The Apartment (6 page)

“I just turned into a pumpkin.” She had worn jeans and a pink sweater, and could change into scrubs when she got to the hospital—she didn't need to go home. They were pulling her in for a set of twins. They had admitted the mother to the hospital a week before, to stop premature labor, but they couldn't hold it off anymore. The babies were a month early, and had had complications. The text said she was dilating rapidly, and they wanted Sasha in right away.

“Duty calls,” she said as she stood up, and kissed each of them before she left. “See you tomorrow. I'm in for Thanksgiving, by the way, if I'm not working,” she said to Oliver when she hugged him. “I can't deal with being pulled between my parents anymore. Someone always gets pissed off. I'm staying here for Thanksgiving, and I'll probably be on call or on duty that day anyway. If I'm not at the hospital, count me in. I'll tell Valentina, but she'll probably be in Gstaad or Dubai with a new guy by then.” Valentina hadn't gone home for holidays for years, for all the reasons Sasha had just stated. It was too stressful for them, and without meaning to, their parents made it miserable for them. It was like playing tug-of-war, and Sasha felt like the rope, being pulled in opposite directions by parents who were still at war seven years after their divorce.

“We'll be happy to have you,” Oliver assured her, and she knew that Thanksgiving would be warm and wonderful at their home. They had a beautiful apartment, and loved entertaining friends, which they did well, unlike Morgan, who had never been the homemaker her brother was, and she couldn't cook as well as Max, who had made Thanksgiving for them the year before.

Sasha left quickly after that, while the others made plans for the fall. She was still smiling about the evening she had spent with them during the cab ride to the hospital, and then flew through ER and down the back halls, into an elevator and up to labor and delivery, where she knew they were waiting for her to deliver the twins.

On the way up in the elevator, she found herself thinking of Valentina and wondering how she was with the man in St. Bart's. Her romances usually only lasted a few months. Neither she nor Sasha seemed to have the ability to attach to anyone for long. The obvious reason was their parents' bad marriage, which had been poisonous even long before the divorce. And Valentina was a little too fun-loving and indiscriminate about the men she went out with—all they had to be was rich and old. And Sasha was “too busy” to get seriously involved with anyone, and yet other doctors and even residents seemed to manage to have relationships and get married, but Sasha couldn't see herself doing that yet, or maybe ever. She was too scared that everything would go wrong.

She sailed out of the elevator as she thought about it, and crashed into a doctor wearing a white coat. He was headed in the direction of labor and delivery as she was, and she almost knocked him down, and herself, when she bumped into him going full speed.

“Sorry!” she gasped, as he steadied her, and she looked up into the face of someone she had seen before, but didn't know. She hurried around him then, went to scrub up and change her clothes, and she was in the labor room with the twins' mother a few minutes later. She was another older mother, although the man next to her looked a lot younger than she did. They saw all kinds of combinations these days, male and female, same sex, older, younger, and infertility patients who were having multiple births with donor eggs or their own. There were a multitude of options and possibilities, and they hardly ever saw identical twins like her and Valentina, since they could only be natural, and the hormones used for infertility caused fraternal twins, not identical, which were a gift of nature.

“Hi, I'm Dr. Hartman.” She smiled calmly at the patient, who was having severe labor pains and hadn't had an epidural. They were talking about a C-section, but hadn't made the decision yet. The twins' mother had wanted a natural birth, but was changing her mind about it rapidly, faced with the pain of contractions. She was crying while the younger man with her stroked her head and held her hand and spoke to her soothingly.

“It's a lot worse than I thought it would be,” she managed to choke out, as Sasha suggested an epidural. The woman agreed, and Sasha went to the nurses' station to get the anesthesiologist to her room. She was back in the room two minutes later, while the woman in labor experienced another severe contraction that made her scream.

“You're going to feel a lot better in a few minutes when we get a line in,” Sasha reassured her, as the anesthesiologist on duty walked into the room. By sheer luck, he had been just down the hall in another labor room. He prepped her for the epidural, as she continued to cry with the pains, and fifteen minutes later, which seemed like an eternity to her, she was smiling in relief. They could see the contractions on the monitor, but she felt none of them, and her younger husband looked relieved. He had seemed panicked when Sasha walked into the room. She had a wonderful way of calming her patients, and making them feel like everything was under control. She made solid, rapid, good decisions, and her bedside manner was excellent. All of the doctors she had trained with were impressed with her. Now she had to decide whether to do a cesarean section or let her deliver vaginally. The babies' heartbeats were strong although they were four weeks early, and there was a good argument for letting them come through the birth canal naturally in order to induce them to breathe.

She consulted the couple about their options, and they wanted to avoid a C-section if possible. The chief resident came in and endorsed the decision, and they rolled the gurney she was on down the hall to the delivery room, with the anesthesiologist following them, a labor nurse, the babies' father, and two other doctors who had appeared since they were twins. And once in the delivery room, there were two pediatricians waiting for them too, and Sasha noticed that one of them was the doctor she had nearly knocked down as she ran out of the elevator. She realized that he was a resident too, from neonatal ICU, since the twins were technically premature. But twins at thirty-six weeks were a fairly normal occurrence, and the fetal monitors attached to the mother's belly and internally told them that the babies were doing well.

They lightened up on the epidural so she could push effectively, and she started to scream again and said it was too much pain.

“Let's get those babies out then, and this will be all over,” Sasha said easily as she kept a firm eye on what was going on. There was a sense of heightened tension and anticipation in the room, as she told the mother when to push, and all she should do was cry and scream. Sasha knew they were looking at a C-section if the delivery took too long, to avoid undue stress to the babies, and she got firm and strong in her commands to push, while offering sympathy for the pain, and then a head appeared between the woman's legs, and with a quick sure movement, Sasha delivered the shoulders and the body, and a little girl emerged crying loudly, as the mother laughed through her tears, and then started to scream again as the nurses took the first twin away and handed her to the pediatric resident, who checked her carefully, while Sasha delivered the second twin, who was bigger and harder to maneuver than the first. But a moment later, the boy was out too, both umbilical cords had been cut, and the babies appeared to be healthy and undamaged and were breathing well, although they would be closely watched and kept in an incubator for a few days. They were a good size at five pounds each, which was a healthy weight for twins born at thirty-six weeks.

Everything had gone well, and Sasha could feel the tension ease from the room as husband and wife kissed each other, looking thrilled and relieved. The mother was allowed to hold her babies and put them to her breast for a moment, before they were taken to the neonatal ICU, tested further, and put in an incubator together. Sasha congratulated the couple, and did some minor repair work to the mom after the babies left the room. They had given the mother something to sedate her, and she was shaking violently from what she'd just been through, which was normal too.

Sasha made easy conversation with her, as she did some stitches. “Did I tell you I'm a twin? I have an identical twin named Valentina. You're going to have a lot of fun with your babies.” She went on chatting with her to distract her from what she was doing, and after they took her vital signs, they wheeled her to a recovery room to observe her, and then she would go back to her own room. Sasha left her with the nurses in the recovery room and said she would come to see her tomorrow, and congratulated her again.

Her husband was in the NICU with their babies, and the mother drifted off to sleep with the sedation. Sasha went to get a cup of coffee in the doctors' lounge, and was just taking a sip when the resident from the NICU walked in, also looking for coffee. They were both exhilarated by the successful birth. It was three o'clock in the morning, and the time had flown.

“How are they?” Sasha asked to follow up, since he had examined the babies more thoroughly than she had.

“Perfect.” He smiled at her. “You did a good job. I thought for sure we were going to wind up with a C-section when she wouldn't push, but you finessed it nicely.”

“Thank you. Sorry I almost knocked you down when I got here. I wasn't paying attention, and I wanted to get there before she delivered. It took a little longer than I thought it would. I didn't mean to send you flying.”

“I don't think you could have.” He laughed. He was solidly built with powerful shoulders and a lot taller than she was. “But you gave it a hell of a try,” he teased her. “I played football in college.”

“I'm glad it all went so nicely,” she said, relaxed. They both knew that wasn't always the case, and it was heartbreaking when that happened. She had been at deliveries before where the baby died during the delivery, or was stillborn. It was the part of her work she hated. But tonight had been exciting and fun, with a good result. “We did triplets earlier this week. That was pretty scary. You missed that one,” Sasha said easily.

“I heard about it. I was off. Once in a while that happens, but not often.” She laughed, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I was on call tonight, having dinner with friends, when they told me to come in,” she said, while he assumed she'd been on a date. A woman with her looks could have been out every night, he thought to himself.

“Lucky for me they did,” he said honestly, smiling at her, as she headed for the lockers to change back into the clothes she'd worn to dinner. “I hope we get to work together again.” She disappeared through the swinging doors to the lockers and he didn't see her before she left. He said something to one of the nurses on duty when he went to check on the twins. “That was some hot resident on the delivery tonight,” he said with a grin, and the nurse laughed at him. She knew Sasha well.

“Don't get too excited,” the nurse warned him.

“Married?” He was instantly disappointed, but it wouldn't have surprised him. Most of the doctors he worked with were married. Some lucky guy might have snatched her up.

“She doesn't date anyone here. She does her work, and she doesn't fool around. She's a serious woman. I've never even seen her chatting with the guys.”

“Maybe she has a boyfriend,” he said, looking dejected.

“I don't know what her story is, but whatever it is, she's not telling. She's great to work with, but she never gets personal with anyone.”

“I'll keep an eye out for her,” he said, suddenly feeling tired as the tensions of the evening melted away, and he realized he didn't know her name and asked the nurse.

“Sasha Hartman. Good luck,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, and a moment later the resident from the NICU left the building too. His name was Alex Scott, and Sasha hadn't given him another thought as she got back to the loft and climbed into bed. Her only thought was that it had been a good night's work, and before that she had had fun at Max's restaurant with her friends. She didn't need or want more than that.

As he had promised he would, Max cooked dinner at the loft on Sunday night. He brought all the ingredients from the restaurant, and made two kinds of pasta, a big salad, and steaks for everyone. He had brought several loaves of French bread, freshly baked focaccia, half a dozen different cheeses, and a chocolate cake that had been baked that afternoon. Everyone was in good spirits, and gathered around the kitchen while he cooked. Morgan and Claire set the table. Oliver opened the wine to let it breathe. Greg made dressing for the salad. Abby was there, but Ivan had his meeting with the accountant, and was planning to read Daphne Blake's play after that, so he didn't come. And Sasha came home from work right before they sat down, and joined them wearing the familiar blue scrubs. Greg had put some music on, and the atmosphere was festive as Max poured the wine, and Morgan set the plates down at each place piled with food. It was a feast, and the kind of Sunday evening they all loved. They laughed and talked a lot. It was a family gathering of good people, good feelings in the home they loved. Abby seemed a little tense at first without Ivan, but she relaxed after her second glass of wine, and since she wasn't on call that night, Sasha drank too.

“Where's Valentina?” someone called out from the other end of the table, and Sasha answered.

“She's still in St. Bart's with a new guy. He's French.”

“And rich,” Morgan added, and everybody laughed. She was sitting next to Max, and he put an arm around her as she thanked him for dinner. It was delicious, and they ate everything.

Claire made coffee for those who wanted it, and Abby served it. Everyone pitched in, it was a perfect evening, and at midnight, Oliver and Greg left. Greg had early practice the next day, and Oliver had to take an important client to
Good Morning America
at seven
A.M.
The others lingered for a while, and Claire and Sasha did the dishes, while everyone else sat and talked. No one wanted it to end. And after they all thanked Max for bringing the food and doing the cooking, he and Morgan went to bed. She had to be up early the next day too.

They disappeared into her room, and talked quietly, sitting on the bed. He loved spending nights with her there, although he teased her about it and said it was like sleeping in a girls' dorm, but he loved the warm, welcoming atmosphere. It felt like a home, not just an apartment shared by four women. It made him sorry sometimes that he and Morgan didn't live together, but he knew he could stay with her anytime he wanted to, and he usually did two or three times a week, but they both liked having time on their own too, and they both had busy lives, and jobs that demanded a lot of them.

He lay down on the bed and beckoned to her. “Come lie next to me.” They hadn't been alone all night, and in the sanctuary of her room, he wanted to make love to her. She had the same thing in mind. After four years together, they often didn't have the opportunity during the week, or weren't in the mood if they got together late at night after he left the restaurant, but Sunday nights were special for them, when the stresses of their work week were forgotten, and they could just be two people who loved each other, and had the time to do something about it.

They lay in each other's arms afterward, and a few minutes later, he was sound asleep, as she smiled at him. He was such a good man. She didn't know how she'd been lucky enough to find him, but she knew it was a blessing that she had. She and Oliver had both been lucky with their partners, and they had created the kind of relationships they wanted, which were nothing like what they'd seen when they were growing up. Her life with Max was perfect just the way it was, and the loft in Hell's Kitchen was her home, the women she lived with the sisters she'd never had. Max understood how much that meant to her, and he no longer tried to change it. He accepted her as she was, independent, hardworking, successful, kind to him, and phobic about marriage.

In the living room, Claire and Abby were sitting on the couch, and Abby had admitted to her that she was worried about Ivan, and told her about Daphne Blake and her play.

“I know he wouldn't cheat on me, but she's all over him, and she's so young, and she has a rich father who wants to back a play. What if she traps him somehow? You know how men are. They're so naïve.” Claire thought Ivan was anything but naïve, but she didn't say it to Abby, and tried to reassure her as best she could, without saying what she thought of him again.

“You're not exactly old, for God's sake,” Claire said, sounding frustrated at how unaware Abby was of her many virtues, and Ivan's equally numerous flaws, dishonesty being at the top of the list. She was sure that Ivan was lying to her about the girl, but she didn't want to upset Abby. “She's five years younger than you are, and who cares if she has a rich father? Ivan is in love with you.”

“I hope you're right,” Abby said, sounding calmer and more confident than she felt. They both went to bed a little while later, and Claire strongly suspected that Ivan was cheating on her friend, and had before, possibly many times. There were so many nights he didn't spend with her, with thinly veiled excuses, or just didn't show up, or wouldn't answer his cell when Abby called. But Abby always gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Sasha had already gone to bed long before, exhausted from work, and relaxed after the happy evening Max had provided for them.

Max left before the others got up the next morning, and whispered to Morgan that he had to go to the fish market in the Bronx, to get their fresh catch of the day. He liked to pick the fish, meat, and produce himself. Usually the cook went with him, and sometimes Max let him go on his own. He ran a tight ship at the restaurant, and everyone liked and respected him there too. He was loved by all.

Morgan was at her office before anyone else the next day. She wanted to get ready for her first meeting, and still had research she wanted to read, and to check some numbers on her computer. There was an investment that George wanted to make, and she had promised him her opinion before the meeting. She was looking through what she had on her computer, when something caught her eye. It was just a name, on the list of directors of the fledgling company they were looking into, and something about it rang a bell. She Googled the man's name, and saw that he had been indicted by a grand jury five years before, but the charges against him had been dropped. He had been accused of insider trading by the SEC, but he had been cleared and was never prosecuted, but she had remembered the name. She didn't like the fact that he was one of the directors of the company, and mentioned it to George later that morning, and he laughed.

“That was all a big mix-up, some crazy coincidence when someone in his family bought and sold some stock. Don't worry about it—he was cleared. You get an A for doing your homework, though.” He smiled at her and looked pleased. “I'm proud of you.” But she still didn't like the idea of their investing in a company where one of its directors had been accused of fraud, even if his name had been cleared. She was a firm believer in the theory that where there's smoke, there's fire, and she didn't like the idea of having to explain it to their client. But the subject never came up, and George had told her before the meeting that it wasn't worth mentioning, although she disagreed with him. It was one of the rare times when they didn't agree, but he was her boss, and she followed his lead. The client was enthusiastic about the company, and they were supposed to go public in a year. It was the kind of young high-tech company that could make them all a lot of money if it took off.

She forgot about it after the meeting, and had other files to attend to and research to do. She didn't see George again all morning, and she had a call from Claire at noon.

“I'm sorry to bother you at work,” she said apologetically.

“Something wrong?”

“No…yes…I've been fighting with my boss for the last month. It's so frustrating. I need some good sound business advice.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I don't know whether to stay and tough it out, or look for another job and quit. Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night and talk about it?”

“Sure.” Morgan was flattered to be asked, and it was obvious that Claire was troubled, and scared of what the job market would be like if she left. “Max's at seven-thirty? I'll tell him we want a quiet table in the back.”

“Thank you,” Claire said, grateful and relieved. She was sure that Morgan would help her figure out the right thing to do. She had a better head for business than Abby or Sasha, although they would have been willing to listen too.

“Happy to do it,” Morgan said, and then went back to work, as Claire went back to her drawings for the spring line, which she hated. And Walter seemed to be looking over her shoulder constantly, as though he didn't trust her. And the little twit from Paris was driving her insane.

Sasha didn't have to be at work until noon after their Sunday-night dinner, so she could sleep in, and still almost overslept anyway. She was rushing again as she got to the hospital. She was wearing black jeans and a white sweater, and grabbed her white doctor's coat with her name on it out of her locker. She was surprised to see the resident from the NICU hanging around the doctors' lounge again.

“You seem to spend a lot of time here. Business must be slow in NICU,” she teased him, and he didn't want to admit that he'd checked the schedule and had been lying in wait for her.

“I never got to introduce myself the other night,” he said, feeling awkward. She was so damn beautiful it took his breath away, and she looked calm and cool. “I'm Alex Scott.”

“Sasha Hartman,” she said simply as she hurried to the door. She already knew she had three women in labor, one of them almost ready to deliver. She was a surrogate giving birth to someone else's twins, and the parents of the twins were planning to be in the delivery room with her—it was going to be a zoo. The surrogate was married, in her thirties, and had three children. It was the second time she had lent her body for surrogacy. She thought it was a noble cause, and it was a good source of income for her. The twins' biological parents had been desperate to have a baby, and had been willing to pay almost anything.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime…or lunch?” he blurted out as Sasha started to hurry away. She turned to him with a look of surprise on her face. The thought of sharing a meal with him, or anything more than coffee in the doctors' lounge, hadn't even occurred to her. He just seemed like a friendly guy at work, and she thought of him as collegial and nothing else. She didn't have the vaguest idea that he was interested in her.

“Either one,” she said, noncommittal and businesslike, thinking about the babies she was about to deliver and hand over to their legal parents.

“Tomorrow?” he said quickly, looking hopeful.

“Tomorrow what?” She was in a rush to leave, and he could see it.

“Tomorrow dinner?”

“Lunch. In the cafeteria. I'm on duty.” He could sense that it was the best deal he was going to get for now.

“Sounds good. So am I. I'll check in with you at noon to see how your schedule is looking.” She nodded, touched her forehead in a military salute, and flew out the door, and he almost let out a whoop as he threw away his empty coffee cup and went back to the NICU. It had already been a terrific day, and it was just minutes after noon. He could hardly wait for lunch the next day.

Sasha was already in the labor room, checking her patient, who was handling the contractions well. The parents were so excited they were already crying, and it wasn't even time to push. They could hardly wait to get their babies in their arms. But for now, the surrogate was her patient, and Sasha was focusing on her. The babies were lined up nicely, and the monitors looked good, and Alex Scott was the farthest thing from her mind.

The theater was dark on Monday nights, but Abby went in that afternoon anyway. She had more scenery to paint, and a little carpentry to do. She and a janitor did the heavy cleaning on Mondays, and she had been calling Ivan since that morning, but he didn't pick up, and hadn't returned her calls. He had been MIA since the day before, and by the time she got back to the apartment at six o'clock, she was panicked when she ran in to Claire in the hall. They came up the stairs together while Abby told her that she hadn't heard from him all day.

“He's probably just busy, or sleeping, or reading that girl's play. You know how he is. Sometimes he just disconnects for a couple of days.” Claire tried to reassure her. He had done it before, but Abby had a bad feeling about it this time. She didn't like the adoring look of that girl. And why was he reading other people's plays when he still hadn't produced hers?

They were both breathless when they got to the fourth floor and unlocked the door to the apartment. The others hadn't come home yet. Claire knew that Morgan was meeting a client for a drink, and Sasha wouldn't be home for several hours since she had only started work at noon.

“Try not to worry about it,” Claire told her soothingly, sorry for the state she was in. “He'll turn up. He always does.”
Unfortunately,
she added silently. The best thing that could happen to Abby, she knew, would be if Ivan really did disappear, but she also knew how upsetting it would be for her.

Claire went to her bedroom and changed out of her work clothes, trying not to think about her problems with her boss. And her mother called her a little while later, just to see how she was. Claire tried to talk to her at least once a week, but sometimes she got too busy, or forgot, or the time difference was wrong.

Her mother told her that she had taken another small decorating job, but Claire's father didn't know. She didn't want to upset him, and it was just freshening up a living room and two bedrooms for a friend. She always belittled what she was doing, and made it sound like a favor, instead of work, which was how she portrayed it to her husband if he saw her with samples or found out. She had been treating her decorating work that way for years, although she did a beautiful job and her clients loved what she did. She usually came in under budget, and had a knack for finding good-looking accessories and furniture at reasonable prices. She and Claire had decorated the loft together nine years before, and added new pieces from time to time, to keep it up to date and interesting-looking. The others loved what Sarah did for them. She had a great eye for color, and had found great resources online. She was always sending Claire new Web sites to check out, or sometimes she just sent her things as a gift.