Pursued by the playboy, p.10
Pursued by the Playboy, page 10
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While the women made use of the facilities, Marc and Jason sat in awkward silence. Jason finally cleared his throat. “I heard you were at Kate’s big award dinner.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
Jason shrugged. “Margaret mentioned it. Said you seem like a fine fellow.”
Marc didn’t answer, surprised by the grudging compliment, and even more so by the revelation that despite current circumstances, Kate’s parents still communicated.
Jason took the lack of response in stride. “We didn’t do right by Kate. Too much fighting at home when she was growing up. Terrible thing for a child to witness.” He paused, then rushed on. “Frankly, I was afraid she’d end up alone, rejecting marriage and family for herself because of the poor example we set. Glad that’s not the case.”
Marc replied cautiously, “She’s still not sold on the whole marriage and family bit.”
“You care for her?”
No hesitation this time. “Yes.”
“Then you’ll convince her.” Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by Tiffani’s arrival.
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Later, on the drive home, Kate launched the post-mortem. “So what did you think?”
Marc kept his attention on the road. “I think she’s probably doing drugs.”
“Really.” She tapped a finger on the leather console between them. “I did hear her sniffing something in the bathroom. I thought maybe she was crying at first, but now….”
“Could have been coke. Or crystal meth. Any stimulant, actually. Dilated pupils, skinny, high-strung—it fits.”
“I hope we’re wrong, for Dad’s sake. You think I should say anything to him?”
“No. It’s not your place. Especially since we’re just speculating. If you had proof, maybe, but certainly not without it.”
They drove for a while in silence, turning west onto the Schuylkill Expressway. In the distance, Kate could see the lights of Boathouse Row illuminating the night. “Regardless, she’s totally milking the situation. That story about going on leave per doctor’s orders! How can men be so blind?”
“Hey, I hope you’re not including me in that category.”
“You’re male, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but definitely not blind. You dazzled me with your beauty the moment we met.”
Kate smiled and rolled her eyes. “Please. You don’t think I’m going to fall for that hokey line.”
“No worries, I’ll keep trying.” He glanced briefly in her direction. “How do you feel about having a sibling?”
Kate adjusted the vent on the air-conditioning. “I’d rather it had a different mother. But we’ll see. It’s not even clear that they’ll be living together.”
Marc sighed, as if disappointed at her tepid response. “We could always offer our babysitting services.”
“Funny. Had much experience?”
“Sure. I was the oldest, remember? Emma was born when I was eight, and Izzy a year later. I practically raised them. With a little help from the parents, of course.” He smiled. “And now I’ve got twin nephews. Believe me, I’m an old hand at the whole business of diapering, feeding, burping, and entertaining of rug rats.”
Kate managed to keep a straight face. “I’m sure that’ll come in handy.”
Chapter 14
The following morning, Kate met Jake for brunch at a café near Rittenhouse Square.
“Thanks for switching venues,” she said. It was a warm day, and the smell of frying bacon and strong coffee in the small enclosed space was overpowering. “Mind if we sit outside?”
“No problem.” Jake snagged a couple menus from the hostess and followed Kate to the shaded patio out back. “I kind of figured there’d be a few changes once you moved in with Marc.”
“It’s just temporary, until my mother moves out.” She settled at an occupied table. “It seemed silly for us to meet on campus when I’m staying here. This way I can still walk, and you don’t have as far to drive in to the city.”
“Works for me.” He took a cursory look at the menu before setting it aside. “I’m surprised Marc didn’t join us.”
“He doesn’t own me. I can meet whomever I want without him having to be present.”
“Down, tiger. I’m just saying if you felt like inviting him along, it’s okay by me.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
Jake studied her for a few minutes. “You’re looking kind of wan. Getting much sleep these days?”
“No, but not for the reason you’re thinking.” She offered a wry smile and an unexpurgated account of the previous night’s dinner with her father and Tiffani.
“You sure she’s not from Jersey?” Jake laughed after she described her run-in with Tiffani in the restroom.
“At this point, the only thing I’m sure of is that we could easily qualify as guests on Jerry Springer. Is that show even on anymore?”
“Last I heard, sure. There’s always an appetite for watching people whose lives are more dysfunctional than your own. Speaking of, how’s your mother doing?”
Kate sighed. “Better, I suppose. She’s seeing a therapist, who recommended she start an antidepressant. She finally got a script from her doctor. Not sure if it’s helping, but at least she’s not going on and on about how horribly Dad treated her.”
“That’s a welcome change.”
“Tell me about it. I spent half my life listening to her complain. Thought I’d finally managed to escape, and then this.” She stirred more sugar into her coffee, took a sip, then set it aside. “Anyway, she’s trying to learn how to do things for herself. For the first time ever, there’s no one to pay the bills for her. I had to sit down with her the other day and show her how to balance her checkbook. She’d never had to do that before. Now she has to start thinking about how to survive on her own: not just how to spend money, but how to actually earn it. It’s not clear how long it will take for the divorce to get settled, and how she’ll come out after the assets get split. In the meantime, she needs to get a job, a place to live. And medical insurance—or at least COBRA—since her coverage is through my dad, and that will go away once the divorce becomes final.”
“Has she ever worked before?”
“Not really. Some volunteer stuff here and there, but nothing that would stand up to scrutiny on a CV. And she never finished college—dropped out to get married.” Kate folded her napkin in half, then in quarters. “I’m not really sure she can get a job in this economy.”
“Can you get her something at the university? Maybe something clerical?”
“Doubtful, though I can certainly look into it.” Out of habit, she pushed her half-eaten plate toward Jake and accepted his empty one in exchange. “It’ll be a big adjustment for her. From comfortable suburban housewife to punching a time-card.”
“What about enrolling in some classes? I’m sure it’ll be easier to get a job if she picks up some computer skills.”
“Great minds,” Kate agreed. “I got her a catalog from the local community college. Fall classes start in a few weeks.”
Jake gestured to their server for a coffee refill. “Sounds like it’ll be while before she’s back on her feet.”
“Yeah. Lucky me.” She sighed. “Look, don’t get me wrong—she’s my mother, obviously I’m not going to toss her out on the street. No matter how aggravating she can be. And it’s tough having to navigate the real world for the first time ever without a safety net. I get it. I do. But sitting around twiddling her thumbs is not an option. Too much free time on her hands—even putting aside the issue of money—means that she’ll be sticking her nose in my business, offering unsolicited and frankly unwelcome advice in perpetuity.” Kate shuddered. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you, helping her figure out how to be an independent functioning adult. Talk about your classic role reversal.”
“Yeah. Too bad there’s no halfway house for soon-to-be-divorced former housewives.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “Halfway house for divorcees?”
“Sure, why not? Women released from marriage need to learn basic skills to care for themselves. How to pay bills, fix a leaky faucet, fill out a tax return. Think about it. A short-term place to stay and get your bearings, a little training, a bit of hand-holding, and voila: no recidivism.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re calling marriage a prison?”
“For most people it is. My parents, certainly.” She paused, then conceded, “Your parents may be the exception. They always seemed like they were still dating each other. Fairytale romance mode, on endless repeat.”
“So cynical.” Jake shook his head. “What about you and Marc?”
Kate shifted. The paper napkin she’d been folding and refolding ripped, and she concentrated on smoothing out the ragged edges. “What about us?”
“You’re living together— ”
“Temporarily.”
“Okay, temporarily. You don’t see a future there?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it without answering. Water burbled from a fountain at the far end of the patio. A light breeze rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree. A sparrow fluttered from branch to branch before finally flying away.
“Kate?” Jake’s voice softened. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, swallowed. “Nothing. Really. It’s just…”
“What?”
“I didn’t tell him I was meeting you. I said I was going for a walk. He was in the shower, and I left.” The words came out in a rush, and once she started speaking they seemed to gather force and speed, tumbling over one another. “He would have wanted to come. He was there last night at dinner. I’m glad he was, but sometimes I want a little bit of space. Something of my own that doesn’t include him, you know?”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“Oh, sure. I can see it now. Maybe on our morning run, I’ll say: back off, buddy, you’re crowding me. Or on our drive in to work: Marc, honey, how about I take the Blue Line in tomorrow?” She huffed in frustration. “It makes sense to drive together, he says, because we both work on campus. And he doesn’t want me taking the subway at night on my own. I’ve been doing it for how many years, and all of a sudden it’s dangerous—imagine that! Anything might happen. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.”
The silence that greeted her outburst seemed to stretch forever. Jake finally cleared his throat. “Do you want to move back out?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I hate being hemmed in. And he’s like a steamroller, flattening all opposition. But he’s also charming, and funny, and smart, and great in bed—” She broke off, groaning. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I just said that. Shoot me now.”
Jake smothered a grin. “Sounds to me like you might actually like the guy.”
“I do. On paper, he’s perfect.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Me, I’m the problem. I can’t take all this togetherness. It’s too much.”
“Why? What are you really afraid of?”
The question stopped her. What was she afraid of? Becoming too comfortable in the life she and Marc were forging together, knowing that at any moment the rug would be pulled out from under her and she would be back on her own? She’d been on her own since age sixteen—that in and of itself wasn’t frightening. What she really feared was the need that Marc was stirring in her, the longing for something more precious and more dangerous than anything she’d known in the past, something that made her weak and vulnerable and more dependent on the whims of another person than on her own strengths and abilities. She feared investing so much time and energy and emotion in another human being, of losing herself so completely in the relationship, that the inevitable separation would leave her utterly devastated.
And there was no question in her mind that separation was inevitable. With few exceptions, relationships in her experience were transitory in nature. Once the initial infatuation wore off—and invariably it did—then ennui set in, and the sniping began, and the partners went their separate ways, either openly by breaking up or covertly by cheating, and that led to recriminations and bitterness and collateral damage if there were children involved.
The best she could hope for was an amicable parting of ways from which she could emerge with emotions intact and sense of self still strong enough to carry on without falling apart and without regret. Or was it already too late? Had Marc already become so integral to her well-being that the prospect of life without him seemed too grim to contemplate? Had she really been that careless in protecting herself, that heedless of the example set by her own family?
She shook her head, rejecting the thought. It all hinged on time: the sooner she got her mother settled, the sooner she could move back to her own apartment and distance herself from the temptation and danger posed by her relationship with Marc. Back in the comfort zone of her own place, there was nothing to fear. As Jake had said, she had her work cut out for her.
“Kate?”
She blinked at Jake’s concerned expression. “I need to head back.”
“Just like that, in the middle of the conversation?”
“I don’t have any answers, Jake. So don’t push me, okay?” She fished in her bag for sunglasses.
“Fine, be that way.” He signaled for the check. “You have no trouble giving me the brush-off. Him, you agonize over.”
“Oh, for crying out loud…”
“Don’t worry, I’m thick-skinned. And so were you, once upon a time. What happened? Fall in love?” He ducked to avoid her flying hand.
She inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers shook as she slipped on her sunglasses and shouldered her bag.
“Don’t sweat it.” He studied her, then offered an olive branch. “You know I was just teasing, right?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m not myself these days.”
He captured her hand and squeezed gently. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”
“Of course. Now go and enjoy the rest of your weekend. I hear Paul McCartney’s in town.”
“Sold out tonight and tomorrow,” Jake confirmed. “But I managed to score two tickets.”
“And…?”
“Sorry, slick, you’re out of luck. I already invited Lily.”
“Lily…wait a minute, this is the same Lily from three weeks ago?” She raised a brow at the rise of color in his face. “You weren’t even planning on telling me, were you?”
“It’s early days,” he protested.
“I want to meet her. I promise I won’t scare her off. How about dinner this week? You pick the day, let me know.”
“The four of us?”
Kate hesitated. “If Marc isn’t busy, sure. Call me.”
Chapter 15
Kate reclined on the couch, a notebook propped on her knees. With one hand she plucked fresh raspberries from a bowl on the table beside her and popped them into her mouth. With the other hand she jotted down notes beneath the heading “Jobs for High School Graduates.”
Somewhere between “customer service representative” and “home health aide,” she heard the front door open.
A female voice called out, “Hello, anyone home?”
Kate sat up and peered over the back of the couch to see a slender dark-haired woman in light blue scrubs enter the living room. Frowning, she set aside the notebook and got up.
“Oh, hello,” the woman said. “You must be Kate.”
“Yes.” For a moment, all of Kate’s doubts came rushing back like a gale force wind. She pictured a series of women from Marc’s past traipsing through the door, each with her own key, each intent on reclaiming her place in his life. Blinking, she forced the image aside. She had already been guilty of jumping to unwarranted conclusions about Marc once, and was determined not to do so again—at least, not without more information. Besides, on second glance, the woman looked familiar. Dark hair with a hint of curl, laughing gray eyes, just a shade taller than Kate herself.
“Sorry to barge in like this,” the woman continued. “I had a couple hours before I’m due back on L&D, thought I’d come by to raid the fridge. The hospital cafeteria never has anything decent. And you can always rely on Marc to have something yummy on hand. You don’t mind, do you?”
Kate shook her head in bemusement, but the woman had already moved toward the kitchen without waiting for a response. She was rifling through the Sub-zero by the time Kate followed. “I’m Isabelle, by the way,” she threw over her shoulder. “Too bad you missed the twins’ party. Everyone was looking forward to meeting you, but Marc said you were working on a deadline.”
Kate hovered in the archway separating the two rooms, unsure of how to respond to the rapid stream of words.
Isabelle seemed completely unfazed by her silence. “You’ll have to come to the next one. The elders are having their thirtieth anniversary bash over Labor Day Weekend. Saturday afternoon.”
Kate finally found her voice. “Your brother didn’t mention…”
“He’s probably afraid of being shot down again if he gives you too much advance notice.” Isabelle straightened, clear plastic container in hand. “Mmm, lasagna—my favorite. Want some?”
Kate shook her head and watched as the younger woman cut a large piece from last night’s leftovers to heat up in the microwave. She moved the same way she spoke—quickly, decisively, crackling with energy like a live wire. Within minutes she was seated at the central island, digging into her food. Kate stirred. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Coffee would be great.”
Kate glanced at the clock. “Decaf?”
“Nah. I’m on call tonight. The more caffeine, the better.”
“I have some Nescafe squirreled away, if that’s okay? I haven’t quite gotten the hang of making espresso.”
