“But the guy you talked to told you that.”
“He did. So what she said didn’t surprise me because I’d been warned.” Katie sipped her wine. “Doesn’t matter, though, because the fact is, she needs help. She has way too much on her plate. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Control freak?”
“A major one. That’s my guess. I’ll find out tomorrow when I go over this plan with her and see how she takes it.”
Liz swallowed some wine, then lowered her voice to conspiratorial levels. “She pretty?”
“Mom!”
“What? It’s an innocent question.”
“There is nothing innocent about that question.”
Liz chuckled. “Well, is she?”
“Yes, she’s pretty. In fact, she’s gorgeous. Ridiculously so, given that she was in the hospital two days ago. But it doesn’t matter. I’m there to do a job she doesn’t want me to do, and she already hates me for ruining her rug.”
Liz reached over and laid her palm against Katie’s cheek. “Nobody could hate you, sweetie.”
Katie snorted a laugh. “No? Give me something valuable of yours and let me spill some French roast all over it. See how you feel about me then.”
Liz’s laugh was interrupted by a yawn.
“Mom. Seriously.”
“I’m fine. Just a rough day.”
Katie’s father had been angry when she’d gotten home. Swearing—something he rarely did—over the stew his wife had made for dinner, claiming she was trying to poison him. Katie could tell her mother was reaching the end of her rope when she muttered for him not to tempt her.
She looked at her mother until Liz met her gaze. Katie softened her voice. “Mom. How long can you keep this up?”
Liz looked away, emotion swimming in her eyes. “I don’t know.”
They were quiet for a beat, Liz lost in her doubts and Katie not knowing what to say. Finally, she reached for the baby monitor. “Look. I have more work to do. Why don’t you get some sleep? I can listen for him.” She expected a protest, so when her mother’s eyes lit up hopefully, Katie had to hide her surprise.
“You don’t mind?”
“God, no. That’s why I moved back in. Go. You can’t live on three hours of sleep a night.” She held up the monitor. “I got this.”
Liz downed the rest of her wine and stood. “Thank you, sweetie.”
Katie nodded with a smile as she watched her mother shuffle slowly off toward the stairs, letting that smile fade once she was out of sight. Katie was worried. About her father, of course, but lately about her mother. There was no way she could keep up such a pace. She’d resisted having help come in at first. Then she’d relented to a visiting aide three times a week for two hours at a pop. Insurance had covered that, but Katie knew they needed to increase the visits. Her father was only going to get worse, and he wasn’t a small man. When he had an outburst, it was loud and scary and they didn’t always know how best to handle it. Having a professional around more often would help with that stress.
But everything cost money, and Liz had had to quit her job at a retail clothing store in order to have more time at home. So while the bills had gone up, the income had gone down. That’s why Katie had insisted on moving in and contributing. Her mother hated it. Katie knew that. Hated needing her daughter’s help. Hated needing her daughter’s money even more, going so far as to flat out refuse it more than once. In response, Katie had taken to doing quiet things. Sneaking a bill out of the pile of mail here and there and paying it. Buying groceries before her mother had a chance to realize what they were low on. The baby monitor had been her idea—and her purchase—and after all the initial protestations, Katie’s mother had embraced it, and now couldn’t get along without it.
It was both a blessing and a curse to have money and pride take up so much attention. A blessing because it took their mind and attention off the deterioration of David Cooper. A curse because it took their mind and attention off the deterioration of David Cooper. The fact of the matter was, Katie was losing her father. Slowly and steadily. And the stress of caring for him was overshadowing that. The whole situation was horrifically cruel.
Katie felt the emotion threaten to well up, to form a lump in her throat, and she fought it. She’d gotten good at that: fighting emotion. She couldn’t let it overwhelm her. There was too much to do. With a clearing of her throat, she refocused her attention on the laptop and notepaper in front of her and got back to work. Her plan was to knock Addison Fairchild’s designer socks off tomorrow.
She hadn’t realized she’d lost track of time until she heard a gentle rustling through the baby monitor. She blinked hard, her eyelids feeling lined with low-grit sandpaper, and a yawn cranked her jaw open wide. She stopped what she was doing and listened but didn’t hear much else. Deciding she’d better get to bed, as she had two four-year-olds to deal with in the morning, she packed up her things and headed upstairs.
As she reached the top of the stairs, aided by the night-light in the hallway, she thought she heard the trickle of water running and wondered if somebody had forgotten to crank the handle on the bathroom sink tightly off. She stopped in the doorway of the bathroom when she saw her father.
He was standing at the toilet and glanced at her. She could make out the white of his teeth in the dim light and realized he was smiling at her. “Hi, honey,” he said quietly as he held his penis with both hands and relieved himself into the toilet.
Katie’s gaze snapped up to the ceiling on its own, as if she had no control. “Hey, Dad,” she whispered, doing her best not to make a big deal out of the scene, lest he get angry. “You okay?”
“Yup. Just had to go.” His voice was closer now, and the turning on of the water told Katie it was safe to look.
“I’ll walk you back to your room,” she offered as he washed his hands, then dried them on a nearby towel.
“Okay,” he said cheerfully, joining her in the hall.
They walked the short distance to his room together, his arm thrown affectionately over her shoulder, and for a moment, she could almost forget how sick he was. These moments of near lucidity were becoming fewer and farther between, and Katie had learned she needed to grab them when she could.
“In you go,” she said, holding the covers on his bed up. He slid in and got cozy and Katie tried to ignore the odd role reversal of parent and child. When she had him all tucked in, she asked, “You good?”
“I am.”
“Okay. Good night, Dad. See you in the morning. I love you.” She bent and kissed his forehead.
“I love you, too, Katie-cat.”
She turned away quickly and left the room, not wanting him to see the tears that had welled up in her eyes at the nickname he’d given her when she was two. He hadn’t called her that in nearly a year.
Another thing she’d been learning since her father’s diagnosis was to embrace her emotions rather than fight them, and she tried to do that now. Safely in her own bedroom, she stood with her back against the closed door and allowed the tears to come, then slowly slid down the door to the floor.
She cried quietly—God forbid her mother hear her; she didn’t need more to worry about. It wasn’t often that she allowed herself this kind of release because, to be honest, there was always a small part of her that was afraid that once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop. That fear aside, though, she also knew she needed to let this stuff out. She needed to feel her emotions. Samantha was always telling her, “You have feelings for a reason. Embrace them. Feel them. Then let them go.”
Katie felt like that was exactly what she was in the process of doing with her father. Very slowly. Torturously.
Embrace him.
Feel his presence.
Let him go.
Chapter Four
Thank God it’s Friday.
That was the only thought running through Katie’s mind as she got into her car in the Andersons’ driveway after finally getting S
imon and Noah onto the bus. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and simply focused on her breath—a little trick she’d learned from an old yoga instructor to help her relax when she was stressed. It worked, but Katie realized with gentle surprise that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for her to fall asleep right then and there, sitting in the driver’s seat of her car in a driveway that wasn’t hers.
Exhausted beyond belief. That’s what she was. She felt like a used tissue that had been tossed into the street, left out in the rain, and then run over by a car. Flattened, soggy, useless. She’d slept like crap, waking up at least once each hour. It hadn’t helped that she’d stayed up as late as she had. Then the unexpected meeting of her dad in the bathroom had replayed in her mind on a loop as she tried to fall asleep. All told, she’d gotten maybe a full two hours. Maybe.
But.
She had a plan for Addison Fairchild. So there was that.
Lifting her head, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, ran a fingertip under each eye where her mascara was apparently also tired and had decided to take up residence on her face instead of her eyelashes, and blew out a breath. With a turn of the key in the ignition, she got herself on the road to get coffee, then headed to Addison’s loft apartment. This was supposed to be the last time they met there. Addison intended to be back in the office on Monday, so Katie’s route would be different and slightly longer. She’d have to make sure she didn’t drag her feet once she got the boys off to school.
Twenty minutes later, she was knocking on the door of 5E and stifling a yawn as it was pulled open.
“Hi,” Katie said.
Addison nodded and turned to walk into the living room, leaving the door open and Katie standing there.
“Okay, then,” Katie mumbled and headed inside, closing the door with a foot. More loudly, she said, “I brought coffee. I promise not to spill it.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Addison sat down on her leather couch. Papers and her laptop were spread out on the wooden trunk that served as a coffee table. She looked almost as tired as Katie felt; that was the first thing she noticed. But her outfit was clean and crisp, her navy blue slacks looked freshly pressed—who did that anymore?—and her light-blue sweater made the color of her eyes pop. Some of her hair was pulled back; the rest hung down in soft waves of red-tinted brown. She picked up a pair of black-rimmed glasses and slid them onto her face. Katie swallowed hard.
“Here you go.” Katie set the French roast down near Addison, who picked it up and sipped without looking. She set her bag down and unzipped her jacket. “So, I went over some things last night and worked out a plan—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Addison held up a hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t take your jacket off. I have a couple errands for you to run.”
“Oh. Okay.” Katie slid her arm back in and rezipped.
Addison hit the Return key on her laptop. “There. I emailed it to you.”
Katie bit her tongue as she pulled out her phone and scrolled to her email. She opened the one from “afairchild” and read it. It was simply a list with addresses where appropriate.
Pick up dry cleaning.
Go to post office.
Get car washed / fill tank.
Go to grocery store. (This one had its own separate list of items.)
Do this last: get dinner. (This one came with not only a restaurant and its address, but an order. Just one. A grilled chicken salad and a cup of clam chowder.)
“Oh,” Katie said, because she could think of nothing else.
For the first time since Katie walked in, Addison looked up at her. Her blue eyes were accented by shadows underneath and her skin had a bit of a gray tint. “What?”
“Nothing.” Katie squinted at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Is there a problem with the list?”
Katie cleared her throat. “No. Not at all. It’s just that…” She let her voice trail off, not sure how to put her thoughts into words.
Addison sighed in obvious annoyance. “It’s just what, Ms. Cooper? I have a ton of work to do. What’s the issue here?”
Katie mentally counted to five while she kept a ridiculously fake smile plastered to her face. “It’s just that I spent a lot of time on a plan for my helping to take some of the load off you, which is the reason I was hired, I’m told. I’d hoped you’d at least look at it.” She did her best to keep her voice light and hopeful rather than irritated and frustrated, which was how she was feeling in the moment.
“Look. According to my boss, you are my personal assistant. I have given you a list of personal things I could use a bit of assistance with.” She held up a hand again. “Not that I can’t handle them myself. I absolutely could. I’m appeasing my boss. So I’d appreciate it if you’d do what you’re getting paid for.” Katie stood rooted to her spot and blinked, having trouble processing the dismissal. Addison must have noticed because her expression softened slightly and she added, “Email me the plan, and I’ll take a look.”
“Okay.” Katie swallowed down her aggravation. Fine. All right. If that’s the way she wants it.
“My keys are on the table next to the door. It’s a black Mercedes and it’s in the underground garage.”
With a nod, Katie picked her bag back up, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for the door, scooping the keys up as she went. Once safely ensconced in the elevator and two floors below Addison’s, Katie allowed herself a scream of frustration. Then she glanced at the camera mounted in the upper corner of the elevator car, waved sheepishly, and mouthed an apology to the security guy probably watching. Then she pulled out her phone and emailed her plan to Addison, her faith that it would be even glanced at, let alone read, hovering somewhere around “never gonna happen.”
When the doors slid open, she stepped out and stood there for a beat. “Why are parking garages always super creepy?” she asked aloud, her voice echoing as she looked around carefully, squinting at pillars and trucks, the part of her that had seen too many horror films totally expecting an ax murderer to jump out at any moment to hack away at her.
With a push of the button on the key fob, the car that beeped its location was only two vehicles away. Katie headed toward it, taking surprising note of the fact that this wasn’t a sedan. It wasn’t the Mercedes of a stuffy old white guy. Oh, no. Her steps slowed as she approached it, the little sport coupe. It was black, sleek, sexy and—as far as Katie was concerned—didn’t need to be washed. It shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights of the garage.
She pulled the door open, took a seat, and shut herself in, sinking into the unbelievably soft tan leather seat as she ran her hands over the steering wheel, which was also covered in cushioned, buttery leather. She inhaled deeply, the interior’s scent a pleasing blend of New Car Smell and that sunshine thing that Katie associated with Addison. The Engine Start button lit up, waiting to be pressed.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Katie said, and started the car. She reached into her bag and retrieved a pair of sunglasses, which she slid on.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad gig after all.
* * *
“You don’t look a ton better, Addie. Are you taking it easy like you’re supposed to?” Sophie set her mug down on the coffee table and then leaned back against the couch to study her. The concern on her face was genuine. “How do you feel?”
“I feel fine,” Addison said, trying hard not to sound churlish but pretty sure she missed the mark. “I just have so much to do, and I feel myself slipping further and further behind.” She waved at the mess on the coffee table, which should’ve looked better at seven p.m. than it had at nine a.m. but didn’t.
“Is the assistant not helping?”
“She is.” Addison pointed toward the entryway, hoping to distract Sophie from asking any more about it. “She spilled coffee in the first five minutes she was here.”
“She was probably nervous. Did you welcome her nicely? Or were you al
l Ice Queen with her?”
Addison widened her eyes. “Ice Queen?”
Sophie scoffed, waved a dismissive hand. “Please. Don’t act like this is news to you.” They kept eye contact for a beat before Addison looked away. “Seriously, though, how is she?”
“She’s fine.” Addison could feel Sophie’s eyes still on her as if they were actually poking at her somehow but didn’t look her way. It took every ounce of energy she had not to squirm in her seat.
“Are you letting her help?”
“Of course.”
“Really.” Sophie’s voice was laced with skepticism. “What did you have her do today?”
“I gave her a list.”
“And what was on that list?”
Addison sighed a sigh that clearly said she was becoming aggravated with the questions. Sophie, of course, was unaffected and simply waited her out. “Things to do. Errands.”
“Errands.”
“Yes, errands.” Needing to busy her hands, Addison shuffled some papers around uselessly.
“Let me guess. Get you coffee? Pick up your dry cleaning?” Sophie pointed at the plastic-covered garments hanging from the coat tree near the front door. “Those types of errands?”
“She’s supposed to be here to help me, so I gave her things to help me with.”
“Jesus Christ, Addison. Why do you insist on thinking you’re Wonder Woman? Is it your never-ending quest to please your mother?” Sophie’s voice held a tint of anger now. “Your assistant is supposed to help you with work. With your job, which has gotten to be too much, obviously, as it gave you a bleeding ulcer and sent you to the hospital. What the hell is the matter with you?”
Addison shook her head, said nothing, felt scolded, frustrated.
“Addie.” Sophie’s voice had gone gentle as she slid closer. A hand on Addison’s arm, she said, “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Addison did.
“People are worried about you.” She held up a hand as Addison opened her mouth to interrupt and waited until it closed again. “I am worried about you. And you know me: I worry about very little.”
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