Escape (41 page)

I was not feeling as relaxed this day, though. I was holding Vicki’s baby in the kitchen of the Red Fox, trying to get him to stop crying. Gentle rocking wasn’t working. Snug cradling wasn’t working. “Rock-a-bye Baby” wasn’t working.

“Help me, Vicki Bell,” I pleaded. “I am not doing this right.”

“You’re doing it totally right,” she assured me. “He’s hungry, is all, but I don’t want to feed him for another little while.” She had
Charlotte anchored between her knees and was working the child’s blond curls into a French braid. Her own hair looked like a cyclone had hit it, but that was Vicki Bell. “Try walking with him. Go on out into the parlor. And be calm. Babies sense moods. If you’re tense, he’s tense.”

Listen and learn
, I told myself, and consciously relaxing my arms, I carefully backed through the swinging door.

The last of the guests, just putting their breakfast dishes on the tray, broke into smiles when they saw the blue bundle I held.

“Is this Vicki’s baby?” one asked. Then another, “How old is he?” And another, “What’s his name?”

“He is Vicki’s indeed,” I sang softly, swaying to soothe both the baby and me. “His name is Benjamin, and he’s four weeks old.”

“He’s a
little
guy.”

“You should’ve seen him at birth.” Vicki’s water had broken a month early, at which point the doctors could no longer forestall labor. Lee had called me, and I was on the road within the hour. Though the baby arrived before I did, I held him in the NICU.
That
was scary. Long and gangly like his father, he had still been all skin and bones. By comparison, he was now positively robust.

Not that I was an expert on the size of babies. My own was still three months from birth. We had seen it on a sonogram, and it was fully formed but barely two pounds, maybe nine inches long. Did we know the sex? No. Too much of our lives had been preplanned. We wanted a few surprises.

Intrigued by the tall front windows, Benjamin seemed to have momentarily forgotten about hunger. Crossing the room, I put a knee on the window seat and, propping him on the shelf of my belly, let him look out. Bell Valley had already had a major winter storm, and though the snow was melting now in the sun, plenty remained for brilliant reflection. Benjamin would see this, though not yet any details. Me, I took in lights on the bare oak on the green, wreaths on door fronts, and store windows with snow scenes. The logo of
the Red Fox wore a Santa hat, and here in the parlor, where garlands draped the fireplace, the buffet table, and the large Bell family portrait, the scent of balsam was heady.

“See?” Vicki said as she joined me, tucking the baby’s blanket away from his chin. He seemed to have fallen asleep. “The magic touch.” She gave me a little hug. “I’m always better when you’re here. I wanted to stay up last night until you arrived, but I was beat, and I knew Ben would be up way too soon to eat again. How was the drive?”

“Easy. It’s nice doing it together.”

“Anything new with the condo?”

“We had a bite this week, but it didn’t pan out. This isn’t the best season to sell. Spring will be better.”

“With a newborn?”

“Mmm. Not ideal.” I had been around newborns with my sister’s kids, but only with Vicki’s Ben was I taking it seriously. He had been fussing for the last hour, though now, in this peaceful moment, he was a dream with his eyes closed and his tiny mouth sucking something imagined. “One of the jobs James is considering would buy the condo from us, so we’d have the money to turn around and buy something else.”

“Is this another Boston job?”

I nodded. Most had been. When Boston had seemed too easy a choice, James broadened his search to include Albany, Harrisburg, and Baltimore, but the offers weren’t as good. Thanks to Lee’s case, he had impressed Sean’s firm, which needed a good litigator; Lyle Kagan, who needed in-house counsel; and the Massachusetts attorney general. There had even been a teaching offer from one of the local law schools. And an offer from a not-for-profit to do advocacy work. Amazing what a few headlines could do.

“An employer buying the condo,” Vicki mused. “That’s a no-brainer.”

“Actually, not. We don’t want to make a decision based only on
money. We did that before, and it wasn’t pretty. This time, the job has to offer the kind of cases James wants. Now that he’s tasted excitement, he can’t go back.”

“What does your dad say?”

I began swaying again, more for me this time. “The usual.”

“He has to like the idea of your living closer to him.”

“Ya think?”

“Oh dear. He’s
still
obsessed with New York?”

I sighed. “He’ll get there. Mom’s on it.” James and I were trying to distance ourselves from them when it came to deciding what to do next. This had to be
our
dream, what
we
wanted. “How are things with Amelia?”

Allowing for the shift, probably because it so related to my issue with Dad, Vicki said, “Interesting. She’s been taking Charlotte to the Refuge instead of dropping her at day care. Remember Katherine? She’s training Charlotte to work with the cats, and Charlotte loves it. So does Mom. I mean, Noah is still the star, but Charlotte is actually registering on her radar screen. It’s like she has finally accepted …”

“That Jude is gone.”

“Yeah. She just got another postcard from him, by the way.”

“So did I. From Nepal. He’s training to climb Everest.”

“Problem is,” Vicki said, “he needs a permit, and it costs twenty-five thousand dollars. He asked Mom for the money. She was all upset—‘I am not wealthy, the Refuge is a drain, money doesn’t grow on trees.’ But she’ll do it. She’s a sucker for him.”

Looking at my friend, I chided softly, “And you wouldn’t do the same if this little guy grows up and sets his heart on doing something like that? Or Charlotte—what if she decides she loves, say, ice-skating and sets her heart on being an Olympic figure skater? Training would cost a fortune, but you’d take out loans if you had to.”

“Fortunately, I won’t have to,” Vicki said with a smug smile. “Charlotte’s going to be a vet.”

I laughed. “And med school is cheap? Hel-lo. Besides, how do you know she’s going to be a vet? She’s barely four.”

“She loves the Refuge. And there’s never been a vet in the Bell family before. She’ll be top doctor there one day.”

“Her dream or yours?” I asked.

Vicki paused, shot me a contrite look, and reached for the baby. “Mine for now. When she’s old enough, it’ll be hers. Maybe.”

“And if not?” I pushed. Vicki might be the expert on infants, but I was the expert on dreams that didn’t work. History should not repeat itself.

“Okay. I get it.” Ceding the fight, she found a change of subject behind me. “Here’s Lee. Go look at the space she’s considering. We want to know what you think.”

Soon after, Lee and I walked down the driveway in our bulky down jackets and UGGs. The sidewalks were clear to pavement, though a foot of shoveled snow remained on the sides. The sky was a clear, deep blue and the air bracing in ways that even the coolest summer morning was not. Winter crisped things up. I drew it into my lungs, wanting the baby to feel it, smell it.

If you accepted Lee as a friend, as I had in these last few months, you accepted that she wasn’t a talker. Other than her asking how I was feeling when I carefully eased the jacket zipper over my belly, we walked in silence. When we reached the end of the green and crossed to the stores, she pointed to the spot. Sandwiched between The Bookstore and The Grill, it was small.

“What was here before?” I asked, for the life of me unable to recall. The space was vacant now and might have bucked the holiday spirit if the single edge-to-edge window in front hadn’t been part of a mural connecting it to its neighbors.

“A realtor,” Lee said, pulling the door open, and once we were inside, she started to point. “I’d put display cases on this side, with baked goods in the front, and coffee and tea back there, and I’d line this whole other wall with a long bench and skinny tables and chairs.” With growing excitement, she faced the front. The color on her
cheeks was heightened, as much from that excitement as from the cold, I guessed. Her hair, too, had more oomph. No longer in hiding, she was slowly returning to the blond she’d once been. “The window isn’t big, but I can fit a counter there and maybe three stools for people who want to look out. We figure the whole place can sit, like, sixteen people, but not everyone would want to sit. Lots of them just buy and leave. Vicki wants to decorate. She’s thinking charcoal, cream, and sage green. What do you think?”

I had seen charcoal and cream once too often in my city world, but they would look different here. Add splashes of sage to the scent of melty chocolate chip cookies and fresh-brewed coffee, and you had something that was smooth and warm.

Warm thinking about it, I unzipped my jacket. “I like it—space, color, location. Is the settlement money finally coming through?” Timing had been a minor stumbling block. Amelia had offered to stake her until it arrived, but Lee refused. She wanted to do this on her own.

“It’s starting,” she confirmed. “There was a load of paperwork moving the trust fund from one firm to another, but he’s being generous.” Raymond, Lee’s brother-in-law. “There’s a big settlement up front, but it’ll be divided in thirds, and then I’ll get some money each quarter—like, for life, which is pretty wild.”

“Jack intended that.”

She shrugged shyly. “It’s what he’d have gotten from the trust fund himself if Duane and the lawyer hadn’t been stealing it. Sean says they’ve recovered most of the money, but getting it back to this country takes time.” She lifted only one shoulder this time. “It’s really too much. I know Ray is just trying to make sure I don’t sue. They don’t want publicity. It’s bad for chips.”

I smiled at the reference, which wasn’t entirely tongue-in-cheek. “He’s probably also feeling guilty as hell.”

Kindhearted even in this, Lee defended the man. “He didn’t know what Duane was doing.”

“No, but he knew the trust fund was shrinking, and because he
had independent money”—
and because
, I thought but didn’t say,
he had resented his brother’s much younger wife just as Duane had
—“he looked the other way.” I squeezed her arm. “But it’s worked out for you. I’m glad. This was your dream.”

Seeming melancholy, she was silent.

I dipped my head. “What.”

“It’s a different dream. I don’t have Jack. But I’d be sad if I keep trying to think of what he would want and say and think.” Her dark eyes met mine, then skittered away. “I feel a little guilty about that.”

“You should not. If Jack was still alive, you’d be doing this together. But he isn’t here. That’s a fact. You have to do this yourself now. And you have to be happy doing it. Otherwise, the whole thing’s a waste.”

She took a long breath and looked around. “Well. Anyway. But you haven’t seen the best part of this place.” She led me through a door at the back. “This was used for storage, but it’d make a neat kitchen. I mean, I don’t need anything huge. It’s not like I’m making dinners. But I could have more than one oven and they would be waist high, which is easier. And there’s room for counters, and a big sink, and storage for pans and plates and mugs. And a pantry.” She looked at me, questioning.

“I
like
it,” I said.

“The bookstore wants more space to sell craft kits, so if I did this, she’d eliminate her coffee shop. People could get their coffee and pastries here, then go next door to browse.”

“Or browse first, then come here to read. You’d be on the main drag, Lee. This is perfect.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” I was touching my stomach. “So does the baby. It’s turning around so that it can see everything.”

Lee smiled, but with a touch of sadness. “You probably won’t be able to come back as often once the baby’s born.”

“Are you kidding? Vicki’s baby and mine are going to be best buds.”

“If yours is a girl,” she said brightly, “they could marry someday.”

“Let’s get whatever it is born first,” I warned. Childbirth scared me to death. I was trying not to think about it.

Lee helped, nicely changing the subject. “Amelia’s been meeting with the realtor down in Manchester. She knows I’m not going back there, so they’re getting ready to list the house. Are you sure you don’t want it? She’d give you a good price.”

Lee had made the offer before. She really wanted us to have the house—and James and I had considered it, but not for long. It had too many downsides for us at this point in our lives. “The house is gorgeous, Lee. It is so striking, there on the water. But we need something we can comfortably afford, and we need a neighborhood with kids.”

She grew tentative. I knew what was coming well before she said, “Then, then James is feeling okay?” It was the same awkward tone she always used when asking this.

“James is fine,” I assured her. “His ribs have healed, and other than a scar—”

“Two scars,” she put in, lest I minimize the sacrifice he had made on her behalf.

“See, I had forgotten the second, it’s fading so fast.”

“He was at breakfast, but he left. Is he still sleeping a lot?”

“If he is, it’s because he works too late.” But I hadn’t seen the car when we left the inn. “He’s probably driving around. He can’t do that in New York. Give him a straightaway that isn’t a highway, and he’s in car-guy heaven.”

Did I begrudge James that? Absolutely not. I loved being in Bell Valley with him, but he would be bored watching me string beads with Charlotte or burp Ben. And though he would have liked to see the place where Lee’s bakery would go, I wasn’t waiting around for him to return. The sun remained bright, the breeze minimal, and I wanted to walk.

Stopping back at the Red Fox for a hat, mittens, and fur-lined
galoshes from Vicki’s mudroom, I slogged through the backyard snow to the old wood gate and climbed over the fallen post. There were no ferns to wade through now, just several inches of snow that no one else had walked on. There was something special about being the first human here. But my tracks weren’t the only ones. As I paralleled the stone wall, I crossed the small footprints of squirrels and the larger ones of a snowshoe hare. There were spindly bird tracks and the often singular marks of deer, putting a rear foot where the front one had been. I looked for the brush strokes of a coyote dragging its tail in the snow, but saw none. I listened. The winter woods were more quiet, with none of the rustle that passage through summer’s undergrowth made.