by Davis Bunn
“Having you say that . . . it brings so many things about Nicole into proper focus.”
Daniel knew what was coming next, but he wanted it out in the open. “You said there were two dilemmas.”
“Lisa would absolutely freak out.”
“I understand.”
“She would see it as treachery of the first order.”
“But she doesn’t have to know, Marvin. I won’t tell her. Nicole won’t either.”
“Nicole put you up to this?”
“Wrong question, Marvin. She didn’t put me up to anything. She asked for my help.”
“You’re right. That was not the right way . . . I’m still stressing over everything.” He was silent a long moment, then said, “This whole affair is a heartbreak of the first order. I’m coping. I want to find some way to make it work with Lisa.” His voice almost broke. “And I want my daughter back.”
That was what Daniel had wanted his niece to hear. “So come up and make peace. We’ll tell Lisa when the time is right. Together.” When Marvin did not respond, Daniel went on, “And I sit in. Until Nicole says I should go.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Nicole thinks so. And for the moment, hers is the only voice that matters.” Daniel gave that a beat, then went on, “Clarity and control, Marvin.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The question nobody appears to be asking is, Why did Nicole do this in the first place?”
“She suspected what I didn’t want to see.” Marvin’s voice cracked wide open over the words. “Hang on a second.”
There was the sound of footsteps across a wooden floor and of a door opening, and words spoken that Daniel could not make out. Then the door shut and the footsteps returned. “I needed to reschedule something. Go ahead, Daniel.”
“It seems to me that at least part of what Nicole has been after is freedom from Lisa running her life. And, even more important, defining her life.”
Marvin went quiet.
“Nicole is growing up. She’s chosen a different reality than the one Lisa designed for her. You need to address this head-on. And that has to be done in person.”
Marvin sighed. “You’re probably right. Tell Nicole—”
“Excuse me, Marvin. Try that again.”
Another sigh, then, “Ask her if I can come up tomorrow afternoon.”
CHAPTER 12
As Daniel cut the connection, he was filled with a unique sensation, one he had never known before. It was utterly illogical, completely without reason. And yet . . .
Two images arrived at once. The first was a childhood memory, something he had not thought about in years. When he was six years old, his parents had taken him and three-year-old Lisa to Washington, DC. It was their last family vacation before his parents divorced. That year the cherry blossoms had come early, and on the afternoon of their arrival, they had walked alongside the National Mall’s Reflecting Pool. They were joined by thousands and thousands of other people. Overhead had been one tree after another, all of them looking as though they had managed to capture the clouds. Suddenly a great rush of wind had come out of a clear blue sky. To young Daniel it had seemed as though the entire city had frozen solid. All the people and all the cars he could see just stopped. And they watched with upturned faces as it rained pink and white petals. And then everyone cried aloud with joy.
Daniel’s childhood home had never been a happy place. Even at six years of age, he had known that something inside their home was broken in a way that could not be fixed. There had been none of the anger or shouting that he had observed in other families. Just a melting away, a recognition of what had existed for a long time. After the separation, his parents had not become happy, nor had they healed. Instead, they had merely settled into lives that suited them better, morose to the end, emotionally distant from their children and everyone else. But perhaps as close to finding peace as they were able.
Daniel had not thought of that afternoon in years. It was the only thing he remembered from the Washington trip—the way even his gloomy parents had lit up with unbridled joy. Their faces had been so transformed, Daniel had found himself watching them more than the blossoms. He recalled how, in that one brief instant, as they shed their pasts and their shadows, they looked like Lisa. His three-year-old sister sat in her stroller with arms and feet outstretched, shrieking with joy as she tried to catch the petals. Just like Daniel’s parents.
The other impression that struck him as he cut the phone connection was not about the past at all. Instead, he had the sense of being free.
Daniel felt as though he had broken chains he had been unable to see, much less identify. All the therapy, the four years of small living, all brought together in a single moment of release.
He leaned back in his chair, thinking of who he had once been. back before he had become trapped in a fog of his own making. Before his life began and ended inside LA’s electric high.
He knew what it meant. That he might indeed be ready to move on. To open the door to his life and his world. To chart a course that took him beyond the safe confines he had needed for recovery.
He was still grappling with this when his landline phone rang. Nicole took the phone from its holder by the coffee machine and walked over. The screen read, STELLA. Seeing her name offered a surprisingly strong lift. “Good morning.”
The woman sounded slightly breathless. And something else. Excited, perhaps. Or scared. “I have something you need to see.”
CHAPTER 13
Just have one look, Stella asked, pleading, her tone softly desperate.
Daniel should have recognized the words as a siren’s call, filled with deadly dangers. He should have turned away from rocks as sharp as dark teeth, should have stayed out of the currents seeking to swallow him whole.
But just then, Daniel was too full of what happened after Nicole handed him the phone. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She stood, while he remained seated. His chair creaked softly as the strength of her arms tilted him right and then left, then back again, fractional shifts that caused his chair to click like a metronome. He counted off those fragile seconds when he was filled with the wonder of having gotten this one thing very right.
When Nicole released him and stepped back, the two of them shared a gentle smile, as if they knew a secret too precious for words. Nicole said, “All of a sudden, I’m hungry.”
“Hang on a second, Stella.” He asked Nicole, “Do you want some eggs?”
“Can I make them?”
“Of course.” Daniel rose and began pulling out plates and implements. He watched Nicole open the refrigerator and inspect his wares. And suddenly he was staring at a fully grown woman.
All the while, Stella waited for him to lift the receiver and say, “I apologize. Nicole and I are still finding our way.”
“Ricki told me a little. It’s wonderful what you’re doing for that girl.” But Stella’s words were rushed, as if she was impatient to move on to the reason for her call. “Would you please just take one look at some documents?”
“I’m not sure I can do anything.”
“Ricki says you trained as a forensic accountant.”
“That was years ago.” Daniel watched his niece wash a bundle of chives. When she looked a silent question, he pointed to the cabinet holding the chopping boards. She found a sharp knife all on her own. And the cheese grater. Daniel found it a marvel. Nicole’s mother treated the kitchen as enemy terrain. As far as he knew, Marvin had never made anything more complex than oatmeal.
Stella was saying, “I’ve downloaded the files that scare me. It’s taken almost three weeks. Every time I had a valid reason to go into questionable accounts, I made a duplicate save.”
Daniel walked the phone across the front foyer and opened the door, taking Stella’s tension out where it would not disturb the home’s fragile joy. “You’re being watched?”
“I don’t know. You must think I’m paranoid. And maybe
I am. Maybe everything is just fine. I keep telling myself to ignore it all.”
Daniel found himself captured by the woman’s nerves. But he did not mind. In fact, it felt as though a hidden component of his being was nudged awake, the slumber of years cast aside. “Where are you now?”
“I walk across the street for a coffee more or less the same time every morning. I’ve become defined by habits like this one. Just in case, you know . . .”
“So there’s nothing to alert any watchers,” Daniel said. He had dealt with any number of whistle-blowers during his on-air years. Watching them clutch at him like he offered the only lifeline within reach. Their gnawing fear worked on him every time. Just like now. “That’s smart, Stella.”
“I could be wrong. I hope I am.”
“In that case, you will have a reason to sleep better tonight.”
Her voice rose a full octave. “You’ll help me?”
“I will look at your files. Yes. Hang on one second more.”
Daniel walked back inside and found Nicole whisking eggs and cream and chives and cheese in his mixing bowl. He said, “Stella wants to stop by later.”
“Will she bring Amber?”
Daniel passed on the question, then added, “Bring your daughter and your appetite and the files. Nothing else. What time do you get off work?”
CHAPTER 14
They spent the day getting used to doing normal things together. Daniel spent a couple of hours going through the motions of inspecting the markets and preparing his daily analysis. He was paid a retainer by two investment funds, one out of San Francisco and another based across Upper New York Bay from Wall Street. The markets remained teetering on the edge, stable only because nobody knew which way to jump.
Daniel was known for offering solid intel on developing trends. He did not hedge his predictions, which meant he was often wrong. But these two companies liked balancing his unvarnished attitude against their in-house analysts, who often were so concerned over their jobs, they dithered. Most Wall Street analysts couched their reports in what Daniel used to call economic foliage. While he’d been on the air, he had developed a number of signature terms to describe everything he despised about the industry, one he consistently accused of being weighted against the little guy. Which was one reason why he had remained popular, even when he was often wrong. Because he was never afraid to confess on-air that he had missed the mark, that his analysis had led him and the people who followed him down a dark road at midnight. Even so, the ones who stuck with him made a consistent return on their investments. And as Daniel liked to say, success in this business came down to rolling with the punches, rising from the mat, and climbing back in the ring.
It was almost lunchtime when they left the house and drove into Miramar. The first Thursday of every month, the parking lot fronting the town hall hosted a small farmers’ market, basically an offshoot of the much larger one in Paso Robles. Daniel bought them veggie burritos and fresh-brewed iced tea from his favorite stall and let Nicole decide on the evening’s menu as they walked the aisles. They talked in brief snatches. Daniel asked her where she’d learned to cook, and Nicole turned momentarily sad as she replied, “From books.” But before his wrong question could build into regret, she reached over and took his hand, silently saying that the morning’s good move still dominated their day.
Ricki called just as they were heading back to Daniel’s ride. Lack of sleep and a high stress level deepened her voice and ironed it flat. “Where are you now?”
“The market. You need something?”
“I need my daughter to straighten out before . . .” She coughed, or sighed, or perhaps even sobbed. “Never you mind that. I’ve spoken with the school superintendent. We’re friends from the council. She wants you to stop by with Nicole so the child can get registered for school.”
Daniel kept his voice as neutral as possible. “We’re not clear on how long—”
“I know all that, and so does she. But the child needs to be registered. Then the LA system can be notified of a temporary change of address, and she won’t be listed as truant with the police.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Daniel ached over how his closest friends had come by this wisdom. “Thank you, Ricki.”
“You’re welcome.” She was silent a moment, then added, “It’s a shame not of all life’s problems are this easy to solve.”
* * *
When they arrived home, Daniel piled mesquite charcoal on the grill next to the firepit. Once it was lit, he went inside to find Nicole working on a salad. He unwrapped and washed the filets of turkey breast, then split four German sausages lengthwise. Nicole watched him as he scored the turkey and inserted sage twigs. He said, “I’m thinking we should invite Chloe. She needs some time away from her family.”
Nicole replied, “She’s nice when she’s not mad. Which is basically all the time.”
“Is that a yes?”
Nicole just stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes, Nicole. I’m asking. This is your home . . .” He stopped because she walked over and gave him a one-arm hug.
When she released him, Nicole said, “It’d probably be better if I called.”
“There’s no probably about that.”
She picked up his phone from the counter. “Is Chloe’s number in here?”
Daniel scrolled through his address list, handed back the phone, then carried the wooden carving board out back. He checked on the coals, then stood there by the rear hedge, staring out over the sea. He could hear Nicole’s voice from inside the house. It surprised him, how little he seemed to mind having all these people invade his space. He had come to see solitude as a vital piece of the story titled How to Stay Sober and Grounded, by Daniel Riffkin. The principles were carved in stone, or so he thought.
He was still standing there when yet another young girl’s voice asked, “Why does Goldie bark at butterflies?”
He turned to discover Amber and Stella standing by the firepit. He had been so involved in his not-so-solitary thoughts that he had not even heard them enter. “Goldie thinks they come out to play with her. She gets mad because they won’t let her catch them.”
Amber clapped her hands. “This is the best dog ever!”
Goldie responded with a happy bark, and the two of them began an elaborate game of tag involving a ball, the butterflies, and a solitary hummingbird who probably thought it had entered a free-fire zone. Stella watched her daughter with a distracted air, then held out a memory stick. “I feel like this thing is burning a hole in my pocket.”
* * *
As the sun set, the wind breathed a chilly note off the Pacific. Daniel lit the firepit and shifted the table over so the heat would keep them sheltered while they ate. Amber sparked the gathering with an elfin magic, drawing smiles from everyone, even her mother. Goldie bounded joyfully back and forth between Nicole and the younger girl, as excited as Daniel had ever seen her.
The only stain darkening the sunset was Chloe. The beautiful young woman lurked around the edges, mostly staring out at the ocean. Her face looked bruised from the ongoing situation at home. Daniel had no intention of speaking with her that night, not unless Chloe made the approach. What he wanted was for her to experience a place where she could feel safe even while carrying whatever baggage she felt unable to set down. Accepted. Among friends.
But whatever Daniel wanted her to see was not getting through. As he opened the grill’s lid and tested the pieces of turkey breast he was cooking, Chloe came up alongside him and demanded, “Why am I here?”
He took his time responding. Another gift from his early days in therapy, when the sweats and the grief and the anger were a battle he fought every hour of every day. “Do you want to help?”
“Is that all you are going to tell me?”
“You can help if you want, or you can stand there and watch. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” Daniel decided
the turkey needed another couple of minutes. He transferred the sausages to the warming plate. “I will tell you whatever you want to know. I always have.”
She stood there a moment, then gave him a sullen response. “So tell.”
“When I was at my absolute lowest point, your father was there for me. And your mother. They helped me see that life did not begin and end with the crisis I faced at the time. If I can, I hope to show you the same thing.”
“The only reason I have a crisis at all is because they won’t let me be me.” Chloe gave him a moment to object, then added, “They’re punishing me because of what they did wrong.”
Daniel hated being placed in a position where anything he said might be heard as criticism of his closest friends. “I understand.”
“I’m not them. I am my own person. I can handle things better than they did. I want . . .” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “They’re crushing my dreams, and they don’t care.”
Daniel reached for the mixing bowl holding asparagus marinating in lemon juice and olive oil. He used his fingers to place the vegetables on the grill, then opened the smoker and set the turkey on the carving board. “If they didn’t care, it wouldn’t be so hard on everyone.”
“Whatever.”
“Would you please take this to the table, and tell everyone to find a seat?” But when she reached for the plate, he said, “I am here for you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Her sullen fury sparked a honeyed fire in those almond-shaped eyes. “Then get me a ticket out of this place.”
* * *
Had it not been for Amber, Chloe’s attitude would have overshadowed the meal. The young girl showed a delight in everything—dining under the stars, the firepit’s warmth, the sea breeze, the meal. Goldie spent the entire meal with her golden head resting on Amber’s thigh, watching every bite the young girl took with solemn expectation.
The firelight and the candles helped form a flickering barrier between the three girls and where he sat next to Stella at the table’s opposite end. The food’s aroma was spiced by Stella’s fragrance, a heady mix of oriental spices and something close to home, he thought perhaps honeysuckle. He watched her thoughtfully inspect one forkful after another and said, “Please tell me you’re not vegetarian or vegan or something.”
