“I got lucky,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“I called Rob a couple of weeks back and told him I was thinking about getting back into the PR game and he promised he’d let me know if he heard of anything. After that, I called my old boss from New York. Remember him?”

I nodded, wondering why she even needed to ask. We saw the guy practically every night before turning off the television.

“Anyway, he said he’d see what he could do. I didn’t expect much, but I guess he talked to his manager, and his manager ended up calling me back. And, it just so happens that he knew a guy who knew a guy, and I guess my name got passed along to the right people because last Monday, I was talking to one of the vice presidents about a job and she asked me to put in a résumé and three letters of recommendation.”

“You’ve been working on this since Monday? And never mentioned it?”

“I didn’t think it would amount to anything.”

“It sounds to me like you had to have some idea this might be coming.”

“Oh, please. Like I could have predicted any of this.” She began laying the blouses over one of the chairs. “And anyway, I had to scramble for a third recommendation. I wanted someone locally prominent, but I wasn’t sure he’d agree. But sure enough, he came through and I got my paperwork in by Wednesday.”

“And you said the job is in PR?”

“I’d be working directly for the CEO, not so much the company. I guess he does a lot of press conferences and interviews. A lot of his developments are on the coast, and environmentalists are always up in arms. Plus, he’s got a super PAC now, and he’s getting more involved in politics and wants to make sure he’s always on message.”

“Who’s the CEO?”

She paused, running her fingers along one of the suits. “Before I tell you, just keep in mind that I haven’t even been offered the job yet. And I don’t know whether I’d take it, even if they do offer me a position. I don’t have all the details yet.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t want you to get upset.”

“Why would I be upset?”

She began slipping the bags back over the suits. “Because you know him. Actually, you’ve worked on some of the advertising campaigns for his company.”

I connected the dots almost immediately. “It’s not Walter Spannerman, is it?”

She seemed almost sheepish. “Actually, it is.”

I remembered how miserable he’d made me; I also remembered his penchant for hiring beautiful women, so the fact that he was interested in Vivian didn’t shock me in the slightest. “You know he’s awful, right? And so is his company.”

“That’s why he wants an in-house PR person.”

“And you’d be okay working with a guy like that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met him yet. I just hope I can impress him.”

With the way you look, I’m sure he’ll be impressed, I thought. “How many hours a week are they thinking?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” she answered. “It’s a full-time position. And there’s probably going to be some travel, too.”

“Overnight?”

“That’s what travel usually means, doesn’t it?”

“What about London?”

“I don’t know anything yet, okay? Let’s cross that bridge when we get there. If we get there. For now, can we just plan to celebrate? Can you do that for me?”

“Of course,” I said, but even as I said the words, I thought about Spannerman and his relationship with Peters and found myself wondering who exactly Vivian had called for that final recommendation.

But she wouldn’t have done something like that, would she?

CHAPTER 5

Changes

When London was four, a small bicycle with training wheels appeared under the Christmas tree. I’d been adamant about getting her a bicycle; some of my favorite childhood memories were of pedaling hard on my Schwinn, chasing my freedom on humid summer days. Granted, most of those memories occurred between the ages of eight and thirteen, but my thinking as the holidays approached was that London would learn to ride for a year or two before the training wheels finally came off, and in a few years, she would ride as well as I had.

Vivian, however, wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Though she’d owned a bicycle, she didn’t have the same joyful associations that I did. I remembered asking her if she’d bought the bicycle in the weeks leading up to Christmas and each time she put me off, telling me that she hadn’t had time. In the end, I’d dragged her to the store and bought it myself, spending hours assembling it like one of Santa’s elves after Vivian had gone to bed.

I couldn’t wait for London to give it a try, and as soon as she spotted it under the tree, she ran over and I helped her climb on. As I began to push her through the living room Vivian intervened, suggesting that we open some of her other gifts. As always, my first thought was that she received too many things: clothes and toys, finger-painting kits, a mannequin (to dress up), and a beaded jewelry–making kit. Then there were countless Barbie-related items; it took me an hour to dispose of the wrapping paper and ribbons strewn throughout the room. Vivian, meanwhile, spent that time with London and her toys and clothes, and it wasn’t until almost noon that I was finally able to get London outside.