On Second Thought(62)

     



 

"Yeah," he said. "Um..."

Dad's phone chimed, and he looked down at his phone. "Oh! Clancy  canceled for tonight's game. I have to get to Camden Yards. Can you get  back to the office on your own, Burger-baby?"

"Sure, Dad. I'll walk. It's beautiful out."

He kissed me on the cheek, shook the chef's hand again and left, once again buoyed by our national pastime.

"Do you know our magazine?" I asked Matthew. "We do lots of restaurant features, and this is a lovely spot."

He sat down in Dad's vacated seat. "I do know the magazine. I'm Matthew Kent."

My mouth fell open, and a rush of heat rose up my chest.

Jonathan's brother. Jonathan's brother, who slept with his wife.

"Oh," I managed. "You."

"Yeah."

Now I could see a resemblance. Matt's hair was lighter, and his eyes  lacked the odd beauty of Jonathan's, but he had high cheekbones and  beautiful hands.

"Have you worked there a long time?" he asked.

"Two years."

"So you know my brother well?"

I know him biblically. "Mmm-hmm."

"And based on the hate shining from your eyes, I guess you know about me."

"Yep."

He sighed. "Yeah." His fingers drummed on the table. "Well, I'm not  proud of the way it happened, but I do care about my brother."

"Funny way of showing it."

"There's no excuse, I realize that," he said, staring down at the table.  "For what it's worth, I really do love Laine and the girls."

"Of course you do. They're your nieces."

His gaze snapped up to me. "Look. I was in love with her years before  Jonathan even noticed her, okay? And when our father had the stroke,  Jonathan just closed up. There was no room for me, no shared grieving or  whatever, and Laine was alone all day long with two little toddlers.  All he did was work."

"So you thought you'd help by shtupping his wife."

He looked away. "As I said, I'm not proud of it. And I didn't just shtup  her. Long before it got to that point, I was buying the groceries,  cooking dinner, playing with the girls, fixing the furnace."

"Wow. You should get a sticker."

"I know what a shitty thing I did, Miss..."

"O'Leary."

"Miss O'Leary. But if you work for my brother, you probably know he's  not the easiest person in the world. I'd like to make things right with  him, or at least try." He looked out the window again. "I miss him."

"Sounds like someone needs to buy a well-worded card," I said, standing  up. My hand hit my father's water glass, which tumbled into Matthew's  lap. "Whoops."

With that, I left, my head buzzing with the feels.

Quite a lunch. In an hour, I understood my father better than I ever  had. I learned that my mother had somehow known she wouldn't always be  there for me and tried to provide for me before I was even born.

And I'd met the man who'd ruined Jonathan's life.





Chapter Twenty-Six

Kate

"Booty tooch!" the mother yelled. "Come on, Brittannee! Make it high fashion!"

"High fashion?" Max muttered. "Or porn?"

It was Thursday afternoon, a beautiful July afternoon, and we were doing  a high school senior shoot for a very nice girl whose mother clearly  wanted her to model, rather than go to Vanderbilt on a basketball  scholarship, as she was planning.

"She's wasting her looks!" the mother said, throwing up her hands.

"Ma," Brittannee said. "I want to be a doctor. I don't need looks."

"Well, you have them. You should take advantage. Can't you just work with me? I know I could get you in at Elle."

We were at Bixby Park, and while the eighteen-year-old seemed content  with the look at the camera and smile approach that usually worked best,  the mother had a different concept. She stomped over in front of the  cinder block wall of the public restrooms, which she had deemed  "editorial."

"Like this," she said, thrusting out her rump so hard I heard a joint  pop. "Booty tooch. Bing, bang, boom. Tick, tick, tick. And now, swivel  your arms forward. Gucci tooch!"

"Are you speaking in tongues?" Brit asked. She rolled her eyes at me, and I gave her a sympathetic smile.

"This picture is for me," the mom said. "It's how I want to remember you when you're gone."

"Okay, first of all, I'm not dying. I'm going to college. And second,  you want to remember me with my ass out? Can't I just smile like a  normal person?"         

     



 

Speaking of modeling, Daniel's youngest sister, Lizzie, had texted me.  She'd signed with Ford Models, and I was thrilled for her. I told her to  let me know if she needed anything, since I knew a few people in the  fashion world. Lizzie had talent. I thought so, anyway. And she wanted  to be a model.

Brittannee of the difficult spelling did not.

I focused on the mother, who had that gaunt, stringy look of a body-obsessed middle-aged woman.

"Lori," I said to her. "You have fabulous cheekbones. Do you mind if I take a few shots of just you?"

"Me? Well, if you want to," she said, immediately pursing her lips at  me. She tootched and gooched and did whatever else it was Tyra Banks  said on TV. Thank you, mouthed Brittannee, then smiled at her mom.

"Fantastic, Lori. Love that! Hold that pose, long neck!" Hey, I didn't live in a cave.

A half hour later, when Lori was done dangling from a tree branch and  squinting at me, I focused on the child. "Brit, why don't you take a  seat on the grass there and make yourself comfortable?"

And so it was that I got at least ten beautiful shots of Brittannee  looking like what she seemed to be-a lovely, athletic girl with a pretty  smile. And her mom got to pretend to be a model for a little while.  They left holding hands, which made my throat ache.

I would've loved a daughter.

Maybe I'd adopt after all, in a year or so. The grief group members all told me not to make big decisions in the first year.

And it had been only three months, one week and six days.

Nathan's bench had been removed. I'd have to call Eloise and thank her.

For the past four days, I'd been in the city, looking after Esther,  Matthias and Sadie while Sean and Kiara went to a surgeons' conference  in Napa, sponsored by a manufacturer of surgical equipment, where they  spent fifteen minutes looking at technology and three days getting mud  masks and massages.

It had been fantastic, playing Scrabble with Matthias and Esther at  night, binge-watching The Walking Dead with them, taking Sadie to  Central Park during the day, pushing her in the baby jogger along the  West Side Highway, letting people assume she was mine. I made Sean and  Kiara promise to go away more.

But today, I'd have to go back to Cambry-on-Hudson.

"How you doing?" Max asked as we packed up.

"Not bad, I guess." I looked at him, my old pal. "Sometimes it feels  like I was never married. It's-" I cleared my throat. "It's tough."

Max nodded. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he said, his whispery voice  always sounding a little scary. "Don't overanalyze everything. Let  yourself have a little fun."

"You know me well."

"I should."

"Give the family my love."

He nodded and walked off to his car.

* * *

I was thawing dinner, the last of the bereavement food, some sort of  bisque, when Ainsley came home that night. "Hi!" she said. "I missed  you! How were the kids?"

"They're great," I said. "Esther's gonna put them through their paces, though. She's starting the terrible teens."

"Good," Ainsley said. "Sean's always had it too easy." She beamed at me, clearly about to explode with news.

"So how was your week?" I asked.

"You'll never believe it!" she said. "I wanted to tell you immediately,  but I knew it would be better in person, and I forgot you were going to  Sean's. You ready?"

I nodded.

"I slept with Jonathan! And I have reason to believe we're in an actual relationship, because he made me sign papers."

"Holy crap," I said, smiling. I didn't need to ask about it, because she  buzzed around the kitchen like a happy bumblebee, scooping up Ollie,  smooching his face, putting him on one hip while she grabbed the wine  from the fridge.

"I got stuck at his house on Friday night in the storm, and he made  dinner, and we had some wine, and then he told me he liked me! I had no  bleepin' idea! But I've actually been having these feelings about him  here and there, because aside from being sort of an alien-robot, he's  got this Mr. Darcy thing going on, a little bit, anyway. And it was so  cute, how he told me! And then we kissed, and next thing I knew, we were  doing our best to break his headboard."

I laughed. She poured me a glass of wine and set the dog down, then took  a seat at the counter. Ollie dragged his blanket over to my feet and  curled up there.

"So what do you think? Too soon after Eric?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. What do you think?"