by Karen Booth
Luckily, everyone else seemed ready to move on to other topics and I kept my mouth shut. After about an hour of excruciating chitchat, when everyone was pretty well hammered, Shelly announced that the happy couple would be opening gifts. Eamon came and sat on the arm of my chair while we all watched. There were Panini presses and Vitamix blenders, 800 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and silver place settings. Aunt Jan gave them eight crystal goblets, but she wrapped each one separately, so that one came from her and the remaining seven from the dogs. Nick Carter tucked a five hundred-dollar gift card to Nordstrom in his.
When it came time for Amy to open our gift, I was more than a little nervous. Ours had not come from a fancy department store, or even from their registry. Eamon and I found it at a flea market in the city, albeit from a reputable antiques dealer. I had to hope that the uniqueness of the gift, plus the fact that it was something they wanted and needed, would make it appreciated.
“Wow. It's heavy.” Luke had no problem lifting the box, but the thing easily weighed far more than a crystal goblet.
Amy tore open the paper and opened the cardboard carton. Luke pulled the ornately scrolled fireplace screen from its container. Everyone let out a collective “ooh” and “ahh” like we were watching fireworks on the 4th of July. That made me feel one hundred percent better.
“You remembered. From the night you came over for dinner,” Luke said. Indeed, he’d made a comment that night about wanting to light the fireplace, but needing a new screen.
Amy smiled and cocked her head. “Thanks, guys. I love it. This will be perfect for those times I need to burn things. Like newspapers.”
Eamon looked down at me, seeming confused. I'd have to tell him later that my sister wasn't going to drop her vendetta against me anytime soon. “You're welcome. Katherine picked it out after we had dinner at your house. She polished it herself and everything.”
Luke smiled wide, seeming genuinely appreciative. “We love it. We'll think of you every time we look at it.”
I was now officially sick to my stomach.
I gripped Eamon's knee and looked up at him. “I think you should check in on Fiona.”
“Really? Now?”
I squeezed a little harder, fighting back tears. “Yes. Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It took me a few days to recover from the bridal shower, especially since nothing else seemed to be going right. Eamon had his meeting today with his manager and record label so they could talk about the new record.
“Logic says I wear a suit to this meeting, but I don't want to. It all seems so pointless.” Eamon was sitting on the end of the bed, staring into the void of the closet.
“Rock stars wear suits to meetings? Isn't getting to wear jeans or leather pants half of the point?”
“A suit says I'm serious. And for the record, I own exactly zero pairs of leather pants.”
“You're Eamon MacWard. Aren't you going into this meeting with a presumption of seriousness?”
He let out an unsubtle grumble. I sat next to him on the bed and put on a pair of boots. Fiona was coming with me to work today, which I'd okayed with Summer as soon as Eamon booked the meeting and we realized she'd still be staying with us. Fiona was incredibly well behaved, but Eamon didn't want to take her to what might end up being a very tense meeting. I figured it was good for her to spend a day seeing what it was like being a woman in the modern workplace.
“Have you thought at all about what you're going to say about the new songs not being ready?”
His entire body stiffened, and not in a good way. “Of course I've thought about it. And I don't want to talk about it.”
I would've been upset if that hadn't been the response I'd gotten for the last several weeks. “Okay, then. Fiona and I are headed to the office.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You'll do great.”
“Thanks. I'll text you when I'm done. I can swing by and pick up Fiona.”
Mittened hand-in-mittened hand, Fiona and I headed out into the cold and hiked to the subway to ride uptown.
“Hello, sir,” she said to the pudgy young businessman in a skinny suit sitting across from us. He'd had only one earbud in, but was now putting in the second. “Lovely day today,” she chirped to the teenaged girl standing in the aisle, who promptly stepped ahead to the next metal pole. It wasn't that Fiona was clueless as to the expected behavior on a subway. She'd done this before. It made Eamon a little crazy. “I like seeing what people will do to avoid talking to me,” she explained for anyone to hear.
“You, Fiona, are officially one of my favorite people.”
When we arrived at NACI, I got her set up at a small table in the corner of my office. She unpacked her drawing paper, colored pencils, and an iPad loaded with movies. “What should I draw first?”
I settled in behind my desk. “How about our subway ride?”
“Perfect. Then I can tell Daddy how awkward I made things.”
“He'll love it.”
I got to work, reviewing the January production schedule and reading up on a potential new client Summer was bringing in tomorrow. It was like any other day at the office until I heard Miles's voice booming out in the hall.
“Ms. Fuller!”
Fiona turned to me and made a face. “What was that?”
“That would be my boss.”
“He sounds terrible.”
“He is,” I whispered.
Miles appeared in my doorway. “Katherine, we have a massive problem. The Anthem Apparel catalog is quite honestly the most atrocious thing I have ever seen and you approved the final proof.” He slammed the catalog down on my desk. “It has already gone out. To thousands and thousands of customers. Anthem is furious and this is your fault. We might lose one of our biggest clients because of you.”
My stomach sank, but not so much because of Anthem. I hated the way he was acting in front of Fiona. She could handle plenty, but she was still only nine. “Do you mind lowering your voice? My boyfriend's daughter has come into work with me today. Fiona, this is Mr. Ashby.”
Fiona got up from her chair and shook his hand. “Hello, Mr. Assby.”
I have never in all my life had to try so hard not to laugh. “Uh, Fiona. It's Ashby. With an h.”
She nodded in a condescending way, making it plain to me that she'd done it on purpose. She was very much her father's child, after all. “I’m so sorry.”
“This is not a daycare center, Ms. Fuller.”
I stepped out from behind my desk. “I’m aware of that. But Eamon and I had extenuating circumstances today. He had a business meeting and we couldn’t leave Fiona at home. Summer okayed it weeks ago.”
As if her ears had been burning, Summer poked her head into my office. “Is there a problem?”
Miles whipped around. “Your pet employee has made a massive mistake with the Anthem Apparel account and now they're threatening to drop us.”
“First off, she's not my pet employee. She just happens to be very good at her job.” Summer held out her hand. “Here. Let me see the catalog.”
Miles handed it over. “It's all wrong.”
Summer walked it over to me and we flipped through it together. “You're right. It is all wrong. This isn't what Katherine approved or suggested. I was there.”
“She's right,” I said. “Summer and I talked about this weeks ago. The printer must have disregarded the changes after the second round of proofs and gone back to the original version. This is definitely the one we rejected. It's the wrong stock. It's all yellow-y.”
“It is not yellow-y, whatever that's supposed to mean. It's the saturation that's off. Any fool can see that.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, but it's not that. It's the paper.”
Miles snapped the catalog out of Summer's hand. “Don't get insubordinate with me, Ms. Fuller.”
“And don't talk to me like that in front of my kid.” The words popped out of my mouth before I'd had a chance to think about it, b
ut it was exactly how I felt. I saw Fiona as my daughter, even when she wasn’t really mine.
“I will speak however I like. I run this office if you haven't forgotten that.”
“How could any of us possibly forget?”
Flames practically shot out of Miles's nose, and steam out of his ears. “I’m tired of you, Fuller. I simply can't tolerate this anymore. You're a phony and a fraud and no one will admit it. Your so-called special eyesight is a sham. The emperor has no clothes.”
“Even if it was a lie, and it’s not, the truth is that everything that crosses Katherine’s desk looks better. Clients are happier. This was one goof-up out of hundreds of projects she’s worked on, and we don’t know for certain that it was her fault in the first place.” Summer crossed her arms. I was so lucky to have her on my side.
“All I hear is Katherine this and Katherine that. She's the secret weapon. She's the one who can do no wrong. But if we lose this account, it's her fault.” Miles was never going to listen to reason. He'd been gunning for me since day one.
I turned to Summer. “I’m sorry, but I can't listen to him talk about me like that anymore, especially not in front of Fiona. Can you call the printer and work this out? I'm certain they made a mistake.” I glanced over at Fiona and she had a look of shock on her face that never should've been there. For the kid who didn't have a problem with awkward, this was too much. “Fiona, honey, pack up your things. We're going to get some lunch and head home, okay?”
“Need I remind you it's the middle of the work day, Ms. Fuller?”
If Fiona hadn't been there, I would've taken Miles to the mat. But standing in that office, even knowing how much I loved my job and couldn't imagine doing anything else, the only thing I cared about was protecting Fiona from Miles and his ugliness. I would've fallen on a grenade for her. And the reality was that I didn't need Miles to believe me or trust me. I simply didn't care.
I took Fiona's hand and led her to the door. “Summer, I'll talk to you later, okay?”
“I’m so sorry about this.” She shot Miles a look.
“If you leave Ms. Fuller, you're out of a damn job.”
That was it. That was all I could take. “Now you're swearing in front of a child? What is wrong with you?” Never mind that Eamon had a terribly foul mouth. It was the principle of the thing.
“A child who shouldn't even be here.”
“That's it. I quit. I'm sorry, Summer, but I quit.”
“You quit?” Miles’s tone read as irate, but his face showed nothing but smug self-satisfaction. I wanted to knock that look off his face so bad.
Instead, I just patted him on the lapel. “Yep. Have fun figuring this stuff out without me.”
With that, I took Fiona's hand, and we went in search of pizza. My heart was pounding as we walked down the street. As if my own sister hadn't made me feel useless enough, now Miles had done the same. How was I supposed to explain my eyesight to anyone? How was I to describe things that Miles could never see? It would be like trying to paint a picture of thin air or trying to explain what rain smelled like. Words would never be enough.
I sent Eamon a text from the pizza place. Left work. Huge fight with Miles. Pizza with Fiona, then home. Fiona was slowly munching away, but I didn't have an appetite, so I had them pack up my slice to go.
“Are you mad I called him Mr. Assby? It just sort of came out.”
“No, honey. I'm not mad.”
She put down her pizza and sat back in her seat. “I don't feel well.”
“What's wrong? Is it your tummy?”
“I have a headache.”
“Maybe it's because of the excitement at the office. I vote we skip the subway and take a cab.”
I got us home as fast as I could. Fiona only wanted to snuggle on the couch, and I was fine with that. I didn't think I could handle anything more taxing. When Eamon came in through the door about an hour later, I could tell right away that his meeting had not gone well. Eamon never wore such a pained expression. Ever.
“Heya.” He bent over to kiss me on top of the head, then did the same for Fiona. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, but had that expectant look on his face. He needed to talk.
I pulled Fiona's bangs from her forehead. “Hey kiddo, your dad and I are going to go have a chat. You okay to hang out here and watch TV?”
“You aren't going to be having sex, are you?”
“Fiona, where in the world did you get that idea from?” Eamon seemed genuinely annoyed, which only confirmed my worries. He had endless amounts of patience with Fiona.
“On the internet.”
“I’ll change the wifi password,” I offered.
Fiona stretched out on the couch, letting her head hang halfway off the cushion. “I think I'll just lie here.”
I crouched down. “Come and get us if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I took Eamon's hand. “Come on. Let's talk.” I led him back to my bedroom and closed the door part way. “Before you tell me what happened, I just need to tell you that I quit my job today.”
Eamon sank onto the bed and flopped back in frustration. “Are you kidding me?”
“I had a huge fight with Miles. He hates me and I hate him. It's not worth it anymore. Plus, he was being a royal asshole around Fiona and I guess he pushed me too far.”
He sat back up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I'm fine. I'll get another job somewhere. Don't worry. I have plenty of money saved.”
He leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees, turning his head to look at me. “Money is the last thing I'm worried about. Married or not, you and I will be just fine.”
“Oh. Okay.” Eamon and I didn't talk about money, but he had insisted on paying the rent soon after he essentially moved in.
“Well, we'll be fine for at least a few years if I can't manage to write a new album. Assuming you want to stay together.”
“Eamon. Of course I want to stay together. And you'll get the album written. I know it.”
“The label's not only pissed I'm not ready to go into the studio next month, they hate the songs I finished. Every last one of them.”
“What? No.”
“It's true. They want me to collaborate with another songwriter.” He ran his hands through his hair. “They do it in pop music all the time. And in Nashville. But that's just not me.”
“Did you tell them you'd think about it?”
“I refused. I'm not singing somebody else's songs. I'm not going to turn into their puppet.”
I wished I understood more about what he was going through. His process already mystified me, but one thing was clear—he was frustrated as all get out. “Why do you think you're having such a hard time writing?”
He pressed his lips together tightly and shrugged. Something about it made me think he had an inkling of the problem, but didn't want to admit it.
“Maybe nothing is inspiring you?” That idea was more than a little disappointing. I'd hoped our reunion would make him want to write another Sunny Girl.
He shook his head. “It's not that.”
“Then what? Even if you're guessing, just tell me, so I can at least understand what you're going through.”
He looked off into space and shook his head. I'd never seen him look so lost. “I’m too happy.”
It took me a minute to absorb what he’d said. “Is there such a thing?”
“There is. There definitely is such a thing as too happy.”
“I had no idea.”
He sat a little straighter. “I need to tell you something, Katherine. And it might hurt your feelings. I might hurt you a lot. It's something I'm not proud of. At all. But I have to tell you.”
My heart was pounding. What in the world could he be talking about? Did he want me to make him miserable? Because I was pretty sure I could do that if he really wanted me to. “Whatever is bothering you, just tell me.”
He pulled me into a hug and held the side of
my head against his chest, rocking me back and forth. It was both reassuring and unsettling. It felt as though he was preparing me not merely for bad news, but for the worst news ever. “Think about it. I wrote my best songs when you and I were apart. All those years I was out there in the world missing you or running in circles, thinking that we would never be together. The first album was good, but everything after that, everything I wrote after you left, was my best work.”
I pushed back and peered into those gray eyes I loved so much. It all made sense now. And it had been in front of me the whole time. “That's why you never came looking for me.”
“I’m not proud of it. I hate it. I feel like a selfish asshole, but every time I seriously considered looking for you, a new song would spill out of me, and that started this sick cycle of longing for you and depriving myself. That helped me write the songs that people seem to love.”
“Are you saying you want to break up?”
He laughed and forced me to give in to his hug again. “No. I'm saying my career might not be much to brag about soon.”
“Daddy.” Fiona pushed open the door. “I think I'm sick.”
That made two of us. Eamon touched her forehead with the back of his hand. “She's burning up.”
“She wasn’t feeling well at lunch.” I took her small hand in mine. Her skin was hot and dry. “I think she might have a fever.” I ran into the kitchen and grabbed some Tylenol and a glass of water.
Eamon brought her into the living room and sat her down on the couch. “Take these, darling.”
Fiona closed her mouth and turned her head away. “No.”
“Why not?” Eamon seemed both exhausted and still frustrated.
I kneeled next to Fiona. “I need you to take these for me. They'll make you feel better.”
“I hate pills. It feels like I'm going to choke.”
Eamon shrugged, telling me without words that I was on my own.
“I’ll make Daddy get ice cream. Whatever flavor you want.”
“Ice cream sounds disgusting.” She made a terrible face, her eyes half open.
Eamon pulled his phone out of his pocket. “That's it. She's really sick. We're going to have to call a doctor.”
