by Ann McMan
“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?” Gina nudged Maddie playfully, adding to her obvious discomfort.
“Um . . . well . . .” Maddie fumbled.
Syd reached across the table to push back the bread basket in an attempt to clear a place for Gina and knocked over her wine glass. The red liquid spread across the tablecloth like a bloodstain and dripped off onto the seat of their only extra chair.
“Damn it,” Syd cried, belatedly tossing her napkin on top of the red tide. “I’m so clumsy. God. Please forgive me. Let me get a waiter to help us clean this up.”
Gina looked passively at Syd, then down at the lake of cabernet pooling on the chair.
“On the other hand, it looks like this is a bad time.” She turned to Maddie again. “Let me catch up with you tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll see you at Dr. Heller’s keynote.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, tossing an offhand, “Nice to meet you, Syd,” over her shoulder.
Syd watched her walk across their tiny dining room as she made her way toward the lobby.
“Bitch,” she muttered.
Maddie gave her a startled look.
Syd raised an eyebrow and inclined her head toward their uninvited guest. “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
Maddie blinked, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
Syd shrugged and set her glass upright. “It seemed like you needed a diversion, so I made the ultimate sacrifice.” She picked up her empty glass and sniffed it. “Too bad. I really liked this stuff.”
Willie arrived with the wine steward in tow, and in less than one minute, their table had been cleared and reset. The offending chair was removed. The steward asked Syd if she’d like another glass of the same cabernet.
“Hell no,” Maddie roared. “We’re celebrating. Bring us a bottle of the Margaux.”
Syd raised her eyebrows.
Maddie’s eyes sparkled as she looked back at Syd. “Thank you for that.”
“Why do I think there’s a long story lurking here?” Syd asked as she took a fresh piece of bread.
“Probably because there is,” Maddie replied with resignation. She sat for a few moments, deliberating as she twisted the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. Then she shook her dark head. “What the hell. You want to hear the ugly truth now or after we eat?”
“Maddie . . . you don’t have to talk about it at all if it makes you uncomfortable. I really don’t want to pry.”
“Oh, trust me. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable—not like she does. I’m just not sure how much of this you really want to know. It might fall into the category of TMI.”
Syd smiled. “I’d like to think that we’re friends. Unless your story involves pouring over photos of your gall bladder operation, I doubt you could scare me off.”
Maddie arched an eyebrow. “You don’t wanna see my scars?”
“Only the metaphorical ones.”
The steward arrived with the wine and made a ceremony out of opening the bottle. He splashed a bit of it into a fresh wine glass, and Maddie eagerly took a sip.
Her eyes practically rolled back into her head. “Oh, yeah. That’ll do.”
MADDIE CLEARED HER throat. “So . . . where to begin?”
Syd sipped her wine, then met Maddie’s gaze. “Let me save you some time,” she offered. “I gather that Gina is the infamous ex?”
“That obvious, huh?” Maddie shook her head. “And here I wanted to be all mysterious.” She gave Syd a nervous look. “Are you disappointed?”
“Why would I be disappointed? She’s certainly beautiful.”
Maddie was surprised and slightly embarrassed by Syd’s comment. “Well, that isn’t exactly what I meant.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. But, thank you—I think.”
“You mentioned to me a while back that you had been involved with someone—a surgeon, I think you said—before coming back to Jericho. Was that Gina?”
Maddie nodded.
“And that relationship ended just before you returned to Virginia?”
“Yes.”
“That makes sense, now. When we first met, I couldn’t figure out why someone like you was unattached.”
Maddie raised her eyebrow. “Ditto.”
Syd blushed. “Okay . . . I guess I asked for that. What I meant was that you seemed so not of the area—even though I knew you grew up there. It was clear to me that you had some kind of story. That’s all.”
Maddie considered Syd for a few moments. “Well, as you know, I only did part of my growing up there. After my parents divorced, I spent most of my time living with my mother in southern California. I’d come back to Virginia on holidays, of course, and for a month or so every summer. I saw a lot more of my father during my college years than I ever did during childhood.” Syd waited patiently for her to continue. “Dad and I got a lot closer during my years at Penn—his alma mater, too. We shared passions for medicine—and for flying—and spent many weekends together hopping around in our little airplane. He was a frequent visitor to Philadelphia in those days.” She smiled at the recollection. “I miss him a lot. My decision to go back there and take over his practice wasn’t tough at all. He’d been after me for a couple of years to move back and join him.”
“Are you glad you did?”
Maddie nodded. “I am. It just feels right. All except for the secrets I now have to keep. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can keep it up. It feels so inauthentic—so dishonest.”
Syd took a sip of her wine. “If it’s not too personal to ask. Who else knows?”
“That I’m gay?”
Syd nodded.
Maddie sighed. “Well, besides David and Michael, my father knew. I don’t know if he ever really managed to make peace with the information. I think he may have told Peggy Hawkes. She often lapses into this ‘I know something but I’m not telling’ posture whenever any aspect of my private life comes up. And, unlike every other woman in the county over the age of sixty, she never quizzes me about my personal life or tries to entangle me with some one or other unattached male.”
“Well, that’s a cross we both have to bear,” Syd pointed out.
Maddie smiled wryly. “I know. But at least you have the singular advantage of having been married. I stand out like some kind of alien species.”
Syd quietly considered Maddie. “I don’t know,” she mused. “We’re both anomalies. But in terms of our professions, we’re holding true to the stereotypes.”
Maddie snorted. “You mean we’re both old maids?”
“Exactly.”
They sat quietly for a minute or so.
“So?” Syd prompted.
“So?” Maddie repeated.
“So, what happened?”
“You mean in the relationship?” Maddie asked.
Syd nodded.
“Oh, nothing so terribly dramatic. Gina was a third-year surgical resident in ophthalmology at the Wills Eye Hospital in Philly. I was finishing my final year in emergency medicine at Presby. We were introduced by mutual friends, and started seeing each other. It was her first same-sex relationship . . .” She paused. “And my first really serious involvement.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We tried living together, but it just never worked out. Our schedules were just too erratic—too dissimilar. In the end, it was all too much for her. Trying to balance a medical career with the stresses of a serious relationship—and her ambivalence about the nature of that relationship—just became too complicated. We wanted different things—different lives. It all fell apart pretty quickly. Something had to give.” She looked at Syd. “That something ended up being me.” She glanced down at her plate and idly picked at her piece of bread. “By the time my father died, I knew it was over. That’s when I made my final decision to come back and take over his practice.”
They sat in silence again.
“Any regrets?” Syd asked, quietly.
Maddie met he
r gaze. “Not one.”
“Well . . . Gina certainly seemed . . . composed. But at the risk of overstepping, you didn’t.”
“No.” Maddie shook her head. “No, I wasn’t. I’m not. It ended, but it ended badly. And I haven’t had any contact with Gina since I left Philadelphia two years ago.”
“So seeing her here was a surprise for you?”
Maddie poured herself another half glass of wine. “Yes. No. I mean, I guess I thought there was a pretty good probability that she would be here for this conference—especially for the ophthalmic sessions. I guess I just thought I might be able to avoid running into her.” She exhaled audibly and shook her head. “You can see how well that delusion played out.”
Syd sighed. “Well, I’m certainly no expert, but it seems like you might have some unfinished business.” She paused, and then continued quietly. “Is there a chance you still have feelings for her?”
Maddie’s eyes tracked up to Syds. “Oh, I have feelings for her all right. But not the kind you suspect. Believe me, Gina’s . . . complicated. Not being around her is altogether in my best interest.”
“Okaaaaayyy. But it sounds like your plan to avoid her isn’t going to pan out very well if you’re in the same session tomorrow. Or is that one you can skip?”
“No . . . no, that’s one session I have to attend. In fact, it’s the real reason I’m here, and that’s something else I need to share with you.”
“With me?” Syd asked, confused.
“Yeah. Especially since it seems pretty likely that you’ll end up being involved in it, too.”
Syd sat up straighter in her chair. “It? This is sounding pretty ominous. What is ‘it,’ and how could I possibly be involved?”
“Weeeellll . . . the conference keynote speaker is one Dr. Celine Heller—associate dean of the UCLA School of Medicine and one of the nation’s leading researchers in molecular toxicology.”
“Okay, I’m properly humbled. But why is this somethingI need to know about?”
Maddie sighed. “Well, Celine and I have a . . . history. And we haven’t exactly been on very good terms for about the last, oh, seven years or so. In fact, I haven’t seen her since I graduated from med school. It’s fairly certain that she is at least going to want to dine with, um, us tomorrow night.”
Syd narrowed her eyes. “Okay. We’ll get back to that ‘us’ part. But by history, do you mean . . . ?” She waved her hand.
Maddie gave her a quizzical look, then laughed. “God, no. Celine is my mother.”
Syd flopped back against her chair. “Oh my god.” She thought about it for a moment. “Heller. Is that the ‘H’ in Madeleine H. Stevenson?”
“Ding. Would you now like to try for Double Jeopardy, where those dollars can really add up?”
Syd tore a hunk off her piece of bread and tossed it across the table at her. “You know, Doctor, you really might want to consider parceling out these little revelations of yours. I feel like my brain’s about to implode.”
Maddie grinned sheepishly and reached across the table to squeeze the top of her hand. “I really was going to tell you about Celine tonight—honest. The Gina thing—that just happened. I didn’t want to spring the idea of meeting my mother on you any sooner. I didn’t want to give you time to back out.”
Syd shook her head. “You’re a six-foot-tall chickenshit, aren’t you?”
“More or less.”
“God. Well, I know one thing for sure.”
“What’s that?”
Syd poured herself another glass of the Margaux. “I’m not fighting you for the check.”
They lingered at the restaurant until they became uncomfortable, holding the table for so long on such a busy night. Their once quiet dining room was now filled with other patrons, and Maddie was eager to evade any more unwelcome intrusions by over-zealous conference-goers. Already, she had spotted two other physicians she knew from her years working at Presbyterian, and she wanted to avoid any protracted conversations about her mother’s scheduled appearance tomorrow. Celine was a luminary in the medical profession, and conference organizers were still crowing about their incredible good fortune at snaring her to deliver the keynote address.
Maddie began to fidget.
“Something wrong?” Syd asked.
“Um . . . if it’s all the same to you—how about we get out of here and walk back to the hotel for a nightcap? I think there’s a nice little lounge off the lobby that might be a tad less populated.”
Syd took a quick look around the dining room. “Why? Are there more ex-lovers of yours queuing up?”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Very funny. No. I’d just like to avoid any mind-numbing conference chatter, and that’s going to be difficult if we continue to sit here. Already, I see a handful of myopic M.D.’s peering at our table. It’s only a matter of time before they muster the courage to pounce.”
Syd folded her napkin and placed it on top of the table. “Well, since you’ve already settled the check and over-tipped to the point that your reputation remains intact—I suppose we can blow this joint with impunity.”
Maddie grinned. “I couldn’t have said it better.”
Syd pushed her chair back. “Let’s go, Casanova.”
Maddie stood up, too. “Ohhhh, that’s right. I’ve got a hot date waiting for me back at the hotel bar . . . don’t wanna be late for that.” She glanced at her watch. “Hmmm. It’s eight-fifteen.” She looked up at Syd. “Sleepy yet?”
“In your dreams, wise guy.”
They collected their coats and left the restaurant. Outside, the night had turned colder, but no precipitation was falling. They walked along the embankment toward the alley that would take them away from the river and back to their hotel.
“You know,” Syd said, as she pulled the lapels of her coat closed across her neck, “I’m sure I heard that the first day of spring is just around the corner. What gives with this weather?”
Maddie squinted up at the sky. “I don’t think it’ll amount to much.”
“Oh? Kind of like your chances of getting lucky in the bar later?” Syd bumped into her playfully as they walked along.
“Hey. Doubt me at your peril. I’ll have you know that my reputation wasn’t built on over-tipping alone.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
Maddie gave her a wicked look. “Do you wanna find out?”
Syd sighed. “Here we go again.”
Maddie grinned and grasped her elbow. “C’mon. Let’s shake a leg. There are a couple of big shots of Bailey’s waiting for us back at the hotel.”
Thirty minutes later, they were comfortably seated in two plush chairs in a dark corner of their hotel’s lounge. A large fire burning in an open fireplace in the center of the room cast giant shadows on the paneled walls. Their waiter arrived and deposited two tumblers of Bailey’s Irish Cream and a plate of small chocolate cookies.
Syd immediately snatched one of them up and held it to her nose. “Oh my god—these are just like Girl Scout cookies. I might die right here.” She happily bit into it.
Maddie laughed, and then shook her head. “Are you telling me that I ordered a Premier Cru Bordeaux at dinner when all I needed to impress you was a lousy box of Thin Mints?”
Syd shrugged and reached for another cookie.
Maddie chuckled and sipped her Bailey’s.
Syd picked up her own drink and settled back in her chair. “So. Do you wanna tell me now about tomorrow and what I should expect?”
Maddie met her eyes. “You mean when we meet up with Celine?”
“Yeah.”
Maddie sighed. “I hardly know what to expect myself. When I found out that she was attending this conference—or any conference, for that matter—I realized that something was up. Celine hates public speaking, and there’s no way she’d make an exception for an event on the opposite side of the country unless she had another motivation. I knew I was right when I got an email from her assistant six weeks ago asking
if I was planning to attend.”
“From her assistant?”
“Oh, yeah. She jobbed that little task out to one of her lab rats. So I took the bait and replied that I’d be here. She emailed me a few days later and suggested that we meet for dinner. I still have no idea why she wants to see me.”
Syd gazed at her. “She’s your mother, does she really need a better reason than that?”
“Oh, trust me, this has nothing to do with maternal instincts. Celine jobbed that out, too. I was pretty much raised by a succession of nannies. But to be fair,” she met Syd’s eyes, “they all were enormously competent. I even think one or two of them actually cared for me.”
Syd leaned forward and touched Maddie’s knee. “God. I’m so sorry.”
Maddie covered her hand with her own. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not really bothered by any of this.”
Syd shook her head. “I know you’re not. That’s what upsets me.”
Maddie sighed and gave Syd’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t want to pretend that there weren’t times when I struggled with this—with Celine’s detachment. But eventually, it just became easier to accept my life on her terms.” She slowly shook her head. “When it comes to Celine, there is no there there. I do okay as long as I don’t expect anything.”
Syd nodded and sat back. “So what can I do to help?”
“For starters, you can forgive me for taking such shameful advantage of you. For all my bravado, I am a little nervous about seeing her tomorrow.” She paused. “Having you there as my friend will help ground me and level the playing field. I’ll be less likely to do or say anything I might regret later on.”
“Does she know I’ll be joining you?”
“No. But if that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll call her when we get back to the room and let her know.”
Syd tapped her index finger on the side of her glass. “No. I think we should trust your instincts on this. If it becomes clear that my presence is too distracting, I’ll invent a reason to leave.”
“I really don’t know how to thank you for this.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Syd smiled. “I’ll think of something.”
