Halfway to You(56)
MAGGIE
San Juan Island, Washington State, USA
Wednesday, January 10, 2024
“Hungry?” Ann asks.
It’s the first word out of her mouth since she blew up Maggie’s life—or at least since she convinced Maggie to blow up her own life. A cinnamon loaf rests on the counter, the whole house smelling of sweet spice.
As if on autopilot, Maggie slides onto a barstool, her phone buzzing in her pocket for the thousandth time. When she arose today, freshly missed calls—Tracey, Bob, Barbara, Aunt Natalie, even her cousin Iris—crowded her screen. Desperate texts have been filtering through since the wee hours of the morning, when she was still kidding herself, thinking there was time to fall asleep and not dream about Todd.
“I love this bread with cream cheese, but I also have butter,” Ann continues. “And I think Matt threw some frosting in the bag, if that’s more your speed.”
From the messages Maggie has read, it’s clear her family wants to apologize. But are they sorry for lying her whole life or sorry things got messy?
“Maggie?” Ann prompts, slicing through the bread with a huge serrated knife.
“Oh. Um. Butter.”
Ann saws the loaf, sliding the big knife back and forth. Maggie sways as the slices fall, the bread billowing cinnamon steam. Where will Ann’s story lead now?
Ann pauses midslice, her bright eyes penetrating before dropping back down to her task. “You’re edgy this morning,” Ann observes. “Did it not go well?”
Maggie gives her head a small shake, trying to dislodge the nagging question of her birth mother from her brain. “We argued.”
Ann sets down the knife. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Maggie studies Ann’s face and is startled by how blank it is—no furrowing or frowning. “Why did you have me call her? Why make that the deal?”
“I wanted Tracey to have a chance to say her piece.”
“About?”
Ann shrugs, her expression vacant. “About why she hates me so much.”
“You don’t know?”
Ann goes back to slicing bread. “My relationship with the Whitakers is . . . complicated.”
Does Ann know that Maggie is her longtime lover’s daughter or not?
“I didn’t want to cause friction between you and your mom, that’s all. I wanted to give you two a chance to air that out, so we can continue without complication.”
Maggie doesn’t believe that. Ann must know about Todd, she has to . . .
. . . but on the off chance she doesn’t, Maggie isn’t about to risk the podcast by detonating that bomb.
“Tracey doesn’t like that I’m here. That’s about all she said.”
Ann stares at her for two seconds, three, before retrieving a block of cream cheese and a butter dish from the fridge. If Ann doesn’t believe Maggie, she’s clearly not about to say so.
She begins preparing their bread slices with the desired toppings. “I bet you five dollars that Grant will call early.”
Grateful for the shift in subject, Maggie shakes her head. “No way, I’m not taking that bet. The opposing odds are terrible.”
“Oh, fine.” Ann hands her a cup of coffee and slides a bread plate toward her across the bar counter. They carry their breakfasts to the couch. Ann eats unhurriedly, amiably. Maggie’s stomach is too filled with questions to feel hungry. She has the sinking sense that there are many stones yet unturned.
At five till, the phone rings.
“See? Terrible opposing odds,” Maggie says.
Ann smirks, straightens, selects speakerphone, and sets the phone on the coffee table. “Grant, hi.” Her voice sounds entirely different from the soft-toned woman Maggie has grown accustomed to. Her vowels are harsh, her consonants too loud. Defensive.
“Miss Fawkes, thank you for getting on the horn this morning.”
The horn? Maggie stifles a laugh. She’s never heard him use that term. Grant sounds different too—his voice a lower register, a little more clipped. Is Maggie the least nervous person on this call?
She meets Ann’s eyes, uncertain if she should make her presence known to Grant. Ann returns her gaze, mouth pressed thin. Maggie has heard a lot about Ann’s life by now, a lot of personal, intimate details . . . but this is the first time she’s seen Ann look truly vulnerable. Which is funny, because as far as Grant is concerned, Ann holds all the cards. Maggie opts to stay quiet, not wanting to insert herself in the conversation—and not interested in picking sides.
“I understand Maggie’s job is on the line,” Ann begins.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it—”
“I’m prepared to start recording again, but I have three requirements,” Ann continues. “Number one: I want to listen to the final episode before it airs.”
“Absolutely, we do that for all our subjects.”
“Two: I want the right to make corrections and, if it comes to it, refuse the final product before it’s aired.”
“Miss Fawkes—”
“It’s Ann.”
“Ann, with due respect, that’s a little—”
“Three,” Ann says, leaning toward the phone. “Maggie will be the only person in the room during my recordings, and she will edit the audio on her own before bringing it to the rest of your team.”