After breakfast, I shot off a quick email to Elena and heard back within minutes. She expressed gratitude that I’d finally gotten in touch, because they had more than they could handle. She didn’t address any of my questions about her daughter or catching up. She didn’t ask why I never completed the previous job. It seemed our friendship was a thing of the past. She told me she could pay premium for a quick turnaround. I accepted, and she sent over the novel—a benign historical romance, something midlist and forgettable. It would be an easy job—no major plot overhauls—and it paid double the usual rate. It would keep me occupied for now, and I was grateful for it.
The hours with the manuscript flew by, restoring a sense of normalcy I hadn’t been sure I could reclaim. Purpose, even. It was funny how the smallest of tasks can level you, putting you back on a plane with the rest of humanity. I’d felt so dissociated; now, without my meds, I was starting to feel clearer-headed. Part of me felt guilty for wanting to return to regular life in the wake of Ryan’s death. But the rest of me knew I had to.
I took a break only once, to get a glass of water, padding downstairs in my sweatpants and T-shirt. I could hear Rob in the sunroom, talking on his phone.
“Babe,” he was saying, “we were lucky it went so well. But I don’t like this new plan. There are too many variables.” I’d been about to turn on the kitchen faucet, then I paused to eavesdrop, feeling only the tiniest pangs of conscience.
“Uh-huh.” A note of panic in his voice. “You’re right. I spoke out of turn.” An odd formality to the language—if he hadn’t said babe, I’d never have known it was Andrea. Curious, I peered into the room from my vantage point in the kitchen. I could see the back of his head—a tuft of dark hair—rising just above a wing chair, facing south toward the opposite window and the trees beyond. His left hand curled around the arm of chair, gripping it tightly. His knuckles were red and raw. “I apologize … Of course … Of course.” His tone had taken on an obsequious quality. “Yes, sweetheart, that sounds like the right course of action. I’ll prepare.”
Prepare what? I wondered, as I moved silently back to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet full blast, announcing my presence. I filled my glass and pretended to be surprised when Rob entered the room.
“Hi there,” I said, giving him a little wave. “I didn’t realize you were back already.”
“Yep,” he said, seeming distracted. “I got back half an hour ago and was just catching up on some work. And connecting with Andrea. She hit the road a while ago and should be here in an hour or two.”
“How is everything?” I asked. “How did it go with Henry?”
Rob shrugged. His face appeared wilted, the bags under his eyes pronounced. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked middle-aged. “It was tough,” he admitted. “He was understandably confused about where his parents were, but I think his grandparents distracted him well enough with ice cream and an iPad. And Micah will be there to collect him soon.” I felt a pang, remembering exactly how it felt to be yanked away from family and abruptly placed in someone else’s care. At least Henry knew his grandparents.
“Emily is unfortunately going to be in the psych ward for a while,” he explained. “She wound up being transferred immediately to the hospital in Manhattan. Andrea went over there to be with her and Micah.” He opened the cupboard and reached for a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a few fingers’ worth. “Emily’s on suicide watch until she delivers.”
“Oh my god. That’s awful.” I was shocked. Emily wasn’t suicidal—or at least she hadn’t seemed that way to me.
“Better than them thinking her intent was to kill the baby,” Rob pointed out. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and motioned for me to join him. “That was the alternative. Micah and Andrea spent the whole morning trying to prove she was merely suicidal and not murderous. It’s splitting hairs, really. She could still go to trial after the baby’s born. But Andrea thinks it’s unlikely, if she’s compliant. Anyway. All that matters is the baby’s safe.”
“Rob, that’s awful.” I sank into the chair across from him, too sickened to bother disagreeing with his assessment.
He sounded tired. “The other thing is … well. You know Emily’s essentially the face of NewLife. Andrea wants to respect her privacy, of course. She’s announcing on the website that Emily’s on bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy. It isn’t so far from the truth.” I nodded. That level of damage control seemed reasonable—even thoughtful, insofar as it protected Emily’s privacy. “The only problem,” Rob went on, “is that Emily was supposed to host the NewLife retreat here in September. It’s too late to cancel, so Andrea’s trying to get up to speed and handle it herself. It’s a dozen people for a full week of hikes, meditation, coaching, motherhood workshops … that sort of thing. We’ll have to prep the guest rooms. There’s a lot of work to be done.”
Well, that explained the cryptic phone call. “Maybe I should get out of your way before all this goes down,” I suggested carefully. Truthfully, it was the first I was hearing of the retreat, and I wasn’t sure I could handle being plunged into a group of NewLife enthusiasts for seven straight days, so soon after everything else. A two-month deadline would be a good motivator for me to figure my life out and get back to the city.
“Actually, we’d really appreciate a hand around here, when you’re up for it,” Rob said. “If you don’t mind, of course. How are you holding up?”
I hesitated. “I can help for a little while,” I said cautiously. I definitely didn’t want to seem ungrateful, after all Andrea and Rob had done for me, and now with Emily gone, they were in a tight bind. “I’m feeling a little shaken, but for the most part okay. Thanks for asking.” I curled one leg under the other and took a long sip of water. “It was really scary. Kind of a wake-up call. A brutal reminder that you never really know who’s suffering.”
Rob nodded. “It’s hard to step out of ourselves sometimes and think about the bigger picture,” he said. “What you went through is no small thing. I know you said your relationship with Ryan was casual, but it’s clear you cared a lot about him.”
“I did.” I looked down and caught myself rubbing at my scar again. “I really did.” I cleared my throat, thinking of the empty pill bottle on my nightstand and feeling shaky. Then I thought of Emily’s desperation as she plunged the knife into her abdomen. That wouldn’t be me. It couldn’t. “I’m ready to start taking care of myself again.”
Rob cleared his throat. “I’m really glad to hear that. Because Andrea has had one of her well-intended–slash–possibly misguided ideas, concerning dinner in a couple of days.”
I looked at him blankly. “What’s that?”
“Don’t kill her, please. She meddled a bit. Your phone was lying out last week, and Andrea saw a call coming in from Tyler and picked up.”
“What?” I clenched my glass hard, feeling my cheeks flame. “What would possess her to do that?”
“Yeah.” Rob looked embarrassed. “You know Andrea means well.” He fluttered his hand as if to say What can you do? “You were sort of out of it. I guess Andrea saw texts and missed calls from Tyler, and when she happened to see an incoming call, she felt bad for him. She picked up to, I don’t know, explain. And put him out of his misery.”
“She explained what happened with Ryan?” I was fully livid then. “It wasn’t her place to tell him that. That’s my business.”
“She just told him you’d lost someone close to you and that you’d be in touch when you were feeling better.”
“Ugh.” I rested my forehead in my hands. “I guess there are worse things, but I wish she hadn’t said anything at all.”
“You know Andrea,” Rob cajoled. “Her intentions are always pure. I really think she was trying to help, so Tyler didn’t feel as though you were blowing him off.”
“Well, who cares even if I was? What’s her investment in that?”
“I don’t know.” Rob shook his head. “She gets these ideas in her head … She saw how much fun you two had at his restaurant that night, and she didn’t want you to miss out on some amazing connection.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. It was true that I’d been ignoring my phone. I’d only half registered the texts and calls from Tyler when they’d rolled in. Partly because I’d been so out of it, and partly because being with Ryan again had made me feel more than a little guilty about my side flirtation.
“So what does all this have to do with dinner?”
“She invited him over for dinner on Saturday. I guess she took down his number and promised to give him updates on how you were doing. Then, after today, she just wanted to do something positive to lift everyone’s mood.”
“What?” Now I was mortified. “I’m not a child, Rob. I don’t need this kind of assistance.”
Rob raised both hands in the air. Don’t shoot the messenger. “Take it up with your cousin,” he said. “Frankly, Maeve, this might be more about her than you. I’ll tell you one thing: she’s hell-bent we restore normalcy to this house, after what happened today. She thinks this’ll help you get back on your feet. Would it be the worst thing to humor her? She’s had a tough time of it too, you know.”
“Maybe you’re right. It’s been a long day. As you know. That’s fine. I’ll do whatever Andrea wants for dinner Saturday.” One evening two days from now wouldn’t kill me, would it? And part of me—though it felt like a guilty betrayal of Ryan’s memory—was even excited at the possibility of seeing Tyler again. I pushed back from the table, filling my water at the sink one last time. I’d been largely in bed for three weeks, and the amount of activity I’d put in today had wiped out my reserves.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I told Rob. “I’ll catch up with you two later about Saturday.” I walked out of the kitchen before he could reply, and ascended the stairs.
Once in my bedroom, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my texts until I found Tyler’s name. Sure enough, there were several more texts that had gone unanswered. The first was a brief apology for not having gotten in touch sooner. Would I like to go out again? Sober, maybe? The second was a simple Are you okay? As I stood there scrolling, I felt my heart twinge. The third: I’d love to talk. Call me when you get a chance.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keypad. Then I typed I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’m looking forward to seeing you on Saturday, and hit Send.
I placed the phone back on my nightstand to charge, then stared at Phoenix for a long moment. The grief doll had been reclining against the pillows on my bed, and it suddenly seemed like an intruder. I picked it up and tossed it in the closet. After what had happened that morning, I was sure Andrea would understand.
I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. The funny thing was, I realized, I sort of missed having the doll nearby. I was startled by the epiphany, but maybe I shouldn’t have been. Andrea had created a company specifically tailored to the needs of women, to their grief and rebirth. Why had I thought myself immune to that? The doll had been a minor comfort all those weeks, just as Emily had promised it would be.
I tossed and turned for fifteen minutes before I returned to my closet, almost against my will. I removed Phoenix from the closet floor, where she was reclining atop my dirty laundry, and placed her instead on a small wooden chair near the bureau, where she could preside over my sleep.