“I can’t believe I didn’t notice what was going on,” Cate had said for the dozenth time. “I just wish . . .” She couldn’t help feeling as if she’d failed Renee. “Do you think it’ll be hard for you to stop taking the pills?”
Renee had shrugged. “I think the hardest part will be watching the weight come back on. I knew this would only be a temporary fix, but I kept thinking I wouldn’t get the job unless I looked good. Thin.”
She’d given a little laugh. “Of course, who knows what Nigel is thinking now. I can’t imagine practically fainting in his lunch is going to help. If that was the case, Diane would’ve been swan-diving into his sandwiches every day.”
“Renee? Why do you want the job so badly?” Cate had asked quietly.
“Seriously? The money, for one.”
“Is it worth it?” Cate had asked.
Renee had shrugged. “My Visa bill could argue pretty persuasively that it is.”
That was hard to dispute; they’d all been quiet for a moment. Then an idea had struck Cate. “You should only do this if you really want to,” she’d begun, choosing her words carefully. “But would you consider writing the story of what happened to you?”
“You don’t think it’ll be too embarrassing?” Renee had asked. “God, when I think about it . . .”
Abby had spoken up. “Not at all. I think it would be . . . really good.”
“If you want to do it, I’ll help,” Cate had said.
Renee had nodded, her eyes growing thoughtful, and Cate had hidden a smile. She’d seen that look in the eyes of other writers—it meant they were already starting to shape and hone the piece in their minds.
Now Cate finished reading the last line of the article Renee had been immersed in for the past few days, and she stacked the pages together, slowly aligning their edges, then put them back down on her desk. She thought about the courage it had taken for Renee to write her story, to risk more anonymous Internet attacks so that she could help other women.
Her hand, almost of its own accord, reached for her computer mouse, and she opened a search engine. Ohio State University Admissions Department, she typed. She clicked on the name of the admissions director, and an e-mail form appeared. She took a breath, then began to write. I’m a former student who left during my senior year, and I’d like to speak to someone to see if I can complete the courses I need for graduation . . .
It might not work. But maybe she could take online classes, or attend them at a college in New York and transfer the credits, she thought as she completed the e-mail and hit Send. She could try.
She reached for Renee’s story again and stood up, walking toward Nigel’s office. “Here it is,” she said, handing it to him.
He reached for it and put on his reading glasses. “If it’s any good, this issue could be amazing. Trey’s story is bloody fantastic. And now people can go back to Renee’s old blogs and see what happened—some of them unknowingly followed this in real time. They’re going to eat up reading the behind-the-scenes stuff. The photos are great, too. The before and after shots she posted on Facebook . . .”
Cate just looked at him. She should have known better than to expect that he’d be worried about Renee. It was just another story to him—a way to sell a few more subscriptions. At least she’d secured a good fee for Renee for writing the piece—she’d demanded that her friend get the same payment as an outside freelance writer.
“So is it good?” he asked.
“It’s better than the polygamy story,” she said. She put a hand on the page he was already reading, forcing Nigel to look up at her. “I want to run it instead.”
Then she left his office.
Abby stood by the front door, steadying herself by leaning against the wall as she waited. The doorman had already alerted her that her visitor was on her way upstairs.
At first when she’d listened to Joanna’s message on her cell phone, her heart had plummeted. Joanna had wanted to come to New York—not for a business trip or on vacation, but to see Abby. “We need to talk,” she’d said in her usual brusque way. “Call me as soon as you get this.”
There was nothing Abby wanted to do less, but in an odd way, she respected Joanna for confronting the situation head-on. Still, when she’d phoned Joanna back, she’d asked that they meet in the privacy of Trey’s apartment rather than at a coffee shop like Joanna had suggested. Trey had offered to put off his business trip to Montana to be here, but she’d insisted she could handle it alone.
“I need to do it,” she’d said.
“You’re not scared?”
“Of Joanna?” Abby had hesitated. “I’m not scared she’ll hit me or anything, no. She’s way too controlled for that. I’m a little scared of what she’s going to say to me, but I can take it.”
He’d kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you. Call me afterwards, okay?”
At the sound of the chime, Abby moved forward and opened the door. Joanna stood there, her face expressionless, wearing jeans and a pretty rust-colored turtleneck sweater. Abby noticed she had on more makeup than usual and her hair was just-brushed, as if she’d wanted to look her best. Joanna looked exactly the same, yet completely different—maybe because Abby was seeing her in a new light now. She wasn’t Abby’s nemesis, the person who was standing in the way of everything Abby wanted. She was just another woman. One who didn’t appreciate her family enough, and who could be bossy and difficult, but she wasn’t a monster.
“Hi,” Abby said. “Please come in.”
Joanna nodded, just a quick up and down motion, and followed Abby into the living room. Abby sat down on a chair by the window, and Joanna selected the one opposite her.
“If you’re thirsty—” Abby began.
“I’m not,” Joanna said. “Bob told me everything.”
Abby let the air out of her lungs slowly. “I figured he had,” she said.
“Do you have anything to say to me?” Joanna asked. Her mouth was clenched and her posture was rigid. “I welcomed you into my house and entrusted you with my daughter, and you slept with my husband.”
The anxiety Abby had expected to feel didn’t materialize. She just felt sad, for herself and for Bob and for Annabelle. But most of all for Joanna.
“I’m sorry,” Abby said. “I know you must be furious. It was wrong. I hated myself for doing it. Please believe me.”
Joanna didn’t accept Abby’s apology, but at least she didn’t explode in anger. “I knew something was going on. I’m not stupid, Abby.”
“I never thought that,” Abby said. “And I know Bob loves you. He wasn’t going to leave you, not ever. Maybe I pretended he would and I justified it that way, but I was so wrong.”
Joanna looked at her sharply. Had she expected Abby to announce that she would fight for Bob? Maybe Joanna was so used to conflict that she thought Abby would lash out, blaming Joanna for everything that had happened.
“I was wrong,” Abby said again. “I know you can’t forgive me, but I hope you can forgive Bob.”
“We’re working on it,” Joanna said, then she stopped herself. Abby knew why: Joanna didn’t want to invite Abby inside her marriage. She’d already intruded there enough.
“What are your plans?” Joanna said. “Because obviously you no longer have a job with us.”
“I’m going to stay here, at least for a while,” Abby said. “I’ve dropped out of school for now. I’m not going back to Maryland.”
Joanna nodded, and Abby knew she’d answered an important unspoken question. “I don’t want you in our house again. We’ll ship your things here.”
“Okay,” Abby said. She could sense Joanna was about to leave, so she asked the question quickly. “How’s Annabelle?” Her throat closed, but she blinked hard. She wouldn’t cry, not in front of Joanna.
“She’s fine,” Joanna said. She looked at Abby, and her face softened, just a fraction. “Bob cut down to part-time, at least for a while. And Annabelle’s going to start at a little day care t
hree times a week in January.”
“Really?” Abby asked. “She is? I bet she’ll love being around other kids.”
Joanna sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “After you left I stayed home with her for a week,” she said. “I kicked Bob out when he told me what happened.”
Abby felt shame rise within her, and she was surprised by how much she wanted Joanna and Bob to stay together. Maybe Abby and Bob could have had a future together, but that door had closed a long time ago. It might never have been open at all.
“In a sick kind of way, I should thank you,” Joanna said. “It was . . . good to be with Annabelle that much, just the two of us. And Bob and I are in counseling. You were just a symptom, Abby. You were a distraction for Bob.”
Abby knew she’d been more than that—Bob had truly cared for her—but she’d never say it to Joanna. This was the story Joanna needed to be told, and Abby wouldn’t contradict it.
“You have an amazing daughter,” Abby said carefully. “It was a privilege to spend time with her.”
She couldn’t help it then; a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
Joanna looked at her for a long moment. “You took good care of her,” she finally said.
Abby’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t just that Joanna had given her a compliment. It was a gift so precious it bordered on grace. Abby had taken care of Annabelle. She hadn’t let anything bad happen to her. Joanna knew that Abby had protected her daughter, that Abby deserved the trust.
She thought about Annabelle, laughing as Abby pushed her in a swing, and then Bella’s face blended into the old picture of Stevie, smiling in his sailor suit.
I miss you, Abby thought. I miss both of you so much.
She saw herself as a little girl—just a few years older than Annabelle—trying to make her baby brother happy by showing him how a car worked. For the first time, she imagined what would have happened if Annabelle had done something like that—if she’d innocently pulled the wrong lever. Abby’s heart contracted with love and pity. She never would have blamed Bella, not ever.
It wasn’t your fault, Trey and Renee and Cate had all told her, again and again. For the first time, Abby let herself believe them.
“I should go,” Joanna said. She stood up, and Abby did, too.
“Can you just wait one minute?” Abby asked. She ran into Trey’s room and found the stack of blue envelopes in her backpack.
“Here,” she said as she handed them to Joanna. “Please take these.”
Joanna glanced down at Annabelle’s name on the envelopes, and she frowned. “I’m not going to give these to her,” she said. “She won’t be able to read them for years, and they’d just confuse her.”
“No.” Abby shook her head. “I can’t take back what I did. But it might . . . help you to know how much I love your daughter. I thought the letters were for Annabelle, but they’re not. They’re for you.”
Joanna hesitated, then opened her purse and put the letters inside.
“Good-bye,” she said, and she walked through the door without looking back.
Abby closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She was crying hard now, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She thought about feeding Annabelle avocado and watching the baby spit it right back out, and running up the slide to catch her, and the feel of the little girl’s soft, warm hand inside Abby’s own. I want you to have a good life, she thought, wishing the message through space and time, hoping it might reach Bella and stay inside of her forever. I will always love you.
The doorbell rang again. She thought Joanna must’ve come back, maybe she’d forgotten something, but when she opened the door she saw Cate and Renee.
“Trey told us,” Renee said, and she reached out to hold Abby. “We were waiting in the lobby, and we had the doorman point her out. We came up as soon as we saw Joanna leave.”
Abby rested her head on Renee’s shoulder. “I just wanted a family,” she sobbed. “It wasn’t about Bob. I wanted the kind of family I never got when I was growing up.”
Renee stretched out her other arm and folded Cate into the hug. “We’re here,” she said simply.
Twenty-eight
CATE WALKED QUICKLY DOWN the sidewalk, her black wool coat wrapped tightly around her and her briefcase and purse slung over a shoulder, heading for the bar on the corner of Sixth and Forty-Fifth. She could see as she passed the big window overlooking the sidewalk that Trey was already inside.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. He reached over and lifted her heavy briefcase off her shoulder. It was such a casually intimate gesture that her heart did something that felt like a flutter kick.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”
“We put the issue to bed today,” she said, sliding onto the tall wooden stool next to his. “With your story and Renee’s in it.” Sam hadn’t been happy about it, but Renee’s article was superior. “We’ll try to get yours in next month,” Cate had told him.
“How’s she doing?” Trey asked.
“Good,” Cate said. “You heard she got the beauty editor job?” Cate thought about Renee’s final blog post, in which she’d revealed that she felt like she didn’t fit into the magazine world because she wasn’t a size 4. The comments poured in, with some readers complimenting Renee on her honesty and others sharing their own private struggles with weight. Several people linked to the blog via Facebook, and within days, Renee had a few hundred comments—along with the job offer from Nigel.
“Abby told me she got it,” Trey said. “That’s fantastic.”
Cate shrugged. “I think she’s beginning to realize it’s not the right fit for her. She’s not sure if she’ll stay in it for very long. She’s going to try to save up some money while she figures things out.”
“What else would she do?” Trey asked.
“I’m not sure she knows yet,” Cate said.
Trey nodded as the bartender came over to take their orders. “Red wine? Or do you want a vodka cranberry?” Trey asked. “I know you like both.”
“Just a glass of water,” she said. She wanted to keep her head clear.
Trey ordered a draft beer for himself and waited for the bartender to move away before he spoke again.
“Abby’s excited about rooming with you guys,” he said. Abby was bringing her backpack over for good tonight. The rest of her stuff would follow as soon as it arrived from Maryland. Trey had insisted on paying her rent for the next year while she finished school, she’d told them. She’d already begun researching local schools where she could complete her master’s degree, and she had applications in a half dozen Starbucks to help pay for it.
“Seems like everyone’s moving ahead,” Trey said. He put down his beer and shifted slightly on his stool to face her. “So what about us?”
Cate could see their future unfurling so vividly: She and Trey would become a couple. He’d write award-winning articles, and she’d edit some of them. They’d travel to incredible places, and spend weekends lounging on the beach in the Hamptons. They’d go running together in the morning, and he’d take the briefcase off her shoulder when she came home at night. He’d rub the tension from her back, and she’d bring him a beer as they talked about their days. She wanted that—all of it—so badly.
Then she thought about Renee. Trey was right; Renee would understand. She’d forgive Cate. She’d join them in the cafeteria when she saw them sitting together, and come to their parties. If Renee left Gloss, she’d keep in touch with Cate, and give her a big hug whenever they bumped into each other. “I missed you!” she’d squeal, and she’d mean it. It might be awkward at first, but eventually it would be okay. Perfectly fine, even.
“Cate?” Trey asked. She drank him in for a minute—his blue eyes and broad shoulders and the mouth she could still feel against her own.
“I can’t,” she said.
He nodded. “I knew. You didn’t even take off your coat.”
She looked
at him, fighting to keep from reaching out to touch him. “You could always spot the telling detail, couldn’t you? One of the reasons why you’re such a great journalist.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
There was another future Cate could see even more vividly. She’d keep living with Renee and Abby. They’d talk late into the night, trading stories about what they’d been like as teenagers. They’d laugh over their dating disasters and squabble over who forgot to take out the trash. Cate would talk about her parents, and how torn she felt when she visited home, and Abby and Renee would try to help. Cate would follow the story of Renee’s parents, and she’d call Renee every night when Renee finally went back to Kansas City to meet Becca. They’d cheer Abby on when she graduated from school, and help her get ready for her first day of teaching. Maybe Renee and Abby would even come with Cate on a visit back to Philadelphia, to see the house where Cate grew up and to eat her mother’s lemon chicken.
Renee would forgive Cate for falling for Trey—Abby would, too—but something in their friendship would inexorably shift. Maybe if she’d connected with Trey two years from now, after she’d lived with Abby and Renee long enough to really cement their bond, it could have worked. But the timing was all wrong.
“I don’t want to be the girl who chose a guy over her friends,” Cate said softly.
“Why does it have to be either or?” Trey asked.
“It just feels wrong. I can’t, Trey. Not now, at least.”
Trey took a big swallow of beer. “I’ll still see you around, right?”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to escape me,” she said. “We work in the same building, and I’m living with your sister.”
“Just remember how I went after the Reece Moss story,” he said. “I don’t give up easily, Cate.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
She stood up and brushed her lips against his, quickly, then left the bar before he could say anything else.
It had begun to snow outside, soft, light flakes that kissed her cheeks and eased the tightness in her chest. She stopped at the corner, pressed the Walk button, and stood with her face turned up to the velvet blue sky while she waited for the light to change. The noises of New York—honking horns and whistles for taxis and bright snippets of conversations as people passed by—surrounded her. She loved the way her city always sounded like it was celebrating.
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