CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Even though I arrive after ten, my workday feels like it stretches on forever. I debated calling in sick so I could spend the day in bed with Gavin, but responsible-Beryl wrestled New York-Beryl to the ground and gagged her.
Instead, I’m here, and I’m beyond frustrated that I can’t go out with my newly minted boyfriend tonight because of the charity committee meeting with Greta.
It seemed like such a good idea a week ago.
Dan’s in a buoyant mood and tells me I’ve got a four-day weekend coming up—if I think Joel is ready to take care of Aleah for the weekend, I can take July fourth and fifth off to go home to Eugene for a visit.
There’s a catch. He’s going, too.
“I’m not sure I can afford it,” I say. I still haven’t touched the money from Peter’s first check, and I’m not sure I want to.
“Come on, it’s been more than a month. And you know Eugene is way nicer than the humidity here.”
“That’s your excuse? The weather?” I give him a stern look but can’t help but smile. He’s grinning like a little boy with a foot-tall ice cream cone.
“Well, maybe there’s a certain dark-haired, hazel-eyed beauty who looks an awful lot like you.”
“Let me think about it,” I say. I don’t want to leave New York now that Gavin’s finally back. At least not right away. Speaking of which…
“I should tell you, Gavin Slater’s back in town.”
“When did he get in?”
“Yesterday.”
Dan looks at me closely and my blush gives me away. “Your mom said some secret admirer sent you to the spa for your birthday. Any chance that was Gavin?”
Again, I can’t lie to him. “A pretty good chance.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“We’re, uh, well, when we had to talk a bunch, when I was getting his place sorted out, we sort of…” It’s hard to explain to Dan, and I’m afraid he’ll be angry that I’m involved with one of Keystone’s clients. I wasn’t even sure how to tell my mother, and I know that the instant Dan hears about it, she’ll know it, too.
“Spit it out, Beryl. Are you seeing him now?”
“I guess. I mean, yes. We are.” I push a few papers around on my desk, afraid to look at Dan’s face for a reaction. “Please. Before you say it’s unprofessional, I never intended, I never tried to do this. It just happened.”
Dan nods. “I’d give you the lecture about being careful and taking it slow, but I think you already had a pretty rude awakening with that Peter guy. I hope Gavin’s good to you, and good for you.”
“I think he is. I think he’s—changing. Not being the crazy rock star who trashed his place.”
“I hope not. So what’s on your plate today?”
I tell him I have Joel busy washing windows for two clients and that I’m heading to the James’s apartment to finally organize their baby’s room.
“Oh? I didn’t know they had a child.”
“That’s the weird thing. They don’t.” I tell him about the ridiculous number of parenting books and the extravagant nursery, which is painted in green and decorated with a gender-neutral pond theme—frogs, ducklings, fish, and dragonflies. “Want to know the weird part?”
“I probably don’t, but tell me anyway.”
“They have two big dressers in the room. One’s full of pink little girl clothes. Lots of ruffles. The other one’s full of baby blue clothes with trucks and sailboats and stuff.”
“Are they expecting two?”
“I don’t think they’re expecting any. I think they want a child, and they’re driving themselves crazy preparing.”
“I can relate to that,” Dan says, and my jaw drops in surprise. “Look, Beryl, you hit a certain age and it’s fish or cut bait. You either have kids or you let go of that dream. Sounds like they’re not ready to let go. I wasn’t.”
“You wanted to have kids?”
“Yes. I just never found the right person at the right time.” His voice is wistful and I wonder if he means my mom could have been the right person, if they’d been together at the right time. “But at least I have a pretty cool sort-of niece.”
“I’m glad you and my mom are…” I’m not sure how to describe their relationship.
“Me, too.”
I squirm, seeing a faraway look in Dan’s eyes. It looks like his vacation to Oregon can’t come soon enough. I change the subject. “I’m going to take in Peter’s donation tonight. To the Safe Haven Network.”
“Tonight?”
“There’s a committee meeting for their charity ball next month. Greta Carr called someone and got us both on the committee.”
“That’s great, Berry! Good networking for you, and a nice way to spend time with a valuable client.”
“I think she might become a friend.” I tell him how we’re planning to help with the event, which has refocused Greta on the Safe Haven Network instead of the party circuit.
Dan’s eyebrows lift in surprise. It’s clear his original impression of Greta is just like the rest of the world’s: skin-deep. “You never stop surprising me. You make a reckless rock star boyfriend material. You turn a shallow socialite into an heiress with a heart of gold.”
“I think you’re wrong, Uncle Dan. They always had it in them. They just needed someone to see it, too.”
***
When I finally get to the Steens’ apartment after the committee meeting, I’m beyond beat.
My strappy heels have grown teeth and gnawed a chunk of skin off my feet. The color-blocked silk dress à la Lulu is a wrinkled mess and my long necklace’s chain tangled in the hair at the back of my neck. I actually have to rip it off me.
I collapse on the Steens’ tufted sofa and wince. It looks like it belongs in a psychiatrist’s office, but the person who bought this horribly uncomfortable piece of furniture needs to get her head checked. My guess is a decorator picked it out solely for looks.
Gavin should be proud of me. I ass-tested every couch in the furniture store before I bought his. If you can’t flop onto a couch after a long day at work, what’s it good for?
The thought of flopping on Gavin’s couch—especially flopping on it naked, beneath Gavin—reminds me yet again that I haven’t talked to him all day. He knew I had the committee meeting, though, so I didn’t expect him to call.
I try his home phone but there’s no answer. I try the new mobile number he texted me this morning. Ditto. I leave a light-hearted voicemail and then decide not to pester him—he could be visiting his bandmates or going out with friends after more than two months of self-imposed exile.
I’ve waited this long for him to come home. I can wait a little longer for our first real date. Besides, my plans kept us from going out tonight, not his.
Aleah whines to go out and I pry myself off the couch to change into shorts. I cover my blister with antibiotic cream and a bandage, then lace up my running shoes.
It’s just after dark but the park is still full of life—plenty of other twilight dog-walkers had the same idea. I consider getting Jasper but it feels like such a long walk from the Upper East Side to the Upper West, and my blister is bothering me.
If Aleah is annoyed by her short-lived walk, she doesn’t show it. She tries to give me an enthusiastic tongue-kiss when I remove her leash.
I pour food in Aleah’s bowl and pour myself into bed, feeling the tidal wave of emotions I’ve experienced today crash over me and pull me into a dream-laden sleep.
I’ll bet I snore like a jet engine.
Sorry, Aleah.