Zainab blinked. "From him? Martin, is there someone else you'd expect this from?"
Martin swallowed. "No," he said after a moment.
"Martin, don't you lie to me."
"It's not lying if I'm only deeply suspicious."
"What are you worried about?"
Martin blinked. "Someone who doesn't appreciate how good he's got it, possibly because he hasn't had a chance to catch his breath in about three years."
Zainab waited a moment. "Should I be worried about the same thing? Because for the record, neither has Emily."
Martin took a deep breath. "No. Mitch isn't seeing anyone else."
"You're positive?"
"Yes."
"You'll tell me if that's not the case?"
"I promise. We're too young to have to be Hellie's foster parents."
"Fine," Zainab said reluctantly, then took another sip of her latte.
CHAPTER 7
Jessie was waiting outside of Bobby’s office door when he showed up at eight-thirty. He smiled when he saw her, then he remembered himself. "Miss Bartolome—aren’t we up bright and early?" He unlocked the door. Jessie nodded approvingly at the small but well-appointed office. It was much better than the tiny room in the library Emily had used.
"There’s a lot I can do when I’m motivated."
"Really?" Bobby laughed as he sat in his chair. "And is any of that applicable to this class?"
"It can be. And, by the way, you’ll find that I’m actually a pretty good student."
"When you’re motivated?"
"When I’m not bored."
"Do you get bored a lot, Miss Bartolome?"
"How about we agree that I won’t call you Lester if you call me Jessie?"
"Lester’s a perfectly nice name."
"But it doesn’t quite suit you," she said quietly. He didn’t say anything. "I think Bobby’s a little better."
"Just a little bit?"
"Yeah, just a little bit. I’m sort of getting more Bob off of you though. Actually, I’m even feeling good about Robert."
"You want to call me Robert?"
"I think I do."
He smiled, looking at his coffee. "Okay, but only when we’re alone. Otherwise, it’s Bobby or Mister Lester—okay?"
"Whatever you say, Robert," she said with emphasis. "But if you call me Miss Bartolome again, all bets are off."
"Fair enough, Jessie." He leaned back. "Now is it really Jessie or Jessica?"
"Jessica," she said quietly. "But no one calls me that. Well, maybe my aunt, on the rare occasions that she calls me at all."
"You’re not close to your family?"
"I am very close to my cousin Richard. He’s sort of like my dad, actually, but don’t tell him I said that. Lucy is just, well, a little aloof. That’s a nice word for her, at least."
"Are Lucy and Richard related?"
"Shockingly, they are mother and son. Not that you’d have guessed that. Richard takes after his dad’s side of the family, the Hendricksons. He’s tall and dark, whereas I seem to have inherited the blondeness of the Bartolomes."
"You look like your aunt?"
"I guess I do," Jessie said thoughtfully. "But that’s one more thing we have to deny."
"No problem. And Lucy is your dad’s sister, I take it?"
"Check on that," Jessie said, pointing her finger at him.
"And what about him?"
"My father?" Jessie laughed. "I think we’re going to have to call in a priest to get the word on him."
"He’s dead?" Bobby asked cautiously.
"Very," Jessie said with a slight laugh. "Has been since I was three."
"Wow, I’m sorry," he said with an uncomfortable smile. "I lost my dad too."
Jessie shrugged. "Don’t be. I don’t really remember him, to be honest."
"So are you close to your mom?"
Jessie took a deep breath. "She’s gone too."
"Oh, wow!" He looked down into his coffee. "Okay, I didn’t think it was possible for me to put my foot in my mouth so much in so short a period of time. I’m really sorry."
"It’s okay," she said softly.
"You were older when she died?" he asked gently.
She nodded her head. "I was four and a half. I remember her better than my father. I mean, I remember her."
"What did she look like?"
"She had reddish hair," Jessie said softly.
Bobby smiled after a moment. "But you went for blue? Streaks, I mean."
Jessie shrugged. "Yeah, well, they started out red, but one day I grabbed a blue marker instead of a red one and I liked it better." She laughed. "My teachers just loved that, but they didn't dare say anything."
Bobby chuckled after a moment. "I guess it's good to be in certain families."
"Only because of Richard," Jessie said bitterly.
"So just you and your cousin, alone in the big, bad world?"
"Not exactly," she said, happy to change the subject. "There was Michael, Richard’s cousin on the Hendrickson side. And he sucked in a big, bad way, but he came with Miranda."
"Who’s Miranda?"
Jessie sighed. "Yeah, well, her mother and Michael’s dad died at the same time in a car accident. Long story. Alex ended up raising them both—Alex Sheldon, another alumnus who likes to make big donations here on occasion. Michael is a tool, and Miranda hated him. Then when she found out that her mother was Alex’s mistress and Michael’s father’s mistress, she sort of lost it. And by lost it I mean chucked common sense and sanity and married Michael. But then they found out that Michael is actually her cousin."
"And, wow again!" Bobby said. "So what happened?"
Jessie looked at him as if he had two heads. "What do you mean what happened? They got a divorce."
Bobby opened his hands. "Why?"
"Did you miss the part about them being cousins?"
"That’s not illegal in this state."
"Eww! Well, it should be. It should be, because he’s completely disgusting."
"Alright, if you say so. So, where are they now?"
Jessie opened her mouth to answer, then laughed. "Hold on. Do you always have these in-depth interviews with all the students Professor Hazlett sends to you?
He sipped his coffee and shrugged. "Just the ones I let call me 'Robert'." He smiled. "But don't feel like you have to tell me anything else. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
Jessie snickered. "Yeah, I can't imagine what you'd have to do to make me uncomfortable. That's usually my job." She winked. "But to answer your question, Miranda’s bunking with me and Richard, when she isn’t dating her slime ball ex-guardian, almost-step-father. Michael dragged his dissolute ass to Europe and I hope he dies there."
"I’m getting the sense that you don’t like this guy. What did he do?"
"Is attempted rape a good enough reason to dislike someone?"
He sat up straight, no trace of a smile left. "Yeah, I’d say so. Who did he attempt to rape?"
"Me," she spat out angrily. "I was drunk off my ass—he got me that way. I was in and out of consciousness, and the next thing I know he’s kissing and groping me. I don’t know what would have happened if Miranda and Richard hadn’t walked in when they did."
"This happened while they were married?"
"No—before."
Bobby made a face and shook his head. "Did you go to the police?"
"Miranda tried to, but Alex stopped her. Lucy tried to, but Alex stopped her too."
Bobby leaned on his fist. "How?"
"That is an excellent question. I never bothered to ask Lucy, because she’d lie to me if she bothered to acknowledge me at all."
"How old are you again?"
"You first."
"Twenty-six."
Jessie smiled to herself. "Eighteen."
"You didn’t even try to lie."
"I didn’t see the need."
"Are we going to talk about you dropping this class or not?"
"If I
drop the class, are you going to ask me out?"
"No."
"Then we’re going to talk about setting up a bunch of office hours, just to make sure I am fully cognizant of how unqualified I am."
"That could take a while."
"And that is what I’m counting on."
~~~
Emily could hardly understand Jessie over the phone, but she did get the last part. "Emily, you have to meet me after work, okay? Please, please, please?" Emily could not believe this was Jessie on the phone.
Later, Jessie ran into Princess Cappuccino after her last class, breathless. "You have to help me with this class."
"Okay," Emily said slowly, laughing. "Which class?"
"Greek Mythology, of course!" Jessie said over her shoulder as she ran to get some coffee.
"Since when do you need my help?" Emily asked when she came back. "Since when do you need anyone’s help with anything?"
"Since Professor Hazlett’s TA is the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on!" Jessie almost shrieked. Emily laughed. Yet more changes.
"Let’s have it then," Emily said. "I want lots of details."
"Let’s see," Jessie said, biting her lip. "He’s got red hair, very fair, tall, very nice smile, twenty-six, seems to like bossa nova—"
"I’m sorry, what did you just say?"
"Bossa nova isn’t that bad."
"Before that. Something about his age?"
Jessie shrugged. "He’s twenty-six. How old should he be if he’s going to be a TA?"
"Good point. So I think we need a new rule about dating TAs when you’re a sophomore."
"Sorry, you can’t make rules in the middle of the game."
"That’s okay, I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about dating undergrads in your class."
"Are you going to rat me out?"
"Of course not. That’s not what I’m worried about. I just don’t want this guy to screw around with your grade."
"Oh, trust me, he won’t be screwing around with that."
"Jessie!"
"I’m sorry—I thought I was being clear."
"But he’s twenty-six. That’s a big eww, as far as I’m concerned."
"Did you not get married when you were nineteen?"
"I was two months away from twenty, thank you very much, and Mitch wasn’t twenty-six. And why are we talking about marriage?"
"Oh calm down!" Jessie exclaimed. "Can we maybe have you redirect your energies into keeping me in the class?"
"Why is that a problem?"
"Some BS pre-requisite I was supposed to take that I didn’t."
Emily narrowed her eyes. "The TA gave you a hard time about that?"
"His name is Bobby. Bobby Lester," Jessie said with an impish smile. "And no, actually Professor Hazlett gave me a hard time."
"That’s...weird. Joanna usually let stuff like that slide."
"Well, the last name didn’t do anything to endear me to her, I guess."
"Okay..." Emily said, shaking her head. "I guess that never came up before."
"So will you help me or not?" Jessie said, suddenly enthusiastic again.
"On one condition: you have to talk to your therapist about this guy."
"Don’t you think you’re overstepping the bounds of our friendship a little bit?"
"Are you serious?"
"No, but I thought it might make you feel bad. And it is kind of a yucky request."
"No, the twenty-six year old thing is yucky."
"Do you think we’re going to talk about my daddy-complex and then I’ll suddenly realize that I don’t really like this guy?"
"I have no idea. I just think it might not be a bad idea to mention."
"You do know that I have hooked up with people since my little episode, right? And I didn’t always check the birthdates on their IDs?"
Emily shook her head. "Did you have to see them in class a few times per week on top of it?"
"Well, sometimes it was pretty dark, so anything is possible."
"Jess, that’s my offer."
"Oh fine!" Jessie exclaimed. "I’ll talk to my therapist about him, you jerk. But how do you know I’m not just saying that to get what I want?"
"Because I know that deep down inside you have a little bit more honor than that. Plus, I know you know that I could always mention this to Richard if I felt like you were lying to me."
"You suck."
"I know." Emily looked at her watch. "I’ve got to get out of here soon to pick up Hellie, but tell me what you’ve done so far."
"Well," Jessie said, crossing her legs on her chair, "we’re spending the next couple of weeks on the House of Atreus."
"That is so cool," Emily said jealously.
"Maybe, but so far we’ve spent the last couple of classes on Tantalus. Boring! But Bobby started giving me a preview of the Pelops stuff, and that’s cool. I’m really into the stuff with Hippolyta and her father—"
"Who?"
"Hippolyta, Pelops’ wife."
"No, it’s Hippodameia."
"No, Smarty Pants," Jessie said with a satisfied laugh, "it’s Hippolyta. That’s what Bobby said."
"Bobby got it wrong, then. It’s Hippodameia, I promise you."
"I looked it up on Wikipedia. It’s Hippolyta."
"You know that they sometimes get that stuff wrong on the web, right?" Just then the alarm on Emily’s phone went off. "Damn, I’ve got to go."
"Alright, kiss Hellie for me, and I’ll send you an email tomorrow with what I need, okay?"
"You got it," Emily said. She kissed Jessie on the cheek, then ran out. All the way to the daycare, she shook her head. It was Hippodameia.
CHAPTER 8
The matter of Pelops’ wife bothered Emily that day and the next. She and Miranda were supposed to be heads down working on the brochure for the company in Europe, but Emily couldn’t concentrate. "Okay, what’s up?" Miranda finally asked.
Emily waved her pen in Miranda’s direction. "How would you like to meet me at the BPL in an hour and a half and we can continue this there?"
"Oh, my God, yes!"
Emily told Miranda that she needed an hour at the library before they could meet. While Emily ran to catch the train Miranda packed up her stuff and walked downstairs to the café, just to get a little more coffee. She was drinking a lot of coffee these days.
Miranda found herself humming along to Solitude by Billie Holiday. She closed her eyes. She’d downloaded this after Michael had gone. She rubbed her neck again, and was again abruptly called back to reality to place her order.
She walked out, still humming to herself. She smiled. It was a good kind of sad. She rubbed her neck again as she walked to the train station, but stopped once she was on the train.
She found Emily sitting in the library café. Miranda looked around. "Nope, sorry. Too loud. We’re going to the restaurant—we’re getting tea."
"You're getting tea," Emily grumbled. "I don’t think they’ve got soymilk here."
After they were seated, Emily made a face. "Oh my, how properly, pretentiously British we are today!"
Miranda snapped her fingers. "That’s what I wanted to tell you!" She scurried through her bag until she found the piece of paper she was looking for. "Here we go. Did you know that Camelot is coming to Boston next week?"
She handed Emily the little postcard. "Oh, neat!" Emily said softly. "I love this musical."
"Me too," Miranda said dreamily. "You want to come with me?"
Emily looked over the postcard. "Who else are you bringing with you?"
Miranda smiled. "I might have mentioned it to Alex."
"Strictly as an investor’s perk, right?"
"Emily—"
"Yeah, I think three would be a crowd," Emily said as she handed back the card.
Miranda strummed her fingers on the table. "If you brought Mitch—"
"It would sort of be like a double-date, right?" Miranda didn’t reply. "Sorry, I think Mitch is a little bit too preoccupied to tear
himself away from his job right now. Maybe in...three years? And maybe by then you’ll have another date."
"Maybe not. He asked me to marry him."
"What?" Emily gasped. "When?"
"A few weeks ago."
"What did you say?"
"I said I needed time to think about it."
"Have you thought about it?"
"Still thinking."
"If I came to this thing, would you say no?"
"I’m not Jessie."
"Just let me know what I need to do." Emily sighed. "I’m sorry. Do you want to talk? And by talk, I mean, you do the talking, I do the listening and try not to say anything too poisonous when you finally ask for my opinion?"
"Oh, I’ve got Zainab for that," Miranda said brightly.
Emily was about to say something when Miranda gasped. Her face turned white and her eyes widened. "It’s him," she whispered. "He’s right there by the fountain." She pointed to the window behind Emily.
Emily turned around. She didn’t see anyone. "Sweetie, no one’s there," she said softly.
Miranda shook her head, her eyes still fixated on the fountain. "No, I saw him. He was there."
"You saw who?"
"Michael," Miranda whispered. "He was right there." She threw down her napkin and ran out through the restaurant and into the courtyard. She turned around in all different directions. He wasn’t there. Hadn’t she seen him go toward the doors leading to the McKim Building? She ran into that building and into the reading room. "Michael?" she called out. Several people turned in her direction, but she ignored them.
Her heart was racing. She ran to the reference desks at the opposite ends. She ran to the stairs. She ran down and then out. "Michael!" she called out. She closed her eyes. She hadn’t imagined it. He was there. "Michael," she said softly. "Michael." But he didn’t come.
She went back to restaurant and sat down. She sipped her tea even though it was cold and didn’t look at Emily.
"Are you alright?" Emily asked at last.
"I’m fine, Em. Everything’s fine," Miranda said vacantly.
"He wasn’t here." Emily swallowed. "Didn’t Richard say he was still in Europe?"
"Of course. He’s still in Europe," Miranda repeated. She was waiting for her heart to stop beating so fast.
"We were just talking about Alex," Emily said gently. "I think Michael...still...I think you still think about him." Miranda didn’t say anything. "I think that’s why you thought you saw him."
The China Doll Page 4
