His face fell. “Can’t we do it today? I’ve been avoiding asking her all week.”
“I can’t today. I’m. . I’m waiting for Jim to come home.”
“Doesn’t he normally get home around five? We’ve got plenty of time.”
My stomach flip-flopped.
How much should I tell George?
“Sit down. Let me get us plates.”
I made my way to the kitchen and scrambled for a couple of place settings and napkins. Obviously, George didn’t know about Svetlana. Where had he been yesterday morning?
I returned to the living room to find George staring down at Laurie.
“She sure doesn’t cry much.”
“Ha. Not while she’s being held. Just try to put her down to have lunch.”
I scooped generous portions of steaming chow mein onto each plate. George looked around for somewhere to set Laurie. I indicated the bassinet with my fork and proceeded to shovel a sweet-and-sour prawn into my mouth.
George was able to easily extract himself from Laurie. Sitting down to eat, he said, “Babies don’t seem so hard. I don’t know what everyone makes such a big deal about.”
I refrained from letting my eyes roll into the back of my head and continued to devour the food on my plate. I managed to mumble, “Just wait.”
We ate in silence for a moment before I asked, “George, before we saw you at the pier yesterday, where were you?”
He eyed me suspiciously as he slurped up a noodle. “Why?”
“Svetlana Avery was found murdered. Same gun that killed Brad.”
George’s fork clattered onto our hardwood floor. He stood, then sat back down. “Oh my God. How do you know?”
“Jim’s still in jail. Homicide has been questioning him about you. They told him about Svetlana. They have a witness who saw a man leaving her apartment.”
George’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He stood. “I gotta go.”
I grabbed his arm. “No, you don’t! Where do you think you’re going? You have to get to the police station! Jim’s still in jail because of you!”
He pulled his arm free. “Sorry. Things are really getting screwed up. I gotta go. . I gotta try and fix. .” He bolted toward the front door and pulled it open.
“Wait, George! Where were you yesterday? Was it you at Svetlana’s? Is that why-”
George bounded down the steps. “I’ll call you later. Don’t worry about Jim. I’m gonna fix everything.”
My heart plummeted to new depths.
Laurie let out a distressed wail as though sensing my panic. I rushed toward the front window.
Where could he be going? I wanted to follow him, grab him by his ear, and drag him to the police station. I should have never settled for talking to him.
Why hadn’t I called Mr. Crane after George called me? I could phone him now, but what good would that do? George was already gone.
I picked Laurie up and nestled her into my shoulder. I paced, willing an idea, any idea, to come into my mind.
Hopelessness and exhaustion bore down on me.
I was fighting back tears when the phone rang. I grabbed the phone, praying it would be Jim.
I was greeted by a far too chipper voice. “Hi, Kate? This is Rachel from Dr. Greene’s office. You haven’t made your six-week appointment yet and I was calling to see if I could schedule that for you.”
I took a breath. “Oh. Yeah. I guess so.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Uh. . yeah,” I said, trying to match her cheerfulness.
“How are you feeling, Kate?” Her voice suddenly carried more weight.
“I’m fine,” I said, nearly choking on the lump that was rapidly forming in my throat.
“Are you feeling overwhelmed?”
What an understatement. One infant, three murders, a jailed husband, and a new career. No. I wasn’t overwhelmed!
“I guess you can call it that,” I managed.
“Do you have the baby blues?” she asked.
“Baby blues?” I repeated.
“You’re not. .” Her voice changed to a whisper. “Depressed, are you?”
“No, no, no,” I repeated a little too gregariously, jarring Laurie from her sleeping position on my shoulder.
“It’s very common, Kate. You don’t need to feel ashamed. Should I have one of our specialists call you?”
“No. I’m fine. Really, just fine.”
“Let me just make a note here.”
“What? A note? A note where?”
“In your file. I’ll have someone call you.”
“What are you writing in my file? That I’m depressed? Don’t write that. I’m not depressed. I’m fine.”
“It looks like Clara has an opening this afternoon. She’ll call you around three, okay?”
Rachel hung up, leaving me with a dial tone in one ear and Laurie wailing in the other.
A note in my file?
Another thing to live down. Like the poor rating Laurie and I had gotten on breastfeeding. Only this felt worse. I was in this one all on my own.
I fell into an exhausted catnap on the sofa, with Laurie cuddled beside me. When the phone rang again, it interrupted a dream I was having about being stuck in the desert, dying of thirst.
I clucked my dry tongue against the roof of my mouth. No wonder. When was the last time I’d had anything to drink?
I stretched for the cordless phone, trying not to disrupt Laurie.
My voice cracked as I squeezed out a greeting.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Mom asked.
“Mom! How are you? How’s Hank?”
“We’re both fine. Now, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“I can tell by your voice.”
“I just need to get something to drink.”
“No, that’s not it. What’s wrong?”
I sighed. How could she know? Maternal instinct?
“Nothing.” My voice cracked further and tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Are you crying?”
“No,” I sobbed.
“I’m coming over.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said into an empty receiver.
Mom arrived within ten minutes. She wore a huge hat with feathers on it, as though she had just stepped out of an old Errol Flynn movie.
“What’s with the hat? Were you fencing?” I asked as Mom quickly diapered Laurie.
“Isn’t it fabulous! I got such a deal on it.”
“Clearly.” I giggled.
Mom ignored me and gathered the lunch remnants from the living room. On her insistence, I collapsed onto the couch while she did the dishes and made us tea.
Over tea, I reluctantly filled her in on my new client, my hopes to launch my own PI business and stay out of corporate America, Jim’s arrest, Svetlana’s murder, and George’s sudden departure.
Mother’s eyes remained glued on me as I finished telling her about Rachel’s call and the dreaded note in my file.
Mother chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Darling, you have enough to worry about without fretting over a note in a chart.”
“I want you guys to be proud of me.”
“I am proud.”
“I know you’re proud of me. I mean, you’re my mom. You’re proud of me the way I’m proud of Laurie. I mean, all she can really do is lie there, but I’m proud of her because she’s mine. I’m sure that’s how you feel about me, but I want you and Jim and Laurie to feel proud of me, proud of my accomplishments. And what am I really accomplishing?”
Mom looked at me, perplexed. “Darling, you just had a baby! You’re starting your own business. You’re accomplishing a lot. You’re going to be very successful. You are successful.”
She leaned across the coffee table and squeezed my hand. “Don’t be upset. Honestly, this is just the hormones. Don’t be so mopey. Have some tea, cheer up. Jim will be home any minute.”