He wished he had turned off his ringer, but remembered he had a brunch date with Kristy at one. That must be her. Good thing she had called—he might have slept through the date. Her ex had the kids for the weekend. After brunch, they had planned to go antiquing (her choice) and after that spend time lazing around in bed (his). He grabbed the phone with her name on his lips, but just as he was about to say it, the person at the other end gave a chipper “Hi, love!”
Love? But the voice wasn’t Kristy.
“Who is this?” he asked suspiciously.
“Babe, it’s me.”
Freddie sat up, glancing at the room. Everything was much cleaner and more organized than he had last left it. Gracella, he thought. Mother really shouldn’t subject the poor woman to my messes. After a lengthy pause, he came back to the uncomfortable moment.
“Gert,” he said, his voice flat.
“Hi, sweetie!” she replied cheerfully.
This was not a good way to wake up. “What do you want?”
“I finished my thesis early!”
“Great!” he said. Did she expect them to pick up where they had left off after she had abandoned him out of the blue? Wasn’t that actually considered grounds for divorce? Abandonment. Wouldn’t that be a way out of Mr. Liman’s contract he had signed with his blood? Although it said nothing about abandonment by one of the parties.
Freddie had made a decent life for himself since he had moved back to North Hampton. He made a living at the bar and enjoyed working there. Kristy appreciated him. He was becoming attached to her kids—imaginative Hannah and her quirky and quick-witted bespectacled vegetarian brother. He liked when Hannah told him crazy stories about fairies, and he was teaching Max how to ice-skate. Kids… he liked kids, but Gert had never even wanted to talk about them.
She exhaled into the phone, and he had to pull the cell away from his ear for a second. “Freddie, I’m sorry I left like I did. I know it was a little cold.”
“Cold?” he said. He remembered his various attempts to fix the marriage and how they all had failed. He glanced at the clock. He had to shower and get ready to meet Kristy. “Listen, Gert, it’s a bit early for me to talk about all this.”
“Early?” she said.
“I was up late. I mean, I work at a bar.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Can we talk later today? I really need to.” It was always on her terms, wasn’t it? “Freddie, there wasn’t anyone else, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was totally about school. I… I…”
It wasn’t what he had been thinking. He didn’t care anymore, or at least he tried to convince himself he didn’t care. It hadn’t been easy to forget her—no matter how much he liked Kristy, he had to admit he missed Gert, he missed his wife. But she had left him with a note, and now she just expected them to pick up where they had left off? Amazing. He couldn’t be more furious, but when he heard a tremor in her voice, he relented. “Look, let’s talk later.”
“Okay,” she said. “I miss you…”
“Uh-huh.” Freddie exhaled. “Look, I really have to run.” It came out curtly, which hadn’t been his intention. Gert had a way of getting to him. “I’ll call you later,” he said, and hung up the phone.
When he returned home after his date, the house was empty. Joanna had left a note saying she and Norman had gone out for clam chowder. You had to love the specificity. Well, at least that was one relationship that appeared to be working.
Freddie climbed the stairs, done in. He glanced in Ingrid’s room to see if she was around but only saw Oscar, Buster, and Siegfried curled up on the bed. Buster blinked at him. His eyes appeared heavy, and he quickly closed them as he pressed his snout against Oscar’s fur. Since the Beauchamps had lost their powers, it was as if the familiars had gone into hibernation. Poor kids, Freddie thought. He closed the door.
Freddie felt sorry for himself, too. He had been late to his date with Kristy, and they’d had their first fight. Afterward, they had gone back to the shack on the beach and made up in bed. But after their lovemaking, Kristy got teary eyed. She complained about being so much older than Freddie and that eventually he would leave her. Max and Hannah were getting attached. It wasn’t good. It had all been a huge mistake. As much as he tried to assuage her—he planned to stick around and he really, really cared so much about her—she seemed dead set on being negative. “Is that really enough?” she asked. She had never been like that before.
Perhaps Kristy had a point. He was reluctant to say those three little words that might seal the deal. It felt so right with Kristy, but… he was still married. He just wasn’t ready to say it. Perhaps Gert had ruined him. Then Kristy said it was best if Freddie went home. They needed space. The whole thing had made him feel shitty.
And here he was. He emptied out his pockets onto the dresser—cell, change, crumpled bills—pulled off his T-shirt, and stumbled out of his jeans, whipping them onto an armchair. He just wanted to be in bed and resume what he hadn’t finished earlier that morning: sleep.
He closed the windows, pulled the curtains, and turned down the heater. He liked getting the room chilly as he snuggled up in the duvet; it made for the best kind of sleep. It was only about seven, and he was glad to be getting an early start. He crawled into bed and stretched himself out luxuriously. His leg hit something. “Ack!” he said, jolting up.
“Kelda!” Freddie’s arms fell protectively to his sides, shielding himself with the duvet. “What are you doing here?”
The pixie widened her almond eyes, pushing strands of messy white hair behind an ear. “I was waiting for you. I have some crappy news.”
“Nice! Do you mind? Hand me my shirt, will you?” he said. Like the pixies, he was comfortable with nudity, but if his mother strolled in, it might be awkward. Joanna made unexpected check-ins, needing to reassure herself that Freddie was still home from Limbo.
“Good news, bad news kind of thing.” Kelda rolled off the bed to hand him his shirt. She was filthy, in a rumpled T-shirt, dusty black jeans, stained tube socks.
Freddie grimaced, thinking about his clean sheets.
Kelda did a yoga stretch, coming up in a reverse swan dive, her hands forming a prayer at her chest. “Good news: we found the trident. Bad news: Jörmungandr has it.”
chapter thirty-five
Put a Ring On It
They had barely sat down at the table in the French restaurant when Ingrid noticed a platinum band on Hudson’s ring finger. “Hudson! You didn’t tell me!”
“We wanted to keep it a surprise!” Hudson laughed, holding Scott’s hand.
Scott and Hudson liked to joke that they did not look so much like a couple as a pair of gay twins, even if Scott was half Korean. Like Hudson, Scott was meticulously dressed and boyishly handsome. “We wanted to wait till dessert to make the announcement. Really, we don’t want to spend the entire dinner talking about us.” Although of course now that they had announced it so early they would have to spend the entire dinner talking about them, but Ingrid didn’t really mind.
She and Matt were on a double date with the couple. Matt had reserved the table in the nook by the window facing the sea at La Plage.
“Wait!” said Ingrid, flustered. “You didn’t get married without telling me, did you? You couldn’t have—”
“Of course not. Scott just popped the question. The wedding bands are gold. They fit on top of these. Cool, right?”
“Congratulations!” said Matt. He stood and held out his arms to Scott, who was sitting beside him.
Scott gave a wry smile and rose to receive the hug, while Ingrid embraced Hudson. Matt flagged the waiter to order a bottle of bubbly. The champagne was brought to the table with an ice bucket, and Ingrid and Matt raised their flutes.
“To the happy couple,” Matt said.
“To our friends,” Ingrid said, her eyes sparkling.
While Hudson and Scott clinked glasses, Ingrid turned to Matt, squeezing his knee beneath the table. He slipped a hand on her thigh un
derneath her skirt. The slinky touch sent a warm shiver through her. She felt the crimson flush rise to her cheeks and took a sip of champagne to steady her nerves. “So… any plans yet?”
“We’re thinking May,” piped Hudson.
“Wow, so soon! That’s great!” said Ingrid, adjusting herself in her chair.
“And of course I would be honored if you were my maid of honor,” Hudson said with a tentative smile.
“Me?”
Hudson nodded with a grin and they hugged again.
“We have a lot of planning to do, then!” Ingrid gushed.
“Wait a second,” said Scott. “This is what I mean. Let’s not. Let’s just relax.”
Ingrid winked. “Hudson and I will talk.”
“Absolutely!” said Scott.
“That we will. And guess what?” Hudson widened his eyes.
“What?” Ingrid leaned in.
Again, Scott cut in. “His mom is coming. After all that fuss!” He folded his napkin on his lap. “I really don’t know why Hudson hemmed and hawed for so long. My mom’s Korean—she wasn’t even born in the States, and when I came out to her at thirteen she barely batted an eye.”
“Your mom was not a debutante from Charleston,” said Hudson. “Your mom is cool.”
“Not really,” returned Scott.
Hudson lifted his fork. “Anyhow, it’s all behind us now. Mom says she’s looking forward to the wedding. That’s huge!” He dug in to his coquille Saint Jacques with a smile.
“Next thing you know, she’ll be asking about kids,” said Scott. “Mark my words.”
“And?” Matt nudged with a grin.
Hudson and Scott exchanged a knowing look. “We already found an egg donor,” confessed Hudson with a cheeky grin. “Now all we need is a womb!”
Outside in the parking lot after Hudson and Scott had driven off, Ingrid and Matt watched the taillights disappear in the mist. The air was chilly and she huddled close to him. She could have stood there forever with Matt.
He twined his fingers in hers. “Ingrid, what’s going on with us?” he asked. “You’re avoiding me and not just because of your work. I feel you drifting away.” He had asked her why she had left so abruptly during that lunch a few weeks ago, but she had lied and told him she hadn’t been feeling well. Since then, they had hardly spent any time together.
Ingrid took a deep breath. It was time to come clean and tell him what was bothering her. “Do you wish you and Mariza had stayed together?” she asked finally. It wasn’t quite how she had planned to say it, but there it was. She wanted to do the right thing by Maggie, but she also wanted to protect her own heart. It was both selfless and selfish of her. She lifted his hands that were holding hers and let them drop against her as she waited for his answer.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “We tried once. For Maggie’s sake. But that was a long time ago. Maggie was in diapers.” He ran his cheek along her hair, breathing in its fragrance, then let go of her hands and leaned on the car so they were both facing the beach. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”
She shook her head. “Yes…” she whispered. It felt good to no longer skirt around it. She looked up at the deep black blue of the night and sighed. A din rose from the nearby North Inn. The crowd seemed to be getting rowdy. Someone whistled. A woman squealed. Clapping.
Matt stared out at the ocean. “I met Mariza when I was sixteen. I was a kid, an irresponsible kid. Not that I regret it, not at all. I wouldn’t change anything because it meant we got to have Maggie. But Mariza and I, it was a lifetime ago. We’re friends, Ingrid, we have to be, for our daughter. But as that song Maggie keeps playing says, ‘we’re never, ever, ever getting back together,’ ” he said with a grin.
He turned to Ingrid and flipped around to hover over her, his hands pressing against the car’s roof, one at each side of her shoulders. He had her locked in so she couldn’t go anywhere but here, which was exactly where she wanted to be.
chapter thirty-six
The Price of Admission, Part Three
Her stomach lurched. Joanna wasn’t the one about to be tested, but it felt as if she might as well be as she strolled past the goddess Nike into the Carlyle School, holding Tyler’s hand. The little boy wore a crisp pale blue shirt and red paisley tie, his big curls slightly wet and brushed flat, appearing pasted to his large forehead. They took the flight of stairs to Principal Woodruff’s office. He had sent Joanna a personal e-mail, saying he would accompany her to the office of the admissions director, a Mrs. Henderson, for Tyler’s interview and test. He was looking forward to seeing her and Tyler.
“Where are we going?” asked Tyler.
“It’s going to be fine, sweetie,” said Joanna, her voice almost shrill, as they ascended the black marble steps. She squeezed his hand to reassure him.
“Ouch, you’re hurting me! Your hand is clammy, and my shoes are too tight!” Tyler pulled his hand away and stomped on the step with the polished black leather shoes in question. He leaned against the banister and refused to take another step.
Joanna attempted to pull herself together. She should have asked Norman to do this. It was too nerve-racking, but she had wanted to do it because she needed to ensure it went smoothly. “You came here with your mother and father, remember? Didn’t you see Principal Woodruff? Mr. Charlie? He told me you were a very intelligent little boy. You made an excellent impression on him.”
“Oh!” Tyler looked down and ran the side of his shoe along the step. “I can walk up the stairs myself. I’m a big boy.”
“Yes, you are, Tyler. You do that. That’s very good.” She loved Tyler, but he was making her jitters worse.
“Well, Hello!” said Principal Woodruff, rising to greet Joanna and Tyler as they entered his office. “You are looking extremely dapper, young man!”
Tyler looked down at his shiny shoes and shrugged.
“Say hello to Principal Woodruff.” Joanna patted his head, and he immediately pushed her hand away. Since when had Tyler begun behaving this way? Joanna forced a smile. “Tyler?”
Tyler glanced up. “Hi,” he said to the principal, then quickly looked away to gaze out the window at the front yard.
“It’s very cold today,” said Mr. Woodruff. “I understand. We’re all a bit cranky when it gets like this.”
“I do apologize, Principal Woodruff,” said Joanna in a rush. “I think his shoes are bothering him. You know how fast they grow at this age. It’s hard to keep up, really!” She reached out to shake his hand.
“Call me Charlie. Please don’t apologize.” He smiled amicably, but he seemed a little frayed around the edges, as if he were trudging through these formalities. “Let’s go,” he said. He accompanied them to the admissions director’s office, where he introduced them to Mrs. Henderson, wished them good luck, and said good-bye.
Joanna felt that sudden dropping sensation in her stomach again.
She and Tyler sat facing the gleaming desk, where manila folders, a glass paperweight with a tarantula trapped inside it, a pen carrier, and photos were neatly arranged. Mrs. Henderson appeared to be a fastidious woman. She was British, attractive, with fine, light blond hair up in a French twist and big turquoise blues with a left lazy eye that roamed to the inner corner. When the eye righted itself, Mrs. Henderson smiled with her bright scarlet lips.
Joanna could only see the backs of the photo frames on the desk. Perhaps, she mused, if she could see these photographs—Mrs. Henderson’s family or dog or cat—she might feel less intimidated by this gatekeeper to her top-choice school. Dorothy De Forrest’s questions rang in her head. Who is your patron? Who do you have on the inside? She glanced at the large black-and-white print on the wall, a pretty freckle-faced Amelia Earhart in an aviator’s cap and goggles, and quickly recited an incantation in her head to little effect.
Tyler studied the room and, with watchful eyes, stared at Mrs. Henderson as she went on about the scholarships the school offered.
Joanna could feel v
ast rings of sweat forming at the armpits of her silk blouse. She kept her arms pinned to her sides and collected herself, a witch without magic. To her dismay, Tyler appeared to be moping. She noticed the bright yellow room adjacent to the office, which could be spied via a connecting glass window. Inside, she saw a play area with colorful toys, desks, and chairs. This was most likely where the kindergarten consultant would administer her test.
“Yes, that’s where Tyler will go and play in a little while,” the admissions director said, and nodded. She turned to the boy. “First off, why don’t you go ahead and take off your shoes, Tyler. And while we are at it, you are welcome to loosen that nice tie of yours. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
Tyler shook his head no, then looked down. Joanna immediately leaned over to help him, and his little hands fluttered at hers as if she were an irritating fly. He was being so very uncooperative today of all days. Usually, he was such a good kid. What had gotten into him? “I don’t understand. He’s never like this,” said Joanna.
“It’s okay, I want Tyler do it by himself,” Mrs. Henderson said. “Tyler, please remove your shoes.” Her voice remained polite but firm.
Joanna realized the testing had begun, even if the director hadn’t taken him into the adjoining room. She watched Tyler’s lack of response, panic rising.
Tyler slumped in his chair and wouldn’t budge.
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