Stepping off the elevator at Massachusetts General, Channing thought of Lark’s habit of splashing on cologne to suppress the distinctive smells of a hospital. The lingering odor was proof there had been a vicious battle for life on this floor today, as if cancer needed another way to broadcast its horror.
At twenty after nine in the evening, the information desk on the fifth floor was dark and abandoned, except for the custodian whose vacuum cleaner roared beneath rows of padded armchairs. Families who earlier that day had fretfully waited in this room had long since gone home or taken their solicitude to a loved one’s bedside.
The custodian turned off his machine and looped the cord around his shoulder for transport. She took a seat and watched until he stepped aboard the elevator on his way to being someone else’s disturbance.
A call to Mitch’s admin Robin, ostensibly for information on how to send flowers, had gotten her the room number, which she’d located on the floor plan in the main lobby. Down the hall and around the corner. Now after traveling 3,400 miles, she couldn’t muster the fortitude to walk the last fifty feet.
Perhaps she shouldn’t. The long day of travel had her on a razor’s edge—anxious, confused, seething, heartbroken. It was clear Payton hadn’t meant for her to find out. In this new light, her behavior of the last few months made sad, twisted sense.
The main question wasn’t why Payton had kept this from her. It was whether she should honor Payton’s wishes now or selfishly assert her own by going in there to show what a compassionate person she could be. Had she really come all this way to turn back now?
Her phone dinged again, this time to announce an email.
Hi sweetheart, I’ve been trying to reach you today by text and voice mail. I suppose it’s possible one of us is having phone issues. Or maybe I used up all my data getting to know Ruby. Anyway, I’m a little bit worried (not a lot). If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow, I’ll give Kenny a call to make sure you’re all right. If you’re reading this—I love you! XXXOOO Lark
It was the fifth time today Lark had reached out to her. After Mitch’s note this morning, Channing had been in no mood for levity but couldn’t find the words to explain to Lark why she was dropping everything to rush to Payton’s side. Then she asked herself why she even needed to explain it. If Lark had a problem with her feelings for Payton at a time like this, then she wasn’t the person Channing thought her to be. In fact, by the time she’d gotten off the plane at Logan, she’d worked herself into a lather over things Lark hadn’t even said, hadn’t even done—all of which was absurd.
Night had fallen, enabling her to see her reflection in the window. She’d worn the black jumpsuit and heels, the outfit Lark liked so much. Funny that she’d bought it only hours after resigning from Albright as a reward for showing some backbone. She fluffed her hair, which had fallen flat from the dry air on the plane, and touched up her lips with gloss. It was probably the best she could do under the circumstances.
Her pulse quickened as she walked down the hall, causing her to regret that she’d not had a drink on the plane. Or three.
The room was dark but for a panel of fluorescent light at the head of the bed. Ben Crane lay on his back, his head wrapped in gauze and an oxygen cannula taped to his nose. Even from the doorway, she noticed his ruddy “moon face,” characteristic of the steroid therapy commonly given to patients with brain cancer.
In the shadows beside him, Payton looked up from the glow of her e-reader, her face conveying alarm. She rose and checked on Ben before gliding noiselessly to where Channing stood. With her voice low and stern, she said, “I never wanted you here.”
“I know, Payton. I’m not here to…” She didn’t know what she could say with Ben so close. “I only came to say how sorry I am.”
Payton whirled around and quickly called a number on her phone. Channing thought for a second she might be reporting her to security.
“Kathleen…hi, it’s Mom. Is Tim there with you? I just wanted to give you both an update. Your father’s quiet, he seems comfortable. I honestly don’t think you need to come to the hospital tonight.” She paced at the foot of Ben’s bed, glancing furtively at Channing. “Enjoy the night off. Maybe if you come around tomorrow morning, I’ll slip home and grab a shower.”
Channing felt stupid—and guilty—when she grasped that Payton was confirming the immediate locations of both of her children so they wouldn’t burst in while she was there.
“That’s the last time I’m lying to my children about something to do with you,” she said through clenched teeth.
How about not lying to me? She couldn’t bring herself to say something so sharp, not with Payton in such obvious despair.
She followed Payton across the hall into a small room with several chairs and a table draped to look like an altar. A makeshift chapel, apparently. “I didn’t come to cause you pain, Payton. I only found out this morning from Mitch that Ben was sick. He assumed I knew, by the way, and now he thinks you kept it from me because I’m still struggling with my grandfather’s death.”
In full light, it was obvious Ben’s illness had taken its toll. Payton had lost weight, and her face was worn from worry and lack of sleep. Usually a smart dresser, she wore knit pants that bagged around her hips and thighs, and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt with an obvious grease stain on the chest.
“When your grandfather died, I really wanted to be with you for the funeral. Please believe that. I couldn’t go then because Ben had an appointment with the doctor. He was having trouble with dizziness…he needed me to drive him. The same day you were burying your grandfather, we were hearing that Ben was already Stage IV and there was nothing they could do.”
Channing had to fight not to take Payton’s hand as it shook. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“Because I felt guilty. And then Kathleen…she and Mark told us that weekend their baby was due in October. Channing, she pulled me into the study and confronted me about us.”
“That’s ridiculous. How could she possibly have known?”
“It was that woman in Atlanta last fall. Remember at the hotel when I kept saying the woman across the hall looked familiar? It was one of Kathleen’s friends from Brandeis. She recognized me from the wedding. She told Kathleen that she saw us in the restaurant and on the elevator. We acted like more than friends, she said, and then she saw that you stayed in my room that night. Channing, she followed the housekeeper into our room and sent Kathleen a goddamn picture of our bed.”
“Bloody hell, last fall? Why didn’t she say anything then?”
“She said it made her want to throw up. Then when her father got sick she took it out on me. I was afraid she’d tell him. She swore if I didn’t break up with you, she’d keep me from my grandchild forever.”
“So you were blackmailed.”
“Blackmail, extortion…whatever you want to call it. But it didn’t matter because Ben needed me. I couldn’t see you anymore.”
“But you could have told me. It would have broken my heart, and I’d probably have felt sorry for myself. But you can’t possibly think I’d have been anything but supportive. I’ve always shown you compassion. Just like I’ve always been your friend.”
“I couldn’t take that chance, Channing, not after the things you said. That you’d love me no matter what, you’d wait for me no matter what. As long as there was a chance you’d put up a fight, I couldn’t risk letting that happen.”
Channing saw it clearly now—Payton had behaved similarly when she’d gone for the abortion two years ago, not telling Ben because she was afraid he’d want her to have the baby. Bottom line, Payton didn’t give other people choices.
“And you couldn’t just come out and fire me because that would have been illegal and I might have made a stink about it. So you made my life a living hell to get me to quit.”
“That’s not what happened. I couldn’t travel anymore, not with Ben sick. I confided in Mitch. I told him you were fully capable of leading the team without me. And you were. I had no idea you’d walk away from such a challenge. But I assumed that was the end of it, so I called Kathleen that day and told her you’d gone. I thought it would ease her mind. I couldn’t have you come back after that. I can’t have you come back, even when Ben…” Her chin quivered. “It would be the end of my family, and I know that after all we’ve shared, you wouldn’t want that for me.”
“Mitch offered me the Eastern Region.”
“Because he offered me VP of mergers when this is over. But I’m not going to take it. I’ll say it’s too much responsibility—which is true if you’re gone and there’s no one competent in charge of the Eastern Region.” Payton studied her reaction, as if expecting gratitude for the compliment. She’d always been the best in the room at reading faces, which was what made her so effective at the negotiating table.
Channing sighed deeply, dropping her head to her hands. What Payton had done to her was manipulative and cruel. Now she expected Channing to pay the ultimate price for their affair. This was a unique moment in their history in which Channing had the power to say no. Payton deserved comeuppance—but on top of her suffering with Ben? Channing didn’t have it in her to add to that mountain of misery, no matter how much she needed a job.
“You realize this leaves me bloody well fucked career-wise.”
“Mitch came to sit with me over the weekend and we talked. This job offer is his gambit to get you back, but I know for a fact he’ll release you from the noncompete if you decide to stay in England. He cares for you like a daughter, and he believes you’re devastated over your grandfather’s death.”
“He’s not wrong.” Except her life was so much more complicated than that. “The irony is that I’ve met someone. And as luck would have it, she has a very good pharmaceutical job right here in Boston.”
In a surprisingly candid moment, Payton revealed a look of jealousy. Channing had never thought her capable of recognizing someone else’s advantage. “What does that mean, met someone? You’re dating?”
“She’s the one, Payton. I could very well see myself married this time next year.”
“Someone who really appreciates you, I hope.”
Channing chuckled, noting it was the first time she’d felt an inkling of warmth toward Payton in a very long time. Her description of Lark rolled off her lips like a corporate bio, calling attention to how vital Lark was to her company after solving a critical problem that might have cost them billions. Plus she’d grown up in Boston and recently lost her mother. “And she makes me laugh…except I can’t let her see me laughing because she prefers that whole stoic Brit thing.”
“Don’t you dare let another woman make all the demands the way I did, Channing. I don’t care how important she is. If she loves you, she’ll give in to what you want, like moving to England to be with you.”
It was a very “Payton” remark. There was the non-apology apology, the insinuation that Payton knew what was best for her, and the preemptive deal breaker that might imply Lark didn’t love her enough. The trifecta. Bonus points for insinuating the only way for Lark to prove her love was to move to England.
Channing had patently outgrown her need for Payton’s mentoring, both personal and professional. And with astonishing clarity, she realized as well that Albright was the last place she wanted to work. Mitch could hold her to the noncompete, but he couldn’t stop her from taking a job that didn’t involve insurance. Her Harvard MBA would open up a world of opportunity. Time to polish that résumé.
“Payton, I’m so sorry you have to go through this. It’s terrible what’s happening to Ben. I’m glad you have your kids to help you through it, and that you have Albright. I’ll let Mitch know I’m not interested in coming back.”
“But…but it’s going to raise flags if that’s all you say, Channing. Especially if you start job hunting in Boston. The only clean way to handle this is for you to tell Mitch you’re homesick and you want to stay in England.”
Payton couldn’t stand not pulling the strings.
Channing shouldered her bag and took a step toward the door. “Take care, Payton.”
* * *
Lark didn’t know what to make of her day. Having Kirsten Cooke call her a rock star was a sterling moment she’d remember for a long time. It felt good to know she had the respect of her professional colleagues because of her role in such a momentous event for their industry.
After having drinks in the hotel bar with Barry Sutton, Gipson’s general counsel, Mike Dobbins had called to gossip. According to Barry, all three companies were bracing for lawsuits from the victims of Niya’s treachery. Barry thought they’d be called to give testimony and advised them to retain private attorneys to represent their individual interests. Gipson would provide counsel as well, Mike said, but a private attorney would make sure they weren’t somehow scapegoated. Lark found the whole affair nauseating.
Back on the plus side, a job in San Diego was a possibility, along with a bump in salary. Channing had specifically mentioned California as a possible destination if both of them needed to relocate for a fresh start together. Could Lark really give up winters in Boston for Southern California? Yes, she bloody well could. The practicality of relocating was tougher to swallow, since it might be several months before Channing landed a job. Lark wasn’t sure she could stand another week apart.
And what if they moved all the way across the country and Channing didn’t like her new job? It was so much easier to think about both of them staying in Boston, but only if Channing could stomach going back to work at Albright. Lark wasn’t even sure it was a good idea, since Payton obviously had an evil streak. Channing didn’t need that in her life every day.
The worst part of her day—now at seventeen hours and counting—was the roiling anxiety over not hearing from Channing. Wendi had called from PharmaStat trying to locate the second set of keys to the Skoda, so there was nothing wrong with her international phone service. If Channing’s phone had been on the fritz, she’d have found another way.
An emergency? It worried her that Maisie and Cecil had been working so hard recently to prepare for their move. Overexertion was dangerous for anyone, but especially for people their age. Except Channing would have called her, as she had when Maisie cut herself.
She refused to imagine an accident. Which left only one explanation—Channing was deliberately ignoring her. Either she refused to be bullied into replying, or she was trivializing Lark’s concern. The thought of getting blown off made her furious. As long as Channing wasn’t facedown in a ditch.
Lark should have been asleep. It was after eleven o’clock and she was less than two days removed from being five time zones away. Instead she was flopping around on the bed like a fish on the beach. And she wasn’t in the mood to play with Ruby again, especially without an audience.
Suddenly the security alarm beeped, a continuous high-pitched trill that sent a shudder of fear through her whole body. Someone was breaking in.
After several seconds there were four beeps, followed by silence. Whoever was at the door knew the code or had otherwise disabled the alarm.
She threw back the sheet and tiptoed barefoot across the room to peek out into the living room. Light flickered from the stairwell, either from a flashlight or smartphone. Not a cleaning lady, landlord or security monitor. They didn’t come in the middle of the night…unless they planned on robbing the place. No one but Channing knew she was here.
At least that gave her the element of surprise, as did the advantage of position. She tiptoed across the living room to wait at the top of the stairs. A fire poker would have been nice. Stupid gas logs didn’t need one.
On the table between the love seats was a figurine, a woman carrying water on her head. Molded in concrete, she weighed four or five pounds, more than enough if Lark’s hands stopped shaking long enough to land a blow.
As the footsteps grew louder in the stairwell, the stream of light danced upward and into the living room. Lark held her breath, preparing to strike.
Then a hand reached over the rail and fumbled for the lamp that sat atop the bookcase. Light flooded the area to reveal—
“Channing?”
Eyeing the figurine in Lark’s raised hand, she said flatly, “Blimey, that would have left a mark.”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” She set her weapon down and hugged Channing fiercely. “What are you doing here? Never mind, I don’t care. I nearly smashed you in the head.”
“Good thing I don’t keep a gun.” Channing kissed her repeatedly all over her face and head. “I guess it’s too late to yell ‘Surprise!’ Though in retrospect it was bloody stupid not to call first.”
“It was but you’re forgiven. I’m so glad you’re here.” It wasn’t just Channing’s physical presence that thrilled her. It was that she’d made such a grand statement by following her after only a day apart. “I love you so much. You have no idea how happy this makes me, you showing up here out of the blue. I can’t imagine a sweeter surprise.”
She couldn’t resist a kiss, a real one. Passion soon led her to start working the buttons on Channing’s jumpsuit until hands gripped her shoulders and gently pushed her away.
“I love you too.” She scanned the room before turning on another lamp next to the loveseat. “I’m utterly knackered. Can we sit?”
Sit, stand, jump up and down. Lark was too excited to be still.
“I came to Boston to see Payton.”
Lark felt suddenly lightheaded, as if the blood had drained from her face. A fight or flight reaction to fear.
“I got a note from Mitch this morning saying Payton’s husband has brain cancer and he’s in a bad way. Mitch assumed I knew but I didn’t. It’s why everything happened.”
“Why what happened? What’s everything?”
As she related her staggering saga, Lark processed an ever-widening array of emotions—jealousy, understanding, irritation, sorrow. The greatest was sympathy, which mitigated her anger at Payton for her selfish scheming. Facing such a tragic loss, even a conniving adulteress deserved compassion. That same sympathy also held in check her annoyance at Channing for rushing to Heathrow to grab the first seat for Boston. “What made you decide to go?”
“I’ve thought about that most of the day, especially on the plane. Obviously I care about her and I wanted her to know that she had my support.”
As any decent person would, Lark conceded.
“And though I’m not proud to admit this, I came so I could confront her. When I learned how long Ben had been sick, I realized it was all tied together. I wasn’t looking for an explanation or an apology. I just needed her to know that I knew.”
Lark wondered if a part of Channing had hoped laying it all bare would make Payton reconsider. “How did it make you feel to see her?”
“It was piteous, seeing her so withered, and being shamed by her daughter that way. She was desperate for control. Control of me, of Kathleen…of the whole situation at Albright. I could see her panic over knowing others would decide all those questions.”
To Lark it sounded like the fall of hubris. The quiet in Channing’s voice might have been solemnity, or perhaps fatigue, but there was no celebration of Payton’s comeuppance.
“Lark, that time you asked if it bothered me that Payton was married…I said no. But it feels different now that I know we were caught. We have to answer for it. If Kathleen wants to be mad at her mom, that’s on Payton. I have no idea if she feels guilty, but I do. It’s sad to me that Kathleen will always feel her father was dishonored. I truly regret my part in it.”
“Sweetheart, I didn’t judge you for that, honest. I thought what you said made a lot of sense, that Payton deserved the chance to know if she was on the right path without blowing up her whole life. We aren’t responsible for other people’s bad choices.” She brought Channing’s hands to her lips. “I have a ton of respect for you for saying that because it shows what an honorable person you are. I couldn’t love you more.”
“I don’t know about honor. I’ve a price to pay as well.” She slumped against the cushions and sighed heavily. “Going back to Albright isn’t an option for me anymore. Please understand, Lark. I can’t possibly work with her again knowing all she’s done.”
“It’s okay. I won’t ask you to. It so happens I have a lot more flexibility about where I work because of this PharmaStat fiasco.”
“Clusterfuck.”
“Touché. My boss said it was a good time to ask for a raise. I asked about a transfer instead.”
“Something in the UK, I hope? Please, please.”
“Our European office is in Munich. I mentioned San Diego, since you said something once about both of us going to California.”
Channing, clearly agitated, stood and began to pace. This time the click of her heels on the wooden floor wasn’t sensuous—it was impatient. “It’s more complicated than that. The only way Mitch waives the noncompete is for a job in England. That’s because Payton begged me to tell him I left because I was homesick.”
Lark was only beginning to grasp the damage Payton had done to Channing’s life and career, while knowing Channing was too decent to take her down.
“There are other things I can do, Lark. Investment companies, venture capitalists. Just not insurance valuation…and maybe not anything to do with consulting for mergers or acquisitions. The problem is that I won’t get a glowing reference from Albright if they think my saying I was homesick was bollocks. Working four years someplace and not getting a decent reference is a red flag for potential employers.” She perched on the arm of the opposite loveseat and folded her arms, a gesture of resignation. “Ultimately I’ll need Mitch’s blessing, but I can’t march into his office right now and ask for it. It could take some time to finesse. I’m sorry.”
Wait till she hears… Lark laughed sardonically, shaking her head. Now didn’t seem like a good time to add that Gipson was pulling her from all work in Cambridge. The universe was conspiring against them.
“I love you, Lark. If you can please be patient…”
“I can be whatever you need. As long as you love me, nothing else matters.”
“That’s absolutely all I need to know.”
Lark stepped into her open arms and finally allowed her heart to rest in knowing they’d make this work. The where and when weren’t important—only the who.