Vanity Fare (23 page)

She beamed at me. “Roar away, Molly. You are Reddy for life.” She emphasized the word so I’d know she was making a pun. A really, really bad pun.

It was a little later than usual
when I finally left Dr. Lowell’s office. I’d gotten stuck in the elevator with a messy kid who just had to press all the buttons on the way down. From the forty-third floor. His smile reminded me of Aidan’s. His baby-sitter shot me a thankful look as I told him it had always been my dream to do the same thing. It was about fifteen minutes later when I emerged from the double glass doors onto the sidewalk. The subway was a few blocks away, and it was fairly balmy, for March, at least.

I was just reaching into my bag for my MetroCard when I slammed into him. The impact sent my purse flying out of my hands, and I stumbled a little.

“Molly?” A firm arm held me by the elbow. Nick’s blue eyes held a look of concern. I guess they should, given my legs were akimbo and my purse was upside down on the ground. If I wasn’t mistaken, a tampon was making its slow escape from the depths of my bag. I eased my foot around and stomped on it, then bent over and quickly stuck it back into the bag.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice all rumbly and gruff, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.

I nodded, zipping my bag closed. “Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I looked up into his face. It was very close to mine. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

He loosened his grip on my arm a bit and stepped backward, looking down at the sidewalk as he did so. I did, too, hoping something else hadn’t rolled out of my purse. Thank goodness, there was just some old gum and an empty Snapple bottle, neither of which was mine.

“Doing here?” He actually sounded—nervous.

“Yes. Doing here. You. What are?” I repeated.

“Um. I have an appointment.” He gestured toward Dr. Lowell’s building.

Interesting. As far as I knew, the only professional offices were therapists’ offices. And if Nick—professional, smart, and all that—needed help, what hope was there for the rest of us?

But of course I didn’t say any of that. Although I couldn’t resist throwing out a line to see if he bit. “Really? What a coincidence. I’m just coming from my therapist’s.”

The expression on his face grew even more anxious, if possible. “Nice to see you, Molly, see you soon,” he said, walking off with the stride of a man who did not want to explain anything else.

I wondered if his session was actually with Dr. Lowell. I chuckled as I walked away from the building. It was good to know even the most intently intimidating man needed help sometimes.

I pulled a Helen Reddy and roared as I headed toward the subway.

Pies-Fed Revisited

The day-old section at your local bakery has never been so . . . glamorous. Or so regally approachable. Take refuge here and reflect on yesterday’s freshness. Still delicious, just slightly past their prime. Half price, too. An economic way to save an outdated baked good.

22

THE BUZZER RANG RIGHT AROUND TWELVE FORTY-FIVE. I’D
been glancing at the clock for the last hour, wondering just when he’d arrive. Aidan was all packed and dressed, wearing his special Justice League T-shirt, even though I told him he’d have to wear a sweatshirt over it. He groaned but felt better when I said he could wait until Nick saw his shirt to put the rest of his clothes on.

I opened the door, smoothing my suddenly damp hands on my thighs. I’d chosen my clothes carefully that morning also—I wore my favorite pair of jeans, the slightly stretchy bootcut Calvin Kleins, and a light pink top with a rose-colored cardigan on top. The cardigan had little sparkles all over it. I liked it because it looked so girly.

“Good afternoon,” he said as he strode into the apartment. He must’ve just gotten his hair cut—again—since it was shorter than a few days ago. A few specks of hair had settled on his shoulders, and I reached up to brush them away.

He reacted as if I’d tried to grab his ass or something. He ducked, his cheeks got flushed, and he swallowed hard.

“Sorry. I mean, I just thought I’d help you get that hair—” I flapped my hands in the air like a chicken.

He looked down at his shoulder and frowned. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He brushed the hairs off, and I watched them float to the ground. I quelled the impulse to pick them up and put them under my pillow or something.

“So. How are you?” I asked brightly, clasping my hands in front of me. He looked rumpled, newly shorn, and delicious.

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “The shop’s soft launch is coming up. Simon’s coordinating for the opening event.” A pause. “And nearly all of my work here is complete. Just tying some things up, and then . . .” His words trailed off.

Oh. He’d be leaving soon, then, I could figure that much out on my own.

Aidan bounded up, holding his Pokémon backpack. “Hi, Nick. Did you see my T-shirt?”

Nick squatted down and gave Aidan a piercing stare. “Pretty sharp, sport. Did you see
my
T-shirt?” He pulled open the button-down shirt he was wearing and showed his chest to Aidan. I’d never envied my son so much in my entire life. Nick wore a black Batman shirt with a yellow bat logo.

“Cool.” Aidan exhaled, his eyes wide. Nick straightened and rebuttoned his shirt.

“Should we go?”

Aidan headed for the door, Nick looking back at me for one long moment. “I’ll have him back in a few hours,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Take your time,” I said to the empty air. It was funny, I hadn’t known Nick that long, but I trusted him implicitly. So much so that I let him take my son out alone. Heck, I’d always felt a moment of panic when Hugh took Aidan off for a boys’ day out, and yet here I was, trusting someone with the most important thing in my life.

I wandered back to the kitchen and touched the coffeepot. Still warm. I opened the cupboard and took out my favorite mug, a wide, fat-bottomed cup with gay tulips painted all over it. Aidan had picked it out for me a few Mother’s Days ago.

As I splashed in the milk, I wondered when Nick would be leaving. And if he’d be going straight back to England. It bothered me I knew so little about him—I knew he had a sister, but was he going to visit her first? Did he still have family in New York? It shouldn’t bother me, but it did.

I wished things were different. I wished I could figure out why he didn’t feel comfortable dating me. And even if the reason was because of work, the point was moot, because when the job was done, he’d be gone, it sounded like. Darn. Darn, darn,
damn
.

The coffee did a little bit to bolster my spirits, thank goodness. It was strange, not having anything pressing to do. My day was usually filled with tons of errands: work on copy, clean the house of stray Lego parts so no one would lose a limb, laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, Mom’s finances, my worries.

Mom’s off-key warblings reached me in the kitchen. How many times had I heard her singing Gilbert and Sullivan lyrics? And every time, she got them wrong. I walked down the hall, smiling to myself. She was gaining volume as I entered the living room. It looked like she was in the midst of organizing her finances. Had Nick actually persuaded her to take charge of them? If so, I was really going to miss him when he left.

“It’s not ‘sinful economy,’ it’s ‘singular anomaly,’ Mom.”

She looked up and gave me a wry smile. “Oh, yes, it is sinful economy, Molly, my love.” She took her reading glasses off and placed them on top of the biggest pile. “Where did all my money go?”

“To some guy on the trading-room floor?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No, I mean before that. I mean, yes, there, too, but even before that, I spent money so foolishly.” She gestured toward the papers. “Spa visits, books, the expensive car, the trip to Morocco, the pool, for God’s sake. I didn’t need any of that. All I needed was to pay the mortgage, the taxes, and eat. Maybe buy a book once in a while. It all seems so . . . meaningless.”

I patted her hand. “Why do you think you did it, then, Mom?” I asked softly. She shrugged, and I could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“I thought I could make enough money from the stock market so I could stop worrying. So you could stop worrying about me.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Worry about you? I didn’t worry about you until you showed up on my doorstep wearing that old sweatshirt. Why, did I say something?”

“Not you. Hugh.”

I felt myself stiffen. “What did he say?”

“One time when you were over, and you and Aidan were out by the pool, Hugh told me you guys weren’t as solvent as he’d like.”

My mouth dropped open in amazement. “What the—?” Then a nasty suspicion entered my mind. “When was this?”

“Last summer.”

“The bastard.” She raised her brows at me. I felt myself zoom from zero to sixty in 4.3 seconds. “He was already planning to leave. I was wondering where our savings had gone. I bet he squirreled it away before he told me, and now he’s crying poverty.” I stood up, shoving my chair behind me. “I’m going to call him now.”

Mom held my arm. “Molly, are you really sure you want to talk to him now when you’re so upset? I mean, what if you’re wrong? Maybe he was genuinely concerned.”

I sat back down again, shrugging her hand off my arm. “Mom, I know Hugh. And, forgive me for saying this about your favorite son-in-law—”

“My only son-in-law,” she said drily.

“—but he’s out for himself. And only himself. Even Aidan comes second to Hugh’s desires. Bastard,” I repeated, allowing her to take my hand again.

“Sweetie. You’ve got your lawyer working on this, right? And if you call and tell him you suspect Hugh’s buried some assets, he should be able to find them, right?” For once she wasn’t defending him—had someone challenged her to that “never in a million years” thing, too?

“Yeah. Although I’d love to give him a piece of my mind and find out if he really is that kind of lowlife. Grrr,” I growled.

Her eyes widened. “I’ve never seen you so—aggressive, Molly. You’re acting completely unlike yourself.” Her tone implied she didn’t like the change. “I mean, calling Hugh to yell at him is something you would never have done before. At least, before all this.”

I felt my lips start to smile, despite my anger. “I wouldn’t do it in a million years, would I? Sounds like a challenge.”

I rose again and headed into the bedroom to call Hugh. “Stay here, I don’t need an audience.”

“But—”

The rest of her words were lost as I stomped down the hallway. Well, at least now I had something to do while Aidan was away: call his no-good, money-stealing, wussy-acting father.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Hugh, it’s Molly. Nothing’s wrong with Aidan, I called to talk to you.”

“Oh, good, good, because I was hoping to talk to you, too.”

I adopted a deceptively sweet tone. “Well. I was talking to Mom—you know she’s staying here for a while—and she mentioned that you had said something to her last summer about us being in potential financial difficulty. Is that what you said?”

“Uh, I don’t remember . . .”

“Oh, come on, Hugh, yes you do.” I waited an extra beat to really give him time to sweat. “You told Mom we weren’t as solvent as we’d like to be. Of course, you couldn’t have predicted she’d take that information and become Michael Milken, but—”

“What?” Hugh sounded really confused.

“None of your business. Anyway, Hugh, what the fuck were you thinking? And what happened to all that money? I should’ve wondered why you were so interested in keeping track of our finances when you never had been before. Where’s the money, Hugh?”

Now he sounded nervous. “Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Molly.”

“Sure. Sure you don’t. Remember this conversation when Aidan’s getting teased because his clothes are out-of-date. Remember how important wearing the right thing is, Hugh? Remember how important it is to have health insurance, electricity, phone, Hugh? My lawyer will be talking to yours. You can bet on that.”

I slammed the phone down, not even waiting for Hugh’s reply. Asshole. I knew I didn’t have any proof that he’d stolen from us, but I also knew he’d taken our money we’d agreed we’d save for the future.

And it was not something he was going to be able to get away with ever, much less in a million years.

I heard Aidan coming up the stairs,
his voice as excited as I’d ever heard it. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he sure sounded thrilled. I smiled that wistful smile I’d had on my face every time I thought about Nick’s leaving. It’s not as if I thought we’d fall madly in love and ride off into the sunset if he stayed; he’d made his intentions, if not his feelings, pretty clear. No, it was just that Aidan already adored Nick, and it would be amazing if my son had a grown-up male who was responsible, responsive to him, and actually liked him. That was a hard trifecta to find.

Aidan ran up the last few steps as I opened the door, his face lit up with excitement. “Mommy, Mommy, we got to go on the trampoline! And Nick said I was better than he was, do you believe that?”

I met Nick’s eyes and gave him a grateful smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he tried to smother a grin.

“That sounds great, honey. Come on in and take your coat off and you can tell me all about it.”

Aidan chattered nonstop while I removed his jacket, his sweatshirt, and his sneakers. “And then, Mommy, do you know what?”

“What, honey?”

“There was a boy there—an
older
boy, he said he was eight—and he couldn’t even do what I could.”

“Wow. That sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, Aidan was great on the mats, too.” Nick ruffled Aidan’s hair, then stepped toward the door. “Well, I should get going.”

Aidan sprang to his side, clutching his hand with all the gratitude of a well-fed puppy dog. His face looked like he’d been digging up bones in the dirt, too. “You can’t go now. You promised to play dinosaur with me.” Aidan screwed his face up into a pleading look. Nick shot me a questioning glance.

“Aidan, honey, Nick probably has something to do.” Like leave New York City. “He’ll be around another time.” I licked my finger and tried to get the worst bit of the dirt off his face.

Aidan twisted away from my hand. “Nick?” It broke my heart to hear Aidan’s anguished cry. He’d been almost stoic throughout the whole mess with Hugh, but I knew it had taken a toll somewhere. And I was seeing it played out as another grown-up male tried to leave.

“I can stay, as long as your mom makes me coffee,” Nick said, winking at me.

“Coffee’s what Mommy loves best,” Aidan exclaimed. “Besides me, of course.”

“Of course,” Nick agreed.

I smiled at Nick over Aidan’s head. “I’ll go make it, then,” I said and walked to the kitchen.

When I got back,
bearing the best coffee I knew how to make, Aidan and Nick were sitting on the floor, about a hundred million Legos strewn around them. I put the cup down on the table next to Nick, who immediately picked it up and took a sip. His eyes closed in what I assumed was caffeine bliss. Yet another thing we had in common.

“Mommy, we’re making robots!” Aidan exclaimed, gesturing toward at least half a dozen completed figures.

“I thought you said dinosaurs.” I squatted down next to him and tousled his hair. He shook his head in clear exasperation. “Not dinosaurs, Mommy, robots. And when we’re done, they’re going to battle!” He got back to work, his little fingers painstakingly pushing the tiny plastic circles into the tiny plastic holes.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Nick said.

I squatted down next to him. “Are you sure this is okay?” I asked in a low undertone.

He touched my arm in a reassuring gesture. “Of course. Don’t worry so much.”

Yeah, and while I’m at it, I’ll try not to be brunette. Or whiter than a flake of snow. How about confident? Oh, shoot, I forgot. I
am
confident. Hear me roar.

“Well, thanks.” Our eyes met and held for a moment. I gave him a half smile, then rose again. “Well, if you guys are okay, I’m going to go work on paying some bills. See you in a while.”

I headed down the hall to my bedroom. I had to get out of there before I burst into tears. Why did Aidan have to bond with the one man who was leaving town? Why did I have to want him, too?

What was wrong with us that people kept leaving?