“Hello,” she sang into it. “Oh, Sharon. Hi. Come on up, fifth floor, yellow door.” She put the phone down and picked up the tray, heading for the sofa. “Right on time. Hi, Simon. Have a seat if you like, we’ll be right out. I’ve got D'arcy watching the oven. My muffins are about to beep.” She flashed him a shy smile.
“Muffins?” he said.
She blushed. “It’s nothing.” She set the tray down and waved a hand vaguely in the air.
“This place is incredible,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “You live here?”
She folded her arms across her chest, looking at the floor, scuffing a foot on the concrete. “It’s Alexa’s design. I was lucky to buy this place early. All the new so-called lofts are so small. Carved up into little rabbit warrens,” she said. Her heart was beating a staccato rhythm, and her breathing was far too rapid. “But I couldn’t afford an office and an apartment, so…” She stopped abruptly, feeling her face flush with heat, and shrugged. “I’ll just get the coffee.” She spun and strode off again. There was a knock and she opened the door as she passed by. “Come in, Sharon.”
Sharon entered the space and looked around. “Ah. Simon,” she said, finally, noticing him, and strode in his direction. Kate watched Sharon pull open her brief case and set up shop like a merchant laying out her wares in a street bazaar stall, and Simon, not surprisingly, continued his jaunt, heading in the direction of her desk. Reference books and magazines were piled high, even though she always carefully locked away client paperwork and case notes. She groaned, wondering what he was thinking, and returned to the kitchen. What was worse, having Simon snooping around her work space, or having him sit while Sharon gave him the third degree?
A few minutes later, when she came out, she stifled a laugh. He was talking to Oscar in a sing-song voice.
“Hullo,” he said to him. In response, Oscar uncoiled his long thin torso, stretching his gangly legs, claws fully unsheathed, through the spindles of the chair back, and gave him a lazy green stare. Simon recoiled, disgusted. “Who beat you up, buddy? You are positively the ugliest cat I have ever seen,” he said.
Kate smiled and snuck up behind him. “That’s Oscar.” Simon jumped. “He’s had a hard life,” she laughed softly.
“I’ll say,” replied Simon, his ears turning pink.
Kate stooped to pick up the lump of bone and fur, curling him up on her arm and scratching his skinny neck. He turned his face toward her chest and buried it there, a loud sawing noise immediately emitting from his belly, and kneaded at her like a lump of dough.
“He obviously knows which side his bread is buttered on.”
“I found him in a dumpster, half dead, some years ago and took him to the shelter. But then I just couldn’t leave him there, with his mangy fur and chewed ears. No one else would have him. He’s very happy to have a home here now,” she said, cooing at him, “Aren’t you old boy?” and pulling his ugly mug out of her oxter to look him in the eye. “He’s very affectionate, if you like cats, but he does stink, I’ll warn you. He can’t help it. He has more than a few chronic health problems.” She reached forward with the cat hanging like a limp rag mop from her hands, and Simon had no choice but to take him, blinking.
He curled up his nose. “I do like cats. We have one, actually. Lucy. She’s diabetic.”
What was this, a pissing match to see who was more compassionate towards pathetic animals? She smiled wanly and walked away, leaving them to get acquainted.
“Ow! Fffk.” She heard Simon utter a quiet oath as she walked away. “Alright. I’ve got it, don’t touch your undercarriage,” he muttered, as Oscar dashed away, and she laughed to herself.
D'arcy carried in the tray of steaming muffins, and Kate followed with a teapot in her hand. “Are we still missing Eli?” she asked no one in particular. “What time is it?”
Simon flipped his wrist over to glance at his watch. “It’s 9:45,” he reported. He followed Kate, sucking his finger, and sat down.
Sharon was at last off the phone, and commented to Kate that her loft was lovely, then complained about Eli. “What’s going on? We can’t wait all day.”
“I’ll give him a call. Maybe he’s lost or something,” offered Simon. He dialed and waited. “No answer,” he reported. Just then, Kate’s phone rang, and she excused herself. Sure enough, it was Eli and she buzzed him in. He wore his usual brown leather jacket and jeans, motorcycle helmet in hand.
“Hiya Kate. Sorry for being late. I got turned around.” He looked around openmouthed. “Awesome place. Wow, could I live and paint here. The light!”
“Help yourself to coffee or tea, everyone, and grab a muffin while they’re hot. Let’s get started.”
“You baked muffins,” Sharon deadpanned, as the others reached for plates and mugs. Sharon gave Simon a strange look, and he merely raised his eyebrows haughtily in response, settling in next to Sharon with a muffin balanced on his knee, the corners of his mouth quirked.
Kate sat in an armchair at the open end of the sectional sofa, waiting for everyone else to sit down. She smiled warmly at Eli and D'arcy, who were sitting next to each other, and at Sharon. Kate would like nothing better than to give Sharon a piece of her mind for always finding something to criticize, but she had to admit that at the moment Sharon held the ace and they had to tread carefully. She was waiting for Sharon’s revelation, but it never came. Maybe she was waiting for them to confess to some sordid affair.
Ignoring the feeling of dread that encroached, Kate recapped key points from the previous session, highlighting Eli and D’arcy’s strengths, and also summarizing their concerns, distilling all their words and actions into a tidy package that everyone could easily digest. Though she had introduced the notion at the beginning of their sessions, she spent a half hour explaining the purpose of a reconciliation agreement that would include an action plan made up of wants, needs, and a commitment to changes in behavior, as well as a statement of common goals. Many people found it a strange idea, until she explained that its creation was the entire point of it. D'arcy and Eli were listening intently, Eli lightly holding D’arcy’s hand in his lap, less restless than usual.
After a while, Kate handed them both forms and asked them to fill in the blanks as a basis for a draft agreement, after which she would outline a document for them to review. While they scratched away, Sharon peering over at Darcy, Simon excused himself, standing up and setting his plate down on the table. “Erm. Where’s the… ?”
“Oh. Around the corner from the kitchen.” She pointed at the screen divider. “Just behind there, on the left.”
Kate watched Sharon fidget, unable to keep her eyes from following Simon’s progress across the room. Kate was just as tense waiting for him to return. He was taking an awfully long time in the bathroom. After several more minutes, Sharon finally stood and excused herself as well, and Kate wished she could chase after her and prevent her from confronting Simon about what she’d learned. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and wiped her sweaty palms along her pant legs, wishing there was something she could do, hoping Simon could keep his cool under pressure.
When neither of them returned, Kate worried they were embroiled in an argument. The best she could do was wrap up the session and get everyone out of there as soon as possible. After much mumbled discussion, it was approaching noon as Eli and D'arcy completed their forms, so she stood up and said her farewells as she led them in the direction of the door. It had been a productive and peaceful session - at least on the surface.
At last Simon and Sharon emerged from the gallery, side by side. Kate turned to face them, holding her breath, trying to read Simon’s face. “There you are.” She tried to smile, but her face felt tight. Simon offered her a subtle smile of reassurance, but she picked up on his tension. She tried to put on a cheerful manner. “We’ve got the ingredients for a reconciliation agreement hammered out here, which I’m going to draft. D'arcy and Eli have some homework, but I’m hoping we can pull it tog
ether next week.”
“Well. Congratulations,” offered Simon, “I look forward to going over that with you Eli.”
Eli smiled. “You’d better, Simon. Just to make sure I haven’t promised to give up painting, or eating and drinking.” Fingering his cigarette pack, he laughed and glanced at D'arcy.
“Eli!” she gave him an affectionate elbow in the ribs and pouted coyly, and he wrapped an arm around her, planting a loud kiss on her lips. She blushed and looked down, but let her body relax against his as he continued to hold her. Eli glanced at Simon, and his smile tugged to one side, self-conscious.
“Well, we’d better head out. ‘Til next week then, everyone,” said Eli, turning for the door. ”Lunch, cheri?” he said against D’arcy’s hair, his tone flirtatious.
“I’ll call you,” Simon said.
“I’ll buy you lunch too, Simon. Next time,” Eli smiled again, placing a cigarette between his lips and heading out the door.
“I’m afraid I have a lunch meeting, or I would offer to take the two of you out,” Sharon said, narrowing her eyes, and peering from Simon to Kate and back. “We could continue our little chat, Simon.” Kate shuddered as Sharon’s eagle eyes turned toward her. “But there is one thing I’d like to talk privately with you about, Kate. Can I call you?” She almost purred, but Kate was sure she was dealing with a very large predatory cat.
“Sure, Sharon. I’m free tomorrow morning, any time it’s convenient,” Kate replied, a touch of a waver in her voice. She crossed her arms, reaching for her pendant, reminding herself there was a reason for this too.
Sharon shot Simon a warning glare as she turned for the door, her briefcase gripped in her tight little fist. “Can I walk you out, Simon?”
Simon hesitated. “There’s some information I have to get from— uh, Kate before I leave. You go on ahead.” She scowled and moved to the door. “You were going to show me that Mediation program syllabus, remember?” he added to Kate, showing his teeth, a hopeful expression on his face.
They both breathed an audible sigh of relief as the door clicked behind Sharon, listening to her heels tick tock toward the elevator, then turned toward each other with exhaled laughter.
She covered her mouth with a hand, shaking her head. “I’m so relieved she didn’t say anything publicly,” said Kate, pressing her fingers against her brow, “but I think she’s going to let me have it tomorrow.” She knew perfectly well what Sharon wanted to talk to her about. “I think today went very well. Why can’t she simply let it go?” she implored, clenching both fists in frustration. “Obviously there’s no conflict of interest. There’s nothing going on. And we’re nearly done with the case.”
“She seems determined to think otherwise. Everything I do seems suspect, anyway. I feel like she’s policing me.”
“Oh.” said Kate, suddenly flustered, her brows knitting. “You’d better not linger.”
“She’s gone already. We’re not doing anything wrong here,” Simon rationalized.
“Yes, I know,” was Kate’s only comment, but she was worried nonetheless. “What did she say to you, exactly?” she asked, as she walked back over to the coffee table and piled cups and saucers onto a tray. Simon followed her and helped pick up dishes.
“Let me,” he said, taking the laden tray from her. “I can’t figure out her motives.” He stood watching her punch throw cushions and toss them onto the sofa. She followed him toward the kitchen while he talked. “On the one hand, we weren’t completely honest about our history. Then she saw us sitting together at the…” He carried the tray through the kitchen archway and looked around.
“Put it there,” Kate said, pointing. “But she knew perfectly well that we didn’t even know we would meet there. She got your ticket herself, for goodness sake.”
“I know. I can see why she has some suspicions, but I think the real issue is that I was a bit of an ass with Rachel.” He set the tray down and looked at her, chagrinned, his lanky frame leaning on the counter, shoulders hunched. “In any case, she’s not emphasizing the conflict issue with me. She was always Rachel’s friend; we were never close. Now she seems to have this notion that I’m in need of her protection and charity. She’s offering meals and company, as though I were some kind of hopeless recluse. It’s weird.”
“Ha ha. I’ll just bet,” Kate said, opening the dishwasher.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Simon helped her to pile mugs into the tray.
“I mean… ” she hesitated, standing up. What the hell? “I mean, you’re… uh… quite eligible now. What makes you think she’s offering charity? Maybe she wants something from you.” She looked at him pointedly. Simon looked up, his eyes wide.
“Aah. Hardly. I’ve known her for years. She’s not interested in me that way.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe she’s been waiting for an opening. You’re a nice… man, good looking, professional, why not?”
He stared at her closely. “Thanks, but… Well besides Rachel, I come with baggage,” he said, his face somber. “And she doesn’t strike me as the mothering type any more than Rachel is.”
“Are you calling Madison baggage?” She meant to be teasing, but he seemed intent on taking her seriously.
He turned to place a plate in the lower tray. “You know what I mean. I adore her, of course. She’s my baby. But having a young kid puts a damper on your lifestyle.”
“I think the only baggage you’ve got is in your head. Madison is an asset. She’s a beautiful, sweet little girl. What woman wouldn’t want a ready-made family that includes her?”
He was standing with his back to her. “Including you?”
Kate’s heart pounded in her chest. What did he mean by that? Probably nothing, she decided in an instant. Get a grip, Kate! Play it down. “Uh. Sure. I want a family someday. But the point is, Sharon’s a normal healthy woman, intelligent, attractive even though she comes across like a tank. And she does know you. I wouldn’t rule out that possibility. Are you interested in her?”
The sound that emitted from him was more gurgle than giggle. “No.” He said with clear emphasis, and paused. “Anyway, I don’t know. Her tactics seem a bit aggressive for seduction.” He shuddered, his mouth twisting. “She scares me, actually.” He was absentmindedly picking crumbs from the muffin tin that lay on the counter and nibbling them.
“I’ll bet,” Kate laughed too. “She does lack a certain something.”
“Ye-ah. Like warm blood.”
Laughing, she piled her muffin tin and a few odd utensils into the kitchen sink, and wiped the crumbs from the counter, wondering, for the first time, how long he was planning to hang around. “Are you hungry?”
Simon shrugged, scowling slightly, as though he hadn’t thought of it yet. Then, on cue, his stomach growled loudly. Colour rushed up to his face and neck. “Apparently,” he apologized. “Why don’t we nip out for something? I’ll buy you a sandwich.”
“I’ve got a pot of homemade soup, if you’re interested,” she offered, lifting her brows in question. It would do no harm to offer him lunch, she rationalized. His face lit up.
He raised an unconvincing hand. “I wouldn’t want to impose, or make you feel… you know… ”
She sighed. “Like you said, no one’s watching. And it’s only soup. It’s easier to eat at home in this neighbourhood. There are a few lunch places, but they’re mediocre and I get pretty bored with them.” She opened the fridge and hauled out a big pot, setting it on the range and lighting it.
He stood watching her. “Do you enjoy cooking?” he asked after a moment. Is he just making idle conversation or am I being interviewed?
“I like it well enough. A person has to eat, after all. And you can’t eat in restaurants every day.” She pulled out a wooden stir spoon and opened the lid.
“You seem so… domestic,” he commented. “You remind me of my mother.”
She looked at him askance. “Thanks a lot! That’s not so bad, is it?” She grimaced, backpe
ddling. “Being domestic, I mean. I couldn’t say about your mother.” She turned to the sink, feeling a hot and cold tingling tickle her spine and the back of her neck. What an idiot!
He blinked at her, as though really considering the question. She squirmed under his penetrating blue gaze. He drew a breath and said, “No. I’m sorry. I meant it as a compliment. It’s different than what I’m used to, that’s all.”
“You don’t cook, yourself, then?”
“I do, actually, quite a bit. I have to obviously, with Maddie. But Rachel didn’t. Not ever. Not even an egg.” He laughed softly, his scorn reflected in his expression.
Kate could well imagine that. She couldn’t picture that statuesque, elegant woman in the kitchen with an apron. “So you assumed kitchen duties in the family, then?” She stirred the soup slowly.
“Mmm. I guess. I was always competent as a bachelor. You know, burgers and spaghetti, that sort of thing. But once Maddie came along, I pretty much had to take care of everything domestic. That was the deal.” He seemed to ponder a moment, leaning back on the counter with his arms folded across his chest. “The nanny helped, for a few years. But since Rachel left, I guess I’ve spent more time at home. And honestly, I wouldn’t see friends if I didn’t have dinner parties. So I’ve been learning, experimenting. I think I’m a pretty decent cook now.”
“You don’t go out much? Get a sitter sometimes?” Kate prodded, curious how curtailed his life seemed to be.
He sighed, his face tight. “Maddie’s family life is already so dysfunctional, I don’t like to leave her with strangers. She stays with my folks sometimes, and with my brother, when he’s between girlfriends,” he laughed. “But I haven’t found someone yet that she’s really comfortable with. The nanny’s only been gone a few months, so we’re still adjusting. That smells really good.”
She stirred the soup once more, bending forward to sniff the fragrant steam emerging from the pot. She scooped out a spoonful and blew on it briefly, turning to him and offering him a taste. “Does it need salt, do you think?”
Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel Page 13
