“Fascinating,” Michael said, suppressing a yawn over a conversation that was feeling oddly familiar.
“Am I boring you?” Christy asked.
“No, not at all. I’m a little tired. Tell me, what kind of frosting was on the cake from Food Emporium?”
“Just the regular vanilla kind they make with powdered sugar and shortening. Steven said it looked like something a kid would like.”
“Uh-huh,” Michael said, half listening.
“And Mrs. Smart went ballistic over the fact that a driver was sent instead of a parent.”
“Why would she even care who delivered the food?”
“I think she’s made it her personal mission to teach me how to be a good mother. But I wasn’t going to blow my chance to get our stock price up. Anyway, she bawled Steven out right in the classroom. He said all the kids were cracking up. Don’t teachers understand that mothers have more important things to do than to bring replacement lunches to school?” Christy said.
“Beegee, I think at that school, the mothers don’t have more important things to do,” Michael said, appearing surprised by his wife’s naïveté. “Anything for dessert?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I have a wonderful piece of strawberry shortcake from the Four Seasons. You’re not allergic, are you?”
Michael wheezed, grabbed his throat, and pretended he couldn’t breathe. “No, not strawberries, but were those nuts on the trout? I’m allergic to nuts.” He fell to the floor, took a few last breaths, and then pretended to die with his tongue hanging out.
“Cut it out. You’re making fun of me now. You’re gonna regret it.” She jumped on his chest and tickled him until he yelled “UNCLE!”
Christy rang the bell, signaling to Yok Wah that she should clear the table. This was a tradition the cook insisted on even though Christy and Michael found it pretentious. Once Christy had tried to carry a few dishes into the kitchen herself, but Yok Wah practically tackled her with her whole four-foot-ten-inch, eighty-three-pound bulk, swearing in Chinese. After that, they both learned their place.
“So, tell me, what else is going on with the rest of your life? There still is a rest of your life, isn’t there?”
“Well, I’m gonna meet with Brownie on Thursday so she can brief me on the graduation.”
“Did you hear that Hicham El-Guerrouj won the fifteen hundred and the five thousand meters at the New Balance meet this weekend?” Michael’s voice sounded almost angry.
Christy looked at him, wondering where this was coming from.
Renatus Interruptus
Look, Chapman, it’s bad enough that you didn’t uncover the loans they failed to book, but to pay them off by borrowing against mortgaged assets, that’s so fucked up…” Michael said, his face red, his hair a mess.
“Mr. Drummond, Mr. Drummond, I need you,” a little voice said.
Michael put Andy on hold and turned to Renata, who was, once again, jumping up and down in the library doorway trying to get his attention. “Renata, you’re really not supposed to be in this part of the house, remember? We talked about this.”
“I know, but I need your help,” she said.
“I’m on a very important call. I can’t help you right now. Find Nectar.” He went back to the phone.
Renata stood firm in the doorway, boring her eyes into Michael’s face like a laser beam, willing him to look at her. The child was furious, but trying not to show it. Hadn’t she and Michael formed an unbreakable bond when he saved Mr. Koodles? He was acting like that night never happened.
“Thanks to your sloppy due diligence, we completely overpaid. And repaying their debt by pledging assets we don’t own, what the hell were you thinking? I gotta tell you, Andy…” Michael cupped his hand over the receiver. “Renata, can’t you see I’m on a call?”
“Yes, but Christy and Nectar are out and I need to get on AOL for my science report on weather patterns, but I don’t have an AOL account and if I don’t turn this in tomorrow…”
Michael gestured to the computer that was set up on the library table. “Just use my account. It’s [email protected]. The password’s ‘Christy.’” Michael went back to his call, looking irritated by the interruption.
Renata, who was proficient on the computer, got right on AOL and began looking up current and upcoming weather in cities across the country. As she worked, she’d steal glances at Michael, who was so absorbed in his conversation that she may as well have been invisible. Renata wondered if Michael would ever like her. She wasn’t so bad. Grandma used to say she was “trrrrific.” Why couldn’t Michael see her “trrrificness?” Why? Because he wasn’t looking, that’s why. Renata frowned. Then she coughed. Then she knocked a stapler onto the floor. “Sorry,” she said to Michael, who was oblivious to the noise. Finally, Renata completed her assignment and left the room. Michael didn’t look up.
A Confederacy of Caregivers
On the morning Christy was to receive her Matrix Award, she held a seven A.M. breakfast for Renata’s team of caregivers in the library. It was important to stay current on the child’s progress. The following individuals were present: Nectar Freedom, nanny; Dr. Ruth Perlmutter, psychiatrist; Eve Hamilton, assistant; Junior Fritz, Renata’s new driver; Yok Wah Lim, family cook; Cynthia Rodriguez, maid; Leo Morgenstern, tutor. Renata Ruiz lay silently in the closet with her ear pressed against a glass pressed against the bottom of the door. Eve led the meeting, since she was responsible for overseeing the girl’s care. She stood up to make an announcement. “Would anyone like some more coffee before we start?”
Dr. Perlmutter scribbled something in her diary. Putting her pen down, she said, “I’d like a cup. But I can get it myself.”
“Oh, would you pour me one?” Cynthia asked.
“My pleasure.”
Eve called the meeting to order. “Let’s go around the table. Each of
