say one more goodbye before loading up the U-Haul and moving back to Littleton.

Three hours earlier Professor Thomas Vincent had popped into the shop for his daily Brazilian coffee and invited Matthew to stop by the office whenever his shift ended. He said he would be working late, code for an evening tryst with one of the female students eager to impress her teacher. Matthew smiled at the former priest fully recovered from a vow of chastity.

While approaching the philosophy building Matthew recalled the professor’s instructions. He glanced up toward the outer window of the second floor. Drawing near he noticed light shining through opened blinds, his cue to climb the stairs.

“Hello, Matthew,” Dr. Vincent said after opening the door. “Come on in.”

The professor moved toward a dark wooden cabinet. “What are you drinking?”

Matthew shrugged. “Beer, I guess. Thanks.”

Matthew walked toward a small sofa nestled between the professor’s desk and bookshelf. Just before sitting he noticed the faint aroma of perfume only slightly more pungent than the lingering scent of Dr. Vincent’s cologne. He moved to a different chair.

“Here you go.” Dr. Vincent offered a cold bottle to his guest before raising his own. “To a successful freshman year.”

Matthew mirrored his host with a nod before joining in a celebratory swig.

“And to your one year sabbatical before returning as a sophomore,” Dr. Vincent said, repeating the ritual.

“‘Sabbatical,’” Matthew mocked. “I like the sound of that. Although it’s more like an exile.”

“I’m sure everything will work out. You got this far. You’ll find a way to keep going.”

Matthew pressed his lips into a weak smile. “I guess.”

Both men sat in silence for thirty seconds.

“So, tell me about the job. You said something about better pay but didn’t mention what you’ll be doing.”

Matthew looked toward the bookshelf to avoid the professor’s eyes. “I accepted an elder-care position.”

“Really?”

“My first client lives in Littleton.”

“East of Denver?”

“Right. A few blocks from my old high school.”

“Friends?” Dr. Vincent asked.

“A few. There’s a girl.” Matthew left details of the relationship to his host’s imagination rather than explain the pathetic reality.

“Anything serious?”

“Not yet.” The truth. “But things seem to be progressing nicely.” A stretch.

Another thirty seconds without words.

“Pretty lame, isn’t it?” Matthew asked.

“What’s that?”

“If you think about it, I’m right back where I started. No. Worse than where I started.”

“How so?”

“Last year I couldn’t go to school because I was broke and taking care of my mom. Now I’m in debt and will be taking care of a complete stranger.”

“True. But you have a year of school under your belt.”

“Right. And the loan to prove it,” Matthew scoffed.

“Big accomplishments come through small moves, Mr. Adams.”

The comment struck Matthew wrong. He felt anger rise as he recalled a year-old conversation with this same man. A conversation that had fueled a very
big
move.

“Do you consider it suicide if someone volunteers to transition?” Matthew had asked while wrestling with the most difficult quandary of his life.

“There’s no such thing as a mortal sin,” Dr. Vincent had assured him. “Just hard choices.”

“Would you help your own mother transition, you know, if she asked you to?” Matthew had pressed further.

“Yes. I believe I would have helped her.”

Matthew looked up from the bottle of beer toward his host. “I’m willing to make small moves. But I made a big move last year and I’m not sure it was the right thing to do.”

“By helping your mom transition?”

More than help
, he didn’t confess.

“Listen to me, Matthew,” Dr. Vincent insisted. “Your mother was in severe decline, am I right?”

A single nod.

“And she wanted to fund your dream?”

“She did,” he acknowledged.

“Then you did the right thing by confirming her choice. There’s no way either of you could have known the transition money would get held up in a legal mess.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Dr. Vincent decreed. “And it won’t do either of you any good to second-guess the decision. Your mom’s death wasn’t a sin. Nor was it a waste. Even if the money never comes, the procedure put her out of her misery.”

Matthew’s stomach tensed.
Mom wasn’t miserable, just forgetful
.

“What was the phrase you borrowed from that journalist?”

“Julia Davidson?”

“Davidson, right.”

“‘Free to thrive.’” Matthew recalled the title of a column that had eased his conscience. “She said something about using genetic prescreening to prevent defective babies. I thought it applied to people like my mom who deserve freedom from disease now.”

“Your mother couldn’t thrive while trapped in a decaying body.”

Matthew pushed aside thoughts of his mother’s smile and touch to recall her failing memory, bathroom mishaps, and fits of anxiety. “I suppose not.”

“There’s no supposing about it,” Dr. Vincent insisted. “You did the right thing, Matthew. I’m sure your mother would be proud of all you’ve accomplished this year.”

He lifted his bottle for another toast. “To her heroic sacrifice.”

They shared a drink.

“And to your hard work,” he added.

“Thanks, Dr. Vincent,” Matthew said. “I appreciate your encouragement.”

“Just promise me you won’t let this girlfriend in Littleton distract you from your goal. I expect to see you back here as soon as you resolve the transition money mess.”

“I promise.”

The host ushered his guest to the door, where both said their goodbyes before Matthew descended the stairs and began walking toward the parking lot. He felt much more at ease than he had when the day began, even allowing himself a hint of self-respect. A playful ping came from the device in his left pocket. Retrieving the source he tapped the tablet screen, where a brand-new image of Maria Davidson appeared. She had apparently posted it seconds earlier as another treat for her anonymous admirers. As usual, she looked amazing.

The moment prompted a satisfied smirk. In less than twenty-four hours Matthew would pack up his few possessions and move them to the home of an elderly client who lived a few short miles from the woman of his dreams. A woman Matthew hoped might become the kind of sweet distraction Dr. Vincent had warned him against.