The Love Book

by Nina Solomon

  Lara walked right up to her and smiled. “I can’t believe you’re still here,” she said.

  “That makes two of us,” Emily answered.

  The sun was too bright, magnified as if through a telescope. She put up her hood to shield herself from the wind and sun and eyes of passersby and walked home in a complete fog, past the familiar shops on Broadway, without the slightest awareness. The streets were a blur, like time-lapse photography. If there were any thoughts, she couldn’t identify a single one of them. Then, as if she’d blinked, she was standing in the lobby of her building.

  “How are you, Mrs. Andrews?” the doorman asked in greeting.

  Kalman was on vacation in Montenegro visiting his family. His replacement was Tulus, a small man who looked like he was wearing his father’s oversized suit. He was sorting the mail in a metal pushcart. She took the stack of catalogs and periodicals he handed her, only realizing in the elevator that he’d mistakenly given her Mrs. Weisenbaum’s Women’s Wear Daily. Upstairs, two other issues, wrapped in plastic, were waiting on the vestibule table. Adele was probably visiting her daughter in Larchmont and Tulus didn’t know to hold her mail. She’d have taken them inside, though it was hard to tell what might set Adele off.

  In her tiny alcove office, still wearing her coat, Emily adjusted her chair and turned on her computer. Strangely, Mrs. Weisenbaum’s television was blaring through the wall. She dashed off and posted her blog entry for the day. She and Charles were picking Zach up early and taking him to a Columbia-Georgetown basketball game. They had decided both of them should be there when Zach heard the news that Charles was moving back in with Clarissa.

  When she stepped out of her apartment, paramedics were carrying Mrs. Weisenbaum on a stretcher. Adele’s daughter had panicked after not being able to get in touch with her mother by telephone, and discovered her lying on the floor. Apparently, her back had gone out and she’d been like that for days. Emily was unable to take a full breath. She felt like there was a lead weight on her chest. If only she’d notified someone when she’d had the chance, sparing Adele her nearly three-day ordeal.

  Emily held the door as the paramedics maneuvered the stretcher into the elevator, in the process accidentally knocking Mrs. Weisenbaum’s mail off the vestibule table. When she kneeled down to collect it, she discovered a red envelope between two issues of WWD. She waited with Adele’s daughter until her mother was safely in the ambulance before opening the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of onionskin paper with the cryptic words: When you find what you’re looking for, you will find us . . .

  * * *

  Emily was running late so she met Zach and Charles at the basketball game. When she arrived, she spotted Zach sitting next to Charles, wearing his Hoyas sweatshirt. She stood for a moment watching them in the stands. They looked at ease, laughing and sharing a container of popcorn. It was rare that she saw the two of them together like this, from a distance, when they weren’t aware of her presence, and she almost didn’t want to intrude.

  Zach waved. She climbed the shaky metal bleachers and sat down on the other side of Zach. He offered her some popcorn. “Have you ever been to a game?” he asked.

  “One or two,” she answered.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on if you don’t understand.”

  “Okay,” Emily said. Charles was studying the roster, but from the slight twitch of his eyebrow, she knew it had registered.

  The first year she and Charles were dating they went to nearly every one of the Knicks’ home games. They sat in the seven-dollar nosebleed section before the Garden was renovated and the blue seats were turned into skyboxes affordable only for Wall Street types. She even had her own Knicks jersey, just like Zach. Those were the days before partner dinners and firm outings, when Charles thought she was the perfect girlfriend and liked her best in a T-shirt and jeans.

  “Let’s go, Hoyas!” Zach yelled. “Air ball! What? He fouled him! Did you see that, Mom?”

  “He was definitely fouled,” she said, resting her arm around his shoulder. He didn’t pull away or make a face. Even Charles smiled at her once or twice.

  After the game they went to the Carnegie Deli. Both Charles and Emily had hesitated when Zach suggested it. It was where they’d had their first date. But then maybe it was exactly the right place to talk about new beginnings. Zach chose a booth near the window. He asked if he could have a Shirley Temple. Emily said sure. Zach could have a Shirley Temple with three cherries, anything he wanted, as far as she was concerned.

  “When did we last come here?” Zach asked.

  “I think it was with Uncle Jack after we saw The Scarlet Pimpernel,” Charles said.

  “And before that?”

  “With Grandma.”

  “And before that?”

  “I don’t think you’d remember that,” Charles answered.

  Emily knew what he was thinking: that was the day she told Charles she was pregnant with Zach and she had a craving for kreplach soup. She thought about the child she was carrying now, the child she had decided to have and raise on her own. Max’s attack had put everything in perspective. The baby would be born in June. She’d turn the office into a nursery. The only thing she hadn’t figured out yet was how to tell Zach.

  The waiter took out his pad and pen. “Okay, bossman, what’ll it be?”

  “Two pastrami sandwiches, French fries, extra coleslaw, one half-sour and two sour pickles,” Zach said, proud to be doing the ordering.

  “You got it.”

  After the waiter left, Zach asked, “You like the sour ones, right, Mom? And you like half-sour, Dad, right?”

  “I’m amazed you remember that,” Charles said.

  The boy smiled. “Kenneth said I have a really good memory. I just need to study harder.”

  “Sounds like good advice.”

  “I guess.” Zach took a sip of his drink.

  Charles wiped his hands on his jeans. “Zach, your mom and I have something to tell you. Remember I told you Clarissa and I were having problems?”

  Zach nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Well, we talked and worked things out and I’m going to be moving back in with her.”

  Zach was fiddling with the Lost in Space keychain on his backpack. “Warning, warning. That does not compute.”

  “When?” he asked.

  “Tonight.”

  Zach was quiet. He looked down and began shredding his napkin. “Sasha and I broke up.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charles said. “We know how much you liked her.”

  “But we got back together.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Yeah, we still have unfinished business,” Zach explained.

  A few weeks ago, one of Emily’s copies of The Love Book had vanished. Now she was pretty sure she knew where it had gone.

  “Unfinished business? What do you mean?” Charles asked.

  “You know, like you and Mom.”

  Charles ruffled Zach’s hair. “Let’s talk about something else, okay, kiddo?”

  “Why did you and Mom get divorced?”

  “Zach, we’ve talked about this.” Charles gave Emily a help-me look. “Your mother and I love each other, but we don’t want to be married anymore.”

  “What about all the unfinished business?” Zach asked.

  Emily reached out and touched her son’s hand. “What unfinished business?”

  “Forget it,” Zach said.

  “Tell us, sweetie, we want to hear.”

  Zach’s chin quivered. Emily could see one of the star-shaped scars on the side of his cheek from when he’d had chicken pox.

  “Me,” he said. “I’m not finished yet.”

  * * *

  Emily went to tuck Zach into bed. Charles said he had some work to take care of, but Emily knew it was because he was afraid he might lose it in front of the boy.

  Zach was hugging Yoda. They were both dressed like Hoyas. Emily sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to stay
until you fall asleep? I can read to you if you want.”

  “You think I’m a baby.”

  “Sorry. I forget sometimes. It’s like I blinked and suddenly you were ten years old. I know I’ve made lots of mistakes, but from now on I’m going to be a better mom.”

  “Mom, please don’t get all mushy.”

  “I’m proud of you, that’s all.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  “You know.”

  “Yeah. I’m proud of me too.”

  She gave Zach a kiss and turned out the light. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  “Mom, you promised.”

  “Sorry. Goodnight, Zachary Andrews.”

  “Goodnight, Emily.”

  “Zachary!” she said, trying to sound stern.

  “I mean, goodnight, Mom.” She was about to close the door when she heard him say, “Goodnight, bears sitting on chairs.”

  She pressed her forehead against the door, tried to swallow. Goodnight Moon had been his favorite book. They used to recite it together every night.

  “Goodnight comb,” she answered.

  “Goodnight brush.”

  “Goodnight bowl full of mush,” she said, glad for the darkness.

  “And goodnight to the little old lady whispering ‘hush.’”

  “Love you, Zach,” she said.

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  Charles was standing in the front hall with his suitcase. His face was drawn, the circles under his eyes darker. “Poor kid,” he said. “We ruined his life five years ago and now I’m ruining it again.”

  “No, Charles. You’re wrong. Don’t you see? He just helped us all move on.”

  Emily waited until she heard the front door close before she allowed herself to really cry. Afterward, she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach and wrung out like a rag. The fat naked man was standing in the window across the courtyard. The very sight of him made her wince. She felt a stabbing pain in her side. She splashed cold water on her face. She’d never had such a strong physical reaction to emotional pain before. Then she felt a warm gush between her legs. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest as if she could make it stop.

  She heard footsteps. Zach couldn’t see her like this. She braced herself on the side of the tub and tried to stand, but the cramps were excruciating and all she could do was curl up on the tiled floor.

  No, please God, no.

  And then someone was kneeling beside her, wiping her forehead with a cool wet cloth.

  Charles?

  “You’re going to be fine. The ambulance is on its way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ADIEU, BERTHE

  CATHY’S SISTER CLAIRE MADE THE CALLS. Cathy was too bereft. There was a viewing at the funeral parlor Tuesday morning before the graveside service, then refreshments at the house. It had been totally unexpected, Claire said. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any suffering, but death was never easy. Emily hoped Max and Beatrice would show up. Even if none of them were speaking to each other, Cathy needed friends around her.

  Before driving out to New Jersey, Emily stopped at William Greenberg Desserts for two pounds of assorted butter cookies. This was a sad occasion and she hoped two pounds would suffice.

  The saleswoman in a starched chef’s apron assembled the cardboard box, lined it with a precut sheet of wax paper, then placed it on the scale. After asking if Emily had any preferences, she began filling the first layer from trays of cookies behind the glass display case. “No biscotti,” Emily instructed. “Heavy on the linzer and chocolate chip.” Even though she wasn’t keen on the almond cookies, they were always a hit with some distant elderly relation.

  Small children with grandparents and nannies with carriages entered the tiny Madison Avenue store, standing in the long line for a sticky bun or mini pink-and-white cookie. Emily thought about each of the Greenberg cakes she’d ordered for Zach’s birthdays and now, after losing the baby two weeks ago, about the ones she never would.

  The box was filled with layer upon layer of cookies. The woman pulled a length of red ribbon and began wrapping the box, winding it around her finger before tying it into a bow. Emily had never been to a Christian funeral before and was dreading the open casket.

  “I’m going to a funeral,” Emily said. “Are cookies appropriate?”

  “Cookies are always appropriate,” the woman said. “But I’ll give you a white ribbon instead.”

  * * *

  The men directing cars in the parking lot of the funeral home looked like mafioso types with deepset eyes and slicked-back hair, though more likely they were off-duty policemen looking to supplement their pensions. A guy wearing a white bow tie and windbreaker, eating a bagel, directed Emily to park at the far end of the lot. She signed in and hung up her coat.

  Cathy and her family were greeting mourners in the front of the chapel, next to an arrangement of flowers. Cathy was wearing a floral dress and navy cardigan. Her hair had been straightened into a neat bob. She smiled and kissed people, clasping their hands as they offered soothing words. She seemed to be holding it together. Emily avoided looking at the open casket at the front of the chapel. She did glance around a bit and determined that neither Max nor Beatrice were there.

  “Yes, it’s for the best,” Emily heard a short woman behind her say. “She’s at peace now.”

  Emily almost said something, but refrained. They were probably casual acquaintances and she didn’t want to embarrass them. The line moved forward. It was almost Emily’s turn to pay her condolences when Max arrived on crutches.

  “Thank you for coming,” Cathy said to Emily. “It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

  She felt comforted by Cathy’s warm embrace. She smelled like lilacs. “How are you holding up?”

  “It happened so fast,” Cathy said. “I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. But there was no suffering, which is a blessing.”

  Standing next to Cathy was a short man with a white carnation in his lapel. A woman in a pale blue suit entered the chapel and sat down at the white piano. As soon as she began to play, the man with the carnation started sobbing uncontrollably. Cathy put her arm around him, trying unsuccessfully to console him.

  At a loss for words, Emily glanced at the funeral program: Faithful Companion Funeral Home. Inside was a collage of family photographs: Cathy with a kitten in a basket; Cathy pushing a cat in a stroller; an older man, probably Cathy’s father, holding a cat wearing an Easter bonnet.

  “Emily, this is my father,” Cathy said. “Dad, this is Emily, one of the women I met on my bike trip.”

  “Your father?” asked Emily.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose into a white handkerchief. “Please call me Jack.”

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you.” Emily felt like throwing her arms around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Thank you, that’s much appreciated. At least it gives us comfort that Mrs. Beasley is with Dr. Doolittle, may he rest in peace.”

  Emily finally got up the courage to look at the casket. Inside the wooden box the size of a bassinet, curled up on a pink knit blanket, was Mrs. Beasley with a catnip mouse.

  Cathy smiled. “My sister left out one tiny little detail. My great-aunt almost fainted when she saw my dad. In case you were wondering, Dr. Doolittle was a Persian blue.”

  * * *

  After the service, Emily and the other mourners filed out to the parking lot. The funeral procession hadn’t gotten three blocks when it began to pour. The sky in the distance only looked darker and more ominous. The box of Greenberg cookies sat beside her. In the past, it would have been opened and all the linzer cookies would have been gone. But today it remained untouched. She no longer had the desire to eat in secret. They would be even more delicious shared, and there were enough to go around.

  The immediate family sat on folding chairs under an awning set up aroun
d the graveside in Pet Lawn Memorial Park. Surrounding Mrs. Beasley’s eternal resting place was her beloved Dr. Doolittle, along with Sparky and China Lei, Cathy’s hamsters, who had both died under mysterious circumstances, and Cloud, her blue parakeet.

  Emily stood on the periphery, barely able to hear the eulogy. The heels of her suede boots sank in the wet grass. Max was on the other side, shivering in a thin running jacket.

  In the distance, marching determinedly up the hill, came Beatrice, her auburn hair tucked under a jaunty purple newsboy cap. Instead of her usual open-toe sandals, she had on a pair of patent-leather rain boots. From her purse, she removed a tiny umbrella the size of a peony. It seemed fitting for a woman who put herself first. Miraculously, when unfurled, it was as large as a beach umbrella.

  Beatrice beckoned to the other women. Calling a silent truce, they all put aside their resentments, for now, and took shelter together under the umbrella.

  Cathy started to cry. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  Beatrice put her arm around Cathy. “I couldn’t very well leave you all to get washed away in the rain again, could I?”

  The minister recited the Prayer of Saint Francis:

  O Divine Master,

  Grant that I may not so much seek

  To be consoled, as to console;

  To be understood, as to understand;

  To be loved, as to love.

  After the Lord’s Prayer, the casket was lowered into the ground.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Beasley,” Cathy said through her tears. “I’ll miss you.”

  As they walked to the line of cars, the rain began to let up and the sun came out, but the four women still stood together under one umbrella.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  BE MINE

  NONE OF THE WOMEN SHOWED UP for the final Soul Mate Soirée the day before New Year’s Eve. Cathy had used her frequent flyer miles to head to the Dominican Republic to ring in the New Year with her father and Mary. Just as her father had predicted, it didn’t take long before she and Mary were bosom buddies. Beatrice was packing up her Lark Street row house and Max and Emily still hadn’t reconciled. While hurt that Garrett had concealed his marital status, what Max found unable to forgive was Emily’s deception.