“I know, sweetie.” Athen smiled, knowing full well that at the time Callie had meant every word. And with good reason, Athen reminded herself.
She sat and sipped at her tea. Hannah plunked her huge canine head on the side of the mattress and whined pathetically, begging to be invited up.
“Oh, all right, Hannah.” Athen caved in and patted the other side of the bed. “You can come up for a while.”
Gleefully, Hannah sprang onto the bed and over Athen, who barely managed to avoid spilling hot tea on both of them.
“What a lump you are,” she told the large wiggling mass of golden fur that had cuddled next to her and happily plunked a big head on her mistress’s abdomen. “You don’t care that I’ve gotten myself into the biggest mess of my life and haven’t the faintest idea of what to do next, do you, girl?” Hannah’s tail thumped on the mattress. “Or that I got caught in a terrible storm and am now as sick as a dog—if you’ll pardon the expression.” The tail thumped again.
Athen placed the cup on the table next to the bed, slid down the pillow a bit, and closed her eyes, her left hand stroking the dog’s head slowly.
“It’s all so confusing. I just don’t know what to think anymore,” she mumbled, mostly to the dog. “I thought Dan was my friend, but he isn’t. He was using me, and I trusted him so much I couldn’t even see it when people told me to my face. And now he’s washed his hands of me because I won’t let him use me anymore. Ahhhh-choo!” She reached for another tissue. “And Quentin … I can’t figure him out at all. First he’s my friend, then he’s not my friend. Then for just a few minutes today he almost made me believe that he understood, that he believed me. But then that look was in his eyes again. I hate it when he looks at me like that but I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”
She sneezed again.
The dog moved her head to encourage her mistress to continue the massage but the hand had fallen still as Athen drifted into a blur of fevered sleep.
OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS, Athen drifted in and out of a heavy, dreamless sleep. She would awaken, drenched in sweat, with no sense of time or place and long-forgotten voices ringing in her ears before once again falling back into the dark void of unconsciousness.
At some point, Dr. Hill had appeared, called in by an anxious Callie. Athen had little recollection of his visit, other than that she was to stay in bed—as if she could have moved if she’d wanted to—until the fever broke and the coughing subsided. He’d left an arsenal of medication that she took when Callie woke her to administer it. Several days passed before she could keep awake for more than an hour at a time, and several more before she was aware enough to realize how sick she’d been.
“Mom.” Callie stuck her head into Athen’s room. “Mrs. Kelly sent over some homemade soup. Do you want to try to eat some?”
“Sure.” Athen tried to sit up slightly. “That was nice of her.”
Callie came into the room and pulled the pillows up behind her mother’s back and shoulders, just the way Athen had done for her when she had been sick last summer.
“What time is it?” a disoriented Athen asked.
“Around eleven.”
“In the a.m or p.m.?” Athen frowned.
Grinning, Callie pulled the shades up to let the sunlight pour into the room.
“Is it Saturday?”
“No, Mom.” Callie laughed. “It’s Monday.”
“Monday!” Athen sank back against the pillows. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Mom, you were really sick. I didn’t want to leave you.” Callie sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Callie, you can’t stay out of school because I have a cold.” Athen’s protest was punctuated by a deep hacking cough.
“There wasn’t anybody else to stay with you in case you got sicker,” Callie told her matter-of-factly. “Honest, Mom, it was no big sacrifice.”
“Tomorrow you’ll go to school.” Athen coughed. “But right now, I think some of Mrs. Kelly’s soup might be just what I need.”
“Coming right up.” Callie bounced off the bed and down the steps.
Mrs. Kelly’s chicken soup seemed to have restorative powers. Athen had another bowl at dinnertime, and had enough strength to sit up for an hour or two and read a book Meg had given her for Christmas.
She awoke at dawn to find that during the night, Callie had removed the book from her hands and turned off the light. Athen rose on wobbly legs and shuffled into the bathroom, where she faced herself in the mirror for the first time in several days.
“Ugh!” She wrinkled her nose and made a face at her reflection. “You are a mess. And you smell like a goat.”
Vowing to take a shower later that day, she stumbled back to bed as her daughter appeared in the doorway.
“How are you today?” Callie asked. “You look better.”
“I feel a lot better.” Athen smiled. “So much better, I’m happy to say, that you may rejoin your classmates this morning.”
“But, Mom,” Callie protested, “what will you do for lunch? And you don’t even know when you’re supposed to take which pills.”
“I think I can figure it out. Now go get a piece of paper so I can write a note for you to take to school.”
“Aw, Mom.” Feigning dejection, Callie went slinking off from the room with her head hanging dramatically low, and they both laughed at her performance.
“You have done remarkably well,” Athen told her when Callie came back to force a reluctant Hannah down the steps and out for her morning spin around the backyard.
“Don’t say ‘for a child your age.’” Callie attempted to coax the huge beast through the doorway.
“I would not insult you by saying that. No one could have taken better care of me. I thank you for all you have done, and I love you for being such a wonderful, resourceful kid. Come here so I can give you a hug.” Athen held out her arms.
“Thanks, Mom.” Callie hugged her back, then turned her nose up slightly. “No offense, Mom, but you don’t smell so good.”
“No offense taken.” Athen laughed. “I’d already come to that same conclusion. I will take a shower this morning.”
“Maybe you should wait until I get home from school, in case you get weak and fall or something.”
“I’ll be fine,” Athen assured her daughter, “but I think you’d better get Hannah outside and then get ready for school so you don’t miss the bus.”
Callie dressed, made breakfast for herself, called Hannah in from the yard, and brought Athen a plate of toast and butter with marmalade, a cup of tea, and an orange before blasting out the front door for a mad dash to the bus stop.
Hungrier than she’d realized, Athen attacked the breakfast Callie had prepared, downing both pieces of toast and the orange in record time. She placed the tray beside her on the bed and leaned back, sighing deeply, tired simply from eating.
Her thoughts returned to the previous week, and the terrible scene with Dan. It had been like being disowned by a beloved parent.
“Uh-uh,” she said aloud. People who love you do not treat you with such disregard. A loving parent does not tell a child to close her mind.
Dan had simply washed his hands of her because she was no longer useful to him. It was a loss, but one she could deal with. Being disgraced before the entire community when it became apparent that she was powerless to deliver the buildings to the UCC—now that would be tough.
How would her father react, she wondered, when he found out that she had defied Dan, and in doing so had incurred his wrath? If he could speak, how would he counsel her? Would he chastise her for her actions, or would he be proud of the stand she’d taken? Would he be angered by Dan’s treatment of her? She liked to believe that her father would take her part, but there was the nagging thought that she might have created a rift in his long-standing friendship with Dan.
Athen sighed and picked up the book she’d been reading the night before and tried to force herself to focus on the words, ho
ping to bury her angst in the pages of a good romance. After realizing she’d read the same paragraph at least four times, she stuck a piece of paper between the pages to mark her spot and slapped the covers closed. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, knowing she had to face certain unfortunate but unavoidable issues.
Could Rossi force her to resign? Or would he, as he had threatened, simply render her impotent by instructing Council to ignore her?
She had no means by which to fight, and no stomach for further humiliation at Dan Rossi’s hands. But what of Callie, her conscience nagged, and Ms. Evelyn, and the flock of people who’d waited for her in the rain on Fourth Street? She’d made them a promise that she would not be able to keep.
The phone was ringing in the hall, and she managed to get to it by the fourth ring. She leaned back against the wall to steady herself and lifted the receiver.
“Mrs. Moran?” the vaguely familiar voice of a woman inquired tentatively.
“Yes.”
“This is Veronica Spicata. From Personnel?”
“Oh, Veronica, of course.” Veronica of the Amy Winehouse hair and the Jersey City accent. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Veronica snapped her gum. “Listen, Mrs. Moran, it’s none of my business, but are you really sick?”
“Of course I’m really sick,” Athen replied, slightly offended. “I caught a really nasty cold last week.”
“Oh, good.” Veronica sighed, her relief apparent. “I’m so glad.”
“You’re glad that I’m sick?” Totally confused, Athen wondered where this call was leading.
“That you really are sick, and that’s why you’re not here,” Veronica explained.
“Why else would I be home?” Athen slid down the wall to seat herself upon the floor.
“Well, I heard that you were sick, then I heard that maybe you weren’t sick, and then they started setting up for the press conference in the big council room just now.”
“Who is setting up a press conference?” Athen was suddenly all ears.
“That creep Wolmar. It’s going to be televised live at noon, someone said, so I just wondered”—Veronica came right to the point—“if you’d been dumped. If you don’t mind me saying it, I think you set off a lot of people last week.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.” Athen avoided a direct response. “I didn’t know about the press conference, but I’ll certainly tune in. I’m as curious as you are to see what Mr. Wolmar has on his mind today.”
“I sort of figured you didn’t know.” Veronica snapped her gum again. “But I thought maybe you should.”
“I appreciate that,” Athen told her sincerely, then added, “I should be back in another day or so.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Moran, because, you know …” Veronica paused, then abruptly said, “I, um, have to hang up now.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Athen said to the dial tone.
She remained on the floor for a very long moment, then hung up the receiver and returned to the bedroom to look at the clock. 11:52. The press conference would start in eight minutes. She grabbed a pillow and walked unsteadily down the stairs, Hannah, as ever, at her heels. She went straight to the living room and turned on the TV. Having several minutes to spare, she went into the kitchen. She grabbed another orange, a handful of napkins, and a glass of water. She plunked herself on the sofa and wrapped herself in a soft white afghan just as the noontime news began.
“… bringing you live coverage of the press conference that is scheduled to begin momentarily here at City Hall. It appears that Councilman James Wolmar has called the conference, Mayor Moran being on an indefinite sick leave,” the pert little blond reporter noted.
Indefinite sick leave? Athen’s jaw dropped
“I’d like to thank you all for attending on such short notice.” Wolmar walked to the podium and greeted the throng of reporters who sat before him and smiled benevolently into the cameras. “I just thought the city’s business should continue as usual in spite of Mrs. Moran’s absence.”
“What is the nature of Mayor Moran’s absence, Mr. Wolmar?” an unidentifiable voice asked.
“I believe she has a cold, Miss Sharpless.” He smiled at the TV reporter, his offhand manner implying that a mere cold was a pretty shaky excuse for a week’s absence. “But, of course, the business of the city goes on, and I just thought you’d appreciate an update on Council’s efforts to increase the size of the police department.”
Athen sat mesmerized by his performance. He was perfectly at ease in her role, she realized, and he clearly relished every minute. The bastard. She scanned the small sea of reporters who were taking their turns asking their questions. How many new officers? Rookies, or will they be taking applications from veterans of other forces? How many of the new officers would be assigned to the downtown area, where the streets were most dangerous?
“Has Mayor Moran recommended the increase in the force?”
She leaned forward to be closer to the screen. She knew that voice.
“Mrs. Moran was not present when the motion came before Council, Mr. Forbes,” Jim replied, adding, “and not knowing when we’d see her again, we thought it best to proceed without her.”
“Mr. Wolmar, has Council addressed Mayor Moran’s recommendations relative to the UCC’s request for the buildings on Fourth Street?” Quentin stood in the first row, a small notebook in his hand.
“Mrs. Moran has made no formal recommendation to Council on that issue.” Wolmar’s sly smile made her stomach turn. “Nor, for that matter, on any other issue since she took office.”
“Bastard,” Athen muttered.
“Councilman, Mayor Moran gave every indication that the city was willing to work in concert with the UCC …” Quentin persisted.
“Mrs. Moran has, regrettably, acted well beyond the scope of her authority. May I remind you, Mr. Forbes, only Council is authorized to dispose of or transfer title of any city-owned property. It would take a majority vote on Council to approve any such motion, a majority, I feel confident in saying, Mrs. Moran will not have, even if she should succeed in having the issue formally presented to Council. And, as I’m sure you know, only a member of Council may introduce an issue for discussion and vote. Since Mrs. Moran has no support on Council, it is highly unlikely this matter will go any further than it already has.”
“Why unlikely? It would appear the plans for the shelter have been well received throughout the community,” Quentin pressed.
“The issue has no support on Council, Mr. Forbes,” Wolmar stated emphatically. He appeared to be done with the matter, but could not resist one final jab. “Mrs. Moran has, unfortunately, needlessly raised the hopes and expectations of the kindhearted and well-intentioned, and she has done so publicly. It could be said that she has, as the expression goes, stepped in it. Yes, Mr. Rand, you had a question?”
Athen’s face flushed scarlet with rage, her eyes stinging from the effort to blink back the tears of anger and humiliation. She was not oblivious to the fact that Wolmar had persistently referred to her as Mrs. rather than Mayor Moran, an intentional slight, she was certain, as if publicly stripping her of her office. Only the reporters had used her title in referring to her.
“What is Council’s main objection to the UCC proposal?”
“I think that’s a fair question, deserving of a straightforward answer, sir.” Jim flashed his best campaign smile.
“Council is, I should tell you, in the process of studying a highly intriguing option for that piece of property. Now, keep in mind that taken as a whole, the city owns several blocks in that area. The proposal we’re looking at would increase revenues to the city by adding to its tax base, not drain the city’s already limited resources, as Mrs. Moran would like to do.”
“Can you give us some further information?”
“I feel—that is, Council feels—it would be premature to make any announcement at this time. But rest assured, ladies and gentlemen, as so
on as there is something more concrete to disclose, you will be fully advised.”
“Who is behind the other option?”
“Excuse me, Mr. Forbes?” Wolmar visibly bristled, his brows forming one straight line across his forehead as he leaned forward on the podium and peered down imperiously at the source of the irritation.
“I said, who has proposed the option that you mentioned?” Quentin’s eyes narrowed as he studied Wolmar’s expression and awaited a response.
“Why, City Council, Mr. Forbes.”
“Who specifically made the proposal?” Quentin repeated, only to have Wolmar turn his back on the pretext of giving his attention to the next question.
By this time Athen was on the floor directly in front of the television, fists clenched as tightly as her jaws, cursing alternately in Greek and English as she watched Wolmar slide oh so smoothly into her domain.
The conference was coming to a close, and for just a few seconds the camera lingered on the front row. Quentin Forbes was slowly returning his pen to his pocket, his eyes following Wolmar, his expression deadly. It was the first time she had seen him turn that icy glaze on anyone but herself. That Wolmar was the recipient gave her no small amount of pleasure.
15
Athen had intended to go right back upstairs to take a shower after the press conference, but she remained on the sofa to lick the wounds Wolmar had inflicted upon her. How could she show her face at City Hall now that he’d announced her supposed folly to the entire city?
She wondered which sound bite the evening news would dwell on. Would they run and rerun the part where Wolmar had reminded everyone that she, as mayor, had no authority to commit city-owned property, or the part about how she had been irresponsible to the fine folks who’d been duped by her into believing that the long-awaited shelter might in fact become a reality?
And what of tomorrow’s papers? She could barely wait to see Quentin’s article. He’d have a field day with her, she was certain. Her cheeks flamed as though the fever had returned, and she began to feel extremely sorry for herself. She sat and cried her eyes out until she heard Callie come in through the back door.
A Different Light Page 17
