The Apartment (19 page)

Sarah thought about it for a minute. “Would the first week in January be too soon? We should get moving.” Claire felt giddy as she listened to her. She was starting her own shoe business! She had never even dreamed of something like this.

“That sounds fine,” Claire said about her arrival. “What'll we call it?”

Her mother didn't hesitate for an instant. “Claire Kelly Designs, of course. What else would we call it?” The two women hugged again, and Claire thanked her profusely and opened her computer again when she left the room. She wrote a joint e-mail to all three of her roommates, told them she was starting her own shoe company with her mother, and asked how they would feel about her staying with them for a few months until they got it off the ground, and she told them she wouldn't be angry if they said no.

All three responses came back immediately. They were thrilled for Claire about the shoe company, and delighted to welcome her mother. Morgan had added, “I hope she cooks better than you do,” but they had Max for that. Claire went to report their answers to her mother. She was in her bedroom sorting through her closet, and Claire knew why. She was getting organized for New York.

“It's a go,” she said cryptically to her mother, “unanimously.” Sarah beamed at her and gave her a thumbs-up. And Claire had to hand it to her. She was fifty-five years old and she was starting a shoe company. “I love you, Mom,” Claire said as she left her mother's bedroom again and went back to her own. She was leaving in two days, and now she could hardly wait to go back and get started. They had a lot of work to do, and they'd have to go to Italy to meet with the factory, make production arrangements, and sign a contract. It was too good to be true, but it was happening. Two weeks before, she had lost everything, and now a whole new life was beginning. A miracle had happened, all thanks to her mother. And Claire hoped it was going to be a miracle for Sarah too. And who knew, maybe her father would wake up.

Alex and Sasha were on duty at the hospital on Christmas Eve, sitting in the doctors' lounge, sharing a sandwich. She had two women in early labor with first babies, who she knew were going to take forever and probably wouldn't be born until morning, but she was stuck there anyway. And everything was quiet in neonatal ICU. Three babies had gone home the day before, and the others were all stable. The nursing staff was keeping an eye on them while he and Sasha talked and ate the turkey sandwich he'd gotten for them downstairs.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, grinning at him. “Maybe next year we'll actually have a turkey dinner instead of a sandwich.” But neither of them looked unhappy, and they were grateful to be together. She'd been telling him about Valentina and her French boyfriend. They were in Paris and due back in two days. “I can't believe she's still with him,” Sasha told him. “They usually don't last this long. It's been three months.”

Alex's parents had called them earlier on his cell phone and wished them both a merry Christmas. She had loved spending Thanksgiving with them, and sent his parents flowers to thank them, and a five-pound box of chocolates for Christmas. She and Alex hadn't exchanged gifts yet and wanted to do it when they went off duty on Christmas night. She had bought him a warm hat and gloves, and a pair of Crocs as a joke.

He pulled a box of cookies out of his pocket then, that he'd gotten for her in the cafeteria, and he handed them to her when she finished her half of the sandwich.

“Dessert,” he said as she hesitated.

“Maybe I should save them for later. It's going to be a long night.” She eyed the box thoughtfully.

“Go on, I'll get you more if you want. The cafeteria's open all night.” She weakened and dug into the box and couldn't reach the cookies. They were stuck inside. She peered into it and saw a black velvet box instead, and she looked at Alex with startled eyes.

“What's that?” Her heart was pounding as she pulled it out and looked at him in amazement.

“The cookies must have come with a prize!” he said with a wide smile. She had the box in her hand as he got down on one knee in the doctors' lounge and spoke softly. “Sasha, I love you with all my heart and being. I pledge you everything I have and am. Will you marry me?”

“Oh my God,” she said, and started to cry, as he opened the box for her, and slipped a beautiful diamond ring onto her shaking hand. “Oh my God…I love you…What number date is this?” she asked, laughing through her tears. They had only been dating for three months, but he was absolutely certain she was the love of his life. He had told his parents over Thanksgiving what he intended to do, and they heartily approved. His father had lent him the money for the ring, and Alex was going to pay him back.

Alex kissed her then, and looked at her. “You haven't answered me. ‘Oh my God, what number date is this,' is not a conclusive answer.”

“Yes! Yes…oh my God. What am I going to tell my mother? She doesn't believe in marriage.” She was panicked.

“Tell her we do,” he said quietly, and put his arms around her, and she held up her hand to admire the beautiful ring he had just given her.

“When are we getting married?” she asked him. She was overwhelmed by the whole idea.

“How about June?” She nodded, and they were talking and hugging and laughing, when one of the labor nurses walked in and saw them. It was Sally, the one they both liked best.

“What are you two doing in here?” She liked them both and always enjoyed working with Sasha when she was on duty.

“We just got engaged,” Sasha told her, beaming.

“Congratulations!” she said heartily, and then went back to business. “We're getting some action in Room Two. Heavy labor, we're at ten. She's ready to push. We need you.”

“How did that happen so fast?” Sasha stood up quickly. “She was at two the last time I looked.”

“Maybe the baby got tired of waiting. What do I know? You're the doctor, so get your ass in there and get to work. If you'll excuse me,” she said, turning to Alex with a broad grin, “your fiancée is on duty. She's the doctor here tonight. And give him back the ring,” she said to Sasha. “You can't wear it when you're doing a delivery.” She was right. Sasha handed it to him, and he put it in the box and slipped it in his pocket.

“Don't lose it!” she said as she kissed him quickly and hurried after the nurse with a wave at her future husband.

The baby in Room Two was already through the birth canal and crowning when Sasha hurried into the labor room. She was just in time to catch the baby, a little girl who came out with two pushes, as her parents laughed and cried at the wonder of her. Sasha cut the cord and put her on her mother's stomach, and then to her breast, as the new mom held her close and looked adoringly at her husband and told him how much she loved him. And all Sasha could think of, as she watched them, was that one day that would be her and Alex.

When Alex and Sasha came off duty on Christmas night, they met the others at Max's restaurant, after they went back to the loft to shower and change, and make love to celebrate their engagement. They were both glowing when they walked in to meet the others, and Sasha was wearing her engagement ring, but she was not going to tell them until they saw it. She was drinking a glass of wine since she they were off call for the night, and holding the glass with her left hand, when Morgan let out a piercing scream as she stared at it.

“Oh my God! What is that?” Max looked instantly terrified, thinking she had seen a mouse or a cockroach, and then Abby saw the ring and let out a shriek.

“What's wrong with you two?” Max shouted at them, and by then Greg and Oliver had seen it too and were laughing.

“We're engaged!” Sasha shouted at them. “We're getting married.”

“Oh, for God's sake, I thought we had rats.” Max turned to Morgan. “Don't ever scream like that again, unless someone shoots a customer.” But they were all laughing and hugging by then, and Max ordered their best champagne for the table.

“When did he ask you?” Morgan wanted all the details, and Sasha told them. And Alex looked like a proud man as they all congratulated him.

“Have you told your mother?” Morgan asked her, and Sasha shook her head.

“We called Alex's parents and brother last night. I thought I'd call mine, and Valentina, tomorrow. I wanted to give us some time to enjoy it first.”

“That should be fun with your mom,” Morgan teased her. Morgan knew that Sasha's mother was no advocate for marriage, and would try to talk her out of it. She thought Sasha's father was a nice guy, but her mother was hell on wheels and rarely nice to Sasha, or anyone else.

“I think Valentina is coming home from Paris tomorrow, or the next day. And you're all bridesmaids,” she told Morgan and Abby, “and Claire, of course. I have to send Claire an e-mail to tell her. We think we'll get married in June.” She gave them all the details, as they drank the champagne. And Valentina would be the maid of honor, of course.

“Who's going to plan it?” Morgan asked her.

“I don't know yet. We haven't thought about it.” It hadn't even occurred to Sasha.

“You need a wedding planner. You'll go crazy without one. You're too busy to do it. And I can't see your mom planning a wedding. That would be like hiring Cruella De Vil to be your dogwalker.” They all laughed at that. “She'd be handing out pamphlets on divorce law in church.” Listening to her, Sasha realized that they had a lot of decisions to make—about church wedding or not, Atlanta or New York, big wedding or small one—not to mention who was going to pay for the wedding. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the moment with Alex before all hell broke loose and they had to figure it all out. And it sounded like Morgan was right, they would need a wedding planner.

They talked about their e-mail from Claire about her mother moving in with them for a few months, so Claire could start a shoe business with her. They were all happy for her, and the three women said they liked her mother and thought it would be fine. She was a quiet woman, and if Claire didn't mind sharing her bedroom with her, it would work.

They all had a good time at dinner that night, and went back to the apartment. And the next day Sasha called her mother. She was already back in her office the day after Christmas.

They made small talk for a few minutes, which was never easy with her, and then Sasha decided to bite the bullet and cut to the chase.

“I have something to tell you, Mom,” she said, feeling ten years old again and as though she'd gotten in trouble at school.

“You're giving up medicine to go to law school? Now that would be good news.” Muriel was only half-joking.

“Actually, no. I've been dating someone wonderful, and we're getting married. I'm engaged.”

“How long have you been dating him, and why don't I know about him?”
Because you're a sour old bat,
Sasha wanted to say to her, but didn't.

“We haven't been dating for very long, and I wanted to be sure it was serious before I told you.”

“How long?” Muriel Hartman asked, sounding as though she were cross-examining a witness.

“Three months.”

“That's ridiculous. You don't know each other. Do you know the success rate of people who get married after three months?”

“I'm sure sometimes it works out. We've spent a lot of time together.”

“What does he do for a living?” The inquisition was on.

“He's a resident at NYU, like I am, in pediatrics.”

“I hope you're prepared to starve. He won't make any money, and you won't either. What do his parents do?” She hated the way her mother viewed things and the things she said. But none of it surprised her. This was why she rarely called her mother.

“His father is a cardiologist, and his mother is an attorney, in Chicago.” It was all the information Sasha could give her. “They're very nice people. I met them at Thanksgiving.”

“Well, I'm not paying for the wedding. I don't believe in marriage.”

“I didn't call you to ask you to subsidize my wedding,” Sasha said, annoyed. “I just called to tell you I'm getting married, and I was hoping you'd congratulate me, if that's not too much to ask.”

“Congratulations,” Muriel said tersely. “I'm sure your father will pay for the wedding,” she added, sounding angry. “Have you called him?”

“No. I called you first.”

“That was nice of you,” she said, surprised. “When are you getting married?”

“Maybe June. We don't have a date yet. It just happened.”

“Well, congratulations,” she said again, “even though I think you're making a mistake. You should live together for a few years, and by then you probably won't want to get married. And don't have children!” she said sternly, which was a direct slam at Sasha and Valentina.
How about just not having a mother?
Sasha wanted to ask her. Sasha thought her mother was truly the most unpleasant woman she'd ever met. “Don't forget to give me the wedding date so I can put it on my calendar.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Sasha said, and hung up. She had waited until Alex had left the apartment to call her, so he wouldn't be shocked by the exchange, and Sasha was glad she had.

She called her father after that, and her father said he was thrilled for her, congratulated her immediately, and said he couldn't wait to meet Alex. He said all the right things, and then put his wife on the phone to congratulate her too, which was a lot better than the conversation with her mother.

“Where are you getting married?” he asked her.

“We don't know yet, Dad. Maybe New York. I've lived here for a long time, all my friends are here now, and destination weddings are hard.”

“Well, wherever you decide to do it, remember I want to pay for the wedding. Whatever it costs. And you need to hire a wedding planner. They're expensive but you don't have time to do it yourself.” It was exactly what Morgan had said. And she was touched by her father's constant generosity to her. He was still helping her financially at thirty-two, and never complained. He knew how hard she worked, and one day, after her residencies, she'd be self-supporting, though not for a while. “Do you have a date yet?”

“Sometime in June. We have to figure it out.” He hesitated for a minute when she said it, and then said it would be fine, whatever worked for her. “Thank you again, Dad.” She was touched that he had been so quick to offer to pay for the wedding, unlike her mother, who would be a guest and nothing more.

“You two have to come to Atlanta now, so we can meet the groom.”

“We will as soon as we can. Our schedules are pretty tough.”

“We'll give you an engagement party when you come down.”

She thanked him again and hung up, relieved that it had gone so well with her father, and according to expectations with her mother. At least now they knew and couldn't complain that she hadn't told them. And now they had to choose a location, a date, and find a wedding planner. It felt a little overwhelming as Sasha went to meet Alex for lunch. They were off for the entire day and night. And she smiled as she saw her engagement ring sparkle on her finger. She waved at Abby on the way out. She was sitting at her computer and gave her a thumbs-up.

Abby had been glued to her computer ever since Thanksgiving, working on her novel and short stories. And she was happy with the results. She was dedicated to what she was doing. Her parents had called her from Mexico over the holiday, and were pleased to hear that she was hard at work. As her mother told her, that always paid off in the end.

It had been something of a lonely holiday for her. Her parents were on a trip, Ivan was out of her life, although she hardly ever missed him, Claire was in San Francisco, Sasha and Alex were always working, Morgan was at the restaurant with Max, and there were times when she was very sad. Her work was a good distraction, but it wasn't someone to talk to. She went out for a walk that afternoon to get some air, and walked past a pet hospital with signs on the window, about dogs and cats that were available for adoption. There were several Chihuahua mixes that looked a little like one of Oliver and Greg's dogs, a pug mixed with a beagle they referred to as a puggle, and a number of fluffy dogs with a lot of hair that were also mixes. Her favorite listed on the poster was a Chihuahua-Dachshund mix they called a chiweenie, which made her laugh. And feeling irresistibly drawn to the photographs on the window, Abby walked inside. There was a sign indicating that the adoption center was upstairs, and she followed the arrows to the second floor, where she found herself looking through windows at heartbreaking little abandoned dogs. There were a number of cats too, some of them very old. All of the pets at the hospital had been rescued, some found by people and brought in, others brought in by their owners, to give up. It seemed sad to Abby, and all of them needed a home. It made Abby's eyes fill with tears to look at them, they were all so forlorn. And then she found herself nearly eye to eye with an enormous black dog who stared at her, barked, and sounded like he was saying “Take me home.”

“Don't look at me like that,” she said to him through the glass, and he barked again. He wasn't taking no for an answer. “I can't,” she said, staring him in the eye. “I live in an apartment.” His next bark sounded like “I don't care.” She walked away from him, and he started barking frantically, as she glanced at a dog whose sign said it was a Lhasa Apso, but she was very old. And suddenly Abby knew she had to leave before she made a terrible mistake and went home with a dog. She had just gone to see them for the fun of it, to cheer herself up, and now they were tugging at her heart. The enormous black dog was still barking, standing up in his cage, and he was as tall as a man.

“What is that?” Abby asked an attendant walking by.

“He's a Great Dane, he's two years old, he was a show dog, and his owner left him here because he moved away. He couldn't find a home for him. His name is Charlie. He's a good guy. Would you like to meet him?” She felt like she was being fixed up on a date. And before she could stop herself, she said “Okay” with a slight feeling of panic. She wasn't afraid of the dog, but of herself.

Charlie emerged from the cubicle she'd seen him in, and he came out politely, sat down in front of her, and held out his paw for her to shake.

“Hello, Charlie,” Abby said meekly. “I want to be clear with you. I can't take you home with me. I have three roommates and live in an apartment. And they'd kill me.” His mournful eyes reminded her that it was a loft with a lot of space.

“How much does he weigh?” Abby asked the attendant out of curiosity.

“A hundred and eighty pounds.”

“Oh my God,” Abby said. Ivan had only weighed one sixty-five. Charlie was as big as a man, bigger in some cases. He sat looking at her expectantly, and she could see that he was very well trained. But what would she do with a hundred-and-eighty-pound dog? “What does he eat? A side of beef?”

“Ten or twelve cups of kibble a day, or a couple of cans of dog food.” It didn't sound like a lot to her, given his size. “He sleeps a lot, and he's very well behaved.” As the attendant said it, Charlie held out a paw to her again, with pleading eyes.

“Please don't look at me like that,” Abby said to the dog directly. “I can't help you out. I told you, I have roommates.”

The look in Charlie's eyes said, “So?” She was having an entire conversation with his very expressive face. And he was not letting her off the hook.

“Does he attack people? Has he ever bitten anyone?”

“Never.” The attendant looked offended. “He's the gentlest dog here, and he's kind of a scaredy-cat. He hides when other dogs get aggressive. I don't think he knows how big he is. He thinks he's a lapdog.”

“I'll think about it,” she said to the attendant, said goodbye to Charlie, and headed down the stairs. And as she did, Charlie broke free from the attendant and ran after her, and then lay whining at her feet. Abby was nearly crying as she patted him, and told him he had to go back. And then he put his hands on his head, while he lay there, as though it were the worst news he'd ever heard, and he didn't want to hear it. Abby sat down on the steps next to him, and gently stroked his coat as he gazed up at her imploringly, begging her to take him. She felt a wave of insanity come over her then, stood up, faced the attendant, and said, “I'll take him.” The attendant beamed and Charlie barked, and then the attendant asked her a question.

“Do you have a garden? He needs room to walk around.”

“I live in a three-thousand-square-foot loft.”

“That'll work.” He went to get a leash for Charlie, the diet he'd been following, the vitamins he took, a sheet of instructions, and the adoption papers for Abby to fill out. The dog was glued to her side, and she glanced down at him with a stern expression.