Anne shrugged one shoulder. “Everyone’s a little on edge about the election.” Her brown eyes were steady on Mia. “But they also know you must have weighed everything before you made your decision.” She rinsed out her coffee cup and left.
Mia followed her out, wondering if she had just helped nudge Frank out the door—and risked her job as well as those of her co-workers.
It was only when she sat back down at her desk that she realized her coffee cup was still empty. She was debating getting up again, risking another gauntlet, when her phone rang. It was Eli.
“Thank you,” he said when she answered. “You made the right call.”
“I’ll see if I agree with you after the election.” What should she tell him about Manny? “Just a heads-up that you might want to talk to Manny, or at least try to when he’s better. He’s got a third version of events, one that could help your client. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
“Oh. Okay. I appreciate that.” He took a deep breath. “Are we still on for brunch on Sunday?”
Did she really want to do this? Have a date? “Sure,” she found herself saying.
“Want me to pick you up after church? Our service is usually done around twelve fifteen.”
“How about if I just meet you?” If things were weird, she wanted the freedom to vanish. They agreed on a time and place. After Mia hung up, she realized her palms were sweaty. It must be from worrying about her job. Not from talking to Eli.
She used her personal phone for the next call, which was to the IRS. While she waited for the phone to be answered, she double-checked the name on the IRS letter Popov had gotten. James Lobb. But it was a woman who answered.
“May I speak to James Lobb?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lobb no longer works here.”
Mia blinked. “He doesn’t? Where did he go?”
“Oh, he retired. Back in April. The lucky duck. But I took over his caseload, so maybe I can help you.”
“I had a question about a tax audit Mr. Lobb was working on. It was of a business called Oleg’s Gems and Jewels. My husband was Oleg’s accountant, but he died a few months ago. I recently found some of the paperwork related to the audit. I was wondering what happened to the case.”
The woman’s voice turned formal. “Well, I certainly couldn’t tell you anything, even if I knew,” she said. “That’s sensitive taxpayer data. You should not have anything at all like that in your possession. You need to either return the paperwork directly to the business or shred it.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you for that information.” Mia hung up.
What she needed was someone to tell her if it was a coincidence that two of the three people involved in examining Oleg’s finances were no longer around to trouble him.
B
y the time she pulled into her driveway, Mia was so exhausted she could have leaned forward, rested her forehead on top of the steering wheel, and fallen fast asleep. Instead, she needed to get things ready for Kali and Eldon.
As soon as she walked in the door, Gabe hurried out of the family room. His words were as sharp as a slap. “You went to Danny’s house this morning?”
“Yeah, I did. Why?”
“How do you think that made Danny feel?” Gabe didn’t wait for an answer. “Like you think we’re better than him and his mom.”
Brooke wandered out into the hall, dragging a doll by one foot. “I’m hungry, Mommy.”
Mia took a deep breath and set her purse on the hall table. “Just a second, sweetie. I’m going to order us some pizza.” She turned back to her son. “I didn’t even talk to Danny or Danny’s mom. I only talked to Kali. She’s living in a garage and she’s got cancer, Gabe. I just wanted to help.”
“If there was any extra room, Danny’s mom would be letting
them stay in the house. Besides, the garage isn’t that bad. I’ve been in it. Maybe they just have to put on an extra sweater. What’s the big deal?”
“I want cheese.” Brooke drew out the
eeee
sound. “Not pepperoni. Just cheese.”
“Okay, sweetie,” Mia said, shrugging out of her coat. She turned back to Gabe. “That garage isn’t heated, and Kali’s really sick.” Why was Gabe so upset? “I don’t think it would be healthy for anyone, but she’s going through chemotherapy.”
“You didn’t even tell me you were going to do that. The first I know about is Eldon asking me in front of Danny because his mom texted him.” Fists balling, Gabe kicked at the skateboard he had once again left under the hall table. The toe of his Vans caught it and sent it rattling down the hall.
Brooke tugged at her sweater. “Nothing but cheese. Nothing to pick off.”
Mia nodded distractedly. “I didn’t plan it, Gabe. I just did it. I was driving by the house and I thought I would check in with Eldon’s mom.” She opened the closet and hung up her coat. Deciding it wasn’t worth complaining about the skateboard, she picked it up and put it away. “But when I walked in there, it was clear Kali needed a different place to stay, someplace that’s not so cold and damp. Someplace with actual beds. And you’ve got bunk beds and we’ve got a guest room. We can make this work.”
Gabe refused to be mollified. “How many times have you lectured me that I can’t just do things without thinking, that I have to check with you first? But now you just go and make some decision that’s going to change all of our lives forever.” His tone suggested that Mia was clearly stupid as well as a hypocrite. “And that’s not fair to me or Brooke.”
Brooke looked from one of them to the other. “What’s not fair? Don’t get pepperoni! I told you!”
“Don’t worry, Brooke, I’m not,” she said distractedly. And then
to Gabe, “I don’t think it’s going to make any difference to your sister.” Although really she had no idea.
The thing was, Gabe was right. Mia hadn’t thought this through. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so impulsive. Ever since Scott died, she had worried about the many changes happening in her kids’ lives. Scott dead, Mia back at work, Brooke in preschool, and Gabe turned into a live-in babysitter. Now, simply because she had put herself in another person’s shoes, had she just added to her kids’ burden? But how could she see someone who was hurting even worse than she was and not want to help?
“I’m not a kid anymore,” Gabe said through gritted teeth, “but you’re still treating me like one. I’m only a kid when you want to tell me what to do and tell me what to eat and when to go to bed and who not to hang out with. Or when you want to make important decisions that affect me without even asking me. The rest of the time you want me to be a grown-up, to clean and cook and watch after Brooke like I’m some kind of stay-at-home dad. But I’m only fourteen. None of my friends have to think about stuff like that.”
Why couldn’t Gabe see that they were still blessed beyond belief?
“You saw those pictures your grandpa sent from the mission trip he’s on in Guatemala. Those kids with no shoes, playing with a soccer ball made of old T-shirts. There are millions of kids in this world who are married off by your age or sewing in sweatshops or working in the fields.”
“But we’re not in Guatemala, are we? We’re in Seattle. And that’s not how kids live here.”
“You think so? Earlier this week I saw a really little kid changing an even littler kid’s diaper. And they were in an apartment with no electricity, which means no light and no heat. I’m not even sure they had food.”
“Oh, so why didn’t you invite them to come live with us?”
Seven months ago she would never have stood for Gabe talking
back to her. But he was no longer a mouthy kid—or not
just
a mouthy kid. He had earned the right to have an opinion, even if Mia had the final say.
“I did call someone to check on them. Honestly, Gabe, I don’t understand why this is so upsetting to you. I thought Eldon was one of your best friends. But you’re acting like I invited in some homeless guy off the street.” She walked into the kitchen, Gabe following. “After all, half of what I saw in that garage seemed to have come from our house.” But then the charity had been on his terms, using things Mia had bought. The personal sacrifice had been minimal. This would mean sharing 150 square feet with another person. A boy who weighed a hundred pounds more than he did. She took the Pagliacci menu from the fridge. “What kind of pizza do you want?”
Gabe’s mouth twisted. “Pepperoni.”
It was true that having to share would impact all of them, Mia thought as she dialed the number and ordered, reciting her address automatically. Nearly twice as many people in the same space. All of them having to negotiate who got to shower first. Would Mia now be responsible for purchasing and preparing food—or at least ordering pizza—for all of them? Would she need to partition off the refrigerator or come up with some system of color coding? What if Eldon did something she didn’t approve of? She thought of the times she had seen him with red, sleepy-looking eyes. What if he smoked pot? Or drank?
And then there was Kali. They would all witness Kali getting sicker. Maybe even watch her die.
As she hung up the phone, Gabe echoed her thoughts. “What happens if Eldon’s mom dies? Are you saying he’ll live with us for always?”
“It’s way too early to go there, Gabe. I want to help them. It’s the right thing to do. I think you know it too.”
“He’s going to have to take the bottom bunk.”
Gabe slept on the top one anyway. “That’s fine,” Mia said.
“And what you call the guest room is more like the junk room. I don’t see how she can stay in there.”
Mia went down the hall and opened the door. Gabe followed. He was right. The sewing machine was set up on a card table heaped with mending that needed to be done. More mending dangled from an Exercycle in the corner that she hadn’t used in months. On the bed were clothes she planned to take to the dry cleaner, as well as wrapping paper, ribbons, tax records, and a few of Brooke’s stuffed animals.
“You’re right. It’s a mess. Can you help me clean it out tonight?”
Gabe was not letting go. “This is all because of Grandpa, isn’t it? You feel guilty because we don’t ever go to church anymore.”
The sad thing was, Gabe was the only one of her kids who had memories of going to church regularly at all. Over time, Scott and Mia had gotten to the point that they barely qualified as chreasters—the people who attended only at Christmas and Easter. The last time any of them had been to the church they nominally belonged to was Scott’s funeral.
“That’s an interesting theory, Gabe. But I don’t think I’m doing it out of guilt. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do, and I was moved to do it.”
“Does this have anything to do with Dad?” His voice thickened and caught. “With trying to prove you’re better than him?”
Mia’s head jerked back. “What? Where did that come from?”
“I heard you guys downstairs on Monday. You and Charlie.”
“What did you hear?”
With a wince, Gabe turned away. “Enough.”
SATURDAY
T
he machines were the only things keeping Tamsin alive. Breathing for her. Monitoring her. Putting drugs and saline into her veins. Pumping nutrition through a tube that ran into her nose and down into her stomach. Taking away her waste products.
His wife had once been so beautiful. Now her beauty had fled. Her face was swollen and grotesque, shades of purple and yellow and green. Half her gorgeous hair was gone, her scalp stubbled like a man three days past a shave. Blood and other secretions matted what was left.
But it was the hole at the base of her throat that drew his eye, an obscene second mouth that now held the tracheotomy tube.
As Wade Merritt watched, Tamsin’s real lips drew together. Her brow wrinkled. It looked like she was in pain, despite all the drugs they were pumping into her.
And suppose she did wake up? How much more pain would she be in when they started trying to make her relearn the basics? How
to feed herself. How to toilet herself, as they termed it. She might not even be able to walk. Or talk. Or even know who she was. It would be like having a toddler again, only one that would probably never grow up. Lingering on and on. For years. Maybe decades.
Before the accident, he had been willing to put up with her recent enthusiasm for helping the poor and downtrodden. People who weren’t smart enough not to make bad choices, not to continually fall back into trouble. Look at Tamsin—she had made something of herself, gone to college, married him. So why did she feel this need to turn back, to reach out her hand and drag someone else who was less worthy up to her level?
She had told him she felt guilty, but that certainly didn’t make any sense. She said she had been given so much, which was a crock. She hadn’t been given anything. They hadn’t been given anything. He had worked to make their dreams come true.
And that work meant long hours and frequent travel. Now he would need to hire someone to watch her and take care of her needs. Hire a team of people, not only to care for her, but for the house and for Luke.
As Wade looked down at her, he imagined their future. She would never again greet him to ask about his day, rub his shoulders, bring him a Tanqueray and tonic with a fresh slice of lime. She would probably never see the second floor of their house again. He pictured the wheelchair ramp that would have to be installed, like a mongrel’s unfurled black tongue, marring the facade of their beautiful home. Pictured the constant presence of a nurse and probably a housekeeper. There would never be any privacy. Every word overheard, every sight observed, every slight noted. Always someone judging him from behind a professionally blank expression.
But you didn’t get to be as successful as Wade was if you weren’t willing to break a few eggs. To make the hard decisions. To know when to cut your losses.
Only what would he look like if he divorced her? Even if he put
Tamsin in the most expensive of nursing homes, he already knew the answer. People would whisper about him behind his back. He would be called cold. Callous. Heartless. He would not be seen as someone you could trust. And in his line of work, it was all about trust. Money was even more important than life and death.
But if he were a widower? Everyone would rally around, try to cheer him up, talk about how brave he was to soldier on. They would fall over themselves trying to help.