Before I Let You Go(73)
“The house is fine. There are just a few specifics we need to discuss,” Bill murmurs, then he glances at Mary and at her nod, he turns back to Sam and me. “Firstly, I’d like to hear whether either of you has any experience with young children, particularly newborns—” He stops midsentence, then cringes. “Wait, that’s a bit of a silly question—sorry, I don’t usually conduct these interviews with doctors!”
Sam laughs quietly.
“Yes, we’re both well versed in the needs of caring for a newborn baby.”
“Of course, my apologies. Perhaps you can tell me about your support networks?” Bill asks next.
“We have a good network of friends around Montgomery,” I say. “Plus colleagues from our workplaces, and the neighbors are all good people, too.”
“Do you have people you could call on if you needed emotional or practical support? Or say if there was an emergency with Daisy and you weren’t sure what to do?”
Sam and I exchange a glance. I’m finally starting to relax, because if this is the standard we need to meet, we really are going to be fine. “Again, we’re both doctors but . . . if a situation were to arise where we needed more expert help, I play golf with Daisy’s pediatrician on weekends, so I guess we’d just call him.”
Mary laughs softly.
“We have a set of questions we generally ask in these circumstances. It’s a good problem to have that most of those questions seem a bit absurd in your situation, trust me.”
Bill nods, but then he fixes his gaze right on me, and he says quietly, “I did a background check on you, Alexis—all was in order, of course but . . . I was surprised by how high your debt burden is. You’ve still got student loans and several large credit cards—it’s an unusually extensive debt, even for someone who’s been through med school, isn’t it?”
This catches me off guard, and I’m instantly defensive again.
“Annie was in my care from the time she was fourteen, Bill, so I didn’t exactly have a lot of time for saving a nest egg to cover my tuition,” I say, and Sam very gently contracts his arm along my shoulders. I take a deep breath. “Yes, there was undergrad tuition and then med school tuition—but then Annie needed to go to rehab and she didn’t have insurance so I borrowed for that, too. I’ve been paying it down as quickly as I can, but you’re right—my finances could be healthier. I’m working on it, but it’s under control.”
Bill and Mary don’t need to know this—but when we first tried to buy the house, the mortgage was declined because of my outstanding debt. Sam cashed in some stocks so we had a larger deposit and that got us over the line, but at one stage, we thought we were going to have to get the mortgage in his name only.
“Well, yes, but then now there’s also the mortgage on this house—and of course you’ll be responsible for both Annie’s and Daisy’s hospital care bills and the rehab facility fee. Are you sure you can afford to take another eight weeks off?” Bill asks. He’s still pleasant, but I can’t help but feel like we’re finally moving into a make-or-break discussion, and now my anxiety about this meeting seems justified.
“You did a background check on me, too, right?” Sam asks. Bill nods and Sam continues calmly, “So you know that the only debt I have is the mortgage on this house, and I do have reasonable assets.”
“So you’ll be supporting Alexis and Daisy financially, then?” Bill asks.
“No,” Sam says abruptly. “I’m not ‘supporting’ them like they’re some kind of burden. Lexie and I are a team—she doesn’t have a backlog of debt to cover, we do, and when you split it between the two of us and our collective salaries now, it’s entirely manageable. And regarding the medical bills, we’ll get a substantial staff and family discount off what’s left after Medicaid. As Lexie said, it’s all under control. Okay?”
“I wasn’t accusing you two of poor financial management,” Bill says quietly. “I just need to be absolutely sure that I know what the care arrangement for the baby is going to be until Annie is cleared to resume responsibility for her. I would hate to approve this kinship care and then find in a few weeks that Alexis has returned to work full-time and you’re leaving Daisy with a nanny or at a day care.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I frown at him. “Although I don’t see why it would be a problem if I did. Are you saying working mothers can’t be foster parents?”
“Well, obviously a better situation is to have an infant with a stay-at-home carer as much as possible. And in this case, Daisy’s NAS is a complication that needs very careful attention. I’d much rather see Daisy at home with you full-time, at least for now.”
“And we’ve just assured you she will be,” Sam says.
“We’ve talked a lot today about this period while Annie is at rehab,” Mary says, changing the subject. “Have you two discussed what happens afterward? Or if . . . heaven forbid . . . Annie doesn’t complete the program?”
Sam and I exchange a glance. We haven’t discussed this—partly because when Sam has tried to broach it, I’ve changed the subject. It’s too frightening, and I have too much to deal with day to day to risk a conversation that might not go well. I just don’t know how he would feel about us taking permanent care of my sister’s kid, and I’m too scared to find out.