Two by Two(28)

"You were also drunk."

"Maybe a little."

"Good times." She laughed. She lingered before me before finally  gesturing toward my computer. "But unfortunately, I should probably get  going. You need to work, and I've really got to get that stuff shipped  off today."

I became aware of the fact that I didn't want her to go, even if it was probably a good idea. "You're probably right."

She stood from the table. "It was nice seeing you again, Russ."

"You, too," I said. "It's been fun catching up."

"I'll see you later."

"Later?"

"When the class ends?"

"Of course," I said. "I knew that."

As she used her shoulder to push open the door, I couldn't help but  notice that she glanced back at me and smiled before finally vanishing  from sight.





I spent the next hour in the coffee shop researching on the Internet and  was able to find two commercials for the law offices of Joey Taglieri,  one of which was no longer airing. They were professional, informative,  and, I had to admit, nearly the same as the kind of legal commercials I  used to film. I also watched commercials from almost a dozen other law  firms in town, concluding that, if anything, Taglieri's commercials were  no better or worse than any of the others.

Why, then, had Joey Taglieri thought of them as idiots?

If the commercials weren't that bad, however, I still didn't think  Taglieri was getting his money's worth when it came to the overall  campaign. His website was distinctly out of date and lacked pizzazz, and  a phone call to a buddy let me know there was nothing going on in the  way of Internet advertising. Another couple of calls let me know that he  didn't advertise in print or on billboards either. I wondered if he'd  be open to those ideas while doing my best not to get too excited.

A call to my office helped-there was zippo, nada, zilch in the way of  messages-and after leaving the coffee shop, I collected London from art  class. She proudly pointed out a bowl she'd made, and I waved at Emily  on my way out the door. She smiled and raised a hand-she was talking to  the teacher at the time-and after bringing London home, I was unsure how  best to spend the next few hours until dance class. It was too hot to  bring London outside, and her day was already so full, I suspected that  she might simply want to relax and play for a while.

In the end, I decided to make Vivian dinner. I perused a few cookbooks,  recognizing that many of the recipes were beyond my culinary  capabilities. There was, however, a recipe for Chilean sea bass, and a  quick search of the cupboards indicated I had most of the ingredients.  Perfect. I brought London to dance and while the class was no doubt  disappointing the grim Ms. Hamshaw, I swung by the grocery store and  picked up the rest. Dinner was well under way by the time Vivian walked  through the door.

With rice pilaf and green bean almondine going on the stove, I couldn't step away.

"I'm in the kitchen," I called out, and soon afterward I heard Vivian's footsteps behind me.

"Wow," she noted, walking toward me. "It smells great in here. What are you making?"

When I told her, she leaned over the pots on the stove. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. Just thought I'd try something new. And after dinner, I  figured that I'd get the bike out so you could watch London ride."

She opened the cupboard and pulled a glass from it, then the wine from  the fridge. "Let's do it tomorrow, okay? I'm tired and London's had a  big day. She seems wiped out already."

"Fair enough," I said.

She poured herself a glass. "How did she do at tennis?"

"About the same as everyone else. First day, learning to hold the racket  at the proper end, all the basics. There were a couple of girls from  the neighborhood, so she seemed happy to be there."

"I think tennis will be good for her. It's a great sport to socialize."

"And the girls look cute in those shorts, I might add."

"Ha, ha. How about art class? And dance?"

"She had fun at art, but as for dance, I don't think she likes it very much."

"Give it time. Once she starts competing, she'll love it."         

     



 

I wondered who Vivian imagined would be bringing her to the  competitions, but kept my thoughts to myself. "Were you able to get a  workout in?"

"I squeezed it in at lunch," she answered. "A pretty good one, in fact. I felt great the rest of the afternoon."

"Good for you," I said. "And how was your day?"

"Nothing like last week, that's for sure. Things are a lot calmer in the  office. For a few minutes there, I felt like I had time to actually  settle in at my desk and take a breath."

I smiled. "My day was pretty interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever heard of a guy named Joey Taglieri?"

She frowned. "You mean the attorney?"

"That's him."

"I've seen his commercials. They run in the mornings."

"What do you think about them?"

"About what?"

"The commercials."

"I don't really remember much about them. Why?"

I told her what we'd talked about and my thoughts in the aftermath.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked, sounding skeptical.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think that it's kind of lowbrow? Lawyer commercials? Didn't  Peters stop taking on attorneys because other clients didn't approve?"

"Yeah, but it's not as though I've got any other clients to worry about.  I just want to get something going, you know? And he clearly spends a  lot on advertising."

She nodded and took a sip of her wine. "Yeah, okay. If that's what you think is best."

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but because she seemed to be in a  better mood than she had been lately, I cleared my throat. "Have you  found a day care center for London yet?"

"When have I had the chance?"

"Would you like me to start getting some recommendations?"

"No," she said, sounding put out. "I'll do it. It's just … "

"Just what?"

"Do we really have to sign her up now? She'd have to give up piano and  tennis and art, and you've been able to get her everywhere she needs to  be so far."

"They have activities at day care."

"I'm just saying that with her being so upset on Saturday night, I'm not  sure it's such a good idea. School's going to be starting in a few  weeks anyway."

"It's not a few weeks," I said, doing a quick calculation. "It's five more weeks."

"And this is about our daughter. What's best for her. Once school  starts, you'll have plenty of time to concentrate on your business. Just  keep doing what you're doing and when you have a meeting, drop her off  at your mom's house."

"My mom can't watch London every day. She told me she has other things to do."

"She said that? Why didn't you tell me?"

Because you pretty much ignored me all week, nor did you ask about my  work at all. "This isn't about my mom, Vivian. I was trying to talk to  you about day care."

"I hear you. I get it. You think ditching your daughter with a bunch of  strangers is a good idea so you can be free to do what you want  instead."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. It amounts to the same thing. You're being selfish."

"I'm not being selfish."

"Of course you are. She's our daughter. She's struggling."

"One time," I said. "She had a temper tantrum because you were out of town."

"No. She was upset because her entire world has changed, and now you  want to make it even worse. I can't understand why you think it's such a  great idea to dump her. Don't you like spending time with her?"

I felt my jaw clench and I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course I do. But you said I would have to watch her for a week, two at the most."

"What I also said was that I wanted to do what's best for our daughter! I  haven't had the time to find the right place, and now by the time I do  find it and get her signed up, school will be about to start and what  would be the point?"

"She'll still need a place to go after school lets out," I said.

"I'll talk to London about it, okay?"

"You'll talk to London about day care?"

"I assume that you haven't. I have no idea how she'd feel about it."

"She's five years old," I said. "She doesn't know enough to know what to think about day care."         

     



 

"Mommy? I'm hungry."

I turned and saw London in the doorway of the kitchen. Vivian glared at  me and I knew we were both wondering how much she'd heard.

"Hey sweetheart," Vivian said, immediately lightening her tone. "Dinner  will be ready in a few minutes. Want to help me set the table?"

"Okay," London said, and Vivian moved to the cupboard. She and London set the table; I served and brought the food over.