“I’m fine,” he said, sounding gruff. He had been with Pattie every moment that the kids weren’t there, and he felt like he never had free time now. He was constantly running back and forth to her apartment, or making love to her. He hadn’t seen any of his friends for weeks. But he said none of that to Annie. There was no way he could tell her about an affair with a woman twelve years older than he was. He knew that Annie would never understand it, and sometimes he wasn’t sure he understood it himself. It had just happened, and now the relationship had a life of its own and was moving ahead at lightning speed, like an express train, with Pattie at the wheel.
“Come and have dinner at the apartment sometime. I miss you,” Annie suggested, and Ted sighed. He had no time now for anything, unless it involved Pattie.
“At least Katie will be around to help you now, if she’s living at home.” He felt guilty for not calling or seeing Annie more often, but Pattie always had something for him to do and wanted him with her all the time.
“I’d rather she were back in school,” Annie said sadly.
“Me too. I’ll call her. I’ll call you soon, Annie,” he promised, and after she hung up, she got some work done and was hobbling around her office, trying to carry files and plans, which was nearly impossible with the crutches. Managing them was harder than she’d thought it would be, and she was still in pain.
She had just gotten back into her desk chair when the phone rang. Her assistant was buzzing her to say that a Thomas Jefferson was on the phone. Annie was surprised to hear from him, took the call, and asked him immediately how his arm was.
“It’s broken,” he said, sounding discouraged. He had hoped for only a sprain. “How’s your ankle?”
“Just badly sprained. But getting around on crutches is a bitch.” She was exhausted after only an hour in the office, and her ankle was throbbing.
“I know, that happened to me once. Playing basketball at school.” And then he shifted gears. “I enjoyed meeting you yesterday, Annie. I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch sometime. Or maybe we could go to Lourdes,” he said, and she laughed.
“I’d like that. Lunch, not Lourdes, although that might be nice too. I’ve always wanted to see it.”
“Me too,” he said easily. She assumed he wasn’t married, but didn’t want to ask. She was sure it was just a friendly lunch between invalids, not a date, so asking if he was married felt stupid. There had been nothing romantic about their initial meeting. And it had been a funny way to meet. “How about tomorrow?” he suggested. “Can you get out on the crutches?”
“I’ll manage. I have to. I can’t let my job sites sit forever without seeing them.”
“You might want to give that a day or two.” He suggested a small French restaurant that she knew and liked, and he proposed they meet at noon the next day. It sounded like fun, if she could get there.
“I’ll cut your meat for you,” she offered, and he laughed. “I’ll carry you to the cab.” It was something to do, and he seemed like he’d be interesting to know. He was intelligent, pleasant, and nice looking.
It was a long day after that, and she had to cancel several meetings. It was too hard to get around, and she sent her assistant to two job sites. Katie called to check on her and was very solicitous. And Annie finally gave up and went home early at four o’clock with two shopping bags full of work. She saw Tom on the news that night, after she took a pain pill and had a nap. And Tom looked back to normal on screen, other than the cast on his arm. His shirt cuff was rolled up, and he couldn’t wear a jacket. But he was in good spirits and looked good on the news.
Tom was waiting at the table for her when Annie walked into the restaurant the next day. She was getting more proficient with the crutches, but he walked to the door to help her anyway.
“We look like we’ve been in a train wreck together,” he said as he walked her to the table. “Thanks for meeting me for lunch. I enjoyed talking to you the other day.” They sat down, and they both ordered iced tea. She said that if she had wine she’d fall on her crutches, and he said he never drank at lunchtime.
After they ordered lunch, Tom smiled at her and got right to the point. “I never asked you the other night. I assume you’re not married,” he commented hopefully, and she smiled. No one had come to the hospital for either of them, and they had each guessed that the other was single. But he wanted to confirm it.
“No, I’m not. And you?” Annie smiled at him.
“Divorced. I was married for eight years. I’ve been divorced for five. My kind of work isn’t conducive to happy marriages. I was traveling most of the time and away for a long time sometimes. We finally figured out that it wasn’t going to work, and she married someone else. We’re on fairly decent terms. She has two kids now. I never had time for that either, and that was a big deal to her. I don’t blame her. I just didn’t want to have kids when I was never there, and now it’s a little late.” He didn’t seem upset about it. “You’re divorced?” At her age, and with her looks, he presumed she had to be and was surprised when she shook her head.
“I’ve never been married,” she said simply. He was so direct and straightforward that she didn’t feel like a loser when she said it to him. It was just a fact.
“So no kids,” he said. He wanted to get the details out of the way, but she shook her head and then nodded in answer to his question, and he looked confused.
“No, I don’t have kids, and yes, I do. My sister and her husband died sixteen years ago, when their plane crashed. I inherited their three children. They were five, eight, and twelve at the time. They’re grown up now, or they tell me they are. Sometimes I’m not so sure. Liz is twenty-eight and an editor at
“No, that’s their story,” he said quietly. “What’s yours?”
“They’re my story,” she said honestly. “Inheriting a ready-made family when you’re fresh out of architecture school is a full-time job. I was twenty-six when they came to live with me. It took me a while to figure out how to do it. But I got the hang of it eventually.”
“And now?” He was suddenly curious about her. He had suspected none of this the other night. But they had exchanged no personal information. They were too busy hurting.
“Just when I got good at it, they grew up. Katie just moved back in, but she’s been living in the dorm for three years. I hate this part. I have to sit back and watch them lead their own lives and do all the crazy stuff that kids do, like drop out of school. I really miss them.”
“I’ll bet you do after all those years taking care of them. Is that why you never married?”
“Probably… I don’t know… I never really had time. I was too busy with them and fulfilling a promise to my sister, that if anything ever happened to them, I’d take the kids. So I did. It’s been wonderful. I never regretted it for a minute. They’ve been an incredible gift in my life.” It had been a fair trade. Her youth for theirs.
“That’s quite a story,” he said with a look of admiration. “It sounds like you wound up with empty nest syndrome without ever having kids of your own. That’s not fair. But I guess it met any need you may have had to have children. Do you still want your own?” He was curious about her. She was full of surprises and seemed content with her life. She wasn’t one of those desperate, unhappy women who felt that they’d missed the boat and were scrambling to fix it. And he liked that about her. She wasn’t looking for a savior or a rescuer. She seemed very whole to him and at peace with herself.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged easily. “I never had time to think about having kids of my own. I was too busy. It would have been nice if my life had worked out that way, but it didn’t. It went in a different direction. I got three great kids anyway.” She smiled at him across the table.
“No serious guys?”
“Not in a long time. I was too busy for that too.” She didn’t apologize for it or even seem to regret it.
“Wow… I feel like I’m having lunch with Mother Teresa,” Tom said, grinning at her. And she was a lot prettier than Mother Teresa.
“No, I’m just a woman with a full plate. Three kids and a career. I don’t know how most women juggle all that and a husband.”
“They don’t. That’s why most marriages end up in the divorce courts. It sounds like you and I are married to our jobs, and in your case, your sister’s kids too.”
“That about sums it up. And now I have to learn to let go of them. That’s a lot harder than it looks.” And for
