On Second Thought(127)

Kate was thinking she’d move back to Brooklyn. Let’s face it; she’d never really loved Cambry-on-Hudson, and she still did have that great old apartment. There was a reason she’d never sold it.

And she’d be close to Daniel. “He’s the father, after all,” she said. “He deserves as much time with the baby as he wants.”

“He really likes you,” I said. “Do you like him?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Do you love him?”

She gave me an amused glance. “Not yet.”

“Give him a chance, okay? He’s gonna be a great dad.”

She shook her head, smiling, no doubt thinking her dopey little sister was a hopeless romantic. She was right.

My own love life was boffo, thank you very much. Not working for Jonathan had made him much more attractive. The feeling was probably mutual. We talked almost every night, and I saw him a few times a week.

Also, I was crazy in love with him.

But I’d done that total immersion relationship. And so had Jonathan, for that matter. I wanted to layer my life a little better than I had eleven years ago. I wanted to get my nursing degree. In a few weeks, I’d finish a class and become a certified nursing assistant. The Village of the Damned was hiring, and I could work there while I kept plugging away at a registered nursing degree.

In the meantime, I worked at Blessed Bean, serving up coffee to Cambry-on-Hudson’s stay-at-home mommies and teenagers. My boss, Rig (short for nothing), was twenty, tattooed and pierced with those hideous spacer earrings. He was also quite a sweetheart and viewed me as the authority on all things romantic. And hey, I was Dr. Lovely’s daughter, after all.

Speaking of, Candy had expressed the expected dismay at my change of career when I visited her at her beautiful new condo. “Nursing? Oh, honey. All you’ll do is change old people’s diapers.”

“Well, just think. I can change yours when you decide to let loose.”

“You’ll have to change your father’s sooner than mine. That man can barely dress himself as it is. We had dinner the other night, and he forgot his wallet, for the love of God.”

“Are you guys staying friends?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said in the voice that meant that’s a good one. I felt for her, though. Somehow, I’d never known how much it had hurt her, being on the wrong side of unrequited love.

“I have something for you,” she said. “I found it when I was packing.”

She got up from the table and came back with a shoe box.

Inside were a couple dozen photos.

My mother, so young, younger than I was now, and so beautiful. Kate, holding me, smiling a gap-toothed grin. Sean, looking up from a book, his glasses smeared, a plate of cookies next to him.

My mother and father and me at about two. I’d never seen a picture of the three of us together.

“These were in the attic,” Candy said sharply.

“Thank you,” I breathed, leafing through them slowly. My parents on a date night, dressed up and smiling. Me, asleep in a lawn chair, Pooh beside me.

“Do you remember anything?” Candy asked.

I wanted to. Maybe I would someday, maybe the pictures would trigger something. But for now, there was nothing. “No,” I said, looking up at her. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

But I remembered Candy, holding my hair back when I had the pukes. Showing me how to do long division. Sitting with me during a thunderstorm, not exactly happy that I was terrified, but there nonetheless.

I got up and hugged her and kissed her brittle blond hair. “Thank you,” I said again, and my voice was husky.

She patted my hand, then pulled back. “Your father’s dating someone about Sean’s age,” she said, changing the subject.

“Yick,” I said. “Wish I could say I was surprised. How about you, Mom? You know I found Gram-Gram a nice widower to date. I could do the same for you.”

She snorted. Didn’t mention my little slip with the M-word. It wasn’t really a slip, after all.

One afternoon in September when I was grinding a freshly roasted batch of Arabica at Blessed Bean, the bell over the door jangled, and I looked up.

Matthew Kent saw me and did a double take.

He had his nieces with him. Jonathan’s daughters.

“Hello,” he said, approaching the counter.

Lydia was jumping up and down next to him. “I want a cookie! No, cake! No, I want a latte, Uncle Matt!”

“Hello, girls,” I said, unsure if they remembered me.

“Hello,” said Emily shyly.

“I want a scone!” Lydia said. “Oh, hi, Angie! Hi! Hi! Can I have a scone?”

“It’s Ainsley,” I said, smiling at her. She had her father’s eyes.

“So you’re not working at the magazine anymore?” he asked.

“What can I get for you today?” I kept my voice pleasant for the girls’ sake.

“Did you ever mention those things I asked you to?”

“We have a fresh batch of Arabica. And some hot chocolate if you girls are interested.”

His jaw hardened, just like Jon’s did.

“Lyddie, Em,” he said, squatting down to their eye level, “wouldn’t it be fun to have Mommy and Daddy and me and you all get together? Wouldn’t that be great?”